#Brightening & Firming Face Masks

[katsukistofu]

claire de lune

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. 1.8k words — domestic fluff. slightly suggestive. ⭑ there’s nothing you and katsuki wouldn’t do for your baby girl, and that includes giving her the moon.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“Yes angel?”

“I want that thing down!” Your daughter points above you with her tiny finger. The faint chirping of crickets can be heard in the distance, and tall, silken blades of grass tickle the both of your cheeks as you gaze upward at the vast periwinkle sky. 

A sweet smile spreads across your lips. “You want me to get the moon down?” 

“Yeah!” 

“Aw sweetheart, I’d get it for you but mommy can’t reach that high. Daddy probably can though.”

She pouts at this, and turns away from you to poke her dad who is on the brink of falling asleep again on the other side of her. 

“Dada!”

Katsuki’s eyes flutter open and he groggily faces her, head resting on his folded arms behind him. You bite back a laugh at the crumbs still decorating his cheeks. Sumi was trying to balance Cheeto puffs on his nose earlier before his nap. “What ‘sup bubba?”

She points at the moon again. “Get it down.”

“That?” Your husband covers his mouth to yawn, glancing up at the darkening sky. Sumi nods excitedly. “M’kay. Was thinking about it when you and mommy started lookin’ anyway.” He says it so casually, like getting the moon for her was a feat as simple as buying a carton of strawberries at the store.

“Yay!” Sumi cheers, and he chuckles when she struggles to slip her hand under his arm on the ground to hug it. Katsuki rolls over and she giggles, now sandwiched between the both of you as you hug her.

“Sumi, how about you wait inside while Daddy gets it for you?” You suggest. It was starting to get late. 

“Nooo,” Sumi whines. “Wanna stay here and watch.”

“You can have the last cookie in the kitchen’s jar.”

Sumi’s eyes brighten. “The bear one that looks like dada!”

“That’s right, sweetheart. The one with his grump grump face.”

“Who’re you calling a grump grump.” Katsuki scowls, secretly reaching over Sumi to give an affectionate pinch to the softness of your hip and you squeal. 

“Sumi, Daddy’s being mean to mommy!”

Sumi’s face matches Katsuki’s expression from before. “Stop that dada!” 

Katsuki slyly grins and withdraws his hand, masking his face into an expression that is the definition of innocence. With amusement, you note the little huff of pride he makes seeing Sumi’s tiny scowl, perfectly identical to his. “Mommy started it.” 

She blows a raspberry at him and wriggles out of his grasp, then gives the both of you pats on the head like you’re misbehaving puppies and finally runs off back into the house. 

“You two play nice!” Sumi waggles her finger with as much sternness as a three year old can muster before promptly shutting the door in your faces.

Katsuki meets your eyes with his and the both of you laugh on the grass, breathlessly clutching each other. 

“I wonder who she takes after more,” you muse between giggles. 

“Definitely you.” Katsuki rolls his eyes, bringing you closer to him with his arms snug around your waist.

“Whaaat? No way, I was totally going to say you.” You grin cheekily, eyes going almost comically wide when he kisses you hard on the mouth in response.

“Shut up.” 

“Kiss me again and I will,” you murmur dazedly and he chuckles, muttering something under his breath about you being insatiable despite leaning in to give you another one.

With how close he is, everything is soft eyelashes, the dull thudding of his heart beat synchronizing with yours as his firm chest presses against you, and the warmth radiating from his smooth skin, slowly seeping into your body.

Each movement of your lips brushes his mouth more and more against yours and even after almost a decade of being together, the feeling still makes your brain go fuzzy. All your thoughts melt away. It’s just you and him.

“Kats,” you breathe in warning. His fingers have somehow found their way under your sundress and they’re mindlessly tracing nonsensical shapes into the small of your back, his other arm still tightly wrapping you in his warm embrace. “I really, really need to go iron your suit for tomorrow. Plus, aren’t you supposed to be catching the moon right now, mister?”

“Just ten more minutes,” Katsuki murmurs against your collarbone and you shiver. His voice is still husky with sleep. “And I already caught the thing.”

“Really? Proof or you’re lying.” You raise a brow skeptically, and you should’ve known better than to doubt him when he actually reaches behind him, the wedding ring that he never takes off even to wear his hero costume glinting in the moonlight, to lift up a neatly wrapped up box with a little baby pink ribbon on it. 

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Where the hell did you get that?”

Katsuki grins proudly. “Found it after patrol last week with Eijiro.”

“It being…?”

“The moon.” He sets the box down in front of you. “It’s a night light, ‘cause I know Mimi’s scared of the dark.” 

“Aww Katsuki,” you coo, reaching out to caress his cheek. “That’s so cute.”

He blushes at the pure look of adoration in your eyes, and you can’t help but smile when he hides his face in your hair. “S’nothin’. Just getting the best for our little girl.”

Your husband grumbles when you let out that perfect, angelic giggle of yours and rest your hand on his head in response. He was so adorable. 

The way he’s acting is so similar to how you did at the beginning of your relationship all those years ago in high school, but it seems that as the both of you got older the tables turned and he was the clingier one now, much to the amusement of your classmates and the press when they managed to get ahold of you.

Katsuki lets out a low, content hum as you run your fingers through his soft hair. The both of you lay there, basking in each other’s touch and comfortable silence.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you when you were sunbathing on the beach this morning.”

Your cheeks are warm. “Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Katsuki smirks at your expression. “Sumi kept smacking me with her damn shovel when we were making sand castles. Stop staring at mommy, it's rude!” He says, mimicking your daughter’s scolding tone.

You laugh at his Sumi impression. “My girl was trying to teach you some manners!”

“Damn straight.” He grins against your neck, and your cheeks grow hot at the way his teeth lightly graze over your skin. “That’s why I said she’s more like you, mommy.”

Your stomach flips against your will and your cheeks burn as you smack his well-muscled chest. “Don’t call me that!”

“Hah? Am I hearing my wife being embarrassed right now, after everything we’ve done? After what we made together?” Katsuki teases. “When you’re talking to Sumi you call me dadd—“

“What’s taking you so long!” Speaking of the little devil, Sumi’s impatient voice floats down to the garden through the open window of her room upstairs. “I want my moon and bedtime story now!”

“We’re on our way, Sumi!” You call up. Katsuki reluctantly lets you pull away from his arms, and the both of you stand up to dust yourselves off. He groans as he cracks his back next to you.

“Don’t think we’re nursing home age just yet,” you say jokingly. Katsuki snorts and pinches your cheek for the jibe. 

“You’re lucky I’m still gonna think you’re cute when you’re in grandma diapers.”

“Wha—Hey!” You trail after him into the house. Damn his fast pace and his longer legs. He’s already up the stairs, the present box in his hand.

You reach the top of the stairs and head for the familiar light pink interior of Sumi’s room but stop in the doorway to coo at the sight before you. 

“Hey, squirt. Got the moon for you, just like I said I would.” Katsuki’s voice is gentle as he kneels on the floor to meet her sparkling eyes, and gently shakes the box in his hands before holding it out to her.

“Whoaaa!” Sumi eagerly takes it. “Thank you dada!” 

She raises her head and spots you leaning against the frame of her door. “Mommy look!”

“I’m looking, Mimi.”

“You and dada watch me open it.” 

“Okay, go ahead we’re watching.” Katsuki and you smile softly as she unwraps the present with care and she gasps, tiny hands taking the globe-shaped, moon night light out. It was decorated with realistic looking craters, and even came with a wooden stand to put it on.

“So cute.” Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates. “So pretty.” Then she tilts her head in the direction of her open curtains.

“Why’s she still up there though?” Sumi asks curiously, and Katsuki chuckles. Of course his kid is way too smart to be tricked by something like a night light. 

“Well we can’t actually take the moon away, sweetie. She has her stars to take care of.”

“Oh.” Sumi frowns, deep in thought, then perks up. “Mr. Sun would miss her too!”

“Mhm, that’s right.” You ruffle her hair playfully and she squeals. “That’d be like someone taking me away from you and daddy.”

“No!” Sumi pouts. “Don’t like that. Wanna stay with you and dada forever.”

