#;;cat dead details later (asks)

[igavehimlxfe]

[ waterfall ].

[ waterfall ] — your muse comes down my muse’s throat

"Loki..."

Herbert shuddered, his grip on the goddess' hair tightening as her head bobbed back and forth. They really shouldn't be doing this in the lab (again). But the pair had been so excited about the reaction of Herbert's Re-Agent coupled with some of her excised flesh... things just happened.

Things happened a lot around Loki, Herbert was starting to find out.

"Mmm.." Herbert groaned, uncontrollably bucking forward into the tight seal of Loki's lips. The woman on his knees in front of him had a wicked glint in her eye as she sucked his cock, tongue lapping at his shaft and rolling over the tip with incredible skill. He couldn't take this.

She seemed to enjoy how fast she could make him come undone, have him whispering her name like the only prayer he'd ever willingly spoken. Sometimes it found that embarrassing. Right now, he did not.

"Hold still."

Herbert actually pushed her back, nearly knocking the back of her head into his exam table, pressed up against the leg of it. Here he brutally snapped his hips forward, and oh so perfectly she swallowed around his cock, goddammit he was going to come-

The only warning she got was a catch of his breath before he finished, releasing down her throat. He kept her still until every bit of his semen had been swallowed down. Then he finally pulled back, knees about knocking into each other as he looked down at the flushed and grinning goddess in front of him, her thighs clenched together.

"... Let me return the favor."

It at least gave him a reason to lower himself to the ground so he wasn't standing on his shaking legs any longer.

[reanimatcr]

TAG DUMP.

[lev1hei1chou]

A What?

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: You ask for a baby out of nowhere Masterlist Requests open!

"Hey, Satoru, I want a baby."

The man choked on his cereal. Milk splattered across the table, and he coughed, looking at you with wide, incredulous eyes. "You what?"

You grinned, loving his reaction. "I want a baby."

Gojo blinked, processing your words. "Like...a human baby? With diapers and all?"

You laughed. "Yes, Satoru, a human baby. Not a cursed spirit baby or a baby goat. A tiny human."

He leaned back in his chair, still stunned. "You can't just drop a bomb like that while I'm eating my Froot Loops, babe. Give a guy some warning."

You shrugged, leaning over to wipe a speck of milk off his cheek. "I thought you could handle anything."

"Yeah, curses and evil sorcerers, sure. But this...this is a whole new level of scary." He ran a hand through his white hair, making it stand up in more directions than usual. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." You sat down across from him, your expression softening. "I think we'd make great parents."

He looked at you, eyes softening. "Of course we would. I mean, look at us. We're awesome."

You snorted. "Modest, as always."

"Hey, it's not arrogance if it's true." He grinned, then grew serious again. "But...a baby? That's a big deal."

"I know. But I want to start a family with you, Satoru."

He was silent for a moment, then his lips curved into a smile. "Okay. Let's do it."

You blinked. "Really? Just like that?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I've always wanted kids. Didn't think about it too much because, you know, job hazards and all. But if you want a baby, then I want a baby. Simple as that."

You laughed, feeling a wave of relief and excitement. "Simple as that, huh?"

"Yep." He stood up, suddenly energized. "Alright, let's make a baby right now."

Your eyes widened. "Satoru, we can't just...it's the middle of the day!"

"Details, details." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world. I can make time for baby-making."

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "How romantic."

He waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, I can be romantic. Just you wait."

The next few days were filled with Gojo's attempts at being "romantic." You came home to rose petals scattered all over the living room (which the cat was now batting around), a candlelit dinner (where he nearly set the kitchen on fire), and a bubble bath for two (where he splashed so much water that the bathroom flooded).

"You're really trying, aren't you?" you said, toweling off your hair after the bath fiasco.

He pouted. "I'm trying to set the mood."

You kissed his cheek. "I appreciate it, Satoru. But we don't need all this. Just you and me, together. That's enough."

He smiled, pulling you into his arms. "You're right. As always."

That night, lying in bed, he turned to you with a mischievous look in his eye. "So, about that baby..."

You laughed, swatting his chest. "Okay, okay. Let's do this."

A few weeks later, you found yourself holding a pregnancy test in your hand, heart pounding. Gojo was pacing back and forth in the bathroom, looking more nervous than you'd ever seen him.

"Okay, okay, okay," he muttered. "It's fine. Whatever it says, it's fine."

You glanced at the test, then at him. "Satoru, you need to calm down."

He stopped pacing and looked at you, taking a deep breath. "Right. Calm. I can do calm."

You held up the test, a smile spreading across your face. "We're having a baby."

For a moment, he just stared at you, then he whooped, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. "We're having a baby! I'm gonna be a dad!"

You laughed, holding onto him. "Yes, you are. And you're going to be amazing."

He set you down, his eyes shining. "We're going to be amazing."

Months passed in a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby shopping, and Gojo's over-the-top preparations. He baby-proofed the house, even the ceiling, "just in case the baby is super strong and starts climbing walls."

"Satoru, that's ridiculous," you said, watching as he padded the corners of the coffee table with foam.

He looked up at you, serious. "Safety first, babe."

When the day finally came, Gojo was more nervous than you. He held your hand in the delivery room, eyes wide as he watched the process.

"You're doing great," he whispered, though it seemed like he was saying it more to himself than to you.

Hours later, when the baby finally arrived, Gojo stared at the tiny bundle in his arms, tears in his eyes. "Hi there, little one. I'm your dad."

You smiled, exhausted but happy. "And I'm your mom."

He looked at you, his expression full of love and awe. "We did it."

You nodded, feeling a surge of emotion. "Yeah, we did."

[vampiricgf]

SLAS(HER) - LEON KENNEDY

SYNOPSIS... ❛ you really shouldn't answer strange phone calls. or leave your doors unlocked. or decide you're going to try turning the tables on a masked intruder with one demand: give him a show or it's your guts on the floor.❜

WARNINGS... dead dove, fem reader, creep leon, written with re2r in mind, no outbreak, stalking, voyeurism, guided masturbation, fuck or die, threats of violence, mentions of blood, death and injury, dissociation in a little bit of readers part, home invasion, inspired by ghostface/scream franchise, oral, use of a belt as a restraint

WORD COUNT... 7k+

˗ˏˋ kinktober masterlist ˎˊ˗

It started with an eerie feeling. The nondescript sensation of being watched, by someone just out of reach, just out of sight yet keeping you in theirs from some invisible vantage point. It was something you brushed off through the evening as just a weird vibe because it was Halloween and rather than go out as you’d done in the past you decided to stay home, enjoy the company of your cat and some cheesy slasher flicks they always have running on nearly every channel this time of year. 

That feeling could also be motivated by worry for your friend, working Halloween night was always hectic for everyone on duty at the station. You and Leon had been nearly attached at the hip since you met, not long after he arrived in Raccoon City. The details were a bit muddled but you knew he’d been through a rough breakup, started a brand new job, all at once. An overwhelming amount of stress for anyone, and you were a secretary at that very same job he was the fresh faced rookie in all of a year or so ago. In truth you’d been the first to greet him that day, all nervous and eager to impress. It was cute, really. 

And from that very first day he always seemed to seek you out, handing you a warm cup of coffee at just the right moments, like he knew you usually ended up with headaches by mid afternoon and relied on the caffeine and excedrin combo to make it until the end of your shift. He was always friendly, not overly gregarious but always there to chat about how your day was, if you needed help with anything. He’d even stayed late one day because your cars battery had been on the fritz, gave you a jump so you could drive home. 

A gentleman, through and through, you decided. Soon enough you were dependent on seeing him at least once a day in the cramped old breakroom or coming to loiter by your desk so he could procrastinate his reports (which you would playfully give him shit for later) or else the entire day would feel off, unsatisfying.

All in all, you considered him a friend with some… complicated feelings. You liked him, truly, but knowing he got out of a relationship at the time you met was what gave you pause. You didn’t want to push something that may not be there, after all you might be confusing his nicety for flirtation or just projecting your own attraction. And acting on that, especially if you were right, would be not just humiliating for your ego but would mean you’d lose someone you quickly came to consider a good friend. 

So, just like on many previous nights, you resist the urge to text him. To check up, make sure nothing too wild had come in over dispatch. A casual friend wouldn’t do that, would they? Instead you remain stretched out on the couch, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and absentmindedly stroking the sleeping cat on your lap while images your mind doesn’t register flash over the tv screen. 

Maybe it would be better to get some sleep. You’d see him tomorrow and could ask about how tonight went for him, you could even bring some of those muffins from the little cafe a few blocks away from the station since most of the officers seem to enjoy them. It’s not weird if its for everyone, technically. Right?

As your mind wanders between how to walk the delicate line between your feelings you fail to realize how heavy your eyes were, how you closed them just for a second, just to take a moment and then you’d get up for bed…

~

The chime of your phone is what rouses you, blinking bleary, fuzzy eyes into the darkness of your living room. 

With a little groan you heave yourself up into a sitting position, your joints popping from being folded in an awkward position as you’d jammed yourself into a corner to curl up in your sleep. Before you can rub your eyes, readjust to consciousness, your phone is blaring like a shrieking car alarm that shatters the quiet nighttime fuge. 

With fumbling hands you grab it off the coffee table in front of you, flipping it open and hitting answer without a second thought, body working on auto as your mind catches up. 

“Mh, hello?” you ask, tongue feeling thick in your mouth after your sudden reentry into the world of the living.

“Hey there sleeping beauty.”

The tinny, computerized voice startles you, snapping you into full awareness with how alien and threatening it automatically came across,, making the skin of your arms rise with gooseflesh.

“Who is this?” you ask hesitantly, one hand clutching the phone to your ear while the other cast off the rumpled blanket so you could rise from the couch, feeling suddenly vulnerable and restless.

The voice makes a tut tut sound over the line before speaking. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I’ll forgive you since I did wake you up. You look real cute in your sleep though-”

“I’m hanging up, don't call again.” You huff into the receiver, hands shaking as you snap the phone shut, practically throwing it back down on the wooden table as if it were made of molten lava. 

Standing you begin to pace, your cat skulking from underneath the table, clearly sharing in your distress as you rake a hand through your hair. Its okay, you reassure yourself, nothing but some bored kid pulling a Halloween prank. They sell those voice changers at all kinds of stores around this time, they probably just dialed random numbers for shits and giggles. Most importantly: no one was actually watching you sleep. Thats impossible, you live alone and no one outside friends or family know where you live. 

That last rushed thought snags in your mind and you cautiously pick up the phone, pressing the keys to see the last number in the incoming call log. Not one you have saved, and also not one you recognize anyway. The area code is local, but again that doesn’t mean it’s anything but some kid screwing around. 

You exhale long and steady through your nose, feeling your erratic heartbeat slowing down and you shake your head at yourself for being so quick to panic. 

Now it’s really time for bed, you decide, scooping up your furball before making your way towards the bedroom, keeping your eyes trained away from the window so you wouldn’t fall into the trap of peeking out of its glass panes in paranoia.

There's nothing and no one there. 

Before your cat can even finish stepping from your arms to the bedspread, your phone went off in your hand again, it’s familiar ringtone far less inviting under these circumstances. This time you don’t feel afraid as you angrily flip it open, mashing the answer button. 

“I told you not to call again. I don’t care about kids playing pranks, but find someone else to mess with, okay?” Annoyance drips from every word but before you can hang up with a satisfied smirk the voice cuts in. 

“Oh but I know you’re fun to play with, sweetheart.”  

“Do not call me pet names you freak-”

“What, you don’t like it? I think it fits you, sweetheart for a sweet girl.” It mocks you over the line, making your body flush with heat as your anger and your fear mingle into a noxiously overwhelming combination. 

“I work at the police station, quit fucking with me or I’m calling the cops and I know they’ll take it seriously.” You cross your arms, as best you can while still holding the phone. You feel smug, knowing that at least that must spook whoever it is no way they want to potentially deal with the police over a prank call-

Your illusion of control is shattered as the voice breaks out into a laugh, the kind that borders on hysterical as if you’d told such a funny joke they couldn’t hold it back. You bite your lip again, this time giving into the instinct telling you to look out the window, scan the yard outside for any sign that someone was creeping around. But nothing except the faint glow of distant streetlights are reflected back at you. 

“Oh no, please don’t call the cops on me!” the voice breaks into giggles again, “I know we’re gonna have so much fun together.” He says your name and it’s like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over your head, a million sharp pin pricks that scream for you to stop, leave, run away, do anything to get this to stop. 

“How do you know my name?”  Your question is barely a whisper.

“I know everything about you. Everything.” The emphasis on the word makes you shiver, tears burning in your waterlines. “But you know what I’m really curious about?” 

Your stomach drops but you respond despite yourself, your fingers curling around the phone's little plastic shell so hard you hear it crackling ever so slightly. “What?”

“Do you always keep this sliding door unlocked?”

It feels like your heart fell out of your ass as you break into a run, breathing harshly and hearing that unnerving, electronic laughter once more over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. To your horror the door is ajar, pulled open with the flimsy little curtain blowing in the chill breeze, and you can’t do anything but continue staring even when you know you need to run, you need to do something, anything to get yourself out of this. 

Why is this happening to me?

As the details of the world soften at the edges, sliding down and blurring with the tears running down your face you fail to hear someone approaching from behind, fail to register anything at all until a black gloved hand claps over your mouth to muffle your shrieking. You thrash against the muscled chest of your assailant, the grip of their arms feels more like being encased by perfectly molded steel, and as you quickly exhaust yourself you’re half guided half carried back towards your bedroom. 

Alarm bells, like emergency sirens, bounce around your head, knowing in some inexplicable way that going into that room will seal your fate. There won’t be any getting out of this, any way to stop what's coming. You honestly don’t know if there ever really was. Regardless, you use up the last bit of adrenaline you have to struggle once more as you’re unceremoniously dragged into the bedroom, the darkness now feeling threatening when it was once relaxing. It’s a valiant effort, you even manage to bite down on his wrist, but it’s still not enough. Even with the bite, all you felt was cloth snagging against your teeth rather than flesh. Whoever it was must be covered head to toe in clothing, completely obscured.  

As you’re pushed down on your back against the mattress a worse sight greets you: one of those halloween costume masks staring back, your breath dies in your lungs as you freeze beneath him, feeling the planes of his body through the layers of clothes as he keeps one hand covering your mouth. 

Slowly he removes his hand and you can’t help but dissolve into a fresh round of tears. 

