#this post was very self indulgent. also messy lol but dont mind that

[link-rejoin]

priecīgus Līgo svētkus ! / happy summer solstice ! :]

there havent been too many posts recently.... i wonder... perhaps does that mean i am working on something big ? who knows

[calehenituse-brainrot]

I know you probably have a lot of requests so please ignore this if you don't want to do it! Reminder to stay hydrated, eat, sleep well and take care of yourself.

But in one of your fics you made an allusion to the reader having self harm scars and just alluded to it to the one you posted today.

Soooooooooo ✨ could you write a reaction from Cale to readers self harm scars.

Cuz he apparently 'filed it away' in the fic where paseton appears

lol, couldnt turn away from this ask.

i dont think cale is the type to bring it up the moment he sees them — he's more of a "let's look for the perfect time to talk about it" kind of person. that's just my opinion.

because of that, im making this as transported!reader. hope you don't mind :/ i'll be writing about the conversation after it.

ngl, thinking about this was kind of hard (as in, brainstorming) because i couldn't exactly think of the healthiest way to bring up sh scars since i didn't really have the best experience with people finding out about mine .

i tried my best with this one and hopefully, i did well. extremely self-indulgent.

WARNING : SELF HARM SCARS AND DEPRESSION, PANIC ATTACK. this is very triggering so please proceed with caution. please say something if you think i should add another warning. btw this is LONG because i got carried away, something i do a lot apparently

Cale wasn't an emotionless bastard.

He might be a bit dense to others, but he had always shown that he was someone with a compassionate heart and had plenty of love for his family and friends.

With the bleak years of childhood from his previous world, Cale understands those who suffer the most and wishes for them to never go through what he did when he was a child.

This did not mean that he will help out everyone who suffers. He knows the boundaries of others and tries his best to respect them. After all, being in pain and unable to do anything was something people considered their vulnerable side. Something they wish to hide from the world and others.

You were no exception, no matter which world you came from.

As said before, Cale had always been dense -- no, maybe he just choose to not mind several things in front of him.

The fact that you had always chosen to wear things that modestly cover up most of your skin was not something he pays attention to. He does, however, pay attention to the fact that you always try your best to dress in the most stylish way possible -- be it a coat, a vest, or maybe even some accessories to your hair.

You avoid doing things that get your shirt dirty, but when things come down and you should roll up your sleeves, you never did. Cale always thought that maybe it's because you don't really mind getting messy when working.

Then he saw what seems to be the reason why.

When you had injured yourself back in the villa where they had stayed in the Ubarr territory, Cale had seen them.

At your thighs and coming up your shoulders were multiple pale bumpy lines.

Cale was familiar with self-harm. He had a pretty rough childhood and had perhaps even considered doing so back when he was in the orphanage. But he couldn't.

He couldn't lift the razor to his skin and drag it across because as much as he was used to getting beat up, he did not like pain. He hated it. But he was familiar with it because he had seen his loved ones does it -- be it his little siblings from the orphanages or his friends from school when they have a terrible home and school life.

Life was hectic and he never truly had the chance to sit down with you and talk about whether you were struggling or not -- it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation, Cale knew that, which is why he's always been keeping out for the perfect time for the both of you to talk.

He also knew he wasn't supposed to point out scars and he shouldn't be asking about things he wasn't even sure people are comfortable talking about. But some of your scars looked less than a month old, which was worrying.

Back when he was Kim Rok Soo, he received a lot of scars by going on hunting and slaying monsters. He remembers the feeling of each wound and how long they would heal. He can differentiate which scar was older and which was new.

He leaned back in his chair and close his eyes, but the memory of those lines across your skin comes into his head again. He felt like his guts were being twisted as he remembers and he frowned, his eyes stayed close as he remembered it all.

"You look like you have a lot in your mind."

Cale opens his eyes, seeing you walk past by with a grin on your face. "I knocked a few times but you didn't respond."

'I must've been too immersed in using Record,' Cale thought.

For the first time, he pays attention to your clothes. You tend to wear trousers and waistcoats whenever you're working, sometimes there are days when you wear simple dresses that was adorned with accessories.

Today, you wear a long-sleeved white button-up with a grey waistcoat. Your trousers were dark and looked clean. You looked modest and fit right into the world's period (x). 'Her arms are covered as usual.'

"Is there something wrong?" Cale asked, wanting to know why you had come into his room.