“And you will, Sumi.” Katsuki pats her little head with his much larger hand in reassurance. “Mommy and I are gonna to be with you forever. Right mommy?”

You sigh, realizing he’s got you trapped. “That’s right… daddy,” you grit out, ignoring the victorious grin that causes his unfairly attractive dimple to appear on his cheek and you head straight for Sumi’s spot on the bed, taking a seat next to her. She leans against your arm, and you press a loving kiss to the top of her head. 

Sumi holds the night light out to Katsuki, who gently sets it down on her nightstand and plugs it in. It casts a soft, white glow, just like real moonlight on his face, and Sumi and you ooh and awe at it in appreciation.

“Can I have my bedtime story now?” Sumi pipes up.

“Sure, think it’s mommy’s turn to read.” Katsuki joins the both of you in bed, sliding an arm behind you. “What book were you thinking of tonight?”

“Le Peewee Prince!”

You giggle. “Le Petit Prince?”

“Yeah, that one!”

“Okay then. Come here and lay down, sweetheart.” You take the bookmark out from where you left off last time, the moon night light beside you illuminating the pages as you begin to read.

“Goodbye, said the fox.” You recite in a quiet, dulcet voice. Katsuki’s arm around your waist hugs you and Sumi closer, who snuggles up between you both, blanket tucked snug under her chin. Your chest warms at the sight, and you continue. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye…”

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ 01.10 - (whb) Lucifer ~

Dom!reader x sub!lucifer - reader is gender neutral

Warning: nipple play, lactation, dacryphilia, marking, objectification (a little), pet names, teasing, praise kink (a little), cumming untouched, eating cum (both), cum play, tongue kiss, mind break, sub-space, dacryphilia

~ Word count: 5.7k ~

Nini!rant: okay.. huh.. first one done, and it’s our beautiful luci

Kinktober list 2024

The sound of birds chipping echoed through the greenhouse, where you were enjoying some afternoon tea. Their singing wasn’t rhythmic nor melodic, yet it was calming and quite befitting the atmosphere. At least they served the purpose of breaking the silence between you and the person sitting across you. He requested your presence and had you come all the way to Paradise Lost, only to play house with you.

This was truly an awful experience, getting interrogated like this by none other than the strongest being in hell, the Lucifer himself. Though can you call it interrogation, when all he has done was staring at you through his bangs? At least the treats were good, you were able to distract yourself from the infuriating situation at hand. The smell of tea filled your nostrils, it tickled the tip of your nose. A single sip was all it took to bring a smile to your face, a pleased expression showing in response to the rich aroma of your drink.

All of the flavors were amazing and exquisite. It was just the right amount of sweetness to brighten your mood, and enough bitterness to keep your mind alerted. Despite the tense situation, or the lack of it to be precise, he was still the first creation of god. That’s a title worth fearing. The first light of dawn, the first angel, basically the one who has witnessed it all. It was a given that the pressure would linger despite the seemingly gentle atmosphere. No matter how he tried to mask this interaction up as a simple tea party, you were going to be careful around him. Better that than sorry.

You took another sip, feeling the warmth of the tea chase out the chilly sensations from before. Something was missing though, you were craving some milk with your tea.

The gentle sunlight felt like a warm embrace, a blanket that sheltered all of hell. If Gehenna had the same weather as here, then Leraye must be feeling pretty down. A soft smile formed on your lips at the thought of that sunshine of a child, and the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly. Lucifer, who sat opposite to you, observed your every mimic with a nonchalant expression, studying them even.

His messy hair, as bright as the light, shone alongside the sun. After a moment’s hesitation, he talked in his usual deep yet tender voice, one that could bring his subject to the brink of ecstasy, “For what my brother did, I want to apologize.” The first words that left his throat were apologetic ones, then he swiftly changed it to a firm tone, “I’d be willing to make up to you.”

Make up to you, he said. Was he perhaps trying to lessen the sins of his dearest ones? Now that’s an interesting offer, it caught you off guard and sent a chill down your spine. As if someone just pushed you into a pond. Nevertheless, you had to be careful, one wrong step could end up with your head rolling around, and you still haven’t decided on how dangerous that guy was. If we were to go by what Satan mentioned, it would take the power of all the six kings of hell to have a chance at defeating this guy.

With lingering doubts, you opened your mouth, replying after much contemplating and care, “Could you elaborate on that?” First, you needed to know what he meant by his words, to clear off any possible misunderstandings. To make up to you, it sounds like he owes you a favor. Of course, you despised that self-righteous angel for his deeds and sins committed against you, yet you would never blame it on someone not involved. His gaze shifted from you to his cup, staring at his reflection in the liquid.

He had a guess about how you must feel at this moment, hence his explanation, “A sexual favor is also possible.” Those words had an unfamiliar ring to Lucifer, it was the first time in eons that he used them. In a deep, hidden corner of his mind, he wished to know what you had done with his relatives. What was the saying again? Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat had nine lives and came back satisfied? “You may show me what you did with my brothers.” He suggested, adding some information to his previous statement.

That would never happen, at least not now, not when you are in such a vulnerable position. Who knows what he might do with you after finding out about all the things you did, about how you made his brothers cry. Still you were intrigued, seeing this flawless… person— cry would surely be quite the adventure and bring forth a fitting satisfaction, even so, you valued your life, enough to not want to die a gruesome death.

The best way to get out of this mess would be to act kind and naive. You smiled insincerely, hiding your skeptic feelings behind a carefully crafted mask. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m fine, there is no need for you to apologize.” A tone tender enough to make flower petals seem rough, paired with a bright smile full of rejection.

“Is that so.” The angel in front of you acknowledged your words, he used his arms to push himself up from his seat. Now that he stood up, you remembered how intimidating he actually was. Considering that he was incredibly tall, adding on the fact he also owned a fearsome aura around him. It was a feel unique to the seraphim, one that just reeked of unyielding pride. 

Your finger clenched around your teacup tighter, awaiting his next move. “Follow me,” Lucifer said. It wasn’t a question nor was he polite about it, it was an order. There was no doubt he was an angel, some habits just never change. Though in all honesty? Every single one of his mannerisms reminded you of one. The subtly arrogance, how he seemed like he felt superior to everyone, the commanding voice, and the cold shoulder he gave you. Should you really follow such a person? What choices did you have, when it was a direct order from the avatar of pride?

Even so, you wanted to voice your concerns first, gulping down the knot in your throat. “Where are we going?” You tried to sound unsuspecting and cheerful, the last thing you wanted was to accidentally offend him. To be honest all you wanted was to run and escape this suffocating place. “To my bedroom.” He answered nonchalantly, as if that was the most normal thing in the world, to invite someone you barely knew to your bedroom.

One didn’t need to be a genius to guess what his intentions were, so you had to set the record straight right here right now. Who knows, maybe he will let you go if your preferences don’t align. That would be quite a nice outcome indeed. After mustering up enough courage, you stood up as well, looking him sternly in the eyes as you made yourself clear, “If your plan is what I think it is, then please pardon me. I do not wish to get intimate with a stranger.”

A stranger, you said. Right, that’s one way to describe your current relationship. Lucifer thought about your words carefully, looking for the right things to say to convince you. Your logic was understandable, it was the correct way to do it after all. Though he didn’t have time to wait for you to open up to him. The only reason why he wanted to share a night with you was to get Solomon’s descendant on his side, and doing it in the romantic, patient way wouldn’t do. For that, he was too jealous of Solomon to treat his descendants with compassion.

Besides this was hell, the most efficient way to get things done was simply through a sexual act. That way you can find out a lot about the other party. Long story short, he wasn’t going to heed your will. “I understand your point, though I fear I can’t accept it.” He began, and continued after taking a few steps in your direction, “If you wish, you can simply admire and touch me as if I’m merely an object. We don’t need to go all the way.”

Who the heck did he think he was, sure, he was a very prominent figure, but even then how could he disregard and disrespect your opinion like this. “No, I-” He glared at you for a split second, furrowing his eyebrows as he interrupted your sentence, “I won’t take no for an answer, it’s for hell.” Then his features reverted back to the neutral one. For a moment, he reminded you of a certain devil who was known for his bad temper.

