#studying how do draw these fuckers
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this one goes out to all the canon-accurate dca truthers out there. also yeah hi these fuckers have me in a chokehold
#i apologize to the general freddy tag :headinhands:#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf security breach#fnaf sb#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf dca#fnaf sun#fnaf moon#fnaf sundrop#fnaf moondrop#studying how do draw these fuckers#i wanna draw these guys as accurate to canon as possible bc they have a charm compared to like. all the promo art and general fanart#no offense. i rlly love all the drawings!!! its just that my priorities lie elsewhere in my case lol#again. sorry to the general fnaf tag for putting yet another post with these guys in there#(also also sorry if i dont use the right tags)
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something possessed me and now i can draw my blorbos accurately i guess
(rbs > likes)
#meeple.png#i genuinely dont Fucking Know how i drew loboto this nicely it came out of nowhere from a barebones bullshit stick figure sketch#i just hope i can do it again#i legit havent drawn this fucker in a week i got hit with massive artblock and then studied sashas model for like 2 days#and then forgot how to draw Every Other Character Ever#and then ended up w/ this loboto#psychonauts#psychonauts 2#rhombus of ruin#(kinda. the ufo post one is specifically a joke abt that part in pnror)#psychonauts sasha#psychonauts loboto#sasha nein#dr loboto#caligosto loboto#cc#psychonauts au#postgame loboto au
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johnnie x y2k reader smut if you’re comfortable w it??
fuuck yes ty anon
don’t rlly know how to incorporate the style into the fic so im js gonna make some extra headcannons later hope that’s okay ♡︎
warnings: smut, biting
nsfw under the cut
Takeout (Johnnie Guilbert x Fem! Reader)
“M’ bored.” she whines. Johnnie scoffs and smiles. “You’re always bored.”
The two of them had been dating for about 4 months now, and were roommates with Jake for even longer. She didn’t know what drew him to her, or what he even liked about her. They two definitely had different personalities and styles, but apparently they compliment each other well, according to Jake.
They get a knock on Johnnie’s door, before Jake’s head pops in. “You guys want takeout for dinner?” Her and Johnnie look up at Jake, before she says “Yeah, sure.” He nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him.
They go back to their original tasks; Johnnie plucking notes out on his guitar, her quietly reading a book. She fidgets with the hem of her miniskirt.
He’d just come back from a long tour, and she’d been missing him. And she’d recently been very aroused. Not that she’d ever tell anyone if she didn’t have to, but she’d been touching herself and it hadn’t been helping. Her fingers didn’t feel like anything anymore, but she didn’t want to bother him. He was probably still tired and jetlagged from the tour, and last thing she wanted to do was give him more to do.
She glances up at him, studying his concentrated face as his fingers glided over the guitar. His hair, his face. He doesn’t have any makeup on right now, so all she could really pay attention to was his bare face and his eyes. Gorgeous eyes. “Johnnie?” she says absentmindedly, putting down her book. He sets his guitar on his lap and locks eyes with her. “Yeah?”
“Can you come over here, hon?”
Confused, he sets his guitar down, and uncrosses his legs to dismount the bed and come to her. She scoots over to make room for him on the mini black couch where she’d been sitting. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Yeah.”
“Did you need something?” he inquires, taking her hand with his pale one. “I missed you.” she says, gently pulling him into a hug. She feels him chuckle against her body and his hands circling the small of her back. “I missed you too.”
She smiles and pulls her head away to look at him, before reaching out her hands to stroke his dark hair. He smiles at her and pulls her closer, into his lap. Aware of her chance, she subtly grinds onto him as she leans in for a kiss. He pulls her face towards his and kisses her, firm but gentle. She sighs into his mouth, and he slips his tongue in to kiss her deeper. She nibbles at his bottom lip, and he lets out a soft whimper.
She slightly tugs on his hair as his hands snake up her baby tee and feel her dips and curves. She pulls away, and dips her head down to suck and bite a trail from his ear to his neck, eliciting small whimpers from him that make her even needier.
Johnnie fidgets with the bottom rim of her pink tee. “This okay?” He asks consensually, and she nods before he lifts it up over her, revealing a hot pink lace bra. He gently sets her down on her back, still on the black mini couch, before kissing and nipping at her neck and chest. He reaches for her back and unclasps her bra, letting it fall to the floor and drinking up the sight of her beautiful bare body. He bends down to kiss her nose. “You look so pretty, baby.” She smiles shyly, a pink tinge on her face.
He laps and sucks at her cold nipples, drawing out moans and sighs from her swollen lips, before kissing down her stomach to her miniskirt. “You don’t even know what these fuckers do to me,” he mutters, unzipping her skirt and pulling it down to find her soaked hot pink thong. “Oh, baby, all this for me? You must’ve missed me.”
His hot breath on her core makes her squirm as she breathes, “Every single day.” He smirks, pulling the rosy panties down to see her needy cunt. He presses a few soft kisses on her lips, before gently spreading them open and licking thick stripes over her clit. “My gorgeous girl,” he mumbles in between eating her out, feeling her legs tremble in his arms. “Missed you so fucking much.”
She moans out, as he continues his ministrations on her pearl before unexpectedly slipping his tongue into her. She instinctively gasps, finding a fistful of his hair and tugging on it, which makes him moan softly. The vibrations of his voice on her core sends her closer to the edge, until he takes his tongue out of her and comes up to kiss her feverish face again. She whines softly, close to tears from how happy and stimulated she was. It felt like he was loving her in all the right places, but the heat was overpowering and she was getting desperate. “Johnnie, please.”
He kisses the apple of her warm cheek, not feeling the need to tease her or make her wait any longer, and makes his way back down to her pussy to insert his middle and ring finger into her, gently so he doesn’t hurt her. He looks up at her for approval to continue, and she nods, face red hot. He instantly begins to curl his long fingers inside of her as she cries out his name. Squelching sounds mix with her pretty moans and fill up the room.
“That’s my pretty girl.” he praises, kissing her lower stomach before going back to suckle on her clit, overstimulating her and making her incapable of doing anything except moaning and mewling his name. “Doing so good for me,”
He uses his other hand to lift her hips up slightly, which makes his fingers hit a new angle that makes her moan louder. “M’ close, Johnnie,” she manages to say. “I know, baby, you’re almost there.” he coos, using his other hand to press into her stomach, making her scream out.
He sucks sloppily on her clit a final time and she almost immediately hits her much needed climax, creaming all over his hand as he rubs her thigh and works her through her high.
She shivers as he removes his fingers and litters kisses all over her stomach and inner thighs. She regains her steady breath, and he pulls her up and back into his lap, kissing and nibbling on her earlobe as he murmurs sweet nothings into her skin. “M’ gonna run you a bath, baby, wait right here.” he says, gently setting her back down on the couch.
As he’s about to make his way to the connected bathroom, a hard knock sounds on the door, followed by Jake’s voice rambling, “Holy fuck, you guys need soundproof fucking walls, I was about to give you guys your takeout and then I hear you guys fucking..”
Her and Johnnie begin to laugh as his exasperated voice trails off to his room. “Shit, I completely forgot about dinner.”
“It’s okay, I’ll bring you some after your bath.”
“Thanks, Johnnie.”
~
#johnnie guilbert smut#johnnie guilbert#jake and johnnie#jake webber#emo boy#emo bf#2000s emo#emo#smut
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some vampire!reader x vampire hunters!141 thoughts that are refusing to leave my mind. pardon me this is unedited and i'm sleepy as fuck. feminine terms used on reader.
cw — they basically kidnap you.
“i dinnae think there’s any more of those creatures left here!”
“shut your whining, johnny.”
ghost and soap had been bickering back and forth, serving nothing more than to worsen the headache blooming in price’s head. at least gaz was silent, observant as ever. price pretended to ignore the amused grin that adorned gaz’s lips very much clearly.
the appearances of vampires around the front of the woods had significantly started to lessen due to these vampire hunters who actually gave a fuck about their job, dedicated in clearing out the parts so the civilians could sleep peacefully at night.
though at the same time, it meant that finding a vampire was as hard as digging up some treasure. it was infuriating, in all honesty, especially for price. these mindless patrols were fucking up with his head, the lack of activity making him more irritated.
plus the rest three just seemed too immersed in some banter to even care. though eventually, a soft rustle from the bushes caused them all to fall quiet due to price’s hand gesturing to them to stop, observant pair of eyes carefully looking around.
“there’s something here.” commanding as ever, price took the initiative of stepping forward, his pistol clutched in his hands.
the four of them discreetly stepped through the bush, coming across you. you, who were standing there wide eyed, hands trembling in pure fear, taking a step back from the hunters in front of you.
weird. you were supposed to bare your fangs, to attack them and try to suck their blood for your life. but no, you were acting more like a poor trapped bunny, not a vampire.
“price.” ghost grumbled and stopped price by holding his shoulders, pulling him back slightly. this masked man was terrifying observant, eyes boring deep within your skin, as if unpeeling every layer of you to grasp the poor soul within, for the sake of his own amusement perhaps?
he could see you salivating, unable to hold in the drool that glistened pathetically under the moonlight, yet not making any moves whatsoever. “you thinkin’ what i’m thinkin’, simon?” gaz nudged ghost slightly, those dark eyes looking at you a bit more kindly, almost interested.
“look at the wee lass, captain.” soap could barely hold in a snicker, already putting his gun back into the holster. he couldn’t care less, in all honesty. what were you going to do, bite him?
price had oddly became the quietest, his stare making you try to shuffle away uneasily. though before you could even try to move a little, his hand shot out and grabbes you by the shoulder, dragging you over to him and the rest, ignoring your hisses.
“don’t think she’s like other of those bloodthirsty fuckers.” price huffed out curiously, his other hand forcing your mouth open, thumb running over your fangs. weak. what had you been feeding on to lack the power others like you possessed?
“how ‘bout we take her home, cap’n?” gaz mumbled and took out a pack of cigarette from his pocket, drawing one out.
“i agree with him.” ghost mumbled, taking a step forward, towering over you. a shadow eager to destroy. “we can study her like that, y’know.”
his words made you sweat coldly, throat tightening up, unable to utter a single form of protest while price dragged you almost effortlessly, making you walk alongside them until you reached a jeep parked beside one of the many trees.
“c’mon, hen.” soap eagerly opened the door, giving you a push inside. “ye’re comin’ with us.”
finally some activity for all four of them.
#i don't know honestly... i need to talk more about this#need to make it more clear!! i will one day#141 x reader#cod x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader#price x reader#gaz x reader#rurufic
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Midnight Muse (Part 14)
Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]
Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 3,355
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Masterlist]
Notes: Okay I'm a lil sad for my baby azzy in this part 😭
_________________________________________
“Listen kid,” the tattoo artist across the table from him sighs, and Azriel already knows what’s going to come out of his mouth.
This interview hadn’t been going well since he stepped through the door to Steppes Ink. The guy who was supposed to be conducting the interview for an apprenticeship at the parlor—a lanky lad tatted up with the worst ink Azriel’s ever seen…is that a clock dripping blood for fucks sake?—had forgotten he was even giving an interview today.
He—Brad? Chad? Something or other, he suspects—hadn’t listened to a word Azriel said when he spoke about his time tattooing. That it was his passion. That he wants to make a career out of it. Instead, the guy had kicked his sneaker clad feet up onto the edge of the table and flipped through his portfolio, not allowing Azriel to speak on his work.
He’d seen the look the fucker had given him when he’d pulled his portfolio out of his bag. The way he stared openly at his latex gloved hands as he held the book out, stuffed full of drawings and pictures of tattoos he’s given both at parties and his art focused study groups.
Azriel thinks it’s an impressive show of skill, but this fucker doesn’t.
He doesn’t even want to apprentice here anyway, not after all of this, but he’s running out of tattoo parlors to apply to in town. He’s not against driving out to the next town over because he has a reliable source of transportation, but driving all the way out after his classes is something he’d rather not have to do.
Azriel sets his jaw. He’s more than ready to pack his things and leave, maybe swing a fist at the fucker on his way out. He had been ready to go when the second comment out of this shithead's mouth was, “Taking cleanliness to a whole new level there, ey kid?” In response to his gloved hands. He’s glad he’d worn them, because he knows if he hadn’t, it would’ve been something much more insulting spewing from his lips instead.