“Why- why are you doing this?” You can’t help the hitches in your speech as you struggle to remain focused on the man on top of you, the weight of his ribs consuming your awareness as he lies between your legs.

He doesn’t answer you, tilting his head to the side as you shiver below, bile rising in your throat as his hand drifts to caress your jaw, trailing down the sweaty column of your throat. He stops just before your chest, to your shock. 

“Don’t worry,” his voice is still masked by that chilling overlay, built into the mask itself clearly. “I’m not gonna lay a hand on you. Well, not like this.” As he speaks he lifts himself off you, sitting back on his knees against the heels of his shoes. “But you’re gonna put on a little show.”

Confusion bullies its way in front of your other more primal emotions, scooting up until your back hits the headboard and you can wrap your arm around your knees, curl inward no matter how futile the attempt at shielding yourself might be.  

“Not feeling talkative anymore, huh? That's okay, you don't really have to talk for this anyway.” You swear you can hear the smile in his tone, can tell by the way he shifts his hips that he’s getting off on this, on your fear. 

“You’re insane, some kind of freak.” You whisper, voice crackling as you try to hold back sobs. 

“Now come on, let's play nice. It doesn’t have to be all bad, sweetheart.” He shifts again, those black, endless voids staring back into your own aching, burning eyes. “It’s simple: you give me what I want, and we can both still have a good time. No harm done.” 

Only an objectively insane person would present that like a real option, as if he hadn’t terrorized you in your own home, hadn’t violated your safety, hadn’t manhandled you into compliance. 

You sneer at the mask, nearly bearing your teeth like some kind of cornered animal. “Fuck you and fuck your good time.”

His hand moves, significantly faster than your reflexes, and grips your jaw painfully, so tightly you’re afraid he might shatter the bone. “You can be such a shit listener.” It throws you for a loop, hearing him speak like he knows you, and your eyes widen while a whimper spills past your lips. “Theres plenty of time for that later,” his thumb moves to brush back and forth over your bottom lip, a gesture so tender it’s wildly at odds with the present situation. “But right now, you’re gonna give me what I want or else those cops you work with might be cleaning your guts up off the carpet in the morning. And I’d really, really hate for it to end that way.”

In the silence that descends over you both you realize there’s realistically no other way. You can’t overpower him, your phone vanished in the struggle, and even if you could get away, who's to say anyone would believe you needed help? You could be brushed off as just someone with an overly elaborate costume. Despair seeps through your body, oozing thick and sticky as tar, a pitch black loss of hope that could swallow you entirely. You can only pray he’s telling the truth, that once you’ve done what he asked you’ll at least be alive when the sun rises. Whatever consolation that may be.

He sees it, he must, because you notice the way he relaxes ever so slightly before pulling away from you again. You feel both in and beyond the confines of your body as he grabs your ankles, yanking you back down into a lying position, like you’re just a doll that needs posing. 

“Good girl.” That electric voice purrs and you can’t help the bodily reaction those words produce in you, tiny shivers quaking down your spine and spreading out over your ribs. Maybe if you pretend it’s someone else that’ll make it easier, at least bearable. His hands feel hot even through the gloves, like he could brand you with imprints of his grip right on your calves. 

“The pajamas are cute,” He gestures to the fuzzy pants covered in a cartoon cat pattern and you feel embarrassment curling around the edges of your brain, “but I’m more interested in whats under them.” 

It doesn’t shock you, in fact his words produce no reaction in your head. You were already preparing for something like this. With a pathetic whine your arms move mechanically, hesitating as they rest against the waistband of your pants. Point of no return. That's what this is, isn’t it? Would it be better to be gutted in your own bedroom, but at least have your pride intact? No, if you’re dead you’re powerless to prevent anything being done to you after that. 

So your thumbs hook in the waistband, pulling them down as your entire body is wracked with tremors so violent you almost lose your grip but with one lift of your hips they’re down past your ass and he's pulling them the rest of the way off, icy mid autumn air kissing the skin of your thighs like a reverent lover. Once those are tossed into some corner of the floor his attention returns to you, grabbing your legs again to position them wide, spread eagle and with a jolt of shame you realize you can feel your clit starting to throb against your underwear at the attention. 

“Bet you got a really pretty pussy, huh?” His fingers delicately travel up and down your calves, like hes trying to both soothe you and rile you up. Unfortunately for you, your body seems to welcome the touch, the tremors morphing into a wholly different sort of twitching as you lay there feeling moisture slicking the gusset of your panties. 

You close your eyes, steeling yourself to feel his touch moving higher but it never comes, instead it vanishes altogether and you almost whine at the absence. You feel delirious, like you’re quickly losing the thread of your previous conviction, crumbing after just a few gentle touches. It makes you feel weak, disgusted with yourself. 

“Ah ah, open your eyes for me. You have to do the work, it’s your show.” He settles back on his knees once more, clearly waiting for you to continue, play your part. 

It’s like stage fright, the nervousness you feel with his eyes on you yet wholly beyond your own vision. It’s not like you’ve never masturbated, as a grown woman you’ve confidently explored your body as thoroughly as possible, it’s the fact that a masked stranger is waiting in eager anticipation to watch your fingers dive into your cunt. 

But it’s also oddly… thrilling. Your heads all fucked up from the mixed singles between body and brain, like you fell in water and aren’t able to properly orient yourself right side up but maybe it would be easier to give in, accept it at this stage. It’s already progressed this far, right?

Maybe it is my show.

You feel light, somehow untethered as your breathing settles down, one hand running over the peaks of your breasts and down your stomach, creeping towards the waistband of your underwear. As your fingers toy with the elastic your eyes never stray from the mask, watching as his hips adjust again. It’s flattering in its own messed up way, that in this situation you do hold a particular kind of power over him. Your teeth snag against your lip as you tug the silky pair down, painfully slow, just to torture him a little bit. And you would be the biggest liar on earth if you were to say it didn’t inflate your ego like a helium balloon when you heard his sharp inhale as more of your pussy came into his view. 

“Oh shit,” he says and you laugh, despite yourself you do, dissolving into barely contained giggles. 

“What, are you a psychotic virgin or something?” you tease, forgetting momentarily that he very well could make good on his threat of spilling your organs across the floor a la Jack the Ripper. 

“Look who's enjoying herself now, huh?” 

You laugh again, at the naked absurdity of it all this time. You're about to masturbate in front of some masked stalker that threatened to kill you. What does it matter anymore if you’re afraid or not?

Your shaky laugh dips off into a soft moan as your fingers brush through your folds, finding them slick and your hips jerk as your index bumps against your clit, sensitive and needy. Under normal circumstances maybe you’d take a little more time but a part of you does want this over with as soon as possible. You just hope you’re able to come, because that’s probably part of what he wants to see. 

But it’s better to not focus on it too hard or else you probably won't be able to, so you decide to veer in a different direction, wield a little more of this newfound power over the situation. 

“Why can’t I hear your voice?” You ask, making your voice as sugary as possible, letting your lips stay parted as you rub slow, loose circles over your clit. His eyes have to be devouring the sight, you’re sure of it, but to make sure you adjust your hips a bit so they’re as wide as you can accommodate. 

He doesn’t answer you, but you remain undeterred. “I could probably come if I heard you.” 

“Don’t tease so much.” He tries, and fails, to sound firm but you hear the crack in his voice regardless of the masks alteration. You’re wearing him down, at least a little bit. 

“Don’t you wanna watch me come?” Your other hand comes up to squeeze and grope at your clothed chest as you gently swirl two fingers around your entrance before slowly pushing in, your mouth dropping open in a silent keel. The only sound in the bedroom outside your own heavy breathing is the soft, sticky squelching of your fingers curling against slick walls, plunging in and out of yourself at a languid pace. 

“Fuck, yeah I do.” The fake voice carries with it an honest tone of wonder, of bare and dangerous craving. 

“Want you to touch me,” you gasp out, rolling one of your nipples between your fingers. “Please.” You can see how hard he is, the black tactical pants doing absolutely nothing to hide the full erection he's clearly sporting because of you. 

And it works, you know it’s working, that he must be doing some kind of cost benefit analysis of it all in his head without realizing you’re laying the foundations of a sort of psychosexual coup. Without a word he climbs off the bed and your self ministrations halt, curiosity and a twinge of that fear return as you watch him unlace heavy dark boots, letting them thump against your carpet, before you watch with wide eyes as he undoes his belt, painfully slow.

It’s obvious he’s well built, you could feel that when he had you locked in his hold earlier, but as you catch a glimpse of his lower abdomen as he strips off the dark, heavy material you find yourself struggling to keep a hold of your sanity. Before you can even think to yourself, god he must be huge, you’re getting a perfect eyefull of him as his cock springs free from the confines of his boxers. Painfully girthy, just the sight makes your eyes water all over again, and hit cut tip was flushed a pretty shade of blush pink, shiny with smeared precum and you can’t help but think of how much it sucks that a dick like that is attached to a guy like this. It's a shame, really.

Either way, you’re glad to have given yourself some prep via your little “show” for him. As long as he doesn't say something like-

"Put your arms up, above your head."

You don't let on that you've got anything in your head besides fear tinged lust, obediently raising your arms up and making sure your wrists are together so he can loop the belt around. It'll be easier if he truly believes you're beaten down, pliant, rather than frantically flipping through a mental index of potential options. You weren't totally screwed even with your arms bound. With any luck, he'll tie it loose without realizing and you could slip the belt at the perfect opportunity.

But you panic, far too early, and grab the leather strap as soon as it's in reach. Of course he anticipated it, but didn't predict you'd have some renewed energy after your previous adrenaline crash so he doesn't quite block you from it in time. Or rather, he doesn't block your hand that comes down on the mask in your mixed tangle of limbs, knocking it askew and in a snap decision you yank it off revealing blonde strands and a pair of shockingly, stomach churningly familiar blue eyes.

The world holds still. More accurately, it's like a miniature atomic bomb has detonated in your home, only instead of blowing out windows and collapsing the roof it brings your racing mind and overactive nervous system to a screeching halt.

As you both breathe heavily neither of you moves a muscle, not even by one miniscule inch. With all the speed of a drop of pitch landing in a dish you feel your features twist, your hands shake so badly with anger, with disbelief. With want.

"You know I was thinking about you, before I fell asleep?" You say, barely audible but you know he hears by the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. "I was thinking about how god, you're just so nice and what if I was confusing that for something romantic?"

Your hands move as you speak, coming to cradle his face in your hands, moving in until the tip of your nose is almost touching his. You can hear the way he swallows, hard and thick, his entire body as tense as a live wire in your grasp.

"Its so fucked up, but you know, this isn't even a deal breaker for me." And at that revelation you laugh, staring into his ice blue eyes like you've just shared an intimate joke. "You said you know everything," you pull the word out, like it's stuck between your teeth, "well, there are some things about me no one knows."

Smiling now, you feel more whole and in control then you have all night and it's reflected in your movements all lithe and predatory as you straddle him, feeling the head of his still semi hard cock brush against your cunt. That sends satisfaction licking, white hot, down your back and you can feel yourself getting wet again. The truth feels fizzy, tight, in your chest as if you swallowed a baby bird that was now frantically beating its wings against the cage of your stomach.

"I'll tell you this, and we can call it even, okay?" You stare into his eyes again, hunting for anxiety or trepidation, but find none.

"Okay." He says it slow, distrustful. Well, you'll see in a moment how trustworthy your little crush really is.

"I know you were there, on scene, with some of those bodies they found in the forest out by the lake last Halloween?" He nods and you continue. "Mhm, that last girl? A screamer. God it was horrible, she just wouldn't shut the hell up. Finally I just ended up jamming the handle of the axe right in her mouth. Have you ever heard a jawbone splinter?"

"That was you?" His tone is critical and you do your best not to bristle, you have to tread carefully now.

You nod. "It was. It's a bit of a... Family tradition, basically. All those disappearances every so often, always on Halloween? They weren't all me, that'd be impossible, but I did learn from the best." You smile at him again, tasting fresh blood in your mouth as you brush a stray bit of hair from his face.

To your surprise he follows your touch, like he's chasing after it, and you're nearly overcome with giddiness. Is this what they mean when they say that people feel lighter after telling the truth?

"Are you gonna kill me?" This time it's his turn to wonder, to ask in that adorably nervous tone they all do. The same one that gets you unbelievably wound up, a spring loaded bearing just waiting to snap.

You giggle again, all sugar and syrupy sweetness. "Of course not, I really do like you, you know. That's not a lie or a trick."

To emphasize it you push yourself down a little, just enough that you can fully feel him pressing against your soaked pussy, and enough to feel that he's unbelievably hard. It's enough to make you feel dizzy, lightheaded. You genuinely believed there was never, would never, be anyone who really understood you. And more than that: could love you regardless.

"Y'know, we can still put that belt to use... If you want." Your lips ghost over his as you whisper it, and you can hear his breathing freeze in his throat.

"You still up for that?" He sounds both incredulous and horny, hands running up and down your sides, bunching your top up until you reach down, pulling it over your head to be cast into the abyss with your other clothes with a grin.

"No mask this time, I wanna see you." You coo at him, clambering off his lap to stretch out on your back against the bed.

At that he cracks a small smile, eyes glazed over in awe as he stares at you and it makes you preen. He's just like you. A perfect match. Leon doesn't keep you waiting, just as eager and clumsy as he was when you first met and it endears you to him all over again.

His lips capture yours in a kiss full of heat, like opening an oven door only to be blasted in the face with searing air, and your teeth clack together as your tongues slip serpentine over and under one another. By the time he pulls away to trail spit slick kisses down your throat you feel that ache coming back into your clit full force.

You whimper, clutching at his shoulders and tugging at the shirt he still had on, desperate for full skin to skin contact. Luckily he obliges your neediness quickly, yanking the offending cotton barricade over his head and adding it to the forlorn pile.

With a shy smile he grabs for the forgotten belt and you once more obediently raise your arms above your head, this time with no ulterior motives than the selfish anticipation of pleasure. You do make a mental note however to ask how he feels about asphyxiation later.

As the leather settles against your skin you give a few light, experimental tugs, gasping when you feel his lips travel across your chest, between your breasts, and over the plane of your stomach until hes scooting back, warm breath fanning over your inner thighs and causing a fresh round of goosebumps to rise over your arms.

You can't help but squirm as he kisses the side of your knee, your thigh, coming so so close to where you want him but then veering to give the other leg the same treatment.