With much complaining, you eventually gave up and agreed to his request, feeling a little cornered. “Fine, lead the way then.” You answered begrudgingly, forcing out a meek smile. Lucifer’s expression still didn’t change, he stared at you blankly for a second, before turning around and repeating the words he previously uttered, “Follow me.” How irritating he was, just like any other devil, or angel for that matter.

Not long after you found yourself slandering through the gigantic halls of his palace, it was decorated extravagantly in all the different shades of gold. Merely walking on such expensive-looking ground made you feel inferior. Wherever you looked you could hear the objects scream ‘broke’ at you. This wasn’t a treatment you expected in Paradise Lost, it sounded more befitting of Mammon’s castle.

On the other hand, it was to be expected that the resting place of every king must be of the highest quality, whether if they liked it or not, their subjects would arrange it for them in that manner. Despite you walking right behind him, you didn’t want to watch his back. All you did was curse about how everything unfolded. His shoulders were wide, paired with a slim waist to match. He was wearing a large suit jacket, yet he couldn’t conceal that fact. The way he walked was befitting his aura, rid of any hints of hesitation and full of precision. If someone didn’t know his position, they could still guess it, all due to his habits.

After a while, he finally reached his wanted destination, stopping in front of a room. You sneaked up next to him, still unable to do anything but watch from the sidelines. There was not a single word you two exchanged during your little trip, causing it to be more or less awkward. Lucifer pushed the door open, turning the doorknob and stepping inside, of course, you followed shortly after. The inside of the room was even more lavish than the gorgeous floors outside. Each piece of furniture fit into the frame, all of them had their own designated place, and the way they were lined up implied someone meticulously planning all of it out beforehand.

You couldn’t help but be amazed, these rooms are more than what one could categorize as luxury. Sure, the other king’s palaces didn’t fall behind in any aspects, though you were still impressed nonetheless. To think you’d be allowed inside such a grandiose space… if this was Earth it must cost a fortune. All your initial impressions were washed away the moment you recalled his presence. How did you manage to forget, for even one frame of a second? The moment you noticed, you started keeping to yourself again, hoping you didn’t step out of line. Eyes weakly scanning the room, avoiding his gaze at all costs. What he did next was unexpected, so much so that you ended up finding yourself staring without knowing what to do.

He walked over to the bed, sat down, and began to undress.

The first piece of clothing to be dropped was his jacket with the white snake. Dropping it off onto the ground, then slowly unbuttoning his shirt. In your head, a million thoughts flooded you, especially because you were confused about what to do. When Lucifer started taking his dress shirt off, revealing his toned body, you decided you had enough and asked, “What’s this supposed to mean?” Without even thinking about it, contemplating what he wanted to say, he blurted out, “Seducing you.”

The way he replied was as if he saw nothing wrong with his deeds and choice of words. “Really now? Why would someone like you bother?” Despite a small fraction in the back of your mind having already expected this, considering his intentions were as clear as water, you still had a glimmer of hope that that wouldn’t be the case. He didn’t have any connections with Solomon like the other kings, on the contrary, he is envious of him. For a man like him to want to earn your favor - it sounds unbelievable.

“I simply wanted to try my shot, perhaps I failed already?” Lucifer questioned after seeing your serious expression, his shirt was loose now but not taken off completely. “Failed what?” You asked him, hoping that you could gather enough information to make sense of what was going on. “Failed to impress you.” The blondie said, without hesitation or a hint of sarcasm. Why would you want to impress me, was what you would have liked to ask, though your guts told you to stay quiet.

 It’s a given that anyone would be in awe of him, considering how endearing he’s been the entire time. Even now, him sitting on his bed while flexing his muscles and that slim waist; every part of him was proof that he was sculpted by the loving hand of god personally. “No, that’s not the case..” you stopped mid-track, thinking about the possible outcomes for a bit, being hasty could cause backlash after all. If you praised him, he might take it as consent, but if you refused, would he get defensive? Was he a case like Levi?

Instead of pondering over this any longer, you took a gamble. Fine, since he wished to get laid so badly, shall you entertain him then? You walked up to him and hopped onto the bed as well. The soft sunlight still grazed your skin, the mattress sinking due to your added weight. “I’m plenty impressed, lucifer.” You had to show determination and sincerity, otherwise it wouldn’t bear fruits.

This wasn’t a lie though, he was very beautiful.

Your arm reached out for the male, finding yourself more and more captured by him with each passing second. Now that you were above him, he didn’t seem all that intimidating anymore. Fingers intertwined with his locks, stroking him while giving him a big smile. It felt pleasant, that was his first thought. Like the warmth god showered him with before Solomon came. A deep sigh left him, bitterness suddenly intruded into the room, and the atmosphere proceeded to sink.

No matter how you tried to brush it off, it seemed like he was troubled. It couldn’t have been something you did, right? Nonetheless, you hugged him gently. Your hands were still wrapped in his hair, scraping his scalp with a tenderness he hadn't felt for a long time. You pulled him closer to you until you were both resting your chins on the other’s shoulder. His sharp teeth were dangerously close to your skin, but you tried not to worry.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, no one is forcing you, even if it’s your duty.” Your voice rang through his head, it brought forth a strange sense of comfort. “I’m doing it out of my own will.” He retorted. It smelled fishy to you, but you didn’t pursue it further. Eventually, he returned your embrace. “That’s comforting to hear.” So you replied, If you were to enjoy yourself, you had to make sure the other person wanted it too.

You took a deep breath, taking in his scent before exhaling. Your hot breath tickled his neck and before he knew it, you kissed his neck gently. The way you did it was as if you drew on his skin with your lips. One mark after another, planting them around him and corrupting him with your traces. He was taken aback, though it didn’t feel bad. At most, it tickled, which is why he let you continue, while all he did was breathing softly next to your ear. Each exhale blew some air against your skin as well, cheering you on to continue your actions.

Soon, your kisses turned into sucks, leaving behind more of your presence, proof and traces of this session today. The spots you touched would turn red shortly after, and persist for the rest of the day. How greedy of you, did you wish to mark him as yours?

“Child of Adam- uh, no, of Solomon… you, haaah.” He called out to you, hands lingering over your back. This was the first time you saw him hesitating to do something, he wasn’t sure if he had permission to crawl at your back. “Never mind.” Lucifer sighed and let you continue your little drawing session.

With time you also trailed off, going lower with your movements. All that persisted was a path from his neck to the middle of his chest. He sat up straight, only to get pushed into the mattress by you. His shirt was hanging off his shoulders as if he carefully orchestrated it this way. You hovered above him, hands releasing his hair and instead grabbing the sides of his torso. There you traced his silhouette with your hands until you were holding his astonishingly small waist. 

It felt good, his skin was smooth and nice to the touch, also your hands fit in that place so perfectly, as if he was God's gift to you. Besides he seemed to like it as well, since he didn’t protest. Instead, his face started to flush slightly, alongside a sudden change in rhythm with his heartbeat. “I’m guessing I’m supposed to leave it all to you..?” Lucifer gazed up at you through half-lidded eyes, a slight, almost inaudible tremble underneath his voice. “That’s right, you told me I can treat you like an object.” You reminded him, he didn’t know if you meant it or not.

You started sucking on his nipples afterward, first licking the area and circling around it with the tip of your tongue, then flicking the wet muscle over his perky buds. His breasts were squishy and so pretty, you couldn’t help yourself. After taking a glance at his reddened face, you began sucking on his pecs. A shiver ran down his spine at the realization, face twisted into a pleasure-ridden expression.

This wasn’t a completely new feeling, since he did have experience with intimacy, though he was never the bottom. Or, rather, no one ever dared to top and grope him like this. You were truly beyond what a normal mortal was, having the resolve to touch him however you want without shivering in fear. At this rate, he might become quite fond of you.

“Do you enjoy touching me there?” He uttered, a breathy moan following close by. “I would do it if I didn’t like it.” You snapped back, a part of you wondered how you suddenly got the courage to talk to him like that. Was it because he’s under you? “…be gentle with me then.” The Blondie said, turning his face to the sides to avoid your watching gaze. “I can’t promise it, but I’ll try.” A teasing smile showed on your face as you uttered those words, eyes squinted slightly into a suspicious smile. “You don’t look trustworthy at all.” Lucifer mocked, though you ignored him and instead rolled your eyes.