He’s had better interviews with the same result. The fact that he keeps putting himself through this shows his determination, but Azriel would be lying if he said that the plethora of no’s he receives wasn’t disheartening. He feels like he’s come a long way since his accident, when he’d essentially had to relearn how to hold his pencils, charcoal sticks, and tattoo gun.
All of that pride he felt is slowly deteriorating like an ages old painting.
“I think you’re very talented with your sketches, but it’s not translating into your tattoos,” the man starts, scratching his patchy beard. He sucks his teeth, but it doesn’t help get rid of the cluster of food jammed between them that Azriel has been talking to for the past forty minutes. Yeah, he really does not want to work here. Not only is this guy disgusting, he’s seen at least three violations the second he walked into the parlor alone.
Imagine if he had to put up with this shit everyday.
The man continues, because he doesn’t really know how to shut up. “Your lines are all jagged, and we can’t have that. I’d be happy to look at your work again next semester when you have a little more experience.”
No. Fucking. Thanks.
Azriel grinds his teeth because he doesn’t know what else to do. How many times has he heard this line before? He knows, Mother help him he fucking knows that his lines aren’t the straightest, but he’s come a long way, and his more recent tattoos aren’t suffering because of it.
Why won’t anyone just give him a fucking chance?
“I understand,” Azriel nods, and it takes a lot more effort to keep his tone neutral when he replies.
He’s thankful that the guy can’t see how white-knuckled his fists are under the table.
“What made you want to get into tattooing, anyway?” The man flips his portfolio shut with a harsh snap. The way he says it makes Azriel feel like he’s about to be told that he should find a backup plan. He has one already, but this fucker doesn’t need to know that.
Who does this guy think he is anyway? He has a bleeding clock and a lion head on his arm for fucks sake. It even has a mechanical eye. And he’s sure that if he lifts the sleeves of his cut off flannel, he’ll be showing a plethora of gears forever marked onto his pale skin, too.
“Every tattoo has a story,” Azriel answers, because it’s something he believes with his whole heart, and maybe, just maybe, this fucker can relate to that.
The idiot has the audacity to cock his head, questioningly. “Is that so?”
“The one’s I get do,” Azriel responds stiffly, and he hopes that this interview is over because he can’t bear to sit here a moment longer. What’s with all of the follow up questions? He’s already said no, so why the fuck is he still interrogating him?
Azriel is being looked at like he’s some dumb college kid with no idea what he wants to do with his life, and he fucking hates that. He knows exactly what he wants to do once he graduates, and that’s to be a tattoo artist, hence trying to find an apprenticeship at a local shop. Right now, he’s starting to wonder if all of the shop owners have meetings together where they talk about the kid in black gloves and tell each other not to hire him.
Either way, he’s beyond fucking annoyed.
“Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me,” Azriel says, gathering his things. The guy looks at his gloved hands again and he knows that the question is on the tip of his tongue so he hurries, shoving his portfolio into his bag and standing from his chair.
“No problem kid. Like I said, work on it and maybe next semester—”
“Right,” Azriel forces a smile like he’s never had to before. It feels like cutting steel, and he’s sure it looks more threatening than genuine. “Thanks.”
He dips out of the shop before the fucker can ask anymore questions.
He’s glad he didn’t even care to remember his name.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The wind against his body and the rumble of his motorcycle makes things slightly better.
Azriel tries to let the interview roll off of his shoulders with the current pressing against his body, but it just isn’t happening.
Usually, he enjoys the ride. The way taking the curves a little too fast makes his heart stutter in a rapid pace, the smooth asphalt beneath his wheels wiping his worries away, but there’s something about tonight that has him feeling like he’d rather just put on some music, wallow in his bed, and work on his sketches.
He’ll show that fucker.
It had gone shittier than all of the other interviews he’s had. Four, to be specific. Four interviews, where three of them had mentioned his shaky linework, two of them had told him to come back next semester, and one had been conducted by a total fucking idiot.
His hands are shaking now, memories of the accident dredged up from the way the last interviewer was staring at him. He can still feel his beady gaze on his hands, like he was some fucking specimen to be examined under a microscope. Maybe if Azriel had peeled back the latex and showed him the damage of his scars, the guy would’ve left him the fuck alone.
He knows that that’s not how it would’ve gone, though. Guys like him always ask more questions, and Azriel does not want to repeat that story to someone like that.
His gloves are still on, clenched tightly around his handlebars. He can’t ride like this, needs to stop, but he’s two blocks from his apartment now and he just wants to be home.
The fact that he can still feel the phantom touch of your body pressed up close to him every time he rides his bike now helps distract him. It subconsciously eases the trembling in his hands, and Azriel relaxes only slightly. He still doesn’t like you, but the way your thighs had pressed so firmly around his body had felt like being completely doused in warmth. He hadn’t even needed his jacket while the cold rain pounded down on the both of you, because with your chest pressed tightly against his back, your hands around his waist, he was nearly sweating.
He wonders if you had felt the same. Like there was lightning zipping up your rigid spine. If your heart was thundering as loudly as his. If you just wanted to keep going like he did, pass the town up and go on to the next—
Azriel nearly passes the apartment building whilst he’s distracted. Cassian’s big, beat up bronco is a red flag waving at him from its usual spot in front of the building. Literally, the crimson rust bucket is an eyesore, and he’s surprised they haven’t gotten any complaints from the landlord about it bringing the value of the building down.
He jerks to a stop and backs his motorcycle up in front of the truck. Always parking in the closest to the corner, Cassian had said, so that no one can block him in. Azriel hadn’t known if it had been a slight jab from when he’d trapped your and Feyre’s moving truck in on your first day here, but he’d laughed nonetheless.
There are people wandering in and out of the building. Giggling groups of girls and guys carrying racks of beers on their shoulders, hooting and hollering, eye-fucking the girls in their short skirts as they wait for the elevator. There’s parties up and down the building all weekend, and Azriel prays that for once, Cassian has decided to wander down a few floors to find a fuck instead of hosting another party.
His prayers are not answered.
When Azriel shoves through the stairwell out onto the fourth floor, the music hits him like a fucking truck. It’s bass-heavy, blaring down the hall like a goddamn rave. Internally, he groans, shoving his way through the people loitering in the hall, ignoring the more than interested looks he receives from a group of girls, staring him down like a pack of hungry hyenas.
Fuck, he really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.
It’s late enough that the pregame should be finishing soon, but knowing Cassian, it’s only just beginning.
Azriel had stopped off at the local diner for something sweet to take his mind off of the awful interview. It hadn’t helped his shakiness at all, the anger coursing through his veins, not even when his favorite waitress Rita had brought him a small fry on the house and put an extra cherry on top of his shake, then proceeded to sit with him for a bit to check in.
He loves Rita. He, Cassian, and Rhysand used to frequent the diner often during freshman year, when they had no transportation and were broke art students. Rita had always taken care of them, but now, the tradition seems to have dwelled as they’ve gotten older and are able to attend bars and have the money for restaurants that don’t only serve smash burgers and shakes.
Azriel’s pretty sure he’s the only one that still visits out of the three.
His apartment is packed to the brim. He can smell the alcohol and sweat in the air, the stench of it makes his nose scrunch. He could use a fucking drink right now, he thinks, but he doesn’t do it often because it only makes his hands shake more and that’s the last thing he needs right now.
Upon first glance he doesn’t see either of his roommates, and then Cassian is barrelling through the crowd as if he has a sixth sense for knowing when Azriel enters a room.
“Hey, man,” Cassian grins wildly, throwing his arm around his shoulder. The drink in his cup sloshes precariously close to the rim of his glass, and Azriel grimaces. His roommates eyes are blurry with drink, and he’s swaying a bit, leaning his body weight against him. Hopefully, he hasn’t tripped and crushed anyone with his sheer size, because it wouldn’t bode well for the person trapped beneath the behemoth. “Are you setting up tonight? There’s these two chicks that want to get tatted up. Underboob.” Cassian waggles his eyebrows and grins like he’s just caught a glimpse of heaven. “Matching.”
“Not in the mood,” Azriel grunts, pushing past his roommate. He hates every second of shoving through this crowd, bodies plastered against his own like the ink on his arms. He wonders if the loud music is bothering you on the other side of the thin wall, and then he shoves that thought straight from his mind because he doesn't care.
He does care that it’s bothering him, though.
Azriel digs his keys from his pocket. The lock on his door was added after their first party and he’d found a couple right about about to fuck on his bed.
He’s the only one that gets to do that, even if he hasn’t touched another girl in months. He’s been too much of a surly bastard to even want to pursue a girl, and he knows they wouldn’t want him touching them with his fucked up hands, despite the glowing eyes feeding off of his appearance in the hall.
Someone bumps into him and he nearly smacks his head into the door. Azriel chokes back the growl threatening to crawl from his throat, and decides against whirling around to bark at whoever’s run into him. His grip on the knob tightens.
There’s a soft light emitting from his room when he opens the door, the lamp beside his bed glowing. Azriel releases an exasperated huff, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders, but it skyrockets when he notices the lump tucked tightly into his covers.
It’s you, and you’re in his bed.
Two thoughts pass through his mind so quickly he can hardly discern one from the other.
One, what the fuck are you doing in his bed?
And two, who the fuck let you in his room?
Okay, so the second question is easier to answer than the first. It’s obvious that Cassian must have let you into his room, because he’s pretty sure the fucker had made a copy of the key the second day he’d put the lock on his door. Azriel hadn’t let him in when he’d been trying to get him to smell four different colognes he got as samples in a magazine, so his roommate took it into his own hands to make sure Azriel could never be in his room in peace.
The first question, however, makes no sense. You live right next door for fucks sakes, so what the fuck are you doing here?
Azriel stares. He can’t help himself, he’s frozen in the doorway until Cassian’s belting voice complaining about the pop song that the playlist has switched to snaps him from his stupor. He ducks inside of his room, shoving the door shut behind him, and flicking the lock.
He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.
He’s staring at your sleeping form like you’re only pretending to sleep, armed with a weapon and hoping he comes closer. You’ll pop out at him and scare the shit out of him and then Rhys will fall out of the closet laughing and Cassian will burst through the door, falling to his knees in hysterics.
But you’re not moving. You’re curled up on your side, and a metal mixing bowl sits on the table next to his bed, the small stack of books that is normally stacked there spilled haphazardly, one face down on the floor.
There’s a glass of water next to the bowl, and Azriel doesn’t like that it sits so close to his books, despite it being only half full.
His bag falls from his shoulder and he slings it over the back of his desk chair, all while keeping his eyes pinned to your sleeping form. His dark sheets rise and fall shallowly with each breath you take, your lips parted slightly, unbothered by the intrusion and the loud music shaking the walls.
You must be used to it by now.
This is weird. This is so fucking weird that Azriel doesn’t even know what to do with himself but his feet move him closer to the bed against his better judgement. No, this is fucking beyond creepy now, with him looming over you like this, watching you sleep.
His fingers itch and he rips the gloves off of his hands, tossing the latex into the trash by his desk. His fingers flex, and Azriel gulps down a fresh breath of air now that his sweating hands can breathe.
Doing so doesn’t stop that feeling, though. The one where he wants to feel that familiar pencil in his hand, charcoal coating his fingers. There’s a blooming in his mind, inspiration swiping the foulness of his interview away. He need to grab his sketchbook and flip it to a clean page and start drawing the curve of your—
No. He scolds himself, shaking his head furiously and backing away. He trips over your shoes, discarded in a pile on the floor, but he doesn’t eat shit. Maybe if he did it would help clear his mind from this. The way your presence has painted over his tainted night, when he should be more angry to see you occupying his space, but instead, he feels more intrigued.
Fuck. He shouldn’t be looking at the way his sheet is draped across your body. You’re still clothed, and Azriel is more than thankful for that. He shouldn’t be admiring your quiet, peaceful side, not when he’s so used to seeing that crease between your brows and frown tugging your lips whenever he’s around. He shouldn’t be brushing the strand of hair falling across your face behind your ear—
Azriel jerks his hand away from you. He hadn’t realized that he’d moved closer, had been leaning in like what? Like he was going to caress that smooth skin of yours? No, that’s not happening. Now or ever.
He bolts from his room, but not before making sure he locks it behind him. He feels frantic again, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones. He needs to find Rhys because the music is making his head spin and he’s so, so close to spiraling right now.
Stumbling through the living room to the other side of the apartment, Azriel reaches Rhysand’s door. He hopes it’s unlocked, because being alone right now sounds even better than having to be around anyone right now.