"I should have figured you're, ah, a huge tease." You barely get the words out as his tongue flicks, light and gentle between your folds.

After that one taste the man between your legs transforms in some way you can't identify, like some new neural pathway was unlocked the moment his tongue touched you and his arms hook around your thighs, fingers digging so harshly into the flesh you can feel the sting of his nails threatening to break the surface and he sucks in your clit with abandon.

You can't help the way your mouth drops open in a silent wail, hips lifting up from the bed as if you're trying to make sure he doesn't let up for even a second but you don't have to worry, the slurping and suckling noises crowding your bedroom emphasize just how focused he is on lavishing you.

It's unlike anything you've ever had before, the feeling of his mouth overpowers your other senses, leaves no room in your head for anything except him, him, him. Your fingers grip his hair, pulling less than gently on his silken locks, but it doesn't deter him or even slightly distract him.

The pressure in your abdomen quickly builds to catastrophic levels, and his name is ripped violently from your throat in a primal wail as your hips grind against his face, the burn in your legs coming from both the overextended muscles and the fact that his nails have broken skin, little beads of bright crimson dotting the surface.

Pain and pleasure in equal parts, to you that is bliss of the highest order. And finally, like a gift fallen from the sky right into your lap, there's someone who might understand that.

As you come down from your orgasm visions of blue eyes, bloodied floors, a boyish grin, and steaming viscera blend behind your eyes and your cheeks hurt from smiling.

[deerlino]

Hiya, I adore your fics, they are so amazing and sweet! ❤️‍🩹 Could I request a fic?? Could you do producer! F! Reader x han? Like they're in a secret relationship and they get caught?? 😂 Could you please make it slightly cracky but also extremely fluffy??

caught in the mix.

han jisung x fem!reader / you and jisung are both producers at the same company, secretly dating. but your cover gets blown, and everyone finds out about your relationship.

additional tags / producer!jisung x producer!reader, (domestic) fluff, secret relationship, getting caught, canon compliant, workplace romance, established relationship, humor, crack, teasing & banter — 773 words in total.

content warnings / mild swearing, kissing (soft kisses, kisses on the neck, some intense moments of kissing)

authors note @ 15092000volcano / this was super cute to write! <3 i haven't done many jisung fics, so i was really excited to get this request. 😋 plus, i’m obsessed with the producer trope right now, so it was the perfect way to spend my sunday evening. thanks, anon, for the sweet request and the kind words about my work—it means a lot! hope you love the fic! 💓

You’re in a dimly lit recording studio, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world. The place is familiar, almost like a second home, except for one crucial detail: this is where you and Jisung have been sneaking off to. You glance over at him as he tinkers with the mixing board, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the computer screen. He catches your eye and shoots you a quick wink, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Hey, love,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “Pass me the headphones?”

You slide them over, your fingers brushing against his for a fleeting moment. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you wonder how long you can keep this secret from the rest of the team. It’s not that you want to hide your relationship, but you know how chaotic things can get with everyone involved.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Chan strides in, his usual confident swagger in place. He freezes mid-step when he sees you and Jisung huddled together.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

You both jump apart like you’ve been electrocuted, and Jisung clears his throat awkwardly. “Nope, just, uh, working on a new track.”

Chan’s eyes narrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “Right. Working. Sure.” He gives you a pointed look before sauntering out, leaving you both in a flustered silence.

“Well, that was close,” you mutter, trying to steady your racing heart.

Jisung chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry, babe. We just need to be more careful.”

The next day, you’re in the kitchen, trying to make coffee without waking up the whole house. Jisung sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You lean into his touch, a content sigh escaping your lips.

“Morning,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

“Morning,” you reply, turning to kiss him properly.

Just as your lips meet, the door swings open again. This time, it’s Felix, his hair a mess and his eyes half-closed. He stops dead in his tracks, blinking rapidly as if he’s not sure he’s really seeing this.

“Oh my God,” Felix says, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Are you two...?”

You and Jisung spring apart again, but it’s too late. Felix is already grinning like the Cheshire cat. “This is gold. I can’t wait to tell the others.”

“Felix, no!” you plead, but he’s already out the door, cackling.

Later, you’re sitting in the living room, pretending to watch TV, but your mind is elsewhere. Jisung is next to you, his hand discreetly resting on your thigh. You’re trying to act natural when Seungmin strolls in, phone in hand.

He takes one look at you two and snorts. “You guys are terrible at hiding this, you know?”

Jisung tries to play it cool. “Hiding what?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Please, I’ve seen more subtlety in a sledgehammer. Just be glad it’s me and not someone with a camera.”

Your face heats up, and you bury it in Jisung’s shoulder, mumbling something about how you’re trying your best. Jisung just laughs, pulling you closer.

As the day goes on, you and Jisung keep getting caught. Jeongin walks in on you sharing a secret kiss in the hallway and immediately turns on his heel, muttering about how he didn’t need to see that. Hyunjin catches you holding hands under the table and just smirks, giving you a knowing look. Even Minho, who’s usually oblivious to everything, notices the way you and Jisung look at each other and shakes his head with a sigh.

Finally, the inevitable happens. You’re in the studio again, thinking you’re safe. Jisung has you pressed against the wall, his lips on yours, when the door flies open. This time, it’s everyone—all of them, standing there with various expressions of shock, amusement, and exasperation.

“Seriously?” Chan groans, rubbing his temples. “Can you two not keep it in your pants for one minute?”

Felix is laughing so hard he’s doubled over, while Hyunjin and Jeongin exchange high-fives. Seungmin just looks resigned, and Minho’s smirk is wider than ever.

You and Jisung separate, both of you blushing furiously. “Well,” you say, trying to salvage some dignity. “Surprise?”

“Yeah, no shit,” Chan says, but he’s smiling now. “Just... next time, maybe lock the door?”

Jisung chuckles, pulling you into his side. “Noted, boss.”

As everyone piles into the room, the teasing starts in earnest. You feel a warmth spreading through you, knowing that even though you’ve been caught, you’re surrounded by people who care about you.

© deerlino (est. 100624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Space Oddity, Part 1

In my ongoing quest to write more self indulgent reader inserts, I present to you: Weird Reader.

Sorry guys, but in school I played with the girls who pretended to be Warrior Cats, and ate lunch with guys who unironically did the Naruto run. The only thing separating me from this reader in this story is the fact that I mask in public and unmask at home.

[Chapter Two]

***

“You want me to play D&D with you guys?”

You watched with suspicious eyes as Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson nodded frantically, stirring the sweet, syrupy dessert of fruit cocktail in your lunch tray compartment. Staring at you was like staring at a taxidermy raccoon: you were dead eyed, but still positioned as though you could jump out and give someone rabies.

If he had been asked at gunpoint, Mike would have admitted that you were a last resort choice.

“Yeah…” Mike said cautiously, trying not to stare directly into your eyes.

Dustin smiled, leaning forward.

“You like D&D, right?” He tried, hopeful.

Everyone they had asked in Hawkins High had so far said no to subbing in for Lucas Sinclair, and Mike had balked at the idea of even thinking of asking you when they got rejected for the fifth time. You were even worse than the freaks of Hawkins High. The collective student body had come together as one to declare that you were a weird, mean bitch.

“I like what I’ve heard of it…” you mumbled, “I never played it before…”

Dustin’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Really?” He asked, his geometric pattern button up nearly dipping into his open can of chocolate pudding, “Never ever? So you’d need to be taught?”

Before you could venture an answer, Mike pulled him back.

“Could you-… Could you just excuse us please? Thank you.”

You nodded slowly while Mike dragged Dustin away to a corner of the bustling lunchroom. While they conversed in hushed whispers, you sat there alone, the students sharing your space giving you a wide berth at the head of the lunch table.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Mike hissed at Dustin, “You’re going to ask The Bitch to play, and she’s never even played D&D before?!”

Mike knew the stories. Robin had once asked to borrow a pencil from your jubilee of pens you kept in the pocket of your shortalls. Reluctantly you agreed, and then you had a meltdown when she took the flat contractor’s pencil with the He-Man sticker on it. Steve had told any of The Party who would listen about his encounter: even Eleven could perfectly recite the story about the weird girl who had flat tired Steve in the hall every day at 9am when he walked by Mrs. Click’s class, ruining the backs of his brown suede moccasins so often that his mom stopped replacing them after a while. His description of the perp matched you exactly.

Even Mike on his first day of school had been subject to your oddities. A casual lunchtime stroll found him tripping over a trap, made of plastic milk crates and dead branches you’d constructed by the football field. The encounter ended with him being subjected to your twenty minute screaming lecture on why it was rude of him to wreck the “houses” you’d made for the skinks that darted around the concrete walkways.

Mike Wheeler hated you because of reputation, but Dustin knew better than to fall victim to heresy. He had seen the drawings of dragons, daleks, dinosaurs, wolves and mermaids on xerox paper you had left behind once in the lunchroom. When he found you to give them back (you didn’t say thank you), he’d been gifted with a drawing a day later in his locker: a very detailed Spock giving the Vulcan salute, “Live Long and Prosper” written underneath in bubble letters above your loopy cursive signature. He still kept it taped to his Geometry folder.

“Dude, yes! Chill out!” Dustin hissed back, looking at you fondly from a distance, “You remember what Eddie said? ‘Find the little lost sheepies that need us’. Look at her, man. Doesn’t that scream little lost sheep to you?”

They turned to look at you simultaneously. After looking both ways to check the coast was clear, you commandeered Dustin’s abandoned chocolate pudding. Spooning the syrupy peaches, pears, pineapple, and single half of maraschino cherry of your fruit cocktail inside, you mixed the chocolate and fruit together. Lathing up the leftover pudding with your tongue, the spoon was licked clean before you tossed it vaguely into an indignant girl’s creamed corn, but she was too afraid to yell at you while you were armed with chocolate.

With great relish you began eating your concoction with your fingers.

Mike grimaced while Dustin just laughed.

“She’s perfect.” Dustin gushed, “And you should see her drawings, they’re badass!”

“Just because she’s a gross weirdo who’s good at drawing doesn’t mean she knows jackshit about tabletop games!” Mike growled, nearly gagging when he saw you mop up the leftover pudding in the can with your bread roll, “You bring a beginner into Hellfire Club, Eddie’s gonna blow a goddamn gasket! He’s already on the warpath because of Lucas’ championship game tonight, can you imagine what he’ll do when we bring in The Bitch?!”

“Mike, relax. Eddie’s not going to know she��s a novice. Everyone still flips through the handbook, they won’t notice if she does it. We’ll give her a crash course, I’ll even let her borrow my Player’s Handbook so she can come in looking like she at least knows the basics. And if Eddie does get pissed we can just… ease him into the idea that a succulent babe wants to play with him.”

Dustin made the shape of a curved figure with his hands, while Mike looked ready to punch him in the groin.

“You think he’s going to fold for a fat girl?” Mike snarled.

“… Shut up Mike,” Dustin said, immediately protective of you, “He’s going to fold for a cute girl. Look at her! Soft arms, round face, thick thighs… Eddie’s gonna lose his goddamn mind, man! That’s like his ideal type.”

They continued to argue back and forth, finally coming to a grudging resolution when Dustin dragged Mike back by the shirt to your lunch table.

“If this goes to shit, I know where you live.” Mike hissed quietly.

“Shhhh!” Dustin slapped Mike’s arm before looking back at you with a dopey grin.

You were staring down both of them, eyes flicking from Dustin to Mike. The empty pudding cup can was sitting exactly where it had been once full before, but the pop top was gone, and you were pretending like you hadn’t just gone to town on an unholy concoction.

“I made a decision.” You said suddenly.

The two freshmen looked at one another, before leaning in closer. Mike looked skeptical, but Dustin’s grin was nearly splitting his face in half.

“I’ll play with you guys.” You said after a few seconds.

Dustin couldn’t help but fist pump into the air, nearly tipping over backwards on his chair while Mike just grimaced like he was about to puke. An imperfect smile with chocolate teeth flashed at the boys, and you were just about to speak when Mike stopped the party.

“Okay, listen… if you’re going to play, you’re going to have to put in the work, it’s not like playing Monopoly.” He said, staring you down, “This is serious shit.”

You closed your mouth, head tilting to the side.

“Oh… I thought it was like, making your own characters and pretending to be them and stuff.” You said.

“It is, but it’s a lot more nuanced than that. Our Advanced D&D campaigns are different. We play very combat heavy sessions, we use actual strategy in battle. It’s not a goddamn tea party.”

“And Eddie takes the rules very seriously…” Dustin chimed in, “So we’ll have to familiarize you with the basics.”

“Eddie!?”

Both boys jumped back as you banged your hands on the table, getting up close and nearly crawling on top over to them. The students sitting next to you collectively jumped, the metal legs of their chairs scraping and making a horrid screech against the linoleum flooring.

“You mean… you’re talking about Eddie The Freak, right?” You hissed under your breath.

“Eddie Munson.” Dustin corrected, frowning when you called him a freak, “He’s the dungeon master of our club… of Hellfire Club.”

Your eyes widened, and your chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

“You’re right though. That is the very same freak.” Mike cut in, lowering his pitch hoping that feeding into the negativity would scare you away, “He’s a dick to newcomers. You might get the boot if he finds out we brought you in without having any background knowledge of D&D.”

His words made you shrink back, looking at your lunch tray and the little mess of chocolate you’d unknowingly splattered on your clothes. Dustin could have killed Mike, while the latter just looked smug.

And then… you began to giggle.

“Okay…” you smiled.

“Okay?!” Mike and Dustin repeated.

Mike managed to speak up while Dustin was still picking his smiling jaw up off the floor.

“You’re sure you still want to play?” Mike asked, panicking as he pulled out all the stops to get you to quit, “Eddie is not a patient guy with new players, he’s going to rip you to pieces and sacrifice you to the devil!”

You nodded quickly, breathlessly hyperventilating.

“Yeah…! I… If Eddie Munson is running the game… I really wanna play.”

Dustin gave a high pitched giggle of his own and shook Mike’s shoulder, absolutely loving the way your face broke out into a goofy grin. You didn’t even flinch at Mike’s attempts to scare you.

“You got a thing for him or something?” Mike ventured cautiously.

“Yes.”

You answered so unabashedly, with no hesitation, that for a minute it actually endeared you to Mike. Who knew that The Bitch of Hawkins High was actually a human being with wants and needs?