"Can't I spend my time with you?" You asked with a teasing grin that has Cale raising an eyebrow. "A workaholic like you spending time?"

"Give me a break." You groaned, plopping yourself on the couch across him and stretching your arms above your head, letting out a groan to slip out of your lips when you feel your muscles begin to lessen the tension they had from working all day. "Working feels great."

You tapped your temple as you continue, "It chases away all the other noises in here."

Cale went quiet. He never really considered that for you. Ever since you had come to this world, you had always been eager to help despite never properly having the time to sit down and process everything.

"You shouldn't be running away from your problems," Cale voiced out his thoughts. You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Are you giving me life advice? I'm not an actual 18-year-old, you old man. Did you forget?"

"I'm not that old," Cale said and you laughed. "To me, you are."

"And I'm not running away from anything," you continued, glancing to the side to avoid his gaze. "I'll deal with them one day once I'm capable to do so. For now, instead of overthinking about it, it's better to work and think about other things."

"But don't they come back after hours?"

You and Cale stared at each other as silence fell upon the room. What exactly are you supposed to say to that? Of course, they come back after your work. It's scary to sit and do nothing because the moment you're alone, these thoughts began to emerge and bother you.

They're not necessarily bad things, but they make you think. They make you question things. They make you anxious.

There is anxiety hovering over the thought that you might ruin this world's flow -- ruining the plot or whatnot -- and being the one to carry that burden sets you off the edge. They make you fear that even a small decision that you make could change everything -- that a small flap of the butterfly's wing could make even a tornado happen.

Sometimes they make you question why you're here in this world, sometimes they make you jittery over the thought of whether or not you can return, sometimes you wondered if you want to return.

You didn't have things that makes you want to keep on living, but you had worked hard. You went to school for years, endured horrible things as a child, and even when you were an adult, and even though your days in your previous world were not the happiest -- living in a small apartment and living paycheck to paycheck -- you worked hard to reach that point in life.

You worked hard to live.

Because if Cale's sole reason for living was because he could not die, yours was because you worked hard for it and want to see the fruits of your labor.

More than anything, you wished that the decision you made as a child to endure the pain for the sake of coming out better and victorious could come true. You wished to see it happen but before you could, you were sent here, your body morphing back into the age where you believed you suffered the most.

"Of course, they come back," you told him honestly. "But the night comes and goes and so will those thoughts."

"Do you not mind living in that cycle?" Cale questions. He finds it horrible -- he would rather deal with the problem at hand instead of letting it stay and became a habit.

"It is what I'm used to," you told him with a small nervous smile. Even you do not believe your own words. "I've become strong."

Cale stares at the smile on your face. He usually likes it when he can see you smile because your smile means everything is safe and going as planned, it means you were having fun, but the one on your face right now makes him uncomfortable. It didn't feel genuine and that does not suit you who had always been sincere and so honest.

Cale doesn't like to see this smile on you.

"Strong?" He repeats, voice low. "Have you become strong or have you gone numb?"

Cale stares at your wide eyes, knowing he might have hit a nerve or maybe you just realized it yourself. Either way, you stilled in your seat while Cale waited for you to answer him.

"[Name]." For the first time since you walked into this room, he called for your name.

You looked at him, still having no words to say and Cale concluded that you refused to talk any further about this. But if not now, then when? He couldn't let you go on knowing you were struggling in silence. He refused to let you be like that.

He was a bit anxious. What if he let you be like that and just like how you let those thoughts come and go, he will treat your struggle as something that he thought about in passing yet never addresses them? Even he is not immune to mistakes like that.

"[Name]," he called for you again. "I've seen them."

You stared at him, a bit confused about what he was talking about. Cale stared at your arms, covered with the long sleeves of your shirt, and as usual, you caught up quickly. You've always been observant when it comes to him, one of the reasons why Cale entrusted you with the power to make decisions for him.

You immediately rubbed on your left arm, self-conscious.

"The scars," Cale said. "I saw them back at the Ubarr territory."

"I didn't think you'd brought this up." You sounded frustrated and a bit irked.

"Do you think of me as someone heartless?" He questions and you shake your head, frowning. "No, no, never. I just... thought that maybe you'll be considerate enough to ignore it. Mind your business or something, I don't know. I didn't think you'd brought it up."

"I can't do that," he said, clenching his firsts that were placed on his thighs. "Some of them looked new."