It’s fucking locked.
Azriel pounds on the door. There’s an urgency to it that Rhysand must hear, because he’s cracking the door open a bit and Azriel is met with his glowing violet eyes and naked chest.
“What’s up Az? I’m a little…busy at the moment.”
He doesn’t need to peek over his shoulder to know that Feyre’s waiting for him in his bed right now.
“I, ah—nothing man. It’s nothing,” he mumbles, turning away from the door. None of his questions are being answered. If everyone's over here, why is no one at your apartment? Why aren’t you in your own bed? “What the fuck,” he grumbles, scanning the crowd of gyrating bodies in the middle of his living room.
He spots Cassian somewhere near the middle, a group of girls rubbing their bodies up against his. They’re so close together they look like a pack of sardines, and Cassian is their king. He’s laughing, making suggestive eyes at at least three of them.
Sometimes, Azriel wishes he was that carefree.
With nothing else to do, he makes his way to the kitchen.
He needs a fucking drink.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r
#midnight muse#acotar#azsazz#acomaf#acowar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel/reader#modern!azriel#tattoo artist!azriel#artist!azriel#art school au#acotar au
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Main four + Butter and how they cuddle…?
Please don’t ever feel pressured to do these on spot <3!!!
Im just— Kyle is heavy on my brain rn. Hhhhggh.. I can’t stop thinking.. about.. him..
Also some of this may of gotten a bit.. nsfwish I apologize.
┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
𝑲𝒀𝑳𝑬𝑺 𝑮𝑨𝑵𝑮 + 𝑩𝑼𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑪𝑼𝑫𝑫𝑳𝑬
𝙀𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 ₊ ⊹
𝘼𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙪𝙥! 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝘼𝙐‧₊˚✩彡
𝙆𝙮𝙡𝙚, 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙣, 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙮, 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘽𝙪𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨𐙚
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: nsfw
└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘
Kyle 🐇𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🪐
-Please.. Kyle’s got you in the goddamn honeymoon hug. You’re both facing each other, his arms are wrapped around your middle and yours wrapped around his neck. His legs and yours intertwined.
-He’s such a lover boy I can’t. His nose occasionally will press against yours, the two of you giggling and talking about anything and everything in such a gentle tone. Sometimes a whisper.
-He’ll do this normally, he just wants you close so he can tell you how much he loves you, how warm you are. How much he never wants to get up and could stay like this for hours. Kyle especially does this when it comes to movies. But.. it’s because he’s sleepy. If you’re helping him watch Ike while his parents are out, at some point Ike is put to bed, and Kyle suggests that maybe you two could watch a movie, something to pass the time but he says this as he’s already dragging himself around half asleep so you know what he means. He wants sleep, you can watch the movie. The minute you say yes his tall form is rushing over to the couch, squishing you into it while you both lay down. His back faces the tv, head cradled in your neck while yours rests on his shoulder to turn a movie on. His legs tangle with yours and just like that.. Kyle Broflovski is knocked the fuck out.
- He’s also the type of mother fucker to pull you back in if you try to get up. “No baby, just stay here. Please.” He’s mumbling, pressing kisses to your neck, those kisses turn into soft licks and nipping. His hands roaming more then they were 5 minutes ago. “Ky c’mon I’ll lay down with you, you wanted to cuddle” your ears heat up, fingers gripping his shoulders. He chuckles quietly, his fingers finding their way to your draw string. “M’sorry, I’ll stop.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Kiss?”
-He won’t ever really cuddle in public, but once you’re either at his or yours and studies are out of the way? he’s all over you.
-I may be obsessed with Kyle. Guys. I may.. be obsessed. Did I mention obsessed? I’m obsessed. Come to our wedding ;)
Stan .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ
-I feel like Stan is a clingy cuddle type. And I mean, someone speaks to you? He’s latched and immediately pulling you into his lap to curl you up so he can rest his head on you, hands rubbing at your legs. Someone’s looking your way? Yup “give me your hand.” He’s gripping it and pulling you into him so he can lean against you, swaying softly while he hides his face on your shoulder or in your hair.
-He’s also the type to cuddle when he’s drunk. “hic hiiii~ you look, so good right now.. hic” he’ll find the comfiest spot to lay you, practically flopping on top of you and mumbling on and on about whatever goes through that dumb brain of his. He’ll pass out sooner or later but before he does make sure to give him a gentle lil kiss to his messy dyed blonde hair, catch him smiling like a dumb idiot with that dopey face, cheeks red and warm
-He tends to come cuddle when he’s had a shit day and his father is just being an actually fucking dick. He’ll sneak into your room, tripping over shit but trying to be as quiet as possible. When he finds your bed he takes his shoes off and slips into the sheets with you, his head popping up between your arms, his hands under your shirt. “Hm?” You wake suddenly not sure who was in the bed at the moment, though the voice was enough to tell you it was Stan. “Hey hey, shh, it’s just me babe” his hand squeezes your side softly. “Just wanted to get away from dad.” He mumbles before feeling you bring him closer to you. Suddenly, he very quickly realized. In that moment. You were his home.
-He’s not horribly crazy about cuddling, you really just have to catch him at the right time. Either you let him come to you or sometimes if you come to him, he’s already ready for you. It really just depends on his day.
Kenny ₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉
-If there is ever a time where Kenny has his hands off of you for a long period of time. Something is wrong. So cuddling is a must in your relationship with him.
-Kenny will cuddle anywhere, and I mean anywhere. This could be at school, an outing with his friends, at a restaurant, outside. Literally everywhere. As long as his hands are on you in some type of way he’s content.
-I’m sorry but.. cuddling with Kenny will result in some sort of sexual activity. Unless he’s tired, or.. stoned. If he’s tired, he’s sprawled all over you drooling and getting the best sleep of his god damn life, his arm is sprawled over your chest, his head is half off your shoulder and one leg is hunched up just below your stomach. If he’s stoned he’s got your head on his chest, one arm around your shoulder while the other is behind his head. He’s spewing none sense but.. he’s making you laugh so it’s all that matters to him.
-….cockwarming. Cough.
- “c’mon please?! I promise I won’t do anything” there’s a pause between the two of you “Kenny? Fine but nothing more, I wanna lay down” he’s nodding his head intensely, impatiently waiting for you get under his covers, following you quickly as he watches your slip your pants and underwear off, pushing them to the side. He’s quick to do the same, his tongue out like a panting dog as he slips in, his teeth biting down onto your shoulder as you both let out a pleasurable moan. Kenny’s fingers trace up and down your arms, soothing you. He honest to god probably falls asleep like this, snuggled into your back and whimpering occasionally at any sudden movement. His hand rests at your waist, soft snores leaving his lips.
Cartman 🎧✮🧺✧˖°
-“Do you want me to die?! Is that what you’re saying right now?! Wow, well fine, I’ll just keep warm with someone else” cartman crosses his arms, watching you cock his brow at him, “cuddle, you mean” he cocks his eyebrow back, “keep warm.” You let out a snicker “righttt, just admit it Cartman you wanna cuddle there’s nothing wrong with that”
-He doesn’t like to admit it but he loves your cuddles. We all know cartman is on the chubbier side so he’s actually really nice to cuddle with, he’s warm, soft, and actually just really relaxing to cuddle up to.
-He won’t really notice it but his hands tend to pull you closer, rubbing your legs, arms, occasionally running his fingers through your hair. Depends on how you lay, but typically you’re at his either of his sides, he tells you nonsense stories until you fall asleep and when you do. He’ll pull out his phone to take a few quick pictures of you, saving it in his folder he has specially for you. Yeah he can be a sweetheart, shut up.
-The only time he’ll ask for genuine cuddles is when he’s sick. He’s a man baby when he’s sick and you can’t change my mind. “Y/nnnnnnnnn” he’ll be so whiny, giving the stupid ass pout to make you do what he asks. You’re sure he’ll ask you for soup which you’d gladly make but when he asks for a cuddle you’re quite surprised. It doesn’t take you long to find your way under his sheets, sitting slightly up right so he can rest against you. Your fingers rummage through his hair, scratching at his scalp and massaging his temples. He really does appreciate it, and he’ll make it up to you. …at some point.
Butters ˚☆🐈*๑
-Like Stan he’s the clingy cuddling type. But not in like a jealous way just more, he just wants you around him so he’ll cuddle you to keep you there.
-if you two are ever out with friends or even doing something with his parents if he doesn’t have your touch he literally goes insane. He tries to find anyway to touch you, his foot touching your leg, his hand trying to find your hand, trying to move closer to you, literally anything to at least feel you.
-But when he has the chance to have his hands on you he’s a giggling mess. He likes to be the little spoon, he likes feeling you all squished up to his back, your hands around him so his hands can hold yours. He’ll curl up slightly as well, finding any sense of your warmth. If this mf could be in your skin. He would. He just wants you as close as you can get. If he ends up falling asleep, at some point he’s turned around, face squished between your arms that are hugging his head, your body latched around him and he could not be happier with the way he woke up.
-He likes to kiss when cuddling. His hand will be moving your hair out of the way while he presses kisses to your face. At times you hide it from him, shy at the way he just can’t stop pressing kisses to your face. “Aw jeez, don’t hide from me! It’s only a little kiss darlin” he uses his nose to brush against your hands, trying to push them apart because he wants to kiss your lips.
-like Kyle, once you’re cuddling. You’re trapped. He’s not letting you up for anything. Unless you really have to use the bathroom then if that’s the case he feels bad for keeping you locked in his arms. “Oh but please be quick okay! I still want cuddles!”
#south park x reader#south park x y/n#south park x you#kyle broflovski x reader#kyle broflovski x y/n#south park hcs#south park headcanons#eric cartman x reader#eric cartman x y/n#eric cartman x you#butters stotch x reader#butters x reader#sp butters#butters leopold stotch#stan marsh x y/n#stan marsh x you#stan marsh x reader#stan marsh#kenny mcormick headcanons#kenny mcormick x reader#kenny mccormick#dolly’s fics
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POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 5
Warnings- smut
wc- 2.3k
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6
You awaken, free from pain and aches, but find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings. Everything is bathed in a deep red hue, and a sense of unease washes over you. As you sit up, confusion clouds your thoughts. In the distance, you notice something immense—a Tower of Skulls—with Sukuna perched atop it.
Your heart quickens, and adrenaline surges through your veins. With determination, you rise and begin to advance towards the tower, driven by urgency.
"You fucker," you call out, your voice trembling with anger upon seeing him.
As you draw closer to the tower, you see Sukuna seated on a throne, his head propped on his hand. His gaze meets yours, a chilling smile playing on his lips.
"Don't look at me without my permission, brat. I hate it," he growls, his voice filled with menace. "Bow down before me," he orders.
Disobeying him, you inquire, "Where am I?"
"In my domain," Sukuna says, his voice sending chills through your body. "Malevolent Shrine. So you better be obedient and do what I say."
"How did I end up here?" you demand, glaring at him.
"Because you attempted to end your own life, brat," he retorts, a smirk dancing on his lips. "I couldn't allow you to perish, not yet," he continues, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. "Not until you learn the consequences of your actions."
You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you gaze at him. Summoning your courage, you take a deep breath, your voice quivering with anger. "Come down here, asshole," you command firmly. "I refuse to serve you, now or ever," you declare, your eyes flashing with defiance.
Sukuna chuckles, a cruel sound resonating through the shrine."You think you are brave enough to insult me?" he says, his voice laced with amusement. "Moreover, you broke the deal that we made."
In a surge of fury, you snatch up a skull, your rage propelling your actions. With all your might, you hurl it towards Sukuna. Swiftly, he leaps from his perch, landing atop you with a mocking laugh.
"Ouch!" you cry out, the impact stealing your breath.
"You don't get to disobey me, vessel," Sukuna snarls, pinning you to the ground and pressing your face into the bloody puddle.
Within a few seconds, he lets go of your head, letting you breathe again. "Get off me!" you yell, struggling beneath him.
"You will listen to me, vessel," he says, his voice cold. "Or I will make sure you regret it," he adds, his eyes gleaming with malice.
You struggle, but he is too strong; your efforts are futile.
"As I was saying, this is my innate domain. In other words, you are not dead yet. You missed your vital spot, so I was able to take over your unconscious body and heal it," he says, looking down at you.
"You're heavy," you remark, trying to deflect.