“Wait… are you serious?” Mike asked.

“Uh huh…”

You giggled, biting your lower lip and covering your burning face.

“I think… I think he’s really hot…”

If they had been drinking Tab, they would have spit the liquid out all over you.

“You think Eddie’s hot?” Dustin wheezed.

“Yeah… um… I’ve had this like monster crush on Eddie since I was in fifth grade. He did like this talent show and played the guitar real good, and he’s all loud and funny and crazy and I think he’s got a real charming smile…”

The cadence in your already deep contralto was lilting into a mezzo soprano the more you talked about their sadistic dungeon master, and you were rocking side to side in your plastic chair while Dustin and Mike just watched you make a complete ass of yourself.

This probably would have turned into two hours of blabbing, had not Mike refocused you and Dustin and begun to actually lay out the basics of TSR’s Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. No time to lose, back to business. If you were going to play with Eddie you had a lot of catching up to do. They had a spare set of dice, and Mike helped you roll for stats as Dustin began to write out a crude character sheet for you based on your imaginative ideas.

“We can probably make you a character very quickly.” Mike said, flipping through his own Mead Composition notebook as he checked past characters that had died valiantly in battle, “I have one you can use. Barbarians are stupid easy for first timers since you’re just hitting shit with a sword-...”

“I want a character based on my story I’m writing!” You exclaimed, and then you subjected Mike to your brief (lie) synopsis of one of many witchy characters who was cursed by a dark goddess.

It took a lot of adjusting and words that held no meaning to you, like “Domain of Trickery” and “Cleric of Shar”. The two freshmen helped you settle on a character that would be deemed useful for Hellfire’s campaign, and made sure to force feed you every rule and spell that Gygax and Arneson had conceived for your chosen class. True to his word, Dustin let you borrow the Player’s Handbook he carried with him at all times when the bell to conclude lunch rang out. You took it with promises that you’d give it back when you met them outside of the drama room later after school, already burying your nose in the pages when you walked off to your class.

The boys saw a different side of you that possibly no one else in the school ever had: a familiar side, a human side. A side that was brutally honest and sometimes a little mean, but just as vulnerable and relatable as anyone else. A consensus had been reached during their shared English class: you were definitely weird, but actually pretty smart and imaginative. Possibilities of keeping you on as a permanent member were being discussed when Dustin and Mike found you hiding behind the lockers just outside the drama room around three pm.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked.

You shook your head, clutching your fat trapper keeper to your chest and handing Dustin back his Player’s Handbook.

“Eddie’s in there…” you muttered, chewing on the spine of your trapper keeper covered in duct tape

“Yeah, he usually gets there with Jeff, Gareth and Frank really early, to set up the map and the dice towers.” Mike nodded.

From the rectangular slat of a window, one could see Gareth and Frank meticulously setting up Jenga pieces and miniatures on top of a slab of butcher paper marked in sharpie, janky cindrilical tubes painted to look like castle towers were set up at each place at the table (the dice towers, fashioned from Pringles cans, cardboard, glue and paint). Eddie and Jeff were deep in conversation, plugging in lamps and electric candelabras left over from the drama club’s last production of ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Inside the mood was almost holy, reverent (or like Eddie liked to call it: a softcore porn on Valentine’s day mood), and the boys couldn’t help the eagerness as they went to the door.

You, however, stayed firmly planted behind the lockers.

“What are you doing?!” Mike hissed, “Come on! We’re gonna be late because of you!”

“I don’t wanna go in…!” You snapped back, suddenly shy.

Mike looked at Dustin, ready to destroy him, while Dustin tried to talk you down.

“Hey, hey! Come on, it’s okay. Don’t worry! You have a good character, and if you need help you can just sit with me and Mike-…”

“But what if he doesn’t like me?” You protested.

“I swear to you on my mother that Eddie is going to love you.” Dustin said, trying to calm you down, “You’re great. You actually came with a character to play, and he’s going to be so happy that a girl is showing interest in his hobbies.”

You were about to turn tail and leave when you felt an iron grip around the meat of your bicep, pulling you forward with an unnatural strength born entirely of Nerd Rage.

“Oh hell no!” Mike said, pulling you kicking and protesting towards the door, “You’re not doing this to me right now god dammit! You’re going to get your ass in there, and you’re going to play! I didn’t sit through lunch listening to your weird edgy character backstory just so you could pussy out at the last minute! Now get your ass. In. NOW!”

With a harsh shove, you flew into the drama room – tripping on your own two feet trying to catch yourself – and spilling the contents of your trapper keeper all over the ground. Strong hands caught you before you face planted into the floor, holding you steady.

“Easy, easy!” Called out a familiar voice, “Goddamn... What the hell was that for, Mike?! You could’ve broken her nos-…”

Eddie Munson’s voice trailed off, and the boys watched as their fearless leader, their metalhead bard, began to stare open mouthed slack jawed at you.

“You told us to find a lost sheep.” Mike snarled, “So here she is.”

[astraveritas]

★ my scorpio sun/venus and 8h mars best friend has kevin mcallister like plan for revenge if her fiance ever cheats on her. when she told me this I was not surprised at all. I love my scorpio women but yall insane.

★ fire moons are loud as hell when it comes to showing emotions. when they find something funny best believe the whole neighborhood will know. their laugh can wake up the dead.

— two fire moons having a quiet chat

★ cancer sun people are extremely business savvy, very much like their opposite sign capricorn. they constantly show up on the top of the lists of the wealthiest people. after all cancer is exalted in jupiter, the planet of luck, abundance and risk-taking. basically that gif of woody harrelson drying his tears with money is peak cancer sun energy.

★ famous people from the sagittarius-gemini axis are messy as hell. no one brings more chaos, drama, confusion and madness into the entertainment industry that this pair. they said “let me entertain you” and took it to 11

★ visual representation of scorpio men with libra placements using their libra placements charm to be the perfect nice gentleman to lure you in just to switch up and unleash their scorpio craziness on you unprompted 10 seconds later

★ saggitarius rising people cannot sit still, they always end up in the weirdest places and have the craziest stories to tell, like how the hell did you even get in there? and they're always like “I have a friend, who have a friend, who have a uncle who knows this dude and that’s how I ended up in underground bunker sex rave” and by the time you finish comprehending that information they’re already gone.

★  virgo placements and their scary attention to details. nothing will slip past them, they will notice and they will point it out, no they won’t care if they hurt your feelings, do better.

— virgo placement staring at someone 20ft away and noticing a stain on their shoes.

★ “look what the cat dragged in” but the cat is pisces sun/mars woman who just introduced you to her boyfriend and he is the weirdest creature of a man you ever laid your eyes upon. people who talk about aquarius women and their strange taste in men, never met a pisces woman in their life. aquarius women will be into counterculture type of men whatever the counterculture may mean to her personally. but pisces women? they’re dating mad libs in form of men.

★ have yall noticed taurus placements and their sense of smell? their noses are so sensitive they could probably work as police dogs in airports. very similar to virgos in that area. no one sniffs their food more before they eat it than a taurus placement. you ask out loud “what’s that smell?” and a taurus placement be like “i’m sensing basil with a pinch of black mustard seed” and they end up being right every time. they also love for their home to smell nice, always opening the windows to let the fresh air in and lighting scented candles. 

— taurus placement after buying every scented candle, perfume, aromatic bath salt, lotion and air freshener they found on sale.

★ people with mars-mercury conjunction/trine in fire sign are blunt. they will say what everyone is thinking out loud and drag everything unsaid into the surface and force people to confront it. 

★ watching people with libra sun/mars in a discussion with someone they don’t agree with is hilarious. you can see in their eyes that they do not fuck with this person and their opinions and yet there’s still this polite smile on their face, but something behind their eyes says “murder”.

[fricc-darn]

More dating B.E.N hcs but sprinkle in some love

(some BEN angst if you squint n slight warning for toxic relationships)

When it comes to BEN and affection it's a tricky situation. It only cares about other moon children in the network. For other people, the concept of love is not on their mind. Due to that, it's not often you'll experience loving moments with them.

Their love is rare and will take time to form as this is reserved for a specific kind of person. Someone who it enjoys the presence of. A person who's a pleasure to mess with but isn't too easy. Someone who keeps things interesting. The perfect toy? In a sense yes! This type of love is genuine. It's truly a weird scenario because BEN continues to be a menace while attempting to be sweet.

Of course, these acts should be appreciated to some degree. At least attempts are being made. Despite how flawed these acts are, it's treatment others don't see. You should feel lucky that you're an exception. The last thing BEN wants is for you to end up dead. Though if you have gotten this far, you'd certainly know to appreciate these moments.

BEN's words of affirmation are just as concise and vague as their regular speech. When it compliments you at worst it's backhanded. At best they come off as someone talking to a beloved pet. Occasionally, it'll complement you in an odd amount of detail. Pointing out quirks that you don't even notice.

Now, if they really like you they have a tendency to info dump. Though they try to keep it at a minimum. They wouldn't want you getting too curious and becoming nosey.

For the most part; simple phrases like "I love you." or "Cute." work fine. It'll take time for you to figure out whether or not BEN is being genuine. Even when you get the hang of it, there's still a nagging uncertainty present. This process would be much easier if they weren't so deceitful. The first time BEN loosely said the words 'I love you' it was out of the blue during a flurry of obsessive messages and threats. They refused to elaborate until much later and took whatever response you had as a yes.

At first, it only communicates with you online or through poltergeist-like activities. They'll even appear in your dreams as individual moon children. These dreams are surprisingly pleasant in comparison to the nightmares. With a substantial amount of trust, you learn more about the spirits as individuals.

Hearing the bits and pieces of what they remember about their past really makes sense of their behavior. Just don't even think about pitying them. Even if its well meaning, the outcome won't be in your favor.

None of them can stand being vulnerable. Especially if they don't have the means to take over the situation. In those almost unthinkable scenarios, it would trigger them into emotional distress. Which isn't something you'd expect from BEN of all people. To avoid that, they lead you to the information with breadcrumbs.

When BEN decides to appear physically, things really get fun!

They aren't too fond of physical affection. You can ask, but it will often result in a no. They have to be the ones to initiate it. There are plenty of reasons but it's mainly for the comfort of each moon child. You'll quickly learn who hates being touched, who doesn't mind, or who enjoys it.

Dealing with BEN is like dealing with a cat with an awful attitude. A spiteful shithead to its core. When they're not toying with your stuff, they'll come up to you whenever they feel like to bother you. From hugging, breathing down your neck, or maybe even biting you. The ladder isn't always ideal since BEN has way too many teeth. When this happens, it doesn't have much of a care for what you're doing or if you want to be bothered. BEN has some major cuteness aggression towards you. They play rough and oddly enough they're pretty strong.

Hugs and hand holding are the most common form of affection you'll get. When you're asleep they might even decide to cuddle with you. Be warned, BEN will take up most of the bed for no good reason. You also have to be prepared for potentially getting scared half to death in the middle of the night. Besides the distorted whispers, it's uncanny generated face will stare at you while you sleep. When you sleep with them it doesn't feel like a person is sleeping next to you. It's more like a general presence. BEN's skin is cold more often than not. Its skin seems to get warm off of your body heat or if there's something going on inside of its head. At least they're soft and squishy.

Can BEN kiss? Sorta. Its kisses are chaste and usually on the cheek. They're a prude, and a super hypocritical one at that. If they happen to kiss you on the lips it's essentially like kissing a mannequin with synthetic skin. It's cold and awkward. They're artificial in almost every sense of the word. Its mouth is the texture of gooey silicone with a long tongue and plenty of teeth. Kissing it is an experience that only you get to have. BEN really tries to be a good kisser but it just doesn't work out. It may be a questionable kisser but it's not sloppy. For that has no appeal, BEN prefers kisses to be simple and clean.

[hazyange1s]

HL Characters’ Tricks and Treats

It’s my favorite day of the year so before I go and fall into a candy/cocktail coma tonight… here’s a few ridiculous headcanons about the HL characters on Halloween 👻

Sebastian

Dresses up as something scary/clever/historical like a character from a horror novel. Definitely uses magic with his costume to make it more realistic (is that actual blood?!)

Would DIE for a haunted house. He’s the one laughing and having the time of his life at the front of the pack.

Probably asks to take a moonlit walk through a cemetery. What, it’s romantic!

He is Scottish, and they’re quite superstitious about Hallowe’en. Seb doesn’t walk across the street when he sees a black cat or anything, but he’s very respectful towards the dead (barring the aforementioned graveyard romp)

Scares everyone — teachers, his friends, Hogsmeade shopkeepers. The only person he can’t seem to get is Ominis, and it haunts him.

Would say cheesy little things to his S.O. (or friends) like “if I pull a trick on you now, will I still get a treat later?” 🙄

Ominis

Doesn’t really understand Hallowe’en or care about the holiday, but his friends love it so he goes along (begrudgingly).

Dresses up as the same thing with slight variations every year unless Sebastian can wrangle him into something else. Definitely likes classic/scary costumes i.e. vampire

The guy clinging to his friend/partner in the haunted house (usually Poppy; she doesn’t mind).

In my lore, he owns a little black cat and is highly protective of her on Halloween. Like takes her everywhere (sadly some people are known to harm black cats on this day ☹️)

Denies most party invitations because the energy is just too much. If he does come, he’s in the corner talking to like two people and drinking lmao

However, he’d secretly live for mischief night type antics and would come up with the most devious pranks. Never gets in trouble for a single one.

Garreth

Bought out Honeyduke’s by October 1. Most of it is for him and he’s in a coma by midnight.

Creates a drink that tastes like candy corn and gives you so much energy you can’t fall asleep until sunrise. Nobody in the castle sleeps that night and the professors are running around literally stopping kids from bouncing off walls.

Dresses up as a pun/something silly (obviously) or “badass”— could show up as a knight or as Merlin with a really long beard just so he can say “Merlin’s beard” fifty times. Would totally show up to class dressed as Professor Sharp and get detention for it.

Cracking jokes in the haunted house and messing with the actors until they have to kick him out.

Is either in an all-out war with Peeves or has teamed up with him to pull a practical joke on the Slytherins.

Enthusiastic pumpkin-carver and apple-bobber. Did the Monster Mash before it was cool.

Amit

Gotta be honest, can’t see him being a big fan of Halloween. He’d rather be in front of a fire writing his memoir than out with all the hooligans (aka his friends)

IF someone can manage to drag him out of the common room, chances are it’s his partner and he’s stuck to their side like glue all night. The unfortunate victim of many a prank.