Now that things have escalated to this point, the angel was wondering how far you two would go. Was this the end or the beginning, will he regret it in the end? “Ha.. uh-uhm,.” Occasionally, a sharp gasp would slip from him. Whenever you used too much force or pinched him too hard, the pain he felt would turn into pleasure and raise his libido, rendering him unable to repress his voice. Whatever this was, it must be what god wanted for him and his brothers, right? Otherwise, he wouldn't have created this feeling, this bliss and ecstasy.

You tried your best to stimulate both of his nipples, rolling the cute pink bud between your teeth. Red marks have plagued his upper area too now, and the amount was much more compared to his neck. A sense of pride filled you at your own achievement, or better yet, at this work of art beneath you. “Simply divine.” You uttered while gazing up at him through an adoring gaze, something completely different from only minutes ago. Then you noticed how his eyes were half-lidded, face blushing and lips parted due to his heavy breathing. A tired look on his face as he stared at you through wet lashes, or was it a needy look?

Who in the world would be able to resist such temptation, the temptation of the most powerful being getting all submissive for you. It has gotten increasingly difficult to resist this fine man, much harder than it was with anyone else. Without wasting more precious time and chatting any further, you switched your focus to the other one. You’ve ruined one side enough already, it was swollen and red while the other still looked pretty healthy. Wasn’t it time to abuse that spot too? Now using your hand to flick the previous one, while sipping on the other with your lips. Not long after he started making more sounds, resistance shredding entirely.

These noises were beautiful, absolutely stunning, they were like music to your ears. You listened closely while he whined and panted, feeling proud that you made him into the mess of a man. “HuuhH.. ha- hnng..! Wa-wait…” Something was strange, why did this feel so nice? Why was his heart racing so much, when it never happened with anyone but god? Not to mention how his body burned whenever your skin made contact, it tingled and felt giddily. Was it your charm, or because of the skillful touch of your hands? So many questions were going to be left unanswered, while his desire grew with each passing moment.

Suddenly you noticed something strange on your tongue, at the same time your finger seems to have touched a foreign liquid. “NghHhh…” Lucifer gasped as you pulled back, leaving his reddening nipples alone. His poor buds have been used and abused for so long, they were standing up all proud and hard. The same goes for the thing inside his pants, creating an obvious bulge between his legs. A dark spot formed where the tip of the tent was. You only stared at him, at his body, unable to comprehend the situation. What was that, you thought at first, then a bright smile crept onto your features. Was it perhaps what you thought it was?

The Blondie glanced at you a few times, before mumbling, “Why did you stop?” He couldn’t comprehend your actions, he thought everything was going alright, so why did you ruin the rhythm like this? There was no answer from your side, you remained silent. Right as he was about to ask again, you resumed your previous actions, flicking his nipples again which immediately yearned a yelp from the male. “Hmm-! UgGhh..” a watery and slightly milky substance dripped from his breasts onto your fingers. Exactly as you expected.

In the meantime, he was gripping the sheets as tightly as he could, to the point that his knuckles turned white. Surprise and amazement were written all over your face, he couldn’t quite fathom why you looked so excited, though before he got the chance to speak you basically answered him already, “Haha.. you are lactating, lucifer.” The words that came from your lips were foreign, it caused his heart to stand still for a second.

“Excuse me?” His pupils shrank, and he pulled such a silly and cute look of confusion as a response. Without further delay, you licked over his hardened nipples, and then another drop of milk stimulated your taste buds. “It’s delicious..!” You couldn’t help but compliment him, feeling overjoyed at this new discovery. Never have you ever experienced something astonishing as this, though if you had to be completely honest, it didn’t taste all that much. 

Wait, hold up, explain- lactation? You mean him, lucifer, the good that fell from grace, was producing milk all this time? How his head spun, processing this information was too much for the inexperienced angel. Sure, he isn’t naive when it comes to intimate things, but he wasn’t this deep into it! Lucifer would have been longer lost in his thoughts if it weren’t for your rough treatment. Despite his inner turmoil you kept sucking and nibbling at him with a newfound fever, swallowing anything his body gave to you.

“Ahh…” the Blondie moaned, then proceeded to whine desperately, “Don’t be.. too rough..” it didn’t hurt, but it made him feel like he was on the brink of losing his sanity. All because of the weird pleasures and bliss he got out of this, he was reaching highs he never knew before. And you didn’t even touch him on his private parts, so why was he so sensitive?

“Is this how angel milk is made?” You asked him jokingly while rubbing his nipple in between your teeth, still playing with that poor body part of his. “NgGhhm..! Don’t ask- haaaa… stupid things..” God, his voice was so adorable it fuelled your want to ruin and bully him. All you wanted to do was to play with him until he didn’t have anything to offer anymore, until you sucked him dry. Just the thought of it was making you happy.

Pair that with the neutral but slightly sweet taste of his milk, you felt like you were in heaven. “I wish I had some tea to pair with your milk.” The bitterness of the tea would be compensated for with the sweet aftertaste of his milk. It would have been such a fine combination. His blush intensified at your comment, how do you always manage to come up with such unique ideas?

“Shall I request Buer or someone else to bring a cup?” This was only a teasing question, to provoke him. Yet to your surprise, he started crying and holding onto your sleeves. “No-.. don’t.” Tears akin to diamonds rolled down his cheeks, sparkling the entire time. Your heart jumped at his reaction. Like a deer caught in headlights, you couldn’t help but stare at him with a blank expression. Tears? Cries? You made the strongest being after god cry? What a satisfying feeling that was, you were captured by his beautiful, tears-ridden face.

Lucifer frowned and bit his bottom lip, embarrassed at his vulnerable state. Before he could wipe his tears with his sleeves, you kissed them away. Even you yourself didn’t know exactly why you did it. After all, this wasn’t because you couldn’t stand his crying face, because he looked beautiful while shedding those water droplets. Guess you just wanted a taste, to see if it was as delicious as his.. other fluids? You wanted to caress his face in that moment, to hold him and whisper all the dirty things you were going to do to him into his ear. This was similar to your experience on Christmas with his brothers, only ten times better.

How strange, he felt a certain kind of Deja vu at your tender touch. For one second, he could see the adoring caresses from his little brothers on him, hugging or holding his hand. Then he got reminded of when he first opened his eyes, when the love of god belonged only to him. “I want to taste all of you.” You whispered, pulling him out of his daydream again. On the other hand, you were almost shocked at how perverted your own words were. His sobbing quieted down slightly, and he looked away hesitantly. Lips trembled a little as a genuine, sad tear rolled down his chin.

“I’m sorry, that was too mean of me to say, to bring your subordinate into this as well.” You thought that was the reason why he was crying, so you quickly apologized. The blondie thought about your apology while you ate up his tears like it was a five-course meal, he clenched his eyes shut due to how close you were. “I’m alright.” He responded though the sobbing wouldn’t stop. Why? “..I hope that is the truth.” You eventually admitted, then caressed his face once again. If anything, you didn’t wish to hurt him.

After you resumed your earlier demonstrations and pinched his nipples, his sex twitched around, yearning to be freed. “Ah, it hurts.” Lucifer groaned loudly, his sharp teeth injured his own lips. “Is that all you feel?” You teased him. Tsk, asking something so obvious, you were playing games with him again, weren’t you?

“Be honest with me, Luci.” The sound of that nickname was weird, it brought forth unfamiliar sensations he had never experienced before. The angel still refused to elaborate further, since it was shameful for him. It would sound so weird if he admitted he liked the pain, he didn’t want to make a fool of himself. That stupid pride of his…

All that silence was getting too annoying, you wanted his opinion. In the end, you nibbled on his buds again, stopping only to say, “I can see that you are enjoying yourself, the wet spot on your pants is growing.” A yelp slipped from him, finally a shocked expression was spread across his features. “Ugh.. why now?!” He seemed to condemn his own body, feeling ashamed at this vulgar sight of his. “Look, everything down here is so sticky.” You said while your hand crept lower, to grobe him through his pants. “MhhHm, is— is that so?” Huh, was he trying to play the naive card now?