Sukuna releases you, grasping your neck to force eye contact. "You broke our deal by not allowing me to take over your body whenever I want," he says, staring daggers at you.
You study him intently, noting his imposing presence: the pink spikes of his hair standing tall, tattoos and markings adorning his forehead, nose, cheeks, and torso. He's wearing a white robe, the cloth flowing around him.
"Do you like what you see?" Sukuna asks, his voice mocking, "I look like a god, don't I?" he adds, a silly smirk playing on his lips.
"You're still an asshole," you retort, your voice shaking with anger.
"And I'm still the owner of your body, and do you know what happens to those who break the rules?"
You roll your eyes, your anger growing again.
Suddenly, Sukuna's hold on your neck tightens, cutting off your air supply. You fight against him, your chest burning for oxygen. Gasping desperately, your vision blurs.
Summoning your last reserves of strength, you manage to land a kick on his jaw, momentarily loosening his grip.
His eyes blaze with rage as he growls, "You insolent wretch," his voice seething with fury.
In a whirlwind of movement, you find yourself seated upon the throne, Sukuna's hands firmly gripping your waist, his eyes narrowed with unbridled anger.
"Remember, this is my domain," he growls.
Your heart races; panic is surging through you. "Release me," you demand, your voice trembling with fear.
Sukuna's smirk widens, malice glinting in his eyes. "Not so easily," he retorts, his tone chillingly indifferent.
You are now stuck with Sukuna, as he keeps you pinned against him, his hand tightly wrapping around your waist.
With a low growl, Sukuna's hands reach down to your pants. His fingers are brushing against your skin, your breath hitches, and your body is tense with anticipation. You try to push him away, your heart racing.
Sukuna smirks, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I've been waiting for this moment, Sama." His voice is low and seductive, sending chills down your spine. He chuckles darkly, his hands tightening their grip on your waist, before he pulls you closer, devouring your lips in a passionate yet rough kiss. His tongue dances with yours, dominating you completely as he takes control of your body, moving it according to his will.
"I know all your sweet spots," he whispers against your lips, letting you catch your breath for a moment before he yanks your pants off you.
You gasp as he slides his finger over your clit. "I am also aware of your virginity and how quickly you get wet," he chuckles, striding his tongue against your neck. Your mind keeps on wondering how he knows all this.
He leans down, yanking off your top and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it, causing you to arch your back in pleasure.
Sukuna grins, pushing a finger inside of you gently, watching as you twitch and moan softly. "Oh, look how you are so wet for me." He coos against your ear, thrusting his finger deeper into you. You squirm in his grip, but he holds you firmly.
"Ah, I am hitting the right spot, am I not?" he asks, intentionally wanting to get a reply from you.
"N-no, not at all. Your nails.. They-," you lie.
"Quit lying, you like the sensation of my sharp nails gazing at your walls; I can read your mind; don't forget that you are in my domain," he thrusts another finger, making you whimper. He chuckles darkly, increasing the pace of his fingers.
"Trust me, I can see through your mind right now." He murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust. His hands then move to your nipple, twisting and pulling, causing you to whimper into his shoulder. "Hmm. Gotta ruin your tough personality," he whispers as he thrusts his fingers faster, making you writhe in his grip.
You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him, desperate for release. "Nah, uh, you need to beg for it," Sukuna smirks, his finger sliding out of you, his eyes never leaving yours.
You try to think of something else, but your mind keeps on reminding your body about the pleasure it was feeling from his fingers.
He chuckles darkly, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Say it aloud; I want to hear it, though I already know what you want by reading this filthy mind of yours." He says, sliding his fingers back into you, twisting and pulling them, making you moan loudly.
"Please let me, Cum," you gasp, your eyes wide with a mix of pain and pleasure.
"Hmm? Already started begging? You are not as tough as I thought you would be. Guess, I am hitting your right spots," he mocks, bruising your sweet spot again and again.
Suddenly, his fingers leave you abruptly, making you whine in protest. You were so close, but he stopped. He laughs, still holding you firmly against him. "This is a punishment; I can't give you pleasure. Can I?"
He turns you so that he can see your face clearly, and your hands unconsciously wrap around his neck. "If you really want to cum so badly, then do it on cock," he said, his voice low and seductive, causing shivers to run down your spine.
"I don't need it from you," you lie, trying to sound tough but failing miserably as you can feel his laughter resonating in your ears.
"Oh, come on, I know you want it; your body is begging for it," he laughs, his lips trailing down your neck. "Your body is so slutty, you know that?" he asks, his hands roaming your back and your hips.
You shake his hold on you, trying to break free, but he grips you tighter. "Quit lying, I told you I can read your mind," Sukuna chuckles, his lips against your ear. "You really look good with that short hair," he whispers, his fingers tangling around your hair. "I apologise; if you truly care about your hair, it will grow back."
"Shut up, I hate you so much," you try to say.
"Kiss me then; let me fix us," he smirked.
You glare at him, but he doesn't seem to care. Instead, he pulls you closer, your lips brushing against his. His lips are soft against yours, and his tongue darts out to trace the line of your lips. You groan softly, your defenses crumbling. His lips press harder against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth, claiming it as his own. This time he kisses you thoroughly, his hands roaming your body and touching your every sensitive spot.
"Don't you want to feel the king of curses's cock inside you?" he whispers against your lips, his hands cupping your breasts. You moan softly, feeling his hands on your breasts, causing you to shiver in pleasure.
"I-I don't need that," you stutter, your body betraying you as it moves against him.
"Don't lie; you know you do," Sukuna murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. "You are already imagining me fucking your little pussy, mhm." He chuckles darkly, his hands roaming your back, causing you to feel embarrassed.
"Stop reading my mind." Your hands travel to close his eyes. "I don't want your dirty cock inside me," you resist.
"Then why are you grinding against it? Why do you envision me fucking you?" he gently moves your hands from his face to his cock. "Can you feel it throbbing?"
You jolt at its thickness and say, "I-impossible."
He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest that vibrates against you. "Is it?" His hands slide down your body, pulling your pants off. "Don't worry, you are loose enough," he murmurs, guiding your hands against his hard shaft. "Are you telling me you don't want this?" he asks, his voice low and husky.
You bite your lip, your body betraying you as your hips rub against him. He chuckles evilly and says, "I want to hear you. Tell me you want this inside you."
You hesitate for a second, your eyes wide with confusion and desire. "I think, I do," you stutter, your hands gripping his robe tightly. Sukuna chuckles, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Is that so, little slut? Fine, let's see how you react," he says, his hands pulling your legs apart. His cock slides against your clit, causing you to gasp and moan.
"Please…" you whisper, your eyes pleading. "Please, what?" he asks, and he continues teasing your clit. "P-put it inside," your eyes pleading with him.
Sukuna's smirk never leaves, his eyes gleaming with victory as he positions himself at your entrance. He thrusts inside you, making you gasp and arch your back.
"Yes, that's it; take it," he murmurs, his hands gripping your hips. You moan loudly, your hands tugging on his robe. "Good vessel, take it all," he praises you, thrusting in and out of you.
You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him. "Hmm, nice and tight," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Tight as I thought you would be." You whimper, your eyes wide with pleasure and pain.
Sukuna chuckles darkly, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. "Where is the fierce girl you used to be?" he mocks, his nails digging into your hips. You moan softly, your body writhing under his touch.
He kisses your neck and, with his fingers, your hair. "I'll make sure you never forget this," he growls, his hips thrusting faster. You moan loudly, your hips buckling against him. His thrusts become faster and harder, and your body shudders under his touch. He bites your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Do you know, get it, who's the owner of this body?" he growls, his eyes gleaming with lust.
"Yeah," your voice quivering with every demonic thrust.
"You look so good, taking my cock, so submissive," he murmurs, thrusting harder. His words send shivers down your spine, his cock sliding in and out of you, making you whimper. "I can feel your walls trembling around me," he growls, his hands wrapping around your neck.
You whimper, your body shaking terribly, your toes curling.
"Cumming already?" he asks mockingly, his hips thrusting harder.
"A-ah, I-I," you gasp, your body betraying you. You arch your back, your body quivering as you reach your climax. Sukuna groans loudly, his hands gripping your hips tighter.
"This body, these breasts, this pussycat—every inch of your body belongs to me," his low growl echoing through your ears, his cock pulsing inside you. He thrusts deeper, his orgasm coming hard, filling you up. He gives you a peck, and your body is still quivering from the experience.
"Now you know who owns this body," he mocks, his hands running down your body. "Next time, don't dare to deny me." You nod weakly, your body still under the effect of the intense climax. He smirks, slowly pulling himself out of you, his cock sliding out of your body.
You pass out, slumping against him. Sukuna chuckles ominously, his eyes bright with triumph.
TAGLIST: @moonlightazriel @unholiiness @nyxlai @cocoaxbunny @persephone-lilly @iraa567 @rabbidbunwy @sweetchildcloud @lotus-n-l0ve @smashhed @imhellakawai @loveoreos @selfloverrrrrr @matchainthemorning @freckledmuffin @palegardenrebel @hellomeow12 @rowrowrowyourboat13
Dividers from @cafekitsune
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#jjk sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen x reader#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#sukuna ryomen smut#jjk ryomen#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#jjk sukuna x reader#jjk sukuna ryomen#itadori yuji#itadori yuji x reader#yuji itadori x reader
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A nudge from James - a wolfstar microfic
@wolfstarmicrofic
February 9 - heart - 487 words
Remus came in the door to their dorm. “James, I need that Potions book you borrowed.”
“It’s over there, by your stuff.”
Sirius and Remus both looked puzzledly at him. That pile of things was Sirius'. James knew that.
Sirius saw it just as Remus went to grab his book. On top of the pile was a bunch of parchments he was sure he had buried at the bottom of his trunk.
“No, wait!”
It was too late. Remus was already staring at the pages.
“You fucker!” Sirius threw a book after James who was already halfway out the door.
Sirius didn’t like to call himself talented. But the sketches were good enough that anyone could see who they portrayed. Remus. Remus in all kinds of cute poses. There was even one with the two of them kissing, the supposed to be him could pass for someone else, but that hardly made any difference as almost every page was scattered with silly hearts.
Still staring, Remus put one hand to his mouth, loosening his grip on his returned Potions book resulting in some handwritten parchments falling out and landing on the floor. Sirius caught a glimpse of his own name before Remus began hurriedly gathering the pages.
“Don’t read that!”
Of course not. He must be too creeped out to want anything to do with Sirius now.
“I’m sorry, Remus. I didn’t mean for you to see that. I know it’s weird. I…”
“Sirius, stop.”
“Because you’re too creeped out to listen to me?”
He gave a short burst of laughter. “I could listen to you all day. But I’d rather kiss you if that’s an option.”
“I… What?”
“You know what, do read this. I don't know how James found it, but after I've seen your drawings it's only fair.”
He held out one of the earlier dropped pages.
There is one star in the sky that outshines the moon, and its name is Sirius.
Sirius felt his jaw dropp. It all continued in the same style. Poetry. About him.
When he looked up Remus' cheeks were bright pink and his eyes intently studying Sirius' response. Sirius did not wait for another invitation. With a gasp, he threw himself around the neck of Remus and kissed him right on the mouth. Strong arms grabbed him and drew him closer. Remus kissed him back with an eagerness and a passion that made the world stop spinning.
Half an hour later when James cautiously opened the door, Sirius hit him in the head with a pillow. “You did that on purpose!”
Seeing Sirius and Remus with their arms around each other, his face relaxed.
“You think?” James rolled his eyes. “I was tired of seeing you two dance around each other.”
Sirius looked at Remus who huffed at James with pretended irritation and then smiled lovingly right back at him. Yeah, maybe they had needed a little nudge.
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Let me see
NSFW / Minors don't interact / 18+
Pairing: Kamo Choso x female reader
Summary: Art student Choso losing his mind over you, the beautiful model in his art class
Warnings: oral sex (female receiving)
Words: ~1.900
Notes: Just a sweet little gift for all my Choso fuckers out there lol Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated <3
This is far from the first time for him. Choso’s eyes have glided along countless body shapes, sizes and curves. He’s used to it; to the nudity, the slow peeling off of clothes, in a non-sexual, professional way.
But since you’ve taken off your clothes his usual professionalism seems to have left his body. You’re not like the other models. At least not for him. You’re different.