Costume consists of different astronomers every year, which are remarkably detailed. Sometimes he’ll mix it up and try out a mummy or something from mythology.

Will likely refuse to step foot in the haunted house, but on the off chance he’s persuaded, Amit flinches at every little sound 😅

Knows a lot about the history of All Hallows’ Eve and will tell anyone within earshot.

Not a fan of ghosts (I mean, they are a bit unsettling), although they all seem to love him — he’s just got a soothing presence, I guess.

Natty

She didn’t grow up celebrating Halloween like everyone else did, so she could really take it or leave it. But it can be fun!

In Africa, they focus on the oldest traditions of this time of year by honoring their dead. Natsai and her mom would probably pay homage to her father.

Doesn’t wear a costume her first couple of years in Scotland, but by sixth year she’s decked out in something pretty. I could see her dressing up as a powerful female historical figure like Cleopatra or Morgan le Fay.

Honestly might go for a couples’ costume and would dutifully think of the perfect one. Always coming up with good ideas for things to do, too.

Is eerily chill in the haunted house. Nobody even sees her flinch until the very end, she’s too busy herding everyone to notice what’s going on.

Enjoys a good scare, but she doesn’t really like to scare other people (unless they deserve it).

Poppy

Her and her gran had little Halloween traditions, but she never got to fully appreciate the holiday until she started making more friends at school.

Often dressing up as some type of magical creature (shocker, I know) or a cute/whimsical being; like a unicorn or a dryad.

Is down for the count after about three Butterbeers at the end of the night and needs to be carried back to Hufflepuff common room.

Gets moderately scared at the haunted house; still braves it admirably. Is pushed to the middle of the group for protection since she’s the smallest 😂

Makes special treats for the creatures and would probably yell at anyone who tried to force their pets into costumes oop

Loves to decorate the dorm/common room with enchanted lights and wreathes and shimmery cobwebs.

Imelda

Pretends to think that Hallowe’en is ridiculous but secretly LOVES it. She’s counting down the days as soon as school starts.

It’s the day before the first Quidditch game of the year so honestly don’t be surprised if she disappears for a few hours to practice. Or makes the rest of the team join.

Has the best costumes and you’ll never guess what she’s going to show up as. One year it’s a Holyhead Harpies player, the next it’s a disturbingly convincing zombie, and another she goes as Sebastian to piss him off.

Fighting people in the haunted house. You touch her? You lose a hand. You touch Poppy? You die. She’s kicked out even before Garreth.

Has no qualms about spooking the underclassmen (watch out Zenobia) — or anyone, for that matter. Absolutely BRUTAL.

Tells a great scary story, and she can make them up on the spot. They’ll just give you nightmares for a few weeks, it’s fine.

[joelswritingmistress]

Last Halloween: Chapter 3

Summary: After a tragedy involving Joel happened on Halloween one year prior, the town now shuns him while ignoring the details of the now closed case. You are seemingly the only one to offer empathy to a man the town is making out to be a monster.

Warning: Angst, mild language

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

"He's coming?" Your friend Jessie asked, practically letting her jaw drop to the floor as she adjusted her cowboy hat in the mirror.

"Shh." You put a finger to your lips and pulled on a pair of black spandex for your cat costume. "I don't want to tell Winnie or Chris." You knew they would give you a hard time, but Jessie was a little more open minded.

"Okay, okay." She pretended to zip her lip. "I won't say anything."

"Thank you." You tossed on a black shirt with lacy sleeves before grabbing the cat mask. After Jessie checked herself out once more in the bathroom mirror, you reached for your keys. "Let's boogie," you whispered.

The ride over was focused on Joel talk, and you didn't particularly mind. You were kind of itching to talk about him.

"Are you into him?" Jessie asked.

You weren't a good liar so you were honest, despite the potential backlash. After that motorcycle ride it was like a switch had been flipped inside of you.

"Yeah. I mean, I think so."

"Wow." She giggled, "It's so.. random. Not judging. I just.. wow. Why?"

"Why?" You shrugged as you drove. "He gave me a ride on his motorcycle earlier and-"

"Wait, what?" She grabbed your forearm without even realizing it.

You laughed. "We rode around town and then he drove me back to pick up my car at the junkyard. That's why I was so late getting home."

"How old is he?"

"I'm not sure."

"He's a least ten years older than us. Probably more."

You shrugged again. "I'm just feeling things out. I really just want him to have a friend." You turned to look at Jessie for a quick second. "Ya know?"

"Oh, I know." She chuckled. "A friend with benefits."

You laughed and swatted at her. "Cut it out."

"Just let me know what color bridesmaid dress I should wear."

You rolled your eyes with a grin and the two of you had another laugh.

The sign for the tavern came into view by the road side and you pulled into the parking lot, allowing your car to merge in with all the others. You both reached for your purses in the back seat and then headed toward the door that led inside.

On your walk up you heard someone call out your name and turned to see the man in the plastic scarecrow mask. Joel. Seeing him there alleviated any anxiety that lingered on the chance of him not showing up. He *had* showed up, and you knew how big of a step that was for him.

"Hey!" You greeted him with a hug and he partially lifted the mask as your roommate began to introduce herself. A moment later, the three of you were walking inside, welcomed by the beat of the old time seasonal song, Midnight Monsters Hop.

"I'm gunna go get a drink," Chrissy shouted, using her thumb to motion toward the bar that was overflowing with ghouls, ghosts and everything in between.

"Okay." You gave a thumbs up and looked to Joel. "Want a drink?"

He nodded, "Yeah, sure."

You reached back behind you for his hand and felt that similar electricity from before when he took it.

Up at the bar you flagged down the bartender.

"I'll do a vodka soda and.."

"A Bud Lite," Joel added, reaching into his wallet. Like his habit at the coffee shop, he paid with cash despite your attempts to try to pay for the round.

You looked at one another and without saying a word, you tapped your glasses together and then took a sip from your drinks. Joel hesitantly lifted his mask partway. You felt so bad for his inability to be free.

When another old Halloween song came on by The Dead Kennedys, you pulled Joel with you into a crowd of people who had begun to dance along to the rock music.

The beat was fast and upbeat. Without thinking you shoved Joel playfully with a grin with one hand to his chest and then closed the gap again and began to dance right next to him.

A moment later he was following your lead. He was having fun. You were having fun. The dim lighting in the bar was intersected by strobes of oranges, greens and purples, highlighting your every move.

When Joel really began to relax you could see it in his body language. He was dancing around, grabbing your hand to twirl you and being less cautious about lifting his mask to take a sip from his beer.

The rock music never seemed to let up. You needed a break from dancing as sweat began to make your face glisten. You eyed an old photobooth in the back corner of the bar and reached for Joel's free hand again, towing him with you.

When you pushed your way through a pale, white curtain you pulled him down into a seated position beside you and inserted a five dollar bill into the money slot beneath the camera screen.

With the first 3-2-1 countdown on the screen, you both kept your masks on and you stuck out your tongue. For the second photo, Joel lifted his mask so it sat on the top of his head and he managed a half smile. For picture number three, Jessie came out of nowhere, leaping into the booth for a photobomb and then exiting just as quickly.

You were laughing. Joel was laughing. You were both genuinely enjoying the night. Seconds later, the pictures developed and you took a copy while handing one over to Joel.

He kept his mask up as you pulled him back out into the bar where you resumed dancing. The energy was fiery. You loved every minute of it. More so, you loved seeing Joel at ease and having fun. Prior to recently you had never even seen him smile.

That night, in the freaky, flashing strobe lights, things felt perfect - as perfect as they had felt on the back of Joel's bike a few hours earlier. You knew this was manifesting into one of those nights - the type of night you looked back on that was on the border of magical, at least the type of magical that existed in real life.

It was everything. The music, the lighting, the look on Joel's face as his eyes found yours and never left. You were two giddy children that night and it felt so damn good. Never in a million years did you think you'd be able to get him out of his shell.

A break in the song left the two of you breathing heavy with smiles.

"Want another drink?" He shouted.

"Sure." You smiled, and a ringing stuck in your ears with the brief absence of loud music. The next song quickly picked up and Joel smiled, squeezed your hand and then made his way through the crowd.

"Another round, please," you heard him order.

Your eyes were on him as he stood there by the bar. You still smiled. He was contagious; perhaps the definition of a diamond in the rough. Joel Miller was.. dreamy.

"Hey killer." A voice interrupted your temporary euphoria. It wasn't directed at you. It was directed at Joel. Your daydream was suddenly interrupted when you saw a man approach him as he waited for your drinks. "You're in here dancing and having a good time. Where's Johnny? Hmm?" The guy shoved him now and you ran to Joel's defense.

"Enough!" The bartender scolded but the guy went on.

"You kill a local legend and you think you can just move on?" The guy shouted.

"Stop!" You intervened, standing with Joel as others began to turn in your direction.

"Oh, you even got a girl, that's great," mocked the stranger. "You know what Johnny's girl does on and off every week? She cries. Because you killed him!"

Joel tossed a twenty on the bar, left the drinks and stormed out of the establishment. You chased after him, bursting outside and shouted his name when a car whizzed by and almost hit him on the Main Street road.

"Joel!" You shouted and hurried the rest of the way to him. "Joel, stop!"

"I can't do this!" He shouted, "You just don't get it!"

"I know." You shook your head. "Joel, I'm sorry."

"I'm not your little fucking project," Joel went on.

"I know that, Joel." You shook your head, feeling the first sting of tears in your eyes. "I just.. I like you. I was having fun with you."

"I don't belong here. Not in this town. Not anymore! Nothing is going to change that."

"It's not fair," you went on, "I know-"

"You don't know anything!" He waved his hands wildly to the sides. "You don't know how I feel every single day."

"I know I don't," you agreed, "But I want to be here for you. I want to help you. Be your friend."

"What and relive this shit show of a night almost daily with me?" He made a face and shook his head.

"This night hasn't been a shit show," you argued. "Up until two seconds ago this was one of the enjoyable nights I can remember. It started back at the junk yard and on the bike-"

"Well, I'm glad I could give you a thrill ride," Joel said in a snarky fashion that cut you a little deep.

"Joel.." you shook your head. "I enjoy your company." You extended both of your arms in his direction with your palms up.

He looked at them but distanced himself further back a few steps. "Just.. go back to your normal life and stay away from me."

He scoffed turned away from you, storming off into the darkness as you still held your arms out in front of you. Despite having just formally met him, a single tear left each of your eyes.

"Joel!" You called. "Joel, please.."

He didn't turn back around. It broke off a piece of your heart when he disappeared around the corner of the building without so much as looking back.

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER 4

@untamedheart81 @amy172

[igavehimlxfe]

(DID SOMEONE SAY GO FOR THE JUGULAR???) △ - Why do you seem to resent the women around you? Meg, Francesca, you seem to see these human beings with complex inner lives as... Inconveniences. Was it always this way? Did you feel the same way about your adoptive mother?

Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character

10/10

".... I'd rather not go into this."

No choice bitch boy. ANSWER.

"Fine. They are inconveniences, but not based strictly on their sex. Miss Halsey and Francesca's inconvenience is based on their presence in Daniel's life. When he's focused on wooing and pleasing someone who has no appreciation for our research, his attention is divided, and I... don't like that. I want Dan working with me... I want Dan with me."

[itsthatlake]

Shen Yuan transmigrated as a Spirit Cat AU (part 2)

First chapter.

---

The rest of the examination, all dutifully narrated by Mu Qingfang, passed in something of a blur comprised mostly of internal screaming and a great deal of cursing, and he only came back to reality when he was picked up by a pair of warm hands.

Shen Yuan flinched and looked up at the man who could only be Liu Qingge, the War God of Bai Zhan and older brother of Best Wife, Liu Mingyan. Living proof that this was a time before the protagonist joined Qing Jing Peak.

Liu Qingge died by Shen Qingqiu’s hand sometime around then, after all.

“Come on,” he said, easily settling Shen Yuan on the crook of his arm and starting to walk like this was an established routine of many years instead of something that had happened twice so far and once under duress.

Distracted as he was, Shen Yuan didn’t bother to question it until they were already flying on— on Cheng Luan again. This sword was as cool as he had imagined, now that he looked at it properly. He smacked Liu Qingge’s arm with his paw until he got his attention, then meowed in question.

Liu Qingge stared for a second before seemingly realizing what he was asking.

“We’re going to see the sect leader, Yue Qingyuan,” he explained. “I need to give him my mission report. And inform him of your presence on the mountain.”

“Meow?”

“Cang Qiong has a rule about bringing in any Spirit Cats that we find. For protection,” Liu Qingge clarified, giving him an unreadable look. “There aren’t many left, so Spirit Cats sell high in many circles. None that our sect supports, of course.”

Huh. Shen Yuan hadn’t known that, even after jogging his memory post realizing which world this is.

He remembered Colored Claw Spirit Cats being mentioned in one of the later chapters of PIDW, something about how they had all gone extinct because of human greed and whatnot. He thinks it might have been wife #629 who complained about how tragic it was to Luo Binghe before the protagonist comforted her with his tried-and-true heavenly pillar. In hindsight, that was probably the last bit of actual worldbuilding Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had given them before deciding to write terrible papapa and needlessly convoluted harem shenanigans for the next sixty or so chapters before the end of the novel.

What Shen Yuan hadn’t known, however, was that Cang Qiong Mountain Sect actively rescued and protected Spirit Cats. Of course, with the sect long since destroyed and most of the Peak Lords dead or integrated into the harem and promptly abandoned, there was no reason whatsoever for that to come up at that point in the novel.

Regardless, it was an interesting detail of this world, as well as an incredibly convenient fact for him now.

“Liu Qingge,” Liu Qingge said abruptly. Shen Yuan blinked at him, watching the red slowly creep up his ears with slight fascination. Woah. He even blushed prettily, how unfair. “My name. It’s Liu Qingge. I realized I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”

Oh, that was very polite of him. Which was a little strange coming from the guy who chased him through a village for almost four hours earlier that day and who he just saw kick his shidi’s office door in for no real reason. Shen Yuan huffed, then rubbed his face on the man’s arm, purring pleasantly.

“Hmm. Do you have a name?”

“Meow!”

“I see.”