You held your now defiled hand right in front of his face as if to prove a point. “Exactly! Look right here.” A perverse-looking liquid stuck to your fingers and palm, it made a squelching sound whenever you clenched your hand. “Ah.. ah.” He whined, to think that he produced this filthy thing..! He turned his head to the side, to avoid looking at it. Poor Birdy hasn’t been this ashamed for centuries.

When you noticed his embarrassment, you grinned again, then brought your hand to his chest. Then you smeared all of it onto his chest, causing everything to get all wet and sticky. “HnHhn..!? Did you just-..?” Lucifer turned around as soon as he felt his own precum touching his otherwise pure and divine skin.

If that wasn’t enough already, you had to go back to playing with his already exhausted nipples. On top of that, you were cleaning up the mess you made on his chest, swallowing his slightly bitter precum along with his milk. “It’s a pretty good substitute for tea, heh.” You commented, then stuck your tongue out for him to see the two fluids mixed together, along with your spit as well.

His mouth hung agape, half due to shock, half because he couldn’t restrain his groans. You took that opportunity to kiss him and stick your tongue inside his mouth, swirling it around to make him taste himself. “MhmhGnnH..!! NHhH- uhHhnnn..♡♥︎~!” All he could do was moan into your mouth or choke out broken whimpers as more tears decorated the scene. Your hands didn’t stay useless and kept fiddling with his chest. This was too much stimulation for the poor angel, he literally saw stars as the mix of bitter and sweet danced across his tastebuds. The way you kissed him was rough yet pleasant, bringing forth an ecstasy completely new to him.

When you shoved your wet muscle down his throat, causing him to gag, a huge wave of pleasure coursed through his body. He shivered so much, shaking to the point you were almost worried. At the same time, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull as all of his moans got muffled by you. The only sounds slipping through were meek whimpers, barely audible to the human ears.

After you were done and you pulled back, granting him the privilege to breathe again, he looked like a total mess. Drool was hanging out of his lips, as well as something milkier in color. Strings of saliva were connecting his swollen lips with yours. A dazed look in his eyes, as if he didn’t bear a single thought behind those melting pupils. His face was covered in a layer of sweat and tears, his already messy locks stuck to his body like gum. You called out his name, saying it in a sweet and innocent tone. He didn’t answer you, only staring into the space like a used doll. Was he perhaps in sub-space? How adorable.

Your gaze coincidentally landed on his crotch, noticing how some of the white fluids were seeping through his trousers. Ah, so that’s what happened. This little angel here came untouched huh? Amazing, simply stunning. That sadistic smirk of yours returned as you yanked off his pants, holding back your laughter at the mess he made. You just had to taunt him for that, snarking at him, “Aww, did the big Lucifer cum from some touching and kissing? How humiliating, don’t you agree?” No answers, just a quiet whine did escape his throat. Good, he can still hear you.

“Such a mess you made, tsk tsk tsk.” You clicked your tongue, sarcastically shaking your head. After that you whispered sickly sweet, “But it’s alright, you will clean it up afterwards anyway, isn’t that so, Luci?”

Tags: @shianarou @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @aghrentroplayer @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Men can lactate too, right. That’s something we’ve known for a long time. But only about 1/8 of men have the necessary requirements to produce milk. Because producing milk has something to do with the hormone levels, and it’s unusual for men to have enough to actually produce milk. Even then, it’d be a more watery consistence compared to the milk of a woman.

Anyway, to get a man to lactate isn’t as easy as it is in fiction. You’ll have to basically suck on the nipple, with a vacuum or mouth, for weeks (depends on the individual) for it to start producing small amounts of milk. Or in other words, constant nipple stimulation.

Another way is to take medicine promoting the needed hormones, or to starve oneself -> during World War II there has been records of prisoners lactating after starving and finally being fed. Many speculate it’s because of the dropping hormone levels due to starvation and the sudden rising once they receive food again. That’s why their bodies produced milk. (Pls don’t ask)

There are also cases where all this doesn’t apply and a guy lactates for no reason… then it’d be in your best interest to check it out with a doctor. It could be breast cancer after all, and this doesn’t only apply to guys, if anyone just suddenly leaks milk for no reason it could be signs of cancer.

[icu-fetish]

It becomes a part of me.

I don’t remember what happened to me. An oxygen mask was placed on my face – cold plastic pressed against my skin, air with a faint rubbery taste rushing into my lungs. On my neck medical collar, firm yet somehow comforting, holding my head still as if embracing it. I still don’t understand anything.

Are they taking me somewhere? The wheels of the stretcher squeak, the ceiling lights flicker overhead, blinding my eyes.

Now I’m lying on a different bed… is this a different room? The walls are gray, the air smells of antiseptic, and I hear the quiet beep of a monitor. They gave me an injection… or several? A needle pierces my arm, cold liquid flows through my veins, followed by a warmth spreading to my chest.

Have I woken up? Probably not, I can’t even open my eyes. I feel something… needles, tubes, and more… Did they insert a breathing tube? Am I intubated? Yes, probably—the mask is gone, replaced by something hard and foreign in my throat, air forced into my lungs in a mechanical rhythm. That sound… the sharp, monotonous hum of a ventilator. They’ve put a larger collar on my neck, wider and stiffer, pressing harder, locking every movement in place. Am I injured? What are they doing to me? Another injection… I’ll sleep again… I still can’t move or open my eyes. Nurses are beside their voices filter through the ventilator’s noise, muffled but distinct.

“We need to insert a urinary catheter,” says one, her voice low, slightly hoarse from fatigue.

“Let’s do it now,” replies the other, her tone higher but calm.

I feel their hands on my body. The cold urinary catheter slides into my urethra uncomfortable, but I can’t even flinch, only sensing my muscles weakly clench. Then the sound of suction – sharp, wet – as they clear the breathing tube. Mucus leaves my throat, and breathing eases for a moment, though the tube still presses. Their fingers – gloved but warmly glide over my skin, adjusting catheters, checking the vein. One touch, on my thigh, lingers a little longer than necessary, and a faint jolt runs through me.

“She’ll wake up soon,” says the first nurse, her voice softening, tinged with curiosity.

“Definitely,” the second agrees. “But not yet. The fentanyl’s still working – breathing’s stable, saturation’s at 92. It’s better this way; she can’t move in her condition.”

Their hands linger on me – one adjusts the tube, the other strokes my shoulder, almost accidentally. The touch is warm, nearly tender, and I don’t know if it’s just my imagination or something more. But darkness pulls me under again, and I sink into sleep, where the ventilator’s hum blends with the echo of their voices.

The darkness recedes slowly, as if reluctant to let me go. The ventilator’s noise fades, and I realize I’m breathing on my own – air passes through my throat unevenly, with a faint whistle, but without mechanical force. The tube is gone from my throat, leaving only a slight irritation as a reminder. My lungs are weak, but independently. My eyelids tremble, and suddenly I open my eyes.

The light is soft and pleasant. The antiseptic smell is lighter here, mixed with something familiar – the aroma of coffee drifting from the corridor. The neck brace is still on – wide, rigid, with a faint scent of plastic and disinfectant. The urinary catheter remains, a subtle pressure low in my abdomen, cold plastic against warm skin. I wiggle my fingers – it works, though slowly.

Nurses are beside me. Their voices are familiar, but now I see their faces. The first has dark hair tied in a low ponytail, her eyes tired but attentive. The second is blonde, with soft features, her movements calm, almost graceful. They stand close, and the scent of their uniforms – starch with a hint of perfume – mingles with the air I breathe.

“She’s breathing on her own now,” says the first, her hoarse voice brightening. She holds a tablet, clicking a pen as she writes something down. Her gaze falls on me, and I see her eyebrows lift slightly – she notices I’m awake.

“The ventilator was disconnected an hour ago. Saturation’s at 95, pressure’s stable,” the second says, her high voice closer. She leans in, checking my pulse on my wrist. Her gloved fingers are cool, but I feel the warmth of her skin through the latex. Her touch lingers, her thumb softly sliding along the inside of my wrist, where the vein is thin and sensitive. My pulse quickens, and the monitor beeps faintly. Her blue eyes meet mine – a brief but piercing look.

“Pulse jumped,” the first says with a slight smile, stepping closer. Her hand touches my neck, checking the brace. Her fingers slip beneath it, cold and firm yet gentle.