You’re stirring something inside of him, as you fix your gaze on one point of the room, body bare, face open and curious. You’re beautiful. Objectively. But for him, for Choso, you’re more. Your whole aura makes him feel like he’s on edge.
His pencil drags along his canvas, drawing along with the other students in the art class. It's quiet, except for the scraping of pencils, and faint comments of the teacher, who’s wandering aimlessly through the room. He wonders if the others can hear his heart racing in his chest.
He works on the shadows, as he desperately wishes it were his fingers dipping into the shadows of your body instead. Your skin seems so soft, so touchable, your pose so calm, your expression collected. You’re truly ethereal.
Choso tries to concentrate, working on his study, sketching and blurring until he is somehow satisfied - although he knows no painting will ever do your beauty justice.
He hopes no one notices how greedily his eyes drag along your silhouette, how desperately he wishes that instead of his pencil dragging along the canvas, it would be his fingers dragging along your curves.
When his gaze rests too long on you he nervously shifts his attention back to the canvas in front of him, blocking the view of you. He tries to ignore the way his blood runs hot through his veins with every sight of you. His heart nervously tugs in his chest every time he takes you in. He feels weak at how he’s fallen prey to you, his body acting on his own.
Others wouldn’t even notice what is going through him, Choso’s expression is as neutral and stoic as ever. When he excuses himself to go to the toilet, no one would ever suspect it's because of you. Because you almost make it hard for him to breathe or because his dick strains so hard against the confinement of his pants.
Choso on the other hand can’t comprehend how the others can’t notice. The reflection of his black eyes stares back at him deliriously, knuckles turning white as his hands grab the sink tightly. His breathing is erratic and shallow, his blood running hotly through his veins.
He ignores the throbbing of his cock, trying to deepen his breath as he focuses his thoughts on everything - everything other than you. He loses track of time, of how long it takes for him to pull himself together.
When he enters the classroom again he’s taken aback. Seems like he has allowed himself too much time. The class had ended. One of his classmates rushes past him, shooting him a polite smile before Choso is all alone with you.
You’re clad in a kimono now, the delicate fabric slightly swaying across your ankles as you turn around.
The line of your gazes connected, just for a moment before Choso quickly averts his. Your gaze hit him hard and sweet, making his heart tug nervously in his chest as if he hasn’t just spent minutes trying to calm himself down.
He inhales sharply through his nose, returning to his seat. His unfinished painting stares back at him, causing him discontent.
“I can pose for you for another 10 minutes.”
His eyes snap up, peering past his canvas, resting on yours. A soft, almost shy smile plays around your lips. Your voice has a soothing tone, alluring.
“No. No, you don’t have to,” he stammers, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks. You’re so affectionate, so attentive.
“I can also do another pose,” you propose.
Choso knows that he shouldn’t say yes. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate, wouldn’t be able to paint like he usually does - without emotion, only caring about his study. But he’s so powerless, succumbing to your enchantment.
“Alright, I’ll be quick.”
He has to swallow hard as you lose your kimono, folding it away before you strike your pose. Like earlier right in front of him, sitting on the chair, one leg over the other, staring to the right.
You slightly tilt your head, “Like this?”
It’s an honor to paint you from every angle. Nonetheless, he takes long strides over to you. The sudden lack of proximity has his palms dampening, pulse racing, as his eyes trail across your features.
And it’s no different for you. He practically looms over you, taking up your entire line of sight. It’s a little bit unexpected. You gulp, his blown-out pupils take your words away.
He gestures for you to move further to the right on the chair, positioning yourself more diagonally. When he orders a further correction you don’t seem to get what he’s saying, too caught up with processing the closeness you find yourself to him.
“Can I?”
You nod. His fingertips trace along your bare skin, causing shivers to rise. The touch doesn’t seem to leave him cold either, you can feel it; the slight, but noticeable trembling of his hands.
Choso positions you how he desires; his hands circling your wrist, putting it close to your waist, the other hanging loosely on your side. His fingertips glide along your jawline before he slightly angles your face towards him. You have no other choice but to look at him.
The way he watches you, eyes hazed over with lust, is borderline feral. You swallow against the dryness of your mouth.
You’re not sure if he even knows what he’s doing, it just seems like he just wants to press his hands onto you, with no end goal, no plan. You shudder at the brush of his fingertips against your skin.
Both of you forgot all about the painting, the only thing that is important now is his hot hands on you. His palms glide along your sides before they rest on your thighs. His figure encompasses you fully now, you bask in his warmth, his scent.
You think he must hear it, the way your heart beats against your ribcage and your shallow, fast breathing.
But his gaze is laced with uncertainty, an almost pleading, questioning look in his dark eyes. Apparently, he has no idea that he has you in the palm of his hand, quite literally.
Choso hesitates once his hands smooth over your thighs.
His voice is barely above a whisper, so low you hardly understand him. “Let me see.”
A little gasp drops past your lips and you’re not sure how a complete stranger has such a command over you.
You open your legs for him, slowly, deliberately.
He sinks down to his knees, practically facing your slick pussy. You can feel his breath against your skin.
For one hour you stood naked in front of a dozen of people. Yet, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this exposed.
You’re about to close your legs again, but his hands dig into your soft flesh, halting your movement.
“Please, can I?” His voice almost breaks, dripping with need.
You’re not sure what exactly he asks for, but you comply willingly. You nod eagerly, as he peers up at you, his gaze hazed over with lust.
The meeting of his lips on your skin draws a strained gasp from you. He worships you, pressing feathery kisses onto your thighs, first paying attention to one thigh and then to the other. Slowly he works his way to your core. Your hands grip the edge of your seat, your heart beating so violently against your chest it may spring out of it.
Your skin burns where he touched you, the anticipation of having him where you need him the most nearly breaking you apart. The air hits your slick vulva, making apparent how feverishly you desire him.
You slightly arch your back in an instinctual search for more. He complies eagerly, and as you feel his tongue lazily tracing along your pussylips you let out a low, relieved sigh. He groans at your taste, his hands grabbing at the meat of your thighs.
He works awfully slow, licking slow stripes up your slit, carefully veering around your clit. You slightly rut into his face, making him hum against your core, the low vibrations of it making you gasp. Your thighs were already becoming slick with your arousal.
His hands tighten around your thighs, holding himself back, restraining himself from giving you his all. Choso has you squirming with anticipation.
“Please,” you hum, snaking a hand down to tug on his black hair.
And again, he complies. He licks at your clit, lazily, almost teasingly. A breathless moan drops from your parted lips. The sound travels straight to his cock, throbbing desperately in his taut pants.
You gasp in surprise as he moves, letting your legs rest on his broad shoulders, holding your waist to stop you from falling off the edge of the chair.
He buries his face between your thighs greedily. All his teasing patience has subsided. His tongue laps at your folds and lips, with an almost brutal pace. Your hands tug harder at his hair once his lips seal around your clit, sucking hard.
You whine desperately, your eyes almost rolling back to your skull. Finally, you have what you’ve longed for.
He works like that, his tongue draws circles around your clit, sucking, lapping at your drenched folds, coaxing you into bliss. It almost sounds obscene, so wet, the way his face meets your messy, dripping pussy. He makes you feel so good, so unbelievably good.
Your eyes were half-lidded, your head was thrown back, until you felt him retreating. You perk up. His warm breath fans over your wet pussy, your soft pants and moans filling up the quiet room.
“Choso.”
You look at him dumbfounded, brain clouded with lust. “What?”
“My name. It’s Choso. You should know who makes you feel this good,” he murmurs sheepishly, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he looks at you tenderly through his half-lidded eyes.
You let out a surprised laugh, which bleeds into a high-pitched whine as he buries his face between your legs once more.
You moan his name, letting it roll off your leaden tongue tentatively, causing him to groan desperately against you.
You meet his eyes, as he circles your entrance. He moves impossibly closer, fucking you with his tongue. His face becomes blurred as you feel the knot in your stomach tighten.
He flips his tongue on your puffy clit, before he sucks hard, having you call out his name as you tip over the edge.
You cum, hard. The whole tension that has been building up before discharges at this moment.
Your thighs squish around his messy face as he guides you through your high with his skilled mouth.
His name drops from your parted lips, again and again, like a prayer. He holds you steady with his large hands, as your whole body trembles.
When he lets go of you, his face is drenched. The look of reverence in his eyes as he peers up at you makes your chest swell with affection.
You let out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Nice to meet you, Choso.”
©sweetdreamlandstuff
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Maybe just some nice Lucifer x GN!MC domestic fluffy headcanons? Thank you so much!
Thank you for the request! I got you. These are a little messy and unorganized, but I hope you enjoy them. I have them based more in the future/original game when MC and Lucifer live together.
Lucifer x gn!MC domestic fluff headcanons
MC is in the habit of brewing coffee or caffeinated tea for Lucifer and bringing it to his study for him when they know he has a lot of work to do.
Usually, he stops working for a few moments when this happens and asks you to join him for a minute. If his work is especially distressing, he may ask to kiss you for a while or hold you or have you hold him – he just needs a bit of physical affection to go on. Otherwise, he just likes to sit and sip his drink with you. Chatting with you always restores him and sets him at ease.
Sometimes, he barely mutters out a “thanks” when MC comes by. He usually feels like a dick the next day and buys them something to drink or eat as a proper “thank you.”
Just imagine him walking up after one of your classes with a pretty frappe, or other ice blended drink and handing it to you in front of everyone. He’d kiss your cheek, tell you “thanks for last night” (with no concern for how that sounds), and offer to walk you to your next class/home. Meanwhile, Asmo’s whining about not getting a pretty drink and how unfair it is that Lucifer’s kissing you in public and somehow also trying to get more details about what you did to Lucifer last night.
He asks you to come to his room to listen to music with him at least once a week.
Some people go to spas, some order a good meal, Lucifer asks MC to just chill and listen to music with him. Maybe they cuddle, maybe something a bit more intimate – who cares? It’s his form of self-care.
He is ready to commit homicide if someone keeps him out late on nights when you are cooking dinner. Someone dares deprive him of a fresh-cooked meal from his beloved? Absolutely not. Okay, maybe if it’s an emergency or a demand from Diavolo. But he’ll always text or call to give a heads up and ask (because he knows he’s not in a position to make demands) that you save some food for him. If you delay eating so you can eat dinner with him when he gets home, his heart will practically burst with affection. Expect at least two “I love you”s and multiple kisses when he sees you. He’s down so bad.
Whenever he gets drunk before bed, he immediately looks for you when he wakes up. His hand searches his bed for your warmth. He knows he gets a bit affectionate when he’s drunk, so he instinctively expects you to be nearby.
If you aren’t there, he’ll groan and force himself out of bed. He’ll check his phone for messages from you and head to your room. If you’re in bed, he’ll crawl in with you until you get up (even if someone else is already in your bed, he does not care, and he is not alert enough to care. He just wants to hold you.). If you’re somewhere else, he’ll search the whole house for you until he finds you. Once he does, he’ll walk over to you – cool and calm, as if he hadn’t been searching for you – and hug you.
If you are in bed with him, he’ll pull you closer and lie with you until you’re ready to get up.
Every once in a while, he asks to shower with you – which is hard to do without getting caught. Even if his mind wanders to all of things you could get up to in that shower, he’s usually just content to be there with you under the hot water. A real shocker with Horny 2.0 over here.
Don’t tell anyone, but he adores washing your hair and playing around with it when it’s all soapy with shampoo. He has definitely tried to turn you into a unicorn and had to stifle his laughter. (However, if you shave your head, he will, instead, draw swirls in the suds like he’s trying to recreate Van Gogh’s Starry Night.)
If he walks into a common room and finds you sitting or standing with your back to him, he will sneak up behind you and wrap his arms around you. This fucker demon will just chuckle if he startles you. “It’s just me, my love. Do I scare you that much?”
If you really hate him sneaking up on you and tell him to stop, he will – kind of. He’ll call out your name in a low, sultry voice before hugging you.
Errands that he used to run alone become opportunities to be with you. Did Beel empty the fridge? “MC, would you mind going to the store with me later?” Did Lucifer wear out his shoes? “I need to buy another pair of shoes. I was wondering if you could assist me with that.” Did someone steal your favorite body lotion and now you’re all out? “I heard. I’ll figure out which of those idiots was responsible. Why don’t I take you shopping later? We’ll pick up a new jar. Maybe you’ll find a new scent you like, too.”