What do you see? Shen Yuan wanted to ask, genuinely confused as to what Liu Qingge thought he understood. Alas, for lack of the vocal cords necessary for human speech, he just settled back down instead and decided to enjoy the ride.

Flying was kind of fun, he was learning.

---

Yue Qingyuan met Shen Yuan’s sudden presence on his mountain with a not inconsiderable amount of polite confusion.

Then, after Liu Qingge explained the situation, including the results of Mu Qingfang’s examination that Shen Yuan had missed almost entirely and was thus glad to hear summarized now, the sect leader just rolled with it with as much grace as his character in the novel took anything unrelated to Shen Qingqiu.

So far, Shen Yuan’s first impression of the sect leader was very much in line with what he already knew from PIDW.

Afterwards, Yue Qingyuan helpfully elaborated on Cang Qiong’s policy on Spirit Cats that Liu Qingge had mentioned earlier. Apparently, the claws of adult Spirit Cats sold very high among a significant number of cultivator circles because of their special properties, and the declawed creatures were usually sold as ‘exotic pets’ to nobles, where they would inevitably die from either improper care or health issues brought on by the loss of their claws. If caught by the wrong people, young Spirit Cats like himself would most likely be caged and tortured to quicken the awakening of their special abilities.

Because of this massive traffic that was both somehow legal and absolutely horrid to think about, the number of Spirit Cats left had been on the decline for many decades now, and none had reached a point in their cultivation where they could take a human form in over three centuries, as far as anyone was aware.

Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, as well as a number of other sects, strictly forbade the abuse of Spirit Cats and the use of their claws to further their cultivation, as well as offered sanctuary for any that they found in the wild or rescued.

“It has been many years since the last time a Spirit Cat resided in Cang Qiong,” Yue Qingyuan said regretfully, tone somber. “When this lord was still head disciple, he had the privilege to meet with one. Master Zhou’s meridians had unfortunately been crippled before he came to our sect, so he never managed to cultivate to a human form despite achieving immortality. This one was told that he was the youngest of a trio of siblings who were rescued together, but that his older sisters had already been declawed and thus did not manage to survive long even in our care. Lan Qingyi, the current Lord of the Shan Shou Peak, was the one who took care of Master Zhou during his final years.”

Listening to Yue Qingyuan’s recounting felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on him. All the terrible, horrible things that had made PIDW’s worldbuilding engaging were now real. It was his reality, and that of the people who were here now and had been here before him. The reality of Master Zhou who in the end was unable to reach Ascension, of his sisters who suffered so much and died long before their time. It caused Shen Yuan’s fur to stand on end as he listened to the sect leader speak.

However.

It also felt a little bit like hope. Because, see, for every trafficker out there, for every cruel bastard out to get his kind, there was also a person willing to protect them. Willing to give Spirit Cats a place where they could grow and live peacefully. 

And those people were here, in Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, offering him that help now as well.

Huan Hua Palace, on the other hand, was perfectly fine with capturing Spirit Cats and using them as they saw fit. There were even rumors that the Old Palace Master had kept one or two declawed Spirit Cats as pets not so long ago.

Needless to say, Shen Yuan had dodged a massive bullet there. It was nothing short of a miracle that Liu Qingge was the one the villagers asked for help and not a cultivator from Huan Hua Palace, seeing as it was literally their territory.

Shen Yuan had seen Huan Hua Palace disciples flying around, for fuck’s sake.

Liu Qingge’s other hand had come up to rest lightly on top of him at some point during the story and Shen Yuan silently leaned into it, rubbing his cheek against his palm in an instinctual, soothing motion as he tried to burrow his body deeper into the crook of his arm.

“This conversation has taken a dark turn, my apologies,” said Yue Qingyuan softly, when the silent became too heavy. “I’m afraid that this topic is not one that can be avoided for long and it is better to be aware of the dangers sooner rather than later. This master would like to formally extend Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s protection to the esteemed spirit, as well as an invitation to stay here for however long he wishes.”

Shen Yuan meowed quietly in agreement, and watched as the sect leader smiled gently at him. Then the man nodded, reaching for a brush and some paper.

“We’ll need to record your arrival and arrange everything for your stay,” he informed them. Even if the heavy thoughts lingered in his mind, for now the dark atmosphere seemed to have lifted as they moved onto another topic, for which Shen Yuan was grateful.

Yue Qingyuan paused, as if only now remembering something, and looked up at them curiously.

“Ah. We require a name for the paperwork. Since it was Liu-shidi who found and brought him to the sect, perhaps he could name the esteemed spirit as well?”

Without a moment of hesitation, Liu Qingge shook his head.

“He already has a name,” he informed solemnly.

“Oh?” Yue Qingyuan raised his eyebrows, looking expectantly at him. Shen Yuan also stared, wondering what he would answer. He obviously never told him his name and he was certain that the War God couldn’t read minds.

(Well. Mostly certain, anyway. Great Master Airplane was hardly reliable when it came to developing characters who weren’t wives or Luo Binghe past a certain point in the novel, or any characters at all past another point just slightly ahead in the novel, and Shen Yuan wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow forgotten to mention such an important aspect of this awesome character that he’d killed off-screen.

Would he be angry? Of course. Disappointed by the wasted potential? Most definitely. But surprised? After reading that whole godawful story? Ha! As if. Shen Yuan knew exactly what he was in for when he paid for each chapter.)

“He did not tell me what it is,” said the man who, as expected, could not read minds.

Liu Qingge! Shen Yuan cried in his mind, a little exasperated.

“Ah. Of course,” said the sect leader, smiling politely at both of them. He looked like he wanted to sigh but was too polite to do so and had instead defaulted to smiling. “However, I still need a name for the report. Until he can tell us his name, how does the esteemed spirit feel about having a nickname?”

Liu Qingge frowned at the same time that Shen Yuan perked up.

“A nickname?”

“Yes. Something simple and easy to remember that we can use in the meantime.”

Shen Yuan meowed pointedly, tapping Liu Qingge in the arm. The man just stared back silently, clearly deep in thought, before he nodded.

“The children at the village called him Xiao Maomi,” he declared.

“Xiao Maomi?” Yue Qingyuan repeated, looking at Shen Yuan for confirmation.

Shen Yuan considered it. It was very on the nose for a nickname, likely because it was a bunch of little kids who thought of it in the first place, but ‘little kitty’ wasn’t too terrible all things considered. He could have gotten stuck with a name like Doudou or Danhuang. Now that would have been embarrassing.

Therefore, he meowed positively. It was only temporary anyways so he didn’t care much.

Yue Qingyuan smiled politely, reaching for a brush. “Very well. We’ll put ‘Xiao Maomi’ down in the paperwork for now. It can always be changed at a later date.”

While Yue Qingyuan wrote, Shen Yuan looked up at Liu Qingge, considering. Then he wiggled out from under Liu Qingge’s hand, earning himself a curious look that he ignored, and used his claws to quickly climb up his arm and settle on the man’s shoulder, head resting on the collar of his robes.

The reason why the children of the village had taken to calling him ‘little kitty,’ as opposed to only ‘kitty,’ was immediately obvious to anybody with working eyes. This body of his was quite small even for an average cat’s, even a kitten’s, which had worked in his favor while he was sneaking around the village and against him during fights.

Shen Yuan had originally attributed this to a lack of proper nutrition coupled with a young age, but even after months of stealing food he remained around the same size. Now he wondered if maybe it had something to do with him being a Colored Claw Spirit Cat. He made a mental note to find more information on them later.

Right now, however, his small body meant that he was the perfect size to lay down on Liu Qingge’s shoulders and not have to worry about falling, something he intended to take full advantage of.

Liu Qingge huffed quietly, but made no moves to stop Shen Yuan.

Eventually, the sect leader set down his brush and looked back at them with a considering expression.

“In regards to Maomi-xiansheng’s new living arrangements,” he began lightly. “Normally, all Spirit Cats would be sent to the Shan Shou Peak where they’d be able to settle down and live their lives comfortably. However, Peak Lord Lan is currently in seclusion, and this master is uncertain whether any of her disciples are equipped to house and care for Maomi-xiansheng, as they are all quite young and inexperienced still.”

Ah, Shan Shou Peak, the Beast Taming Peak. One of many places that only got one or two lines when Luo Binghe joined and later destroyed Cang Qiong in PIDW. Shen Yuan had always been curious about this particular peak and all the (obviously wasted) potential it held, something he had ranted about on many occasions in the comment section. Infuriatingly, that hack author had once replied to one of his comments with, “okay okay chill dude, I’ll describe more of the sect in the next chapter,” and then spent six whole paragraphs describing Xian Shu Peak’s bathhouse and all the shijies in it.

Shen Yuan had never genuinely considered murder in his past life, but by god did he get close that day. He was sure his comment, written in a fugue state of pure rage, had reflected that.

“Doesn’t Lan Qingyi have Hall Masters on her peak?” Liu Qingge said, and though Shen Yuan couldn’t exactly see his expression from his position, he got the impression that the man was scowling as he said that.

“I believe they are occupied caring for all the creatures already in-house and teaching the disciples during Lan-shimei’s absence,” Yue Qingyuan answered, tone as close to exasperated as possible while still remaining polite. “Lan-shimei’s approach to her duties as Peak Lord is very different to Liu-shidi’s, after all.”

Shen Yuan had no idea what that was about, but he could almost feel the self-restraint it took Liu Qingge not to huff. The sect leader continued before he could question it.

“Nonetheless, with Shan Shou Peak not being an option, Maomi-xiansheng will need another place to stay, at least until Lan-shimei is back. Since it was Liu-shidi who brought him here, perhaps he wouldn’t mind housing Maomi-xiansheng until then?”

“En,” Liu Qingge nodded, after a moment of thought. “I do not mind.”

Yue Qingyuan smiled in response.

“Thanking shidi.”

And thus, Shen Yuan moved in with Liu Qingge.

[trickstarbrave]

I will give you a shiny quarter if you explain Morrowind to me like I’m five (pretty please)

its is quite difficult given i dont know how complex of topics 5 year olds can understand. but i can try to explain it in the most simple way possible because i explain it regularly to one of my roommates and wife who do not understand elder scrolls lore at all. be warned: this is still gonna be long and weird bc the story is long and weird.

(also excuse the swearing i wouldnt swear like this to a 5 year old)

a long long times ago, some 3000+ years before the game actually starts, there was a dude named nerevar. he made friends with some dwarves (dwemer) who lived underground and united the whole country of resdayn (later renamed to morrowind) to drive out the nords who had taken over. he also had a rly cool ring named moon-and-star, which was magic and let you be really persuasive, but he also enchanted it to kill anyone besides him wearing it so it couldnt be misused. this is relevant later

well he married the queen almalexia and made a big council of important people mostly made up of his buddies. he called it the first council and important people on it were his bestie voryn, his wife almalexia, and two younger friends sotha sil and vivec, along with the king of the dwemer dumac and dumac's mage kagrenac (the dwarves use weird magic with sound. if i go into details this will get very confusing).

for like 200 years because elves live for a long time, everything was pretty alright.

but it turns out the nords were there for a reason. they were looking for the heart of a dead god. the god's name for the sake of the story is lorkhan, but different places call him different things like shor or shezzar. the nords worshipped lorkhan and wanted to bring him back or something (probably, or at least just find it because hey thats their guy). but after 200 years of peace the dwemer found it underground in a volcano they lived in. and kagrenac had an Idea

the idea was to build a really cool really powerful giant robot mecha god (because the dwemer were really steampunk) to protect them. and it would be powered by the heart lorkhan.

voryn, nerevar's bestie, ended up finding out about this and told nerevar "hey the dwemer are up to something weird". and nerevar went "huh? they are?" and went to ask his goddess, azura, who knows a lot of things. azura said "yeah they are. stop them. what the fuck" and so nerevar went to his other bestie dumac.

and nerevar told dumac "hey why the fuck are you building a giant robot god?" and dumac's reply was "nerevar what the fuck are you talking about?" and nerevar, being mad his friend was Lying to him (maybe dumac didn't know. we dunno) because he already had multiple people confirm they were in fact doing that, he told dumac their friendship was over and kicked him off the first council and they went to war.

the details here get fuzzy. the nords showed up and joined in. the dwemer had steampunk robots everywhere. cat people showed up because why not. there were orcs there too. it was a big clusterfuck and there were different accounts of what happened. some people say voryn was fighting alongside the dwarves. some say he was fighting with the nords. some say he was fighting alongside nerevar. its hard to tell.

but most accounts have one thing kind of in common that a lot of the fandom agrees on: kagrenac grabbed their three cool tools to control the heart of a god, banged on it really hard, and then every single dwemer (except for one who was on holiday) vanished in an instant. and everyone was pretty confused by that, not really knowing what else to do. they now had a giant robot, the heart of a god, and 3 tools to wack the heart with to make weird shit happen.

so nerevar, unsure, said "hey voryn watch the tools for me." and left voryn with the tools and the heart. voryn said they should just destroy the tools, but nerevar wanted a few different opinions before just chucking them in lava or whatever. but while he was gone voryn started fucking around with the tools and the heart to see what would happen.

nerevar asked his buddies. almalexia, vivec, and sotha sil said they can use the tools to help resdayn/morrowind. nerevar didnt know if that was a good idea or not, so he asked azura. azura said "fuck no, dont ever do that". so nerevar made his friends pinkie promise him on azura's behalf not to use the tools on the heart.

and then again the accounts get weird here. some say nerevar died in battle against the dwarves/nords. some say voryn killed him. some say his friends (almalexia, vivec, and sotha sil) killed him. but regardless nerevar and voryn died. almalexia, sotha sil, and vivec had the tools. and they decided to use them on the heart and became gods.

this pissed azura off. they pinkie promised. what the fuck. so she made all the elves that lived there into dark elves. almalexia, sotha sil, and vivec became known as the tribunal and said "we dont need you anymore azura fuck off" and became living gods who could help their people and preform miracles! though they needed to take the tools up to red mountain and recharge their batteries on the heart regularly. azura tells them "nerevar will be back one day and beat all your asses" and made a whole prophecy about it called the nerevarine prophecy (reincarnations get the name+'ine' tacked on in the elder scrolls)

also the tribunal destroy voryn's house/family, the sixth great house of morrowind, house dagoth. just destroy it all. kill a bunch of ppl and the others kinda go somewhere else if they lived. because they sided with voryn or whatever and were deemed traitors

a bunch of other shit happens. septim empire rises to the throne. vivec trades the not working robot to tiber septim who makes it work with a bootleg wish version of the heart of a god and takes over. more time passes. its now the third era and its been 3500 years.