“The neck brace is still necessary. Spinal stabilization isn’t a joke. But you’re with us now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, she’s responding,” the second says, squeezing my shoulder as if to reassure me. Her hand is warm, even though the glove, and I feel my muscles tense faintly under her touch.

“We’ll remove some of the tubes soon, but not all.”

The first leans in, adjusting the catheter in my vein. Her breath – warm, with a minty scent – brushes my skin as she murmurs, “Skin’s warm, circulation’s good.”

Her fingers slide over my palm, checking the tape, her motion slow, almost languid. Her gaze catches mine again, and something flickers in its curiosity or playfulness?

The second checks the urinary catheter. Her fingers – careful but confident – brush the inside of my thigh. The cold latex contrasts with the warmth of her hand, sending a faint shiver through me.

“All clear, no irritation,” she says, but her voice is lower, with a note I can’t quite place. Her hand lingers on my leg, and I notice her cheeks flush slightly – from effort or something else?

“You hear us, don’t you?” the first asks, her hoarse voice closer to my ear. Her fingers slip under the brace again, touching the hollow above my collarbone. It’s sensitive there, and my pulse betrays me, racing. She smiles – crooked but warm.

“She definitely hears,” the second says, lifting her hand from my thigh slowly, with a slight pause. Her gaze is soft, but there’s something watchful in it.

They step back, but their touches – warm, cold, casual yet not quite – linger with me. I breathe, I look, I feel. The neck brace still encircles my neck, its pressure is no longer foreign, it’s becoming part of me, a pulsing reminder that I’m here, that I’m alive. But one question swirls in my mind: what will they do with me next?"

Unbreak My Heart (Episodes 27 - 29)

[smallestapplin]

hellooooo i remember you saying you’re willing to write most G1 characters… could i perhaps request a nsfw scenario with Hoist and human reader where it’s like their first time together? 🥹 please?

Yes! I love g1 so much. So for you, hon? Absolutely (i hope i got his character right.)

Warnings : ‘I love you’ is said a lot, gn!afab reader.

Mdni you will be blocked! Adults only please.

-

-

Hoist wanted this to be perfect for you, not only are you so much smaller than he is but so much more delicate as well, the large mech adores you too much to ever allow any risk to come to you and this is new waters for both of you. He was certain to take you on a nice date, making sure the mood was set as he kissed you and muttered praises into your skin, wanting you to be loved just before making it to his berth.

Yet you sat so pretty on his lap, your pussy dragging across his throbbing spike, making his processors fry. His servo on your hip, trying to ground himself into reality, this is really happening, you’re with him, you want him, him! He still can’t believe that you wanted and loved him, wanting to share such a deeply vulnerable and intimate moment with him.

“Hoist.”

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, making his optics look up from where they were trained on your organic valve and looking to your face, his visor glowing brightly as his frame trembles.

“Sorry, I just…you’re so alluring, it’s hard to focus with you on top of me like this. My processors are torn, should I stare at this adoring sight of me committing every last divot, blemish, scar, and mark to memory? Or do I finally move and worship your body like a deity sitting at your altar?”

Your breathing hicks at his words, hole clenching around nothing. Hoist ex-vents shakily feeling your wet heat on his spike, his servo helping your hips move and grind against him soaking his shaft in your juices. You move your hands to hold his servo and slowly rub it from his digits and up his arms before moving them to his chassis.

“I love you, my handsome mech.” You sigh out. Moving your hips forward placing his leaking tip at your needy hole.

Hoist chokes on his next in-vent, his spark thrumming loudly overwhelmed with his love and affection for you. What did he do to earn your love, he will never know, but he refuses to let your affection go unnoticed.

“I love you too, my star.”

Yet his servo tightens, stopping you just shy from sinking down on his spike.

“Please? I want to make you feel good too, I want to feel you to be close, to finally and wholly have you.”

Grabbing his servo to tug on it, silently asking him to move it, and he lets you guide his servo up to your face allowing you to kiss his digits. Hoist’s engine revs loudly, visor brightening at such a simple act making his spark feel as though it’s going to burst from the speed of his energon flowing through him.

“You are too kind to me, starshine. I love you, I want you. Please, allow me to show you just how much I crave your taste, your touch, the feeling of your beneath my digits.”

Slowly and carefully he gently guides your hips down pushing the tip of his spike into your pussy. Both of your choked noises echo in the room, he’s so big and you’re so tight even with the training you’ve put your cunt through to fit him.

You cling to him needing him close and Hoist swiftly hunches over, bringing his face plate close to you, his mask retracting to press his dermas firmly against yours, keeping you firm against him and his kiss as he pushes more of his length into you. Your head is spinning, he’s so big there is so much of his spike and it’s filling you up so much! You’ve never been so full before, already knowing he’s ruined you for another.

You pull yourself away from his lips gasping for air as his hips press flush against you. He’s in, every inch of him managed to get lovingly shoved inside your pussy.

“I love you, I love you so much, fuck..!” You cry out, your cunt clenching around his thick shaft. Trying desperately to not cum so soon, but it’s all overwhelming.

Hoist struggles to not overload, his optics roll back behind his visor with how much your pussy is trying to milk him of his transfluid, but he wants to last, he wants to stay like this for as long as he can and let you get use to his size, but slag it all you feel so good! Your words alone threaten to make him lose it, but your organic valve is like nothing he’s ever felt before, so wet, so warm, so snug around him.

But more importantly it’s you.

He’s one with you, open with you.

He wants to bare his spark to you here and now, is it too soon? He wants you, never wants to let you go, to love and adore you so you so let him.

“I love you too-mm! O-oh primus…my light, please, I won’t last if you-“

“Hush, I don’t care about that, I’m here with you, finally. I just want us to be close like this as long as possible, please?”

He hopes for your first time together he makes this good, for he has already found himself longer for more together.

[littlemissstel]

Fright Night - Sukuna Ryomen

SFW, mentions of a clown, profanity, weapons (knives, blades), no use of (Y/n), names include 'baby' and 'lover', Not proof read, established relationship.

divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Sukuna wasn't one for dressing up and knocking on peoples' doors- his patience had only lasted 20 minutes with Yuuji and Jin as he, so graciously, accompanied them for trick-or-treating because ,"it would be a great memory".

So when you brought up the groups plan to attend this years Fright Night he was apprehensive to say the least...

Your boyfriend was proficient at many things - most of which were not legal nor morally correct- but for the better part of the two weeks leading up to the event he seemed to gain a particular talent in complaining; which you had gained a particular talent in ignoring.

And thus, with a great show of resilience on your part, the awaited day arrived.

"Staring won't make me finish any faster" you say catching his eye in the rear view mirror as you fumble to put in the faux fangs. In a last ditch attempt to brighten Sukuna's morale you let him have reign over your costumes, sending him an onslaught of Pinterest boards and couples TikToks for ideas (he ended up blocking you on both). He put a great deal of thought into what the two of you should be. Vampires. How original.

"If it did we'd be at home already- you don't need that--"

"I am almost done anyway-- and- yes- i- DO--" you emphasize with every slap to his arm as he reaches out for the remaining fang.

This scuffle lasts until an all too familiar laugh is heard with a knock to the window. There standing are Gojo, Geto, Shoko, Toji and his friend Shiu ,who you know from the number of house parties you attend, all wearing film inspired costumes.

"I hope we're not interrupting something, if you're busy we can head in without you" the white hair man teases with a shit eating grin which you know can't be helping Sukuna's tolerance so with a quick, mutual, glare to your lover you open the door, stepping out to greet your friends and evaluate their outfits with Sukuna following behind in a sluggish manor.

The group had split later on in the night leaving you with Shoko while Sukuna and Shiu lingered a few paces back, engrossed in their own conversation. The once illuminated sky had turned pitch black and though scintillating lights from stalls and rides uncovered you, you couldn't help but happily embrace the darkness which offered you a moments rest from the eyes of preying actors with machetes and masks. A moment to let your guard down.

Sukuna had since warmed up to the outing, enjoying the screams you all (Gojo) let out from jump-scares, even going as far as scaring you himself which had landed him a firm fist against his face, though it was all in good pleasure. He found himself fitting into the place quite neatly.