He loves when he goes out with you and shop owners or random people assume he’s your partner. He pretends to think that being referred to as your boyfriend is childish and stupid, but he’s endeared by it.
Lucifer has an “MC’s stuff” drawer in his room. It contains spare clothes and other items you might need if you spend the night in his room (bonnets, pillowcases, a mouth guard, a stuffed animal – whatever you need/want). He also has a jar in there that has your favorite candies. The drawer is magically sealed so only you or him can open it.
Lucifer always offers to do your laundry with his – without fail. It’s not just your clothes, either. He’ll offer to wash your bedding or towels or curtains. I feel like laundry and cooking are the only chores he enjoys.
Lucifer leaves gifts on MC’s bed when they’re out – especially if he thinks they’re having a rough day or have been having a tough week.
He hates when MC is on someone else’s team when playing any sort of group games. In part because he can’t figure out whether he should let MC’s team win to see them smile, or if he should crush them so he can show off a bit.
Hidden in the depth of his closet is shirt of yours that he borrowed once and refused to return. If you’re gone for longer than a week, that shirt becomes his new pillowcase so he can feel closer to you before drifting off to sleep.
Lucifer has – at any time – at least 3 bottles of Demonus hidden throughout the house. One of them is always in your room somewhere. You know about half of his hiding spots.
Even though he’s possessive, he still appreciates seeing you spend time with his brothers. He’s struck by your patience and affection for his precious brothers. It is endearing how well you’ve settled into his family. Likewise, Lucifer is adorable when he gets along with his brothers, and they dial back the drama and chaos at least 50%.
Lucifer loves when you give him a once over before he leaves the house or if you help him get ready. He likes letting you fix his tie or put cufflinks in for him. He enjoys your soft touch as you smooth out his collar or fix his hair. Asmo still gets to do his nails because of tradition, but he’ll let you do his makeup or pick accessories for him.
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How the slashers show affection
Minor editing for formatting and writing for additional characters. (That's something you won't see in my original AO3 book!)
Michael Myers:
Quality time
He shows up. If Michael really likes you he will show up for you. Got a place you want to go? He's there. Did you work really hard on something and want show him? OK. Just maybe dont expect a huge reaction out of him.
Billy Loomis & Stu Macher:
Acts of service and physical touch!
Billy will go out of his way to try and help you do something. That or he'll just do it for you. Stu is a teddy bear. Always touching you or Billy.
Study date look a little like you and Billy doing the work and stu snuggled up to both of you.
Thomas Hewitt:
Acts of service
Thomas while busy will always find a way to help you. Something on a shelf you can't reach? Grabs it and hands it to you.
Bubba Sawyer:
Physical touch
Cuddle bug! Bubba is always down to cuddle. After all the chores are done of course. His brothers don't like slackers
Bo Sinclair:
Gift Giving
Will buy and or steal things off of victim's to give to you. ASK WHERE HE GOT THE CLOTHES FROM!! If he stutters either don't wear it or wash it a couple times.
Vincent Sinclair:
Gift Giving
He will draw/paint you and give it to you! He's very shy about no matter how long you've been together. Give him some praise and you might get some more.
Lester Sinclair:
Words of affirmation
Praise!!! He loves to give and get! Expect compliments all the time. You made dinner? " This is really really Good!" ( if you give some praise back he will be a big ol blushing mess )
Billy Lenz:
Physical touch
Did you expect anything else? Billy Lives to have his hands on you. If you don't find a hand on your ass, tits, or thighs, something is very wrong.
Brahms Heelshire:
Physical touch
Mother Fucker practically glued to your hip. Anytime you sit he's on your lap. Laying down? Already snuggled up. (Pro tip: you can get out of chores via cuddle compensation!)
Hannibal Lecter:
Acts of service
Don't want to do dishes? OK he'll do them! Don't want to get out of bed? He'll bring you your meals. Hannibal will do anything ( within reason) for you!
Will Graham:
Quality time
Will love spending time with you. More than anything in the world. You could just be sitting down, saying nothing, and he'd still appreciate it. Even if he can't vocalize it or put it into physical action, making time out of his schedule just to sit next to you is how he lets you know, he loves you.
The Lost boys:
David- Words of affirmation
David is a sweet talker through and through. If you seek verbal validation, He's your guy. He let you know when you're doing a good job, or if you look particularly nice this evening. He has no problem purring at you if he knows you like it.
Dwayne- Acts of service
Dwayne loves nothing more than helping you reach that tall shelf, or finding a book you'll like. And with that motorcycle, he has no problem being your personal chauffeur. He'll even read to you if you ask. Whatever you need, he's quick to dote on you.
Paul- Physical touch
No surprise here. Paul loves to grab and hold onto you at all hours. You can bet anytime you're standing still he's right behind you hugging you while rocking side to side. Sitting down? He's already pulled out the blanket to cuddle you.
Marko- Quality time
Marko might seem like a party, jump around kind of guy, but he actually sits pretty still when he's working on something. Whether it's a painting, sewing, or doodling he's almost like a statue (minus his hands of course). So when you're craving some kind of affection from him he'll let you lean on him while he's working, making light conversation. He cherishes these little moments with you.
Thanks for reading! <3
#slashers#michael myers#billy loomis#stu macher#thomas hewitt#bubba sawyer#bo sinclair#vincent sinclair#lester sinclair#billy lenz#brahms heelshire#hannibal lecter#will graham#the lost boys#x reader#fluff
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The gif system in this post, regarding the feudal alignments within fandom?
Every member of a given fandom identifies with at least 1 of the 10 gifs listed.
The meaning of each gif is subject to interpretation to some degree.
My reblog was meant to be funny, but the more I look at the thread the more surprised I am at the amount of truth I see in it. Tumblr is a strange and beautiful place.
for you @deadbranch my chrome queen
I have prepared to flex my worthless and expensive af haha jk or am i dual anthropology and [redacted] degrees to conduct a completely subjective, PhD-level ethnographic study of branchy's gifset curation, please observe:
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Exhibit A: writers and their sixth sense when they intuit me, refreshing and revisiting their blog daily to check for updates to that one-shot/fic/novel/12-part-apocalypse-opera (not even joking about that last one).
alternately, those weird fuckers who send in creepy boundary-crossing anon asks. i love to hate them but they're kind of an essential part of tumblr
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Exhibit B: im convinced some blogs out there have excel spreadsheet JIRA queuebot steampunkesque contraptions running their shit because i have no idea how they make (and KEEP TO) regularly scheduled high quality posts??? a schedule??? on this HELLSITE? tumblr i love you i dont mean that on mondays
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Exhibit C: antis. no further comments.
i freely block antiblogs and and any that are brimming with negativity/hate
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Exhibit D: me, fanfic, and ao3, most days. no further comments
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Exhibit E: me, my imagination, and my fictional harem of blorbos, most nights. no further comments as well.
Also basically 98% of tumblr as is widely known
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Exhibit F: the caption speaks for itself. on tumblr exist still many bubbles of thought, ideology, poiesis, and praxis that go on as if impenetrable and untouched by a well-known phenomenon called Reality (also known as IRL, going outside, touching grass, etc.)
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Exhibit G: hot people who post random face reveals. STOP TITILLATING ME (yes, I had to google how to properly spell titillating)
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Exhibit H: the elder blogs. they post softly but carry big stick. they are the unspoken glue of their fandom communities. their fic/art/headcanon/etc. posts spawn a thousand more. thou shalt not speak a bad word against them. and yes, many of them are POC, so this gif pulls double duty, well chosen branchy my queen. and fuck i wish i could pull off hoops that big, anyway i digress
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Exhibit I: smut writers. they are brazen. they are shameless. they are worshipped and adored. this is the aftermath of their posting after causing tens of thousands of simultaneous la petite morts as the french say (is it la or le idfk and im too lazy/sleepy to google it rn). absolute fucking bloodbath
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Exhibit J: people who post their personal/professional/something-nal drama and air it out by tagging the larger fandom tags they're in, drawing in completely uninvolved (and often uninformed) people and getting these randos to do their dirty work for them
alternately, people who have zero interest or affiliation with said fandoms and their drama but gleefully follow along using the tags (nooooo i havent done that stop looking at me)
I would like add one more if you don't mind:
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Exhibit K: cozy, safe, well-curated, moderated, well-established boundaried corners of fandom and generally lovely spaces like yours <3 and many of my other moots' blogs as well
also, catblogs
#madstrothought#deadbranch#anthropology 101#we gettin margaret mead up in this bitch#anthrobitches unite#ironically the apocalypse opera fic is a mad max fury road fic so all roads lead to rome i guess#also why is there a message tab and an inbox tab why are they not the same and i am too tired and millenial to learn the diff
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Really???? I'm pretty sure I wasn't writing here before lol, mostly because I wasn't writing or creating anything for a long time haha 😭 Sorry again for smashing it in your face really-
And your words are making me blush shit 🥹 Thanks, it helps shy creators like me to think about starting blog hahaha
ACTUALLY, I just realized that I forgot to send any questions I wanted to ask jeez.
Is here any parasitic/symbiotic monsters in your lore? If yes, is it a common thing? How are they approached by other monsters? (I like to think that they're rare cuz nobody actually likes these fuckers, they are stupid™ and bigger ones tend to grab other monsters as their hosts too lmao-) In case host is a human, will they face same discrimination from the other monsters cuz they pass as human?
I have my own thoughts on mind while I was writing since I didn't find any info on you blog about this- maybe it slipped, haha. Sorry in this case!
Who from your OCs will be the most interested to have a buddy like DT? My best bet is on Gallon, since they have two mouths he can get so many rumors and nasty details while practically remaining silent and pouring more and more alcohol lmao AND Chef would hate them cuz Grghaath keeps eating people without waiting for them to be cooked (and Eve has no right to pass so good lol)
Can you give any advice about monster design? I have some thoughts in mind, but I'm not sure how to make monster recognisable lmao :") Do you have any tricks while creating? Steps you're going through?
•••
SORRY FOR BUMPING ANOTHER WALL OF TEXT and thanks for your attention dearly 🫠🫠🫠🫠🌹
I know it's not exactly easy, I'm pretty timid myself and it took several years of me longingly considering starting a Tumblr account before I actually dug my heels in and did it. I really do think posting stuff in your own account would be better, since you get direct attention and can gather an audience that better understands your tastes, right?
1) Parasitic monster species likely exist, I just haven't thought about some very seriously. I definitely will one day, because I'm extremely attracted to monsters like "Carrion" (from a game with the same name). They're probably rarer than most other monsters because their survival relies on finding the correct, compatible host and the switching process is probably extremely perilous to these beings. The closest thing to this we have going on currently is Krulu and Admin's relationship (wherein Admin is a vessel to Krulu) and the ability most demons can hone of possessing another's body (which definitely has its consequences at a long-term level). I think most monsters would have a negative reaction to parasitic entities, mostly due to their own fear of becoming helpless hosts- Which means they'll do anything they can to really blend in, realistically.
A parasitic entity possessing a human host that walks into The Clergy's Eye will immediately have to reveal that they are not, in fact, human- Or else they'll be targeted like one.
2) I think Sybastian is a good bet. Parasites are related to mimics, in the sense that they have a common goal of wanting to pass as something, to go unnoticed by those around them. They're bound to have a little mutuality.
Patches may approach out of curiosity and wanting to study the bond between those two. Nebul is likely under the initial impression that what those two have going on is similar to what he and Purpur are (pet and owner).
I don't think there's any more that might act very differently around them, at least not off the top of my head. 🤔
3) N-Not really?
Here's the thing. When I create characters, I'm not thinking "What would my followers like?"/"Will others enjoy them?". I'm creating characters that I like, that I think would fit in my narrative and my tastes.
My biggest piece of advice is literally just create something you know you'll love. Because then drawing and talking/writing about that character will be like second nature to you, probably.
Visually, I'm not sure what to tell you. Everyone has a style, and yours is very different from mine. Lean into your talents, adopt colors you like, I'm not too sure what to tell you other than just fuck around and see what comes out, you know?
Sometimes I create a character out of necessity, to fill a hole in the narrative. Other times they come spontaneously to me. Sometimes I already know exactly what they'll look like but figuring their mannerisms out takes me weeks. Other times I know what they'll do and how they speak, but visually they could be anything for a while.
Instead of giving up on a character when you're having trouble creating them, I recommend letting a wip sit for a while and coming back to it the next couple of days.