the protagonist is a prisoner who is released from their sentence in morrowind because the current emperor wants to use the prophecy to keep a better hold on morrowind politically. the protagonist was chosen because part of the prophecy is being born under a specific astrology sign and not knowing who your parents are. which could be anyone but y'know.

so the protag/nerevarine has to do a bunch of shit and finds out through weird dreams, oh hey, voryn's back. he's calling himself a god and dagoth ur now. asking nerevar to call him back, go grab the tools, and come meet him at red mountain. also maybe get married to or hook up with him or something. nerevarine thinks that's weird and ends up finding out dagoth ur has also unleashed a plague onto morrowind which turns you into scary eldritch monsters. and then one of dagoth ur's minions infects you with it.

nerevarine finds a cure which makes you not go insane and not turn into a big scary monster. but leaves all the cool shit of "you cant catch any other disease" and "you will never age". the never aging and getting diseases thing was also part of the prophecy. cool.

then the nerevarine needs to go to the nomadic ashlanders who live up north where theres a bunch of ash (hence the name) and worship azura (and the two other og gods) and ask all four tribes to name them nerevarine. they all think youre stupid because an outlander (someone not born and raised in morrowind) cant be the nerevarine. but you find an original copy of the prophecy and go "nuh-uh, i can be" and also go find the moon-and-star ring only nerevar can wear. then they go "well shit" and have you go a bunch of quests and then decide you're cool enough to be nerevarine.

then the nerevarine goes and convinces the three great houses you can talk to (the other two are on the mainland) to name you hortator, which is a war lord/classic roman definition of dictator, and it was the title nerevar had. you do some stuff, kill some guys, boom--named hortator.

then vivec hears about this and calls you in and says "well i guess you are the one doing the prophecy huh. look i need you to kill dagoth ur he's dangerous. here's our plan, are you in? i can give you one of the tools of kagrenac, you need to get the other two from dagoth ur's goons, and then kill dagoth ur's weird brothers he has put his power into. then bang on the heart with the tools and cut him off". vivec then teaches the nerevarine how to use the tools.

you can also just like. kill vivec and take the tool. you wont know how to use it tho and if you use it wrong you will take so much damage you die really fast. if you do this you can go to the only living dwarf who also has that disease but hasnt lost his mind and ask him how to use it and he'll be like "UHHHHHH i'll see what i can. fucking do i guess. i didnt make this." and he'll jerry rig it for you.

then you can kill voryn's brothers or not (you'll need to kill at least 2 for the other tools) and then march up to red mountain. dagoth ur will then be like "yo. are you really nerevar?" and you can say yeah or no or idk. and then have a conversation. and then you fight. but after you kill him he's not really dead, so you gotta run up and start wacking that heart while he yells at you to knock it the fuck off. and then he's cut off from the heart, you run away, and he falls in lava and dies.

and then azura shows up and goes "hey thanks man i have some other shit for you to do though". after which you can do some other content or play the dlc.

thats morrowind baby

[privateanxieties]

Stay?

In honor of our fallen comrade AO3, here's a 3.1K Frank Castle fic.

Summary: Frank is forced to call in a favor from an old acquaintance he hasn't seen since his second tour. What he gets is more than he bargained for, and for the first time in his life, he doesn't think that's such a bad thing.

Pair: Frank Castle x Reader (she/her); flirting, banter, Frank Castle needs a hug, fluff, NO sMut SorRy

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

He shouldn't fucking be here, especially at sundown. That much was clear based on the telltale signs of trepidation in his hands and chest. No, he wasn't shaking. Frank Castle was not a pussy. But, he also was not certain she wouldn't shoot him on sight — or even through the wooden door.

Damn Curtis for being bedridden.

"Can't cover your six this time, Frank," he'd said on the end of a cough. "But I know someone who can."

Yeah. Frank knew too. He knew exactly what her skillset was and why it earned her the name full metal cunt less than four months into her first tour. He didn't particularly approve of the moniker, despite agreeing with the underlying meaning. The guys that bestowed it upon her were jackasses, but even they'd had to yield some quiet respect in the face of facts. That's what one got for being the best damn sniper of all active battalions at that time.

Frank hadn't seen her since before Kandahar. Curtis had been cagey on the details, but if his own memory served, she'd been pulled from the ranks and reassigned too — on the other side of the world. Covert ops were a dime a dozen in those days. Last Frank heard from her, they were supposed to—

The door flew open with a quiet click. Whether the click had come from the lock or his brain, he wasn't sure. She stood in front of him like a one-two punch on legs. 

"You know, the rain check for that beer expired a while ago, Castle."

Maybe he was about to expire, if he kept staring at the exposed skin of her shoulder where the black silk robe had slid off. It didn't leave a whole lot to mystery, and it worked wonders to reveal just how little of a threat she considered him. He couldn't imagine she'd have answered the door in that get-up if she expected company of a hostile nature. He cleared his throat and stood the slightest bit taller.

"That's what the flowers are for, sweetheart," he grumbled out at last, gripping the bouquet tighter and shifting subtly on his feet. Her eyes narrowed.

"Something making you nervous?"

Not subtle enough, apparently.

"Hoyle call?" he asked, deflecting her question.

"Of course he called. You'd be dead if he hadn't," she shot back plainly. The tilt of her neck drew his eyes to the damp skin for a brief moment. Freshly showered. Faint jasmine in the air.

"C'mon… I'm not that scary. Am I?" he joked, lips pulling at the edges.

"Scary? No," her voice sang ever-so-gently. She was scanning him from head to toe. "But, given that everyone you've paid a house visit to lately has wound up full of holes, the working policy ought to have been on sight."

"Not if you ain't involved in anything unsavory."

"I have a pile of catshit that needs cleaning. That unsavory enough?" she asked, right eyebrow raised delicately.

Sometimes — and he would deny it even under torture — Frank loved having his balls busted by someone as quick-witted as her. Where Lieberman nagged and sassed him without much success, she was right on target every time. He liked a challenge.

"Didn't peg you for a cat lover," he forwarded, fighting back a smirk.

A flicker of emotion came and went, but Frank thought he caught just the right amount of smugness in the second it passed over her face. She looked pleased, like his assessment of her character was correct. A moment later she was stepping back, gesturing for him to come inside and accepting the flowers with both her hands. If he'd splurged for the largest bouquet, it was in accordance with the favor he was about to ask.

"It's not my cat. If it was, I wouldn't have named it something as stupid as Chonks," she explained as he followed her down the hallway and into the living room of her surprisingly spacious apartment. The furnishings were nothing fancy, at least not in Frank's view, but the sheer square footage did catch his attention.

"Rent dry you out every month, Corporal?"

It wasn't his place to ask, and he didn't really give a shit, but he did want to rattle her chain. Just a little bit. Questioning her choice of rentals and calling her by rank was a good enough start. He watched her retrieve a vase from the open floor kitchen and fill it with water to the midpoint.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no. I'm doing alright for myself. Though, I don't blame you for being suspicious, what with…" she paused, waving her hand in a vague motion. "…everything."

Frank's jaw tightened. She noticed the moment it happened.

"I meant Kandahar. You can unclench your asshole," she commented lightly, arranging the flowers to her liking and leaning forward to breathe in the scent of the gardenias.

"Heard about Wolf and Rawlins. You're right to wonder where I get my money. Not like jobs for trained killers grow on trees. No one's hiring me as a marketing executive. That master's degree was a waste of time," she said as she pulled two glass bottles out of the fridge. Beer and cider.

"Still think beer tastes like piss, do ya?" Frank taunted, though he had to admit — his asshole did unclench after her acknowledgement of recent events. He wasn't sure how he felt about her knowing, but in the end, he'd rather not have to explain the last year of his life. It was fine.

She glanced his way between popping the metal caps open.

"Yep. Worse, even."

He held her gaze.

"Got a boyfriend?"

The inkling of a sardonic smile on her lips had Frank's own trembling with mirth.

"I'm as fond of those as I am of Chonks."

"Why do you stock it, then?" he pushed. It earned him a lovely eye roll.

"I don't know, Frank. Maybe I have friends over sometimes," she sassed, walking up to him. She stopped short of handing him the drink. He measured her resolve just like he measured everything else in life. He was pleased to find that for once, things were exactly as he thought them to be. With her, what he saw was what he got.

"Bullshit," he smirked, finally allowing his amusement out in the open.

A click of her tongue and hooded eyes had his whole posture relaxing.

"Yeah, well… not like you would judge."

Sharing a brief chuckle, they touched the lips of their bottles together with a quiet clink and drank. He abstained from giving in to the urge to compete and drink more than her. Sometimes Frank could choose not to be an ass, but only for the right people.

He took her in as she led him over to the couch, or rather, took in the long-healed scar on the back of her neck, covered just so by a few wisps of hair that had fallen from her up-do. He remembered that one. A shit story, if he ever heard one. It seemed they both knew a thing or two about a comrade's betrayal. What was it with these pieces of shit not having the nerve to stab you in the front?

"I'd try my hand at small talk, if I didn't know you're not one for chit-chat," she said, plopping down on the velvet sofa. He followed shortly. "Plus, Curtis sounded like death warmed over on the phone. So, I'm assuming you needed his help with something and he couldn't provide it. And now you're here."

"Brilliant deduction skills there, Holmes," he grumbled, taking another sip of the beer.

She blinked her eyes at him all innocent.

"I remember your standards being a little higher. Hoyle's a knockout corpsman but I wouldn't trust him to hit a sitting target 300 yards out," she snorted, setting her drink down on the coffee table before them.

"Oh yeah? And what's your best number, champ?" he mocked.

"A few more than that," she shot back instantly, tone flat.

Yeah. Frank knew. He remarked that she hadn't taken on a bragging habit, but she did keep her confidence, which was refreshing. Some pricks came back from warzones feeling like they could conquer the world. Most were soon disabused of the notion. She'd never seemed the type to have a chip on her shoulder, even back then. Even if — and Frank understood better than anyone — she had good reason to return from war loosely hinged and embittered.

He looked her over once more, a deep sigh sagging his shoulders before his expression hardened. She looked back with what seemed to Frank like thinly veiled insight. Eyes like a hawk.

"Not a lot of people I can trust these days, no matter how good a shot they are. Actually, the better they are, the more I don't like 'em."

Her lips pulled back to reveal a few pearly whites.

"Should I take the insufferable route and say well, then you should really hate me?" she joked, smile widening when he snorted and rolled his eyes in exaggerated fashion.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, princess. When's the last time you were behind the scope?" he taunted, wanting to see what she'd do.

"Couple weeks ago, when I scheduled an impromptu leadership change for the Yakuza. You?"

A double take. He rarely did them these days. His amusement was rapidly fading.

"What, you're a gun for hire now?"

Maybe his tone wasn't exactly as even as it should've been, given his reason for being there. Antagonizing someone you're about to ask a favor from was rarely a good strategy. He knew why his words came out the way they did. Maybe he'd expected different from her. Yet, it seemed that his smartass comment didn't provoke much ire. It was her turn to hold his gaze, and she looked decidedly unimpressed.

"Yup. And next week I'll probably be hired to kill the guy who hired me to kill that guy. They're eating each other whether I help or not. Why shouldn't I take their money before they expire of a different cause?" she explained, and Frank didn't really like how he felt it was too simple a reason for what she did.

"As interested as I am in discussing the intricacies of my killing-scumbags-for-fun-and-profit ideology, this is actually my day off. You pulled me out of a bubble bath and I still have gunpowder under my nails. So, if you're going to ask something, either ask or—"

A prolonged, sorrowful meow hijacked their conversation from down the hall, though one could hardly tell for how loud it actually was. She looked over his shoulder to appraise the situation, and just as Frank craned his neck to look too, there it was. A black hole with eyes and pointy teeth stared them both down, tail swinging from side to side leisurely. It meowed again, seemingly just as dejected.

"Three minutes past her dinner. Heartbreaking," she deadpanned.

Frank stifled a snort into the back of his hand.

"Do you want to feed her, Castle? Because I'm inclined to ask you to clean her litter box, too. Since you find this amusing and all."

"Nah. Imma watch you do it, though," he smirked, laughing again when she got up at a glacial pace and headed towards the kitchen with all the enthusiasm of a shift worker at four a.m. He quickly swiped the ten-pound creature off the floor with one arm before it could follow after her. Surprisingly, it didn't try to bite or claw his face off.

"Tell you what— I'll take Chonks off your hands for a minute. Don't want her jumping you for food."

"Oh no. That's never happened before." Laced with sarcasm, her words brought forward a mental picture he found himself thoroughly enjoying.

"Yeah? So Chonks is a little rascal, huh? Does Chonks have a particular strategy she ambushes you with?"

"I have a feeling you just like saying Chonks, so let me stop you before it gets annoying. She," Her index finger pointed straight at Frank's chest, where the cat rested amicably. "… is a criminal. Unrepenting. Extravagant. She flaunts her ill-gotten gains. She took a shit in the sink last week and she left a mouse on my pillow two days ago. It was still twitching."

Frank Castle hadn't had a good laugh in what felt like forever. Truthfully, he didn't really think he deserved much of what regular people took for granted. There were reasons for that everywhere he looked, no matter how much people like David Lieberman and Karen Page tried to persuade him otherwise. But sometimes… sometimes there were also moments like this. Maybe it was camaraderie, maybe mutual understanding — even, perhaps, a similar disposition to the person whose company he found himself not dreading. Whatever fate or circumstance settled on, and as much as he wanted to doubt it, these moments were getting more frequent as of late. Nothing crazy — he would never be a happy-go-lucky guy just minding his business. But somewhere between the cracks in a life he was still trying to make sense of, people slipped in substances he was having a hard time getting rid of. Laughter. Support. A little ball-busting that was good for morale. Help.

He'd turned up at her door with the clear intention for ask for help, and she didn't turn him down. She invited him inside, despite not having seen him in years. Despite the news and his reputation. Despite not owing him a goddamn thing.

He startled when a gentle vibration tickled his abdomen. He looked down. Chonks lay half-asleep, head on Frank's stomach and ass hanging off the side of his thigh. He tried adjusting for comfort without disturbing the creature.

"Ever been taken prisoner, Frank?" his host asked from the kitchen. He had to twist his neck to catch her eye.

"Not unwillingly," was the answer he settled on.