"I was vicious," you told him, shrugging your shoulders with an anxious smile. You were uncomfortable like you wanted to just brush this away as something light and have the conversation ends quickly. You wanted to escape this conversation.

Cale watched your body language, looking at how you were actively avoiding his gaze and rubbing your arms, either as a way to calm yourself or because you were self-conscious.

"[Name]," he spoke again, this time softly. "If you are uncomfortable with this, we can stop. I don't want to push you to speak of things you aren't ready for yet."

You stilled a bit, feeling the bumpy lines of skin underneath your sleeves as you listen to Cale speak. In your previous world, you weren't exactly given the chance to feel comfortable talking about this issue but then again, self-harm had never been a comfortable topic to talk about.

At least for you.

No, you were forced to sit down and talk about it. Your father had told you how he was so disappointed in you for being so weak in faith when he found out. Your mother had told you that you were inconsiderate, that you didn't think of her when you had slashed your skin.

"How do you think I feel knowing you hurt yourself like this?"

She was ashamed of you, ashamed because you were weak and because self-harm is something only mentally ill people do.

"You're not ill," she had said to you. "You're just stressed and you probably do this because you saw it on the internet."

Your classmates who had seen it announces loudly that you had them, some offering advice on how to keep your depression away like "go and hang out, listen to music" which did nothing.

Some obnoxiously joked around when they had seen it, questioning if you were into narcotics and reporting it to the teachers. A friend you thought was close to you had seen the cuts when it was fresh and the first thing they did was slapped it as hard as they could as a way to discipline you, calling you names like "idiot" over and over again, questioning why you did it but covering their ears when you try to explain.

The looks the counseling teacher sent you when they received the report from others. The way they'll tiptoe around you but then talk of the issue so lightly.

You stared at Cale, seeing that he was patiently waiting for you. You want to talk to him. The fact that he was so considerate with you made you want to open your heart to him, but isn't that the bare minimum? Will this be something you will come to regret?

Will this be one of those times where you gave in because they gave you the bare minimum?

"Can I trust you?"

Cale went quiet for a bit, not because he hesitated to answer you, but because he thought that what the two of you had was already something deep. Do you not think of him the same way he thinks of you?

"Of course," he answered you. "I'll earn your trust if you still think less of me."

You let out a sigh and Cale noticed how your breath was slightly shaking. He stood up slowly and instead of looking at his face, you stared at his torso as he moved closer to you.

"Can I sit here?" He gestured to the spot next to you, now able to see that you were shaking. The worst-case scenario was you'll be having a panic attack or something of the like.

"Mhm." You nod your head.

Cale sat down next to you, watching as you rub your face multiple times, running a hand throughout your [h/c] hair. Your hands were shaking and he can see that you were starting to sweat. Your hand went to touch the couch below you, feeling the texture of the couch cover while murmuring something.

"[Name]," he called for you, hand slowly going to your shoulder and gently pulling you so you would face him. His other hand reaches for your hand, gently gripping them as his thumb brushes the back of your hand slowly.

"Breathe," he told you, remembering how he had told you to do the same when he first met you. You weren't shaking as badly as then and Cale was relieved.

"Hey," he murmured and you turn to him, eyes shaking and glossy.

"This is like the first time we met," he pointed out, squeezing your hand. "Do you remember what you said?"

You closed your eyes for a moment, shaking your head to process what Cale said. Your head was slowly getting rowdy and you still try your best to understand what Cale had said. 'When we first met. What I said to him.'

Cale heard you let out a chuckle albeit still sounding shakey. "I-I said you're a cosplayer. A-and uhm--"

"You complimented me for cosplaying Cale accurately," Cale added. "Do you remember that?"

You let out a weak laugh. "Y-yeah, I think I did. I thought my friend made an elaborate prank for me."

"Yeah, you were pretty shaken up after that," Cale hummed. "I had to hold you and calm you down. A bit like this."

You gulped, swallowing the bile that had risen to your throat. You forced yourself to smile a bit, realizing that it may have been stupid of you to ask whether or not you could trust Cale or not. Hasn't he seen you in your weakest moments? He's seen you be so vulnerable so many times and to think you question him whether you cant trust him or not felt wrong.

"It was embarrassing," you told him with a smile. "I was so... panicked."

"It's normal," he told you.

You stared at his reddish-brown eyes for a moment, your brain finally able to work properly after being so overwhelmed. You remember back how he had been so calm after possessing the body of another person in another world and managed to let out a giggle. "Yeah. It's normal."