"i think the adrenaline is wearing off because i'm this close to crashing" Shoko sighs halfheartedly

"we are headed to the exit soon but i might not make it to then..."

"pretty convenient for Utahime to catch a cold the night before coming here, but i can't say i blame her the-"

A loud shriek erupted from your throat as a bloodied figure sporting a clown mask approached you, swinging a blade too long to pass any health inspection; in a split second making it an inch away from your face- taunting, laughing. In hysterics you ran for refuge, catching the attention of your boyfriend you grabbed onto his arm and shielded yourself behind him, yelling a stream of horror filled profanities at no one in particular. Sukuna didn't move an inch. Staring at the clown, his lips molded into a slight smirk as he wrapped his arm behind himself, finding grip on the front of your tattered dress and bringing you forward with a force that propelled you right back in front- where you started.

Your head rushed with terror, ears invaded by the sounds of your cry's and laughter both shared by the clown and Sukuna alike. You gave in, crouching down into a fetal-like position with your hands covering your head. A few more taunts and the clown left leaving Shoko hovering over you protectively with Sukuna and Shiu approaching - highly amused.

"a little mean don't you think?"

Sukuna ignored him and crouched down to your level, matching your height.

"Come onnn. I thought you weren't scared baby? What happened to all the times we watched 'IT'? I thought he was your favourite"

"You're an asshole!" Your muffled voice ripples but soon your engulfed by another warmth as your love embraces you in his arms.

"Aw shush" he coos with false consolation, "You were right, this is fun..."

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

This was my first fanfiction so please feel free to leave any constructive critism or just a quick "hi!"!

I did this on a whim and did not go back to edit it so apologies for any mistakes.

want to know a secret?...I've never watch Jujitsu Kaisen either...

[franabz]

★ Task Force 141 Band AU (PILOT)

(my asks are open for whoever has questions or is interested in the concept!! feel free to slide in)

Soap would be the drummer, and a damn wild one at that. He was never really good at singing and has a tendency to hide away in his garage to slam away on his drum set like the gates of hell were opening up. He usually performs without a shirt due to how sweaty and overheated he gets while performing, simply personal preference. Like Price, he is also a massive enjoyer of mosh pits and sometimes begins playing even harder as he watches the crowd dance around and head-bang like a pile of fish. He loved it.

Gaz would be the bassist/background vocalist, always keeping on rhythm and adding that extra flair to each song that it just needed. He has a very nice singing voice, but is way too stage shy to be the lead vocalist, though many fans wonder how he could be so scared with the sultry voice of a godsend. Despite his shy demeanor on stage he is very upbeat and enthusiastic with each note played, whether it be head bobbing or full on hopping around stage like a lunatic when he is in the zone.

Price would be the manager and rhythm guitarist, easily the most experienced of the bunch. He is the one that organized the idea of a band and gets the group gigs and whatnot. On stage he is pretty laid back and reserved, though he does get very into the music. He also isn't very good of a singer due to constant voice cracks or flat notes because of his smoker lungs, something he refuses to quit despite best efforts. Despite his reserved demeanor, he absolutely loves it when mosh pits start, often tossing guitar picks into the crowd and watching the audience roar in shouting and cheers.

Ghost would be the lead guitarist and vocalist, though not very interactive with the fans. He has a deep and gruff baritone voice, one that makes the ladies swoon at just the mere thought, though he quickly learned to not pay any mind to it. When in the zone, he's an absolute beast. Fingers flying across the fretboard like it was the last song on earth, sometimes so hard his fingers would start bleeding all over his guitar; though he doesn't seem to care. Nobody had ever seen his face, which furthermore adds to the mystery of the masked guitarist.

The group was going through a dry spot in their gigs and decided it was time to find a new addition to the band; you.

Price decided to take the band to a local bar that was currently hosting a bands night, the perfect opportunity to find potential candidates to fill the secondary background vocals position. Everyone was on board with the idea of a new member, being enthusiastic about it if anything. But not Ghost.

"They'll all be shite." He'd repeat like a broken record, as if that would do anything to change Price's mind.

Now here they are, seated in a secluded part of the bar and scoping out the crowds like hawks, the soft intermission instrumentals and the dimmed yellow lights mixed with the lingering scent of alcohol and cigarettes filling the musky air.

Soap came back from the bar with four shots, setting the glasses onto the sticky wooden table and sliding into the booth beside Ghost, a small smirk across his lips.

"Figured ye needed some liquid courage b'fore tae bands c'me out." The Scotsman chuckled over the overlapping noise of crowded patrons, raising a hand to give Ghost a firm pat on the shoulder, one of which caused him to grumble something inaudible under his balaclava.

"Ts' all useless." Ghost grunted, raising the edge of his balaclava briefly to take a sip of his lukewarm bourbon, curling his lip in disgust. "You ever stop complainin', Si?" Price huffed, placing a cigar between his lips and lighting the other end with a cheep lighter, the thick smoke pooling from his lips and wafting into the air. "Jus' being realistic." He jeered, watching as the lights of the pub began to dim and the stage-lights brightened, illuminating the stage. A stage manager emerged from behind the wings and gently tapped the top of the microphone before clearing his throat and addressing the audience.

"Good 'fternoon everyone! I hope you are all havin' a good night!" The man spoke, his voice quickly followed by an uproar of applause and cheering. Gaz laughed lightly at the enthusiasm; mainly from the piss drunk bar patrons. "To start off this night, let's all give a warm welcome to the first band of the night, Woodland!" As he added that final segment, the audience roared even louder as the stage manager handed off the microphone to the lead vocalist of the band, a girl by the stage name Vixen.

As the band started loading on stage, Price was vigilantly scanning each member for potential candidates, already mentally rehearsing what he would say as a proposition to whoever he deemed fit for an invite. Ghost sat in his booth with a quiet scowl across his face, though it was mostly hidden by his balaclava. Everyone seemed the same as the rest; too cocky for their own damn good. He scoffed and leaned back in his seat, folding strong arms over his broad chest and reached for his shot glass, before pausing briefly, a flicker of interest crossing over his gaze as one member in specific crossed the stage and grabbed their microphone; you.

This was about to get interesting.

[fogdraws]

A Scandal at Baker Street,

An ACD Sherlock fanfiction oneshot based on "A Scandal in Bohemia".

"He could not help but bear the impression that the pair held a deeper meaning behind the gazes and touches they'd shared so earnestly. Looking out the window and to the repetitive London landscape, he decided not to venture further into his poderings; he certainly did not wish to murk the image he had of the detective — nor the doctor’s — with such assumptions. Soot and ash from the city filled his nose as he let sleep take over his mind; now, he could only hope."

Full piece under the cut!

He was nervous. He should not be, but when your whole reputation (and relationship, though the latter concerned him far less) depends on this, it may be understandable to fret a little. So yes, he was anxious as he brought his hands to adjust the mask that covered the upper half of his face — a measure he took to protect himself; today he would be Count Von Kramm, nevertheless.

A plaque, in which was written “Baker Street, 221B”, came into his vision just before the brougham came to a halt. The modest brick facade was unassuming, though the name it bore was whispered in both awe and reverence across the continent. From what he was told, this apartment block — quite underwhelming, if he was to be truthful — was home to a brilliant, energetic man, one that would have (or find) the answer to any enigma given in a manner no one else could compare to. He hopes that’s true, for he had come from a long way, Germany, just for this.

“Come in!” A voice clamored from inside the door when he knocked it. A sweet old lady had escorted him inside the block. Once again, supposed Von Kramm adjusts the black mask, pushing its tails to tighten the hold — it was rather loose and annoying.

Upon opening the door, he was met not by the lone figure he had anticipated, but by two men: one standing tall and lanky, dark hair messy and looking quite in need of a trim; and the other, on a heavier build, in a much more neat fashion, sat and with a notebook in his hands. That defied his former expectations — the matter was of the most private sense, not meant to be shared to noone more than the detective. Both of them looked at him, expectantly.

“You had my note?” He didn’t really know which one was supposed to be Sherlock Holmes. Both of them seemed to feel at home. “I told you that I would call.”