"Well, now you have. Congrats on popping that cherry."

When she entered his view again, her hands were holding two plates of human food. Her gaze was fixed on the purring lump of coal in his lap.

"Oh look, she's working double time. Hope you're comfortable. Once she's out, she's out," she announced nonchalantly, taking her seat next to him once more and setting the food down. The previously hungry cat didn't even stir. Frank looked at the assortment of finger foods. Smoked salmon. He was fucked.

"Yeah. I could put bluefin tuna in front of her nose — she's not getting up. So, how are you?" she continued taunting him, the beginnings of a shit-eating grin twisting the lower half of her face.

"You think I won't move her?" he tried. It was weak, even to his own ears. The look she gave him invoked pity.

"Frank… You're tough. You can be brutal when necessary. But you're not cruel, hm?"

She blinked at him all slow. Then, reaching out to him with the same mellow movement, she brushed her hand over the cat's obsidian fur. It burrowed further into him. Of the things Frank wished he hadn't forgotten about her, it was just how much nerve she had that topped the list. When he didn't answer, her smile grew further.

"Nah. Didn't think so. On the bright side, now you can tell me what you came here for in an abundance of detail."

She didn't let his glare deter her from fully enjoying his predicament, or from trying to pretend she was a good host by handing him the plate of snacks she'd prepared. She threw another look at his lap, eyebrows raising curiously.

"She's purring up a storm. You know they do that in response to trauma sometimes?"

"I'm sure missing dinner was tough," he sassed, finally accepting the food.

"Not theirs. Yours," she replied. Curt. To the point. It gutted him most effectively. And she probably knew that.

Despite huffing and puffing the rest of the evening, and despite trying his best to seem bothered and grumpy, the noticeable absence of tension in his back muscles telegraphed otherwise, both to him and his companion. If she noticed — and he knew she did — she said nothing, only met him halfway with a steady supply of beer and ears perked up for his tactical plans. Yet, at some point, those plans turned into examples. Examples turned into anecdotes. Anecdotes became jumbled nonsense, collected from various points in his life with seemingly no thread to link them. By the time Chonks finished her dubious therapy session, she'd already handed the duty over to her temporary human guardian.

And Frank wasn't used to talking this fucking much. He didn't like it when anyone did it around him, and especially not right next to him. But every time he looked to check if he was being a pain in the ass, he only found those same eyes fixed on him and that same veiled insight resting just outside his perception. Maybe he was talking to a fucking oracle, and it would've made sense, because how else would she have known exactly what to say to his increasingly unhinged verbiage? It kept pouring out with no end in sight.

That was, until her eyes scrunched closed and a lengthy yawn fell from her lips, and guilt hit Frank Castle like the first brick to the head he'd taken on his old construction job.

"Shit, I'm s—"

He got barely anywhere with that.

"D'you know this is the first evening I've been able to relax? Usually, I'd be chewing at the drywall by now. Maybe checking the secret assassin network for another job," she said. He sensed it was said in jest, but the honesty of the words knocked him off his feet like it was a living, breathing opponent. Suddenly, his mouth couldn't form any words of its own. The same enigmatic look of the past few hours danced in her eyes. Mellowed out. Open. Yet something was just there, and he couldn't put his finger on it. A moment later, her eyes cast downward. He followed her gaze without thinking, landing on his own chest.

"I know I besmirched her reputation plenty, but maybe the little felon isn't so bad," she said. The way her voice softened didn't go unnoticed by Frank. It couldn't have — it was ripping open something raw and tender right above the spot Chonks was warming with her small body.

"Hm?" he grunted, not trusting his own voice.

For his effort, the smile he received felt undeserved. But… maybe, just maybe, a little less so than usual. It managed to extract a similar one from his own lips, ones that refused to be pried open for fear of whatever noise might've escaped.

"She got you to stay."

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

-fin-

A/N: Trying to fill a gap in the market for non-smutty FC fics, it's wild out here. Also, I'll keep this up for a bit, but after it's past its "shelf life", it'll go back into my private posts, because I don't want to go back on my word (explained here ).

[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

The agents little secret

Warnings: smut (public sex)

Agent Y/n enters the irrigation room with a blank face. The guards look at them, and the film was rolling to be looked back at later. Lee Harker insisted it being her that went in to interrogate, but they had fully convinced her that they should interrogate him. Lee doesn’t question why they wanted to, since she knew that they took a special interest in this case

Dale smiles brightly at seeing them. He had missed them and couldn’t help but admire his lover for all the things they’ve covered up. They had hidden pictures of the two, their own little satanic collection. Red was of course their favorite color, but lied to not seem that suspicious since something as little as your favorite color could easily be tied in with something big

- “Agent Y/n! I’m so happy that you came by” he says with a bright smile. They sat across from him as the guards stayed behind them just in case. “I guess curiosity really killed the cat” they say, which makes Dale amused. The guards exchanged a confused look at how they were able to talk the same way like Dale. But the guards had both silently agreed that it was because they’ve done this before, and that talking in the way of the killer would help reveal more details

“The cat is just lost. Not dead yet” Dale says as he continues to smile. They nodded their head in agreement as the guards were still impressed by the way the two talked to each other. “The cat just needs some guidance” he says before a dark chuckle left his lips. They rose a curious eyebrow now, obviously acting like they don’t know what he’s talking about

“From whom?” They asked out of curiosity. “The man downstairs” he responds as he continues to smile. “Satan” they say so casually that it sent shivers down both guards’ back. The guards felt the air growing thicker now, and felt goosebumps forming on their skin. Dale grins, and nods his head. The guards felt the room growing colder now, but they don’t flinch nor shiver

No goosebumps formed on their skin to even show the slightest of fear. “Maybe the cat won’t feel so lonely anymore” he adds as he felt himself scooting closer towards the desk. “Perhaps the cat wasn’t lonely to begin with” they added, which piques his interest. They decided to go on: “the cat found someone who helps with that guidance. It’s forever grateful for its master helping it” they explained, which makes the guards even more uncomfortable

Dale rose an eyebrow out of curiosity, but knew they were referring to him. “Does the cat’s master make it happy?” He asked. “Of course” they say with a smile. “But that’s not why I’m here of course” they added, which makes him nod his head out of understanding. “You want to know why I did this” he says, which makes them nod their head. The guards were told to step out, leaving the two alone now

The guards were thankful that they got to leave the room, since the two weren’t feeling that comfortable now. The camera had randomly stopped recording, which makes them smirk. “Your plan is working wonderfully dear!” He says in a cheery voice, which makes them smile now. “I’m an Agent for a reason” they say with the smirk returning now

“Definitely my favorite Agent” he says as he pats his lap as a gesture that he wants them to sit down on his lap. They got up, and went over towards him. They sat down on his lap, which makes his hands go onto their waist. “So much smarter than all these agents. So much hotter” he spoke in a low sultry voice at the end, which makes them shiver. “How about sexier?” They asked, which makes him grin

“Definitely” he says as he slides a hand under their top that they needed to wear for work. He gasped when he realized that they weren’t wearing a bra. Their nipples were aching for attention, and he could tell. “I bet you’re not wearing underwear either” he whispered in a sultry voice right next to their ear

“Why don’t you find out?” They asked with a teasing smirk. He chuckles darkly again as he takes their shirt off now. Their nipples were hard, and he couldn’t help but admire their chest as he places his free hand under the hem of their pants. He could immediately feel their arousal and feel that they weren’t wearing underwear either

“I’m right” he says with a smirk on his face as he takes his hand out from their pants. He lifts them up, and then places them on the desk. He takes their pants off, and once their pants were on the floor, he pushes them down roughly onto the desk and finds himself in between their legs. He’s using his tongue as moans left their lips

The room echos the moans, and of course he knew all the right spots to make them squirm. The room was filled with the most erotic noises, and the two were so glad that the walls were thick enough to block out the noise to those outside of the room. His hands were clenching their thighs harshly, but they didn’t mind since they were into it

Their legs wrapped around his neck to bring him deeper inside of them. “Dale” they moaned as they knew they were going to come soon. Dale knew as well, which makes him stop. They let out a frustrated groan, which makes him chuckle. He lets go of their thighs as he lifts up his head

“I’ll make you cum and scream my name when you get me out of here” he says before he goes to leave bite marks on their thighs now that we’re already pretty marked up. But he liked marking them up until he definitely couldn’t anymore. They let out more moans of pleasure, since they always loved the pain that he brought with the pleasure

Once he was done leaving bite marks, he lifts up his head to look up at them. “You should get dressed dear. I’m sure the guards will be back to have a little chatty chat” he says as he moves away from them, and back onto the chair he sat at originally. They get up, and got dressed. He watches intently, taking in how hot they looked

Even when getting dressed, he still found them extremely sexy. He was growing impatient with his own desires, but knew he had to wait until he was at their place. But the way they looked after he was eating them out, was making it harder for him to have self control. They sat back at their spot across from him, and made sure to look as composed as before

Dale’s self control was hanging on by a thread as he watches their amazing acting skills. He was definitely madly in love and madly horny right now. “Oh darling, you’re making it harder for me to not take you right now and right here” he says in a low sultry voice, but it doesn’t make them break character

Dale was so impressed by his lover, and realized just how impatient he was now. No one was coming around since the agents wanted to rationalize on why someone sent bail money anonymously for Dale. It was confusing since all his followers that they knew about were dead. Dale took this into consideration, and got up now

They watched intently now as their serious face was still on them. That made it even better for him as he begins to strip away his clothes. They watched every movement he made as he was discarding his clothes. Their act still showing strong even when he stood naked before them. Their eyes met his, and they could tell how impatient he was now

This makes them get up, and re undress themselves. Once they were naked again, they go over towards the desk. They laid down on the desk, and spread their legs for him. He watches them like they were his prey. His eyes were filled with hunger and lust as he approached them. Once he’s between their legs, he slams into them harshly as his hands were grasped firmly onto the desk

Their body arches back as they let out a moan of pleasure. They immediately stretched out for him, which makes him start thrusting immediately. He’s doing it at a fast pace and he’s already hitting their g spot. Their hands were on the sides of the desk, clinging onto the desk as waves of pleasure rushes through them. His own moans echoed throughout the room now as he fucks them

They could only let out moans and not coherent sentences or thoughts. Their eyes were rolled back as always when he fucked them. The occasional moans of his name would escape their mouth, but that seemed to be the only word that they could moan right now. He moans their name in response as if the two were having a conversation that only the two could decipher

His hands moved to their thighs, which makes them moan louder at the pain that comes from him squeezing their thighs tightly. The two find each other lost in the feeling of the other around each other as the erotic noises continue to echo throughout the room. They clench around him, knowing they wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer

He lets them have their orgasm, but they don’t scream his name just in case. When they came down from their high, he continues until he was the one coming inside of them. He lets out a loud moan just like they did, squeezing their thighs more aggressively then already. This makes their moans intertwine with his

Once he was done, he stops thrusting and then gets out of them. The two got dressed quickly, and back to the normal position the two were in before. The two were hoping it’ll take a bit more time for the agents to arrive, or just their boss to talk about the bail money. Luckily once they were less sweaty from the events, their boss enters

-They had parked away from the station, and were slowly approaching the entrance. The same guards from before were bringing Dale out. Dale had somehow convinced the guards that he could walk the rest of the way to the designated car by himself. But it was definitely because the guards were deeply scared of Dale, and of course he wanted to take advantage of that fear

They watched in their rear view mirror that he was approaching by himself, which makes them smirk. He gets into the car once close by and by the passenger’s seat. He gently closes the door, and then looks at them as he puts his seatbelt on. The moonlight was shining on them, which makes him mesmerized

They turned to look at him and smiled. He smiles in return, happy to have found someone who truly found him attractive. He was also happy that they weren’t ever scared of him either, and that made him happy as well. As they eventually drove away, he kept staring at them. His hand was intertwined with one of their hands as they drove off into the night with him

[stemclann]

🌱 Welcome to Stemclan ! 🌱

This is yet another Clangen blog.. But this one's mine !

In a forest full of mysteries just waiting to unravel, a group of cats decides to set camp after moons of exile. This is where their leader, Veilstar, takes position after receiving a spiritual visit from Starclan, and swears to deepen Stemclan's roots so that it can thrive. What she didn't take into consideration, is that if there is blood on the roots, there will be blood on the branches. 🌿

From allegiances to lore, throught moons and moons of stories, this is Stemclan !

Start reading from moon 0 - 🌼 Here ! 🌼

Allegiances - 🌻Here !🌻 (Note that allegiances might sometimes be slightly late on updates compared to the actual story) (+ note that cats will be added to the allegiances once they reach warrior status, or else it's going to be a mess for me to update 💀)

Lore - 🌷Here ! 🌷 (Random posts, most asks that characters answer themselves, ect)

🌜 Wanna look for a specific moon ? Search in the tags : Moon (+ number of the one you're looking for)

🐈 Wanna look for a specific character ? Search their name in the tags and all content involving them during the time they had that specific name will appear! (Please note that some names will change and so the tags will as well, for example Flowerkit ➡️ Flowerpaw = Same character but different tag refering to a different phase of their lives.)

Tags / subjects that might appear in this comic : (this section isn't done yet, I'll add details later) Violence - Kitten death - Dead body / corpse - Mysoginy / sexism - Homophobia / transphobia - Xenophobia ⬆️ That will depend on the characters / plot point they face, and doesn't in NO WAY represent my own vision on these topics.

____________________

Hi everycat ! 😺

My name is Amande (she/her, 29 yo) and I'm a french concept artist / illustrator / aspiring tattoo artist from France. That's the reason why there might be a bit of spelling / grammatical mistakes along the way. I'm trying my very best to notice it before I post but I know I won't catch everything. That's also why some of the names are translated in screenshots / allegiances ! It helps me connect to the characters better and remember them more accurately.

I've always been a huge warrior cats enthusiast, ever since I was a kid. This blog, while it might not be updated regularly, is a form of escapism for me and it brings me a lot of joy <3 I hope I'll get to stay consistent and that you'll like what I have in store for all these kitties💐

Note - This post is bound to evolve with new tags and informations. I'm currently looking at ways to make the pages easily readable, regarding order, image descriptions, ect, if you have any suggestions please don't hesitate to talk to me about it ! I'll reblog it when that happens.

I hope you'll enjoy thesestories and characters as much as I'm having fun playing with them ! See ya around, and have a very nice day 🎀