Cale gave your hand one last squeeze before he lets go of it and your shoulder. He sat facing you, watching as you rub your face again.

"Are you okay with talking about it?" He asked and when you nod, he feels a bit of the tension he had been feeling from earlier leave his body.

"I mean, it's better to talk about this now instead of later," you murmured. "And I'm okay, I guess. You won't say anything funny about it, won't you?"

Cale raised an eyebrow but still shook his head. "I wouldn't."

You began to roll up your sleeves, fingertips still a bit trembling and you work slowly. Cale waited, staring at your face instead of your arms. "You don't have to show them if you're not comfortable."

"You've already seen them when I was only with a bathrobe," you mumbled. "There's no point in hiding them any longer."

"Is that why you always wear long sleeves?" Cale asked, planning on making this whole conversation easy for you the best he could.

"A bit," you answered honestly, smiling. "I don't have any issue with showing them since back in my previous world, you're not supposed to point them out but this world is a bit different so I took precautions."

"I expected you to do the same — to not point it out — because our previous worlds aren't so different," you continued and Cale nodded. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave you be after seeing them."

You smiled listening to his response. You should've known that he would initiate this conversation sooner or later when he had seen your scars.

"Are you still hurting yourself?" He asked, no judgment nor disgust laced in his voice. There was no tone that indicates that he was interested to know more like he was asking for some gossip.

Instead, there was a hint of warmth and concern when he spoke. His face was nonchalant when he asked but his reddish-brown eyes seemed so welcoming and warm, a slight frown of concern on his thin eyebrows.

Cale watched as you stared back at him as if you were looking for something in his expression but then you had a soft smile on your face, shaking your head. "No. No, I—I stopped."

"I started cutting when I was seventeen and stopped after I graduated high school," you continued. "It's how I found out this body was eighteen."

Cale remembers how you had immediately figured out that despite being 24 years old, you had claimed that you turned back into your 18-year-old body when you appeared in this world. When he had questioned how can you tell the difference, you only told him to trust your words.

"I see," Cale murmured, his heart relieved but at the same time felt like he was getting it squeezed so tightly he almost had to start breathing manually.

He was relieved that you stopped. The smile on your face when you said you stopped made him feel soft and warm because he was glad you managed to stop hurting yourself, but there was also some sort of disbelief at how unfortunate you had been to struggle for years with self-harm. His throat felt tight and he wanted to say something to you, about how he was sorry, how he wished he could have helped at the time, but they all sounded so superficial because not any words can describe how much sorrow he feels for you.

"Did anyone help you at the time?" Cale asked. He wanted to know whether or not you had been struggling alone - God, he hoped so very much that you had people to support you throughout those years.

"I wasn't very open about it," you told him with a shrug. "It wasn't a very a comfortable topic to talk about and I try not to impose on others."

Cale exhaled. "[Name], seeking help--"

"I know, I know," you cut him off, rubbing your temples. "I know, but it's so hard to let go of that mindset. My mom never liked it when I talk about these types of things and always accuses me of blaming her for everything. Says I could have handled it all myself because it always seems easy."

"Your mother's a bitch, then," Cale immediately replied. "Talk to me if things start bothering you. I want to help you. Or you can talk to someone else if you think I won't understand -- do what makes you feel most comfortable. No one would turn away from you."

"That's what everyone says," you murmured. "They always say they're always gonna be here to help, but no one is there. No one is willing to listen because it's uncomfortable and when they do listen, things they say make me feel so much more horrible - that my struggles aren't as hard as someone else's, that I should forgive my parents, that I have to go out and get some sunlight."

"[Name]," Cale called for you sternly, his hand moving to yours and gripping them. "Listen to me. Those people aren't here anymore and you're surrounded by people who will never downplay your struggles."

You were a stubborn person. No matter what Cale would say, he knows that you'll always reply back to shut down his words and while it was frustrating for Cale, he also understood that you spoke from experience and his chest ached knowing that you never seemed to be able to find a way to seek help, that no matter how desperate you had tried to help yourself, it seemed things never had gone into your favor. They caused you to stay quiet, to suffer in silence, and forced some sick mindset into your head that the only person who will be capable of helping you is yourself.

But how can you aid yourself when you're the one that's hurt? How can you comfort yourself when it is your own intrusive thoughts that haunt your nights? How can you stop the hurt when it is your own intrusive thoughts that push you to keep on hurting yourself?