I guess... Find your theme, the stuff you like.
Don't create anything just so it's "recognizable", or at least I wouldn't.
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Thats it that's @figuwhump today. You mother fuckers are lucky they aint stick people.
No body like this. DNI with this post it is shit /j
On a more serious note-- Drawing every day doesn't work for everyone. But I can not remember the last day in my life I did not draw something. I draw mon-fri for work and on the weekends I'm drawing more shit or I am out plein air painting or anything. I carry a pocket sketchbook FULL of life studies and doodles. And with drawing daily--- you learn just how varried your creative process is. SOmetimes I make a banger in 30 mins. Sometimes I spend an hour on fuck ass nothing. I make some great pieces, some absolute flops, and some mediocre shit.
So if you do want to draw daily (which-- I really recommend at least trying at some point), here's a reminder that shit will suck sometimes. And that is ok. No mater how much you practice, how good you get, you will still make a lot of shitty art. And that is fucking awesome. Give yourself permission to make terrible things. You'll improve incredibly because of it.
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Okay wholesome post time
So. This all started with like a little joking idea
"haha since Makoto is the group mom of the Phantom Thieves the others would joke about her kid being their sibling"
And we all know I'm Weak and Gay.
Oh hell yes I wasn't sure that was gonna work I've never done that before fuck yeah
Ahem. Anyways-
That got me thinking. Hey. That's funny. Hehe. And then I thought some more. Gay thoughts. Wholesome, gay thoughts.
And yeah. I think Makoto and Haru would be the most caring, loving parents ever. This is after days of spamming my dear friend with messages about how Haru would totally use the most sugary sweet pet names to fluster poor Makoto, who would totally read books over Haru's shoulder as they cuddled
(this of course all steming from a small idea of "hey what if Haru moved in with Makoto and Sae after losing her dad")
Anyways. I made them mom's.
At first it was this general "ah yes their kid" and then my good friend (@justanotherpersonsuniverse ) was like "if they have a daughter they'd call her their princess cause Queen" and I joked back "haha a son would be a little prince"
And then.
"...okay but what about both-"
And now I'm digging through hours of the fuckin sweetest hcs I've ever come up with trying to put together a post that makes any sense
Okay I forgot a piece of context Sae is boning down with Takemi. Maybe they're dating. Who knows. Not me that's for sure
Fuck uh lemme try to actually make this post ugh
So. I hate the idea of Cop Makoto bleh. So she's a defense lawyer of some kind. Known for taking underdog cases and such or whatever. Haru totally opens up her cafe though, and they live above it in a home that's theirs and warm and GAY ITS SO GAY and when they move in they set up their room, a guest room, and there's a spare room even after Makoto's little study-
And when asked about it, Haru just
"well, we should leave it for now. In case we want to have a little family of our own!"
And boy do they
(they get married first. Haru totally proposes and it spurs Makoto to immediately enter this frenzy that doesn't end until she's used every connection she has to get them legally married)
And later, when everything's settled down, they talk. About their families, parents, fears, hopes- and it all comes to a boil. They believe they can do it together. Be better. Break the cycle. Give their kid a good life.
Eventually, when Haru finds out she's carrying, she tells her big dumbass wife in the softest way possible
("Haru, Dearest, dinner's ready!"
"oh, Love, thank you so much!! Ah, do you mind serving me a little extra?"
"feeling hungry today?"
"hm, not really, but I have to eat for two now, silly"
"haha yeah-"
"..."
"what")
They launch into a frenzy. Haru starts up plans for a nursery in their spare room, and Makoto takes time to have a little chat with their kid each night, incorporating vitamins into her wife's meals, getting special lotions and creams
It's at one of their appointments with Takemi that the other shoe drops
"oh hey, congrats you two. Check it out, second heartbeat."
"t-two?"
That's right fuckers I gave them fucking TWINS
One little prince, one little princess
Yusuke is asked to come paint a mural in the nursery, and the other thieves get so excited for "their new siblings"
And, because I couldn't resist,
They go to have a little chat with an old friend.
("hey Boss. So, neither of us have any parents left, so our kids- they don't have grandparents. And, well, we thought we'd offer the position to you."
*gross Sojiro crying noises*)
Makoto starts doing bottle warming and diaper changing drills. She challenges the other thieves to races. She must be the best mother. Haru thinks it's cute, but draws the line when she notices her wife working herself to the bone. For fucks sake their babies aren't even born yet and Makoto's pushing her limits,
Ah, that's her dumbass though
The day comes eventually. It's a long labour, but eventually a nurse is holding out their first born to a jittery Makoto; "would you like to hold your son?"
So she softly takes the little bundle, stares down at her son- HER SON -with wide, awed eyes, and gently sits at an exhausted Haru's side to show her his little face
"Baby,, look- it's him,,, our son,"
"he's perfect, Mako-chan,,,"
And they're so caught up in their son, that they're jolted when another nurse glides over with another bundle; "are you ready to meet your daughter?"
And man if Makoto wasn't crying before, she sure is now. Everything feels so perfect, she's there with her wife, their son, their daughter; their own little family,,,, but something's missing, still...
Once she's made sure both twins are secure with their Mama, Makoto goes out to greet the crowd waiting in the waiting room
(Makoto: okay ground rules before you guys get to see Haru and the new babies. One, Morgana is not allowed to touch the babies
Morgana: WHAT
Makoto: you're a cat. Germs. Second, hand sanitizer. Everytime you go to touch any of them, apply three squirts. Soak your hands.
Futaba: yes mom
Makoto: 3. No flash photography. You can take three photos each, but no flash. Keep cameras and phones at least four feet from the babies
Ann: you gotcha momkoto!
Makoto: now, ready to meet them?)
It's very soft in that hospital room. The twins are gently passed around, meeting each "sibling". Ryuji breaks into silent tears, holding them like he's never held something more precious. Yusuke just has a look of awe, and mutters about understanding how his mother found such inspiration from him. Joker jokingly calls them the "littlest thieves of hearts" for already stealing all of theirs
Ann can't stop going on about how precious they are and how she's gonna spoil them absolutely rotten and "I need a photo for Shiho SOMEONE GET A PHOTO OF ME WITH THIS BABY MY WIFE NEEDS TO SEE THIS". Futaba, with Morgana on her shoulder, is hesitant to even hold them, instead hovering her fingers over them while Joker holds them. Sumire has this look of complete wonder on her face, even if at times her smile is a little bittersweet. She makes sure to tell both parents how special a pair of twins are
All the thieves agree to help out the new mother's as they adjust to parenthood, especially with twins right off the bat. A rotation comes through every few nights to give them (ahem. Makoto.) A chance to rest. Momkoto herself has three months away from her law office, spending time with her family and running Haru's cafe while she recovers from birth
Their little princess looks almost exactly like Haru, all curly hair and soft eyes. Their prince looks much the same, though his eyes end up a very clear red. Haru was so delighted when she saw them. "MAKO-CHAN HE HAS YOUR EYES"
Futaba buys them little gamer onesies while Sumire brings the twins little toys from the places she travels to for gymnastics
(origin of this screenshot)
Ann swoops in with Shiho to spoil her siblings rotten, with plenty of stylish clothes and fancy European treats. Even once she's got a kid of her own she still spoils the twins. "Uh, duh, I do it because im a great big sister!"
I have so many more thoughts but I'm gonna cut myself off here this is too long already jeez
Anyways. I can't stop talking about this. Talk to me about this.
#persona 5#p5#persona 5 royal#p5 royal#p5 joker#makoto niijima#haru okumura#okujima#makoharu#ryuji sakamoto#yusuke kitagawa#ann takamaki#shihoann#shiho suzui#futaba sakura#morgana#sumire yoshizawa#im so gay and soft
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Fear - Chapter nine
Summary: Y/N lives the life she always dreamed about. a job she loves, a fiancé that does everything for her, and a house she dreamed of. There are hiccups on the way, but Y/N's still pretty satisfied with where she stands in life. Though a word can be powerful, especially if it's said to the wrong person. Y/N would never have thought that she ever gets to experience how bad it can turn out. For her and the loved ones around her.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 2k
Warnings: mentions of blood, cursing
Series Masterlist // Masterlist
Bucky lies there for a while and watches Y/N fall deeper and deeper into a sleep her body and mind desperately need. His hands unconsciously draw some motions on her back and arms, soothing her deeper into sleep and calming his own mind. It’s an act where he doesn't need to think. He’s just doing it.
At some point, his right leg starts to tingle uncomfortably before getting numb. Y/N’s lying on it, and though he doesn't dare to say she’s heavy, his leg deems to disagree. He swallows a few times, fighting against the urge to move his leg, but the fight is lost quickly. Barely five minutes later, he’s as careful as he can while he slowly slips out from under her. He tries his best not to shake her too much, and he manages to get his lower half out. The most difficult part is getting Y/N’s torso and head from his own chest, without waking her up. He freezes and looks at her in terror as she whines a bit just as she shifts away. He holds his breath for a second, prying that she gets right back to sleep, even his fingers are crossed. Y/N sighs and turns, her face now squished into the backrest. Relieved, he exhales, the trapped air, eyes closed. For a second, he contemplates kissing her head or stroking her hair, but then he argues that he doesn't want to wake her up in the first place, and he might do if he does something like that.
So, he shifts away silently and trudges into the kitchen. Once there, he fills the coffee machine with water and powder and yawns as he turns it on.He lanes back a bit to look into the living room, but all he’s able to see is one of Y/N’s naked feet that lies on the armrest, slipped out of the blanket.
On quiet soles, he slips back out of the kitchen, leaving the machine doing its job. He quietly slips past the converted bed and into the hall, up the stairs. He stops just in front of his study. For a moment, his eyes remain on the darkened brownish spot on the carpet. Almost everything is still dirty. The curtain rod and curtains have been removed for evidence, just as the cadaver of the dog ends everything else. Just the dried blood is still there. According to the pathologist, the dog was still alive when it was killed. Bucky kneads his lower lip with a shudder.
The question of how one had gotten such a large animal quietly into his house, while three people were present (one of whom was running through the whole house), never escapes his mind. It’s in a constant loop, together with a couple of other questions. Where the hell had he been hiding the dog? Where was he hiding? Is that the same person who writes the letters?
By now, he has a suspicion that the guy, whoever he is, could either make himself invisible or have been in the house the whole time. The only room they hadn't searched was the bedroom since Bucky was in there the moment, they entered the house. And if that was the case, then it's eating harder at him. He could've found the fucker and put him away, or he... or the guy could've easily overpowered him and could’ve done who knows what to him or Y/N.
He hopes that his team finds out where the guy had been hiding, and hopefully, they even find evidence of who he might be. They had taken some fingerprints off the door from their closet; in the hope they weren’t his or Y/N’s. All he has to do now is wait. This is deeply personal. Another question pops into his head. If this guy is the one who writes the letter and had been hiding in his house, in his study, he might have left something for him to find.
Bucky walks to his desk chair and presses a few buttons on his keyboard. The computer was still on. No one had bothered shutting it off after discovering the dog. He himself was too occupied to care for Y/N even to waste a thought of something like that. “What the hell were you doing here, Y/N? You usually don’t go in here.” Especially since she has most of her things in her office next door. Though Bucky must remind himself that she has done most of her work together with him in his office for the last couple of weeks. He has so much to do with his cases that they almost never see each other. So maybe it’s not that unusual for her to be here.
He looks at his computer, but it seems that Y/N hasn’t come far as it seems. He still needs to enter his password, and even after doing that, he’s greeted by his usual desktop. A picture of Y/N as she sits on the windowsill of her old apartment with a messy bun, a textbook on her lap, and chewing on a pencil. The light from outside is framing her beautifully. A small smile forms on his lips as he remembers the days he came to visit her, only to find her studying and not paying attention to him at all. Not that he minded. He likes watching her getting in a zone; even now, it's one of his favorite things to do.
Frowning, he looks around, trying to find anything unusual, but everything is as it's supposed to be. His gaze wanders from the keyboard, across the tabletop, and then stops at one of the four drawers, on the right side under his desk.
Each of these drawers has a lock, which is normal for a simple secretary, but only this one, the top one, is locked. He pulls a small key out from under the tabletop. For years he had been accustomed to hiding it with tape in a small niche at the bottom. He puts the key in the lock and opens it. When he pulls the drawer open, he’s greeted with the sight of several letters. He stares at them in disgust. He had shown them to Sam, and Sam had looked at them with concern. If it had been up to his colleague, those letters would have ended up with his boss, because they weren't joking letters to him. Sam has the suspicion that whoever sends them is ready to do way worse than just writing insults on his car.