"[Name]," Cale calls for you again, his voice had turned softer than before. "I need you to know that while I very much respect your wishes to be reserved about this problem, I need you to know that if it's too hard to handle by yourself, I'm here to help you and I'm sure everyone else is willing to help as well if you opened up to them."

"I genuinely want to help you," Cale pressed. "You told me you wanted to help me achieve my slacker life and I don't think I can slack off if I know you're struggling."

Your finger twitched underneath Cale's hand. "Then is this you paying me back for helping you?"

"No," Cale answered you. "No. Never. This is me wanting to help you because you're someone I care about."

"Careful," you murmured, leaning back to the couch. "You might make me fall in love with you."

Cale lets out an exasperated sigh. "[Name], please."

Silence engulfed the room, uncomfortable and unusually loud. The silence was loud with how the two of you can hear each other's breath, the warmth radiating from each other's bodies, the faint sounds of working servants outside of his door, and the sound of the rattling balcony door whenever a wind passes by.

You were staring ahead, eyes burning hot as you began to process what was happening right now.

Someone was actually trying to help you. You believed that Cale was the most genuine person you have ever met and you know that he wouldn't say things only to make you feel better - he'll always help you to be better and be there with you to solve your problems.

When was the last time someone offered you help?

People asked about your self-harm scars, whether or not you're seeking help, what and who caused this habit, to send pictures of your fresh cuts, to run their fingertips across the bumpy lines just to simply feel and know. They have never asked to help you. They asked because they wanted to know more about what could shake you to your core and then leave you be.

You've had a few lovers who'd kissed your scars and told you that you were beautiful, saying that you should just think of them as "battle scars", begging you to no longer cut yourself for them.

But you never once asked whether or not you were beautiful. You were sick -- you didn't need any reassurance about whether or not you were beautiful, you needed help. Battle scars? It isn't someone else who had taken a razor and cut your wrist so many times as you sit on your bathroom floor until you were lightheaded from blood loss. It is your own doing. You survived what you did to yourself and people utter such horrible words when they know of this.

"Why didn't you just finish the job if you wanted to die so much?"

Because death isn't what you wanted. You just needed to feel something and cutting yourself was the only thing you could think of.

"Please, stop doing this. For me."

Then they leave you at your lowest, becoming one of the reasons why another line is on your wrist. They begged for you to make them be the reason why you'll stop - why? Was it to make them feel more special? To prove that you love them enough to stop? 

People are so sickening.

This feeling is so sickening.

"[Name]."

Cale calls for you, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket. Tears are running down your bloodshot eyes, dripping down to your cheeks and chin. He reached for your face, gently wiping away the tears.

With a choked breath, you spoke, "I'm sorry."

Cale shakes his head, slowly turning your head to face him. "No, you don't have to apologize."

You stared at Cale. Those russet eyes show no hint that he was curious, that he was disappointed, that he was uncomfortable with you. Instead, you can only see genuine concern as he dabs away your tears.

"People ask," you began and you watched as Cale's eyes that were focusing on your tears averted to your eyes. "People ask. But just because they want to know."

"You promise you'll always be there for me? You're not asking just because you're curious, right? You actually want to help me out. You promise?" You asked in a brittle voice, hand running up to touch Cale's that was on your cheek as tears run down your cheek even more. You sound so desperate and so weak -  you were talking to him as if you no longer have anyone to rely on and could only follow him based on your blind trust in him. "That you'll help me? You won't judge me if I ever relapse in the future?"

Cale's breath hitched at the thought of you going back to that horrible habit. "I'll make sure you won't ever consider it ever again," Cale said, his voice breathy, letting you grip at the handkerchief before lowering his hand. "Even if you relapsed, I would never judge you. Your struggles don't define you and will never do."

Cale thought that if you ever relapsed, he'll probably curse himself for being so neglectful to your wellbeing. His wish to be a slacker life includes your happiness, too.

"I'm always going to be here to help," he stated to you. "So, please, lean on me."

You wiped away your tears with Cale's white handkerchief before leaning to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Albeit still a bit shocked, Cale lets you rest your full weight on him, your face tucked to his shoulder. He can feel his clothes starting to get wet and your labored breaths. He lifted his hand, rubbing your back gently.

"I'm here, [Name]," he murmured, lips nearly pressed to your shoulder. "I'm always going to be here."

You nod in his embrace, still sniffling. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Cale returned your hug, looking up at the ceiling, wishing that nothing can ever push you to cut yourself again. He reminded himself to always pay attention to your feelings the best he could and help you heal.

"I'm here."

[moxfirefly]

B D J O V for Donnie, Karl and Alcina? (yes I am in love, no I dont have regrets uwu)

My 3 loves? Well why not! And pls enjoy the ficlet styles I’m going to opt for when doing dirty secrets! This is a little long so is going under the cut.

🩸🍷Alcina Dimitrescu🩸🍷

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

A bit of an odd one here but she loves backs, like your actual back. The line of your spine, if you have those back dimples, ufff. She loves the shape of it if you’re on the more curvier side, she loves the skin, and your rolls, and any stretch marks. Just picture that elegant hand of hers ghosting over your back, nails maybe even claws.

On herself, well Alcina is aware of her assets and she’s very aware of her chest, both she’s quite proud of but she’s really proud of her figure over all.

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

There was a pretty seamstress in the village who always was brought up to the castle to help with her dresses. She was a pretty thing in Alcina’s eyes, very much her type. When your making or fixing or measuring a tailor made outfit for a 9ft+ woman well it gets tricky and a little more handsy than usual. Alcina didn’t mind, the seamstress didn’t either. It was interesting following simple commands even if they were asked upon her with nothing but grace and poise.

So as Alcina sat for the 40th time to have something around her neck marked to be fixed, she had to stand between her legs to best approach and see the mistake. Only sitting did she have the best chance at seeing her at a more eye to eye level (well as best as it could be).

She isn’t dumb, she knows curiosity, want and lust like the back of her hand. Sees the nervous swallow of the seamstress whenever hands glide across her chest. The whispered ‘pardon my lady’ when she rests a palm on Alcina’s throat and takes a needle to the neckline with all the gentleness she can muster. Of course it’s the moment to prick her finger, the quiet hiss and scent is enough to alert Alcina and without waiting for her to fuss she takes that bleeding digit and kisses it, tastes the bead of blood, all while looking straight at her. When she still sees lust there, oh does she pull her closer.

One of her maids walks in about twenty minutes later, an array of materials in her arms so she doesn’t quite catch how the Lady of the castle smooths her dress and tries not to laugh, chest heaving a little and legs closing a tad. The maid greets her with her usual honorifics before leaving the requested materials, she notices the seamstress isn’t there and arches a brow at the room. “Lavatory” is all Alcina says before the maid makes a question. She nods but feels something isn’t right with the current picture but still leaves.

Once gone.

The seamstress crawls out from under Alcina’s skirt, mouth shiny, hair disheveled and nice set of teeth marks at her bosom.

It becomes a frequent thing after that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

It’s not to say she needs to because she sincerely feels she has anybody at her beck and call who is willing ready and able. But on the rare occasion she indulges in some self care, it’s mostly in her luxurious tub. Feeling the warm water, her hair clean and smelling of that weeks chosen fragrance, well it gets her thinking and thinking leads desiring and if there isn’t anybody she’ll handle it. Slow, she loves drawing out her own pleasure, loves to feel that rise but stops before it’s too close. She’ll do that, edge herself a little bit more before biting down on her lip to muffle a more particular louder cry.

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

Both. She lives for giving it and she loves to receive it. She is just, wow, so incredibly good at it, she’s goes about it in such erotic and passionate way and if you’re not looking like you are being possessed by the devil then she up’s her game to make sure that happens. You can squeeze her head with your thighs all you want, she’s built different lol she can handle it. Don’t yank to much on her hair though, claw at her all you want but easy on the do.

She’s had a few inexperienced lovers which she has to guide when they want to go down on her. She’s very particular of what and how she likes it, but she’s patient enough to teach you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

I’ll do you one better, https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMRSKhUoh/

⚙️Heisenberg⚙️

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

https://hagelpaimon.tumblr.com/post/661063110466158592/i-wonder-wonder-who-ill-pick-hesi-baby-a

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) shout out to @imthegreenfairy88 for helping me out with this one.