Bucky, however, did not believe that someone was after him. For him, it had always been the pranks of young people. But now, he thinks differently. Slowly he flips through the letters and starts thinking. It's not the first time I've been confronted with threats, but these letters are different. They are personal, but not very detailed. They leave to doubt that the sender is very serious. I wonder who's behind all this. Is it someone I know? A criminal I arrested? Or maybe someone who feels unfairly treated by me?
He absentmindedly flips through the letters again, reading one before shoving them back into the drawer. “Your days are counted. There’s only one who wins, and it won’t be you. Appreciate what you have as long as you can.” Bucky scoffs and shakes his head. “Asshole.”
Disgusted, he’s about to shove the drawer shut when something catches his gaze. There, just between the side panel and the second drawer, is a piece of paper. It looks stuck, but with a small tug, Bucky manages to get it out. It almost looks like someone just shoved it here because he was too lazy to open the drawer. But the only one who could have done that was Bucky. Or Y/N. He turns the paper to look at it from all angles. It’s an envelope, closed but with nothing written on it. He grabs his letter opener from his organizer and rips the top open carefully not to destroy possible evidence. An unsettling feeling grows in his stomach as he pulls the letter out and folds it open to read.
Your days as a cop are over. We have set our eyes on you, and we will destroy you. You'll regret ever turning against us. Your family will suffer just as you deserve.
Bucky’s eyes flicker over it again and again until it registers. This is a letter, and it is different. Shorter, threatening. Worse even, it's been delivered right to his house. He throws the piece of paper to the others and slams the drawer shut with a shout. “You son of a bitch! Damn it!” Angrily, he slaps his hand flat down on the surface of his desk. A loud bang echoes through the room.Pain shoots through his hand. He looks down and notices the red pool forming on his palm. He had slapped his hand directly on the letter opener, and it sliced part of his hand open. “Fuck. Shit!” A beeping sound announces that the coffee machine finished brewing, but his focus lies on his bleeding now. Under more curses, he leaves the room to rush into their bedroom and straight into the bathroom. He rips the medicine cabinet open, pulls the first aid kit out, and rummages through it until he finally comes up with some gauze. His hand continues bleeding, steadily dripping red into the porcelain of the sink.
The gauze slips from his hand, and in his uncoordinated attempt to catch it, he slams his uninjured hand against the shelf under the medicine cabinet and knocks his deodorant and a few other utensils off. They clatter to the ground with a deafening loud crash that resounds from the walls. Bucky closes his eyes tightly, and curses, hoping that he didn’t wake Y/N up. “Fucking shit!” He bends down, picks up the gauze bandages, and quickly wraps it around his hand as tight as he can to at least attempt to stop the bleeding. He might need to wake Y/N after all if it doesn’t stop. With a sigh, he looks at the mess he made but decides to ignore it for now. Back in his office, he glares at the offending object that still has some blood on it and grabs his work phone from its loading station. If this asshole is now not only threatening him but his family, Y/N, he has to get her away.
The cigarette squeezes itself into the overflowing ashtray full of half-smoked cigarettes and cigar stumps. Heavily sighing echoes through the room. He should have stopped when he had the chance. But now he is under so much stress that it’s impossible. He turns away from the smoldering heap and turns to his phone, which takes his last nerve one of these days. Why don’t they hang up? How annoying. With another exhausted sigh, he picks up and takes the call. “Yes,” he growls, annoyed. He has too much paperwork to do and doesn’t really have time or willpower for any sort of call.
“Hello, Steve. This is Bucky.” He rolls his eyes, his irritation only growing. Well, that's just great. Especially when you think it can’t be worse. “Okay. What’s up?” No, he definitely doesn't want to talk to his soon-to-be brother-in-law.
“Steve, I-I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to-”
“Uh-huh.” Steve grunts, eyes flicking back to his laptop and folders in front of it. Would it be rude to just hang up on him?
“You have to do me a favor.”
“Hmm. Do I?”
"Please. It's about your sister. I told you about the letters because Sam made me, remember?"
“Yes. What about it?”
“Well, they weren’t the only thing that happened. Three days ago, my car was painted red with some… not so nice scribbling.”
“White looked ugly anyway.” Seriously, Steve has a few other things he would like to say, but he bites his tongue. Even if he doesn’t like Bucky that much right now, he notices that he sounds kinda off. “Thank you very much.” Bucky doesn’t sound as annoyed as Steve would expect. Usually, they are constantly bickering. “Anyway, that wasn’t everything. Y/N came home last night from her trip. She called me early in the morning in a panic. She said she felt like someone was in the house. When Sam and I drove to her house, we couldn’t find anyone. We thought it was a false alarm until Sam found something in our garden. It was a dead cat or a raccoon. It’s had been fur pulled off, and it’s limbs severed.”
“Gross. Does Y/N know about this?”
“Fortunately, not much. She was too preoccupied to calm down further from a panic attack, and I was quick enough to shield her from view. But shortly after, she discovered a dead dog in my study. The organs were scattered on the floor, and his limbs were missing too. The animal was killed on the spot, the coroner said.”
“Wait a minute,” Steve stands up in his chair, blood running cold and thoughts spinning. “Will you just tell me she found the dog? Slaughtered in your study while you all were there?”
“Yes.” Bucky sighs through the line, and Steve starts pacing around his table, tempted to light another cigarette. “And how can that be? Didn’t you just say there was nothing in the house?”
“As far as we could see, there was nothing. We couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t broken in, and the doors were all locked when I arrived.”
“Barnes, I swear to you, I’ll turn your neck the next time I see you. I reluctantly confided in you dating my sister. AND YOU CAN’T EVEN TAKE CARE OF HER?” His blood is boiling with anger. He loves his little sister more than anything, except his wife and his girls. And after what happened to their parents, he took care of her and only reluctantly shared her with Bucky. His instinct to protect her was and still is so great that he sometimes feels it to be impossible just to let her do her thing. He'd do anything to protect her. And now Bucky isn't paying attention, isn't able to protect her. Apart from the fact that he is obviously incapable of keeping promises to her, he can’t even take care of her as a policeman. As some sort of job. Scornfully, he snorts into the phone. “If she didn’t love you so much, I would have advised her against moving in with you.” There’s a short silence, and Steve knows he struck a nerve, a sore spot. Maybe he is being a little unfair, Peggy tells him often to tone it down, but it is his little sister they are talking about. His only family left!
“Please, Steve. I know you don’t like it. I don’t like it either. We screwed it up. I know that!”
“Good.”
“But that’s exactly why I’m calling you. I need your advice. I need your help!” A heavy sigh follows his words, and for a few seconds, there’s only silence in the line until Steve shakes his head in something that resembles disbelief and defeat. “What do you want?” Steve’s eyes catch on a picture frame on his desk. He has several there. One frame is filled with a picture of his wife, two of his kids, a family picture of them four with Y/N, and one of his parents. But the one that catches his attention is of his sister, of Y/N. She’s a few years younger and still in college. Her smile is bright and joyful. It’s one of the last pictures taken before a tragedy hit that still steals his breath and causes sleepless nights filled with anxiety. There’s a small pause before Steve hears the younger man sigh. “I think she had that weird feeling I was just telling you about because the guy was watching her from the closet. But we can’t prove it yet. I’m sure she won’t want to leave the house. But what she saw here today already makes her nervous, and I don’t think she’ll need any more action like that. If that asshole comes back again, I can’t guarantee her safety. He would have had the opportunity to hurt her today.” Steve's eyebrows raise. He knows almost everything since Sam has already informed him. As a prosecutor and also as a friend of his, Sam has always turned to him when he needed advice. Much like Bucky does right now. But the fact that the guy might have been watching Y/N is completely new to him. As a prosecutor, it’s relatively easy for him to get access to the police investigation files. Just one short mail, and he gets what he needs. He logs in on his computer and shoots a quick mail away, receiving an answer and log-in data just seconds later. Having a friend in a police department always is a plus for him. While he clamps the phone between his head and his right shoulder, he reads briefly through the reports. “And now you want me to talk to her?”
“Yes. I’ll try again first. But if she wants to stay here, I’m asking you to persuade her to leave. Best you take her with you.” Steve laughs for a moment, stopping his reading. “Persuading is nice and good. I can book her a hotel, but how am I supposed to convince her to leave? I live six hours away from you. She'll never want to go that far away from her home, even if it pains me. Why do you think she's staying with you? “
“Steve. It’s an emergency. Do you think I’d call here?”
“I don’t think so. But I think you can forget that.”
“What?! Steve, she’s your sister. It’s understandable that you don’t want to do me any favors, but please think thi-”
“Shut up!” The man whispers into the phone, anger suddenly lacing his voice. It’s always there when he talks to the brunette, but just his accusation gets his blood boiling. He fumbles a new cigarette out of the box next to the ashtray and lights it. Startled by the noise, the secretary peers into the room, but hastily closes the door after being vigorously waved out.“I would take her with me the instant I get the opportunity. I should have done that when she met you. I'm just afraid she won't want to stay. That she might hate me. I want what’s best for her, and from my point of view, that’s not you! I don't like you, and that probably won't change so soon. If I would put my hatred for you over my sister's well-being, like you seem to think, then be sure that you would never have seen her again after the first meeting!” His words are filled with hatred and rage. Steve can feel his chest heave with heavy breathing and his pulse getting faster.
He has to admit that he glows at his achievement of rendering the man on the other line speechless. He might not have used that many words, but he feels like he got his point across just fine. The cigarette in his hand glows, emitting soft smokey swirls. Instead of taking a drag, he stops it into the ashtray.“I’ll talk to Peggy. I’ll call you in the evening. You’d better have talked to her.”
“…Okay.” The voice is silent, sounding a strange mix of startled and relieved. “Please promise me you’ll keep an eye on her when she comes to you. I just assume you’ll be the only one to get her to leave at all. If she doesn’t want to stay, you’ll just have to chain her to the sofa.” ‘Yeah.’ Steve mutters back, thinking that he won’t let her leave again if he actually needs to trap her in his house. They exchange a few words and agree that he will not call until at least six in the evening. Then he slams the phone on the station. With a huff, he gets up and leaves the office. “Cancel all my appointments for today and reschedule, please. I have things to take care of. After that, you’re free to go. Also, take the weekend off. I’ll see you on Monday.” He doesn't glance at his secretary as he leaves with hurried steps, plans already forming in his brain.
Bucky steps down the stairs. That asshole. What was he thinking? Angry, he goes back to the kitchen, carefully tiptoeing past the couch. He pulls a cup from one of the countless cupboards and fills it with hot coffee. Taking a sip, he promptly burns his tongue. Curses of various states leave his mouth. Certainly, his mother would smack him for that. Immediately, he peers over into the living room, hoping that the volume doesn’t wake Y/N up. Thank God. She's still sleeping. With the cup in his hand, he walks into the conservatory, stares out at the garden, and empties the coffee, again burning his tongue. Instead of getting back inside, he flops down into one of the chairs, disposing of the empty cup on the small side table. “What a mess.” His hand runs through his hair as he sighs deeply. For a moment, Bucky closes his eyes. Pictures instantly form in his mind, creating scenes he hopes he will never see in real life. He startles awake minutes later. A big yawn makes his jaw crack. He hasn’t been sleeping well without Y/N, and last night, after all these events, he wasn't able to sleep at all. So, no wonder he drifted off the second his eyes closed. With a quick to the clock, he sees that just twenty minutes have passed. In a swift move, he grabs the mug, rubs his eyes, and hives himself up. Wandering through the kitchen, he leaves the mug on the island and goes further to the living room couch. He kneels in front of the couch then and looks at his sleeping girlfriend. His fingers itch to stroke a fallen strand of hair out of her face, but he doesn’t. Instead, he puts his left elbow on the seat and leans his head in his hand. A smile forms on his lips. She’s really cute when she sleeps. His eyes slip close again the longer he listens to her steady breathing and the soothing sound of the ticking clock.
Taglist
@cjand10
#Bucky Branes#Bucky x Reader#Reader insert#Bucky Barnes x Reader#Bucky Barnes x Female Reader#yuulina writes#Fear
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