The first few times he indulged in this he was very adamant in keeping it to himself and to himself only (with time and reassurance he chills out) but the first time he tried doing ‘back door’ stuff on himself he was very surprised about how good it fucking felt and every so often he indulged in it. There’s an occasion where he ends up in bed with some tourist, gun to his head he doesn’t remember their name but he sure fucking remember the blow job and fingering combo that they gave him that had him seeing fucking stars. He tensed up at first was about to say something but they crooked their fingers just right and swallowed his cock at the same time and words were out the window along with thoughts.

He was so far gone that it didn’t cross his mind that when he begged for another finger, he gave himself away and if their eyes weren’t indication of how delighted they had been, feeling two more additional fingers really proved the point.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I mean I’m saying yea, he has to get creative with it sometimes so as to not get bored, but he picks up a few things he enjoys (he is creative after all) he’s definitely ruined his fair share of pillows, loves rutting into them. He has beat off probably in any section of the factory but shower is better for clean up. He for sure has done it outside of the factory, probably relaxing on a chair and if the weather is nice enough, it’s not like anybody is gonna suddenly drop by. He likes a tight closed fist when he’s close but enjoys a teasing touch to start things off, really enjoys grabbing his balls when he does it. Very messy messy boy when he cums.

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

This man blows you like his life depends on it. VERY sloppy but it’s really hot, it’s how eager he is about it and how willing he is to suffocate and or choke on it. He’s told you to sit on his face multiple times at multiple moments of the day. He loves the taste of you, loves feeling suffocated by your thighs. You know what they about big noses too 🥴🥴

As for receiving he likes to dish out what he takes. So expect some rough mouth fucking, he will make you gag, he will make you all teary eyed cause he enjoys it. He’s fine with it without to be honest, he much prefers to be balls deep in you but if you enjoy doing it then expect hip thrusting.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not super loud, but he isn’t mute. He groans and moans but he’s also a talker so expect a lot dirty talk. His voice drops in a way when he’s fucking you that it makes your toes curl. He’s all breathy pants when he’s close. Lots and lots of cuss words.

👾Donnie💜

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and on the other)

https://hagelpaimon.tumblr.com/post/661063462078889985/b-body-part-their-favourite-body-part-of-theirs

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

He likes the taste of his own cum.

He denies it, really denies it, just says it’s his way of cleaning you up after a nice romp but he really has a way of proving the opposite. Donnie has ‘finished’ on you in every way shape or form. On your stomach, back, face etc you name and each time he has cleaned you up he’s either wiped it up and sucked on his fingers or he’s just full blown licked it off of you.

And there is something so disgustingly erotic about that you haven’t or don’t want to call him out on it. You’ve gone down on his multiple times and he very eager to kiss you after your done. One time you purposefully left some on your chin and lips to see if he’d clean it up first but nah, kissed the heck out of you. His favorite is cumin in you and then going down on you. The first time he did that, it was enough to make your toes curl till they cracked and just as you were about to say something he was yanking another orgasm from you. The combined taste of his and yours release? Fuck now that was his favorite.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Does it and does it often. He’s not prudish about it, it’s free oxytocin and for a guy who’s convinced he’s never gonna get a shot at being with somebody physically, might as well practice some self love.

Loves visual stimulation but he’s really into audio stimuli. Likes those audios where he feels he’s there with the person or the ones where they give instructions. Donnie is really into edging and if he’s got the time and privacy he can literally edge himself for a couple of hours. Has at times managed hands free orgasms. Has made cock sleeves or basically fleshlights (ah ingenuity), can have his moments where he’s super slow and teasing about it, light strokes and all that. Can also have moments where he basically fucks his fist to the point of making some pretty obscene wet noises. If listening to audios or watching videos he really loves trying to cum at the same time as the person in the vid or audio. Has a bottle of lotion right on the desk but that shit is so cluttered with stuff that nobody has picked up on it and honestly it’s kinda funny.

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

GIVE GIVE GIVE.

Oh my lord is he OBSESSED with giving oral. It’s such a big turn on for him. He just loves how intimate it is, he loves how he’s giving you pleasure in such an intimate position. LOVES over stimulating with his mouth, loves feeling thighs trying to break his head, happy to die down the suffocated in his favorite place, loves feeling a hand at the back of his head and pushing him in further.

He’s not crazy about receiving cause he knows his size is a challenge but he’s not opposed to it, he much rather get a hand job from you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Loud and not afraid about it. He enjoys the fuck out of it and is going to be vocal about it unless it’s adamant to be quiet because people are around. His churrs are really nice, deep but not as baritone as say Raph’s, but they feel and sound so good.