“Pray take a seat. This is my good friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases,” the fair-haired gentleman brightened up to that, giving a lighthearted chuckle. “Whom have I the honor to address?” Funny, he thought, that he kind of expected to be the detective, the more preen one.

“You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honor and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone.” He would not let himself be vulnerable.

At that, Dr. Watson made it as if to stand up, but was quickly caught by the wrist by Mr. Holmes’ own hand. Although initially he looked a bit distraught, the doctor quickly looked at the other with… something tender in his eyes. With gentle yet firm pressure, the tall man guided his companion back into his seat, their proximity leaving Von Kramm distinctly uncomfortable.

It was a quiet exchange, nothing more than a fleeting gesture between the two men, but it left him unsettled, as though he had intruded upon a private understanding, one far deeper than he could comprehend. In their shared glance, he felt not merely a lack of privacy, but an absence of control. Like he shouldn't be there.

Mr. Holmes didn’t move, leaning towards and looking directly at the doctor, both his hands firmly keeping the wrists of the fair-haired gentleman on the armrest. “It is both, or none,” the consulting detective said, low and slowly. Not looking at Von Kramm, as he should, but at Dr. Watson, still — much like the words were directed to the latter, not the former.

With a swift movement, the detective was upright again. Dr. Watson shifted in his seat, tangling his legs so they were crossed — the notebook, long ago forgotten on his lap, was at his hands again. “You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me,” Mr. Holmes affirmed, as if he hadn't just done the strangest thing.

He shrugged his shoulders, “Then I must begin,” he started, “by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance.” After this display, he's not sure it's possible to separate the pair, even though it would be far more preferable to deal with the detective alone.

“I promise.”

“And I,” Dr. Watson complied.

Once again, it felt much like the words weren't meant to him, but to one another.

The doctor scribbled something on the small notebook of his and, as Von Kramm made to look at it discreetly, the fair-haired gentleman slightly covered the paper.

“You will excuse this mask,” he tried to ignore the pair’s mannerisms and the implications that came through his mind. “The august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own.”

When he told mr. Holmes whom the detective had the honour of working for, he was met with the utmost disdain, raising annoyance upon himself. The man had dared to close his eyes and relax in the nearest armchair, striking a most dramatic pose. Dr. Watson stared at him out of the corner of his eye. “I was aware of it,” the detective said, and then, “I was also aware of that,” when Von Kramm tried to emphasize the absolute import of the ordeal.

Should this man be the best detective of Europe whole, he didn't wish to see what would be of the lesser ones. Von Kramm looked over to the fair-haired gentleman to express his indignation; he only had attention for the detective, however, legs still crossed. Upon studying Dr. Watson's expression for a second, the look he saw in his eyes was one of badly-contained longing. Von Kramm, then, avoided looking at the doctor again.

“If your Majesty would condescend to state your case,” the consulting detective remarked, “I should be better able to advise you,” as he slowly reopened his eyes, a look of impatience stamped on his arched eyebrows. Much like he was bored out of his mind; this man was getting onto his frail nerves.

Then, what mr. Sherlock had just said dawned on Von Kramm, drawing out a sharp inhale out of himself. He sprang up from his chair. It would do nothing now, to pretend his identity. This man knew it!

In a fit of rage, he — the King of Bohemia, had now been caught — tore off the mask that had irritated his face for the whole day, tossing it upon the floor. “You are right,” he raised his voice, “I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?” The doctor appeared to be surprised too. And never did he seem to stop writing words in that notebook of his. “Why, indeed?” Mr. Holmes murmured, as if the king wasn't ready to yell and shout.

Forcing his temper to subside, the king proceeded to tell his story. Mr. Holmes listened in a calm manner, making the effort of opening his grey eyes every so often, only to remark something to Dr. Watson with a quiet smile on his lips and close them again. To that, the fair-haired gentleman always nodded in contempt or flatter the man's deduction abilities. Their dynamic seemed stable, comfortable. For the whole ordeal, the detective constantly yawned and feigned disinterest; but everytime the king convinced himself that the man wasn't listening, he was surprised with the clever wit of an observation that couldn't be made out of disattention.

Somehow, the king had grown quite accustomed to the way mr. Holmes worked. After they had discussed the money involved — Dr. Watson's face, when the detective opened the chamois bag full of gold he'd received, had been absolutely remarkable — he was quickly escorted down the stairs and out the door by both of them. The mask was almost forgotten, but the doctor gave it back to him at the last minute.

“Then, goodnight, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some good news for you.” Mr. Holmes said as he opened the door. The brougham stood patiently for him at the side of the road, as it should; the king entered it as agile as he could, not to raise any opinions from the passersby.

“And we must have a good night, Watson,” was the last thing he heard from the pair. As for sight, mr. Holmes’ lips appeared to form a small smile as he looked dr. Watson from head to toe, whose hands went somewhere near the detective's waist as the door was closed shut.

He could not help but bear the impression that the pair held a deeper meaning behind the gazes and touches they'd shared so earnestly. Looking out the window and to the repetitive London landscape, he decided not to venture further into his poderings; he certainly did not wish to murk the image he had of the detective — nor the doctor’s — with such assumptions. Soot and ash from the city filled his nose as he let sleep take over his mind; now, he could only hope.

[nakimochiku]

Song Lan Rare Pair Week Day 6: Small Shop Au (specifically Antique Shop)

ship: Song Lan x Nie Mingjue. Turns out Mingjue is actually kinda hard to write jfc

⚔️⚔️⚔️

Huaisang finds the shop for him. It has no website, no social media presence, Huaisang laments, just five reviews on Yelp and a grainy google maps photo of the storefront. 

Baixue Antiques, the sign reads, squeezed between a fruit market and an apothecary. For a moment Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure the place is even open, until a man, presumably the owner, nudges the door open with his hip and props it with a sign. 

Assured that the business probably isn’t a front for criminal activities (Huaisang loves to use his active imagination to speculate) Nie Mingjue climbs out of his car and pulls out the massive case, muscles straining a little beneath its weight. 

The shop smells of green things, medicine from next door, tea, a hanging garden worth of plants in the window. The shop keeper has a rag in his hands, and a face mask over his mouth, fastidiously dusting already gleaming furniture. “Excuse me.” Mingjue broaches. The shop keep gives a little start. “Do you do appraisals?”

The shop keep seems to hesitate, brow crinkling. “Not professionally.” He says at last. “But I might know the right avenues to try, if you want me to take a look?”

Mingjue shrugs. The thing has been in his family for generations. He’s not exactly in a rush. 

The shop keep slips into white cotton gloves. He has elegant hands with long fingers. He looks like a professional, despite the kercheif keeping his long hair back and his floral pattern apron that would be better suited to an elderly woman. He’s careful with the sword when he pulls it from his case. 

Mingjue couldn’t say if it was any one thing. The way dark eyes brightened in delight as they landed on the sword, the careful way gloved fingers examined the hilt, the guard, the sheath, and finally pulled it free to skim along the blade with the same tenderness one showed a lover. Was it the passion he displayed? The simple joy of exploring a new thing? Nie Mingjue found him charming. 

“One moment.” The shop keep says. He disappears into another room as fleet footed as a deer, and returns just as quickly with his mask pulled down beneath his chin and his kercheif slightly askew, a huge book held open on his finger. He flips it open, and shows Mingjue. “I have no idea yet how old this piece might be, but its the shape that’s fascinating. Look, the blade only has one edge, it almost looks like a giant knife. You might expect this to have only been for ceremony or decoration, but I think there’s evidence it was actually used in battle—“

The shop keep’s previously placid expression is firey now with interest as he rambles, walking Mingjue through the details on the sword. 

“I thought you didn’t do official appraisals.” He cant help but tease a little. 

The shop keep blushes. “Well.” He presses his lips together in a firm line. Mingjue regrets pushing him back into his shell. “I can give you some numbers of some experts my grandfather knows—“

“How about… we keep learning about it together?” Mingjue asks instead. The shop keep offers a small hopeful smile. 

The sword has been sitting around forever. It can wait. Other opportunities though, need to be leapt on.

[kitmoas]

seized within the silk we grew

WandaNatKate x Reader (Part of the Training Grounds Universe)

Warnings: ***18+** **MINORS DNI** **Vague Smut-ish*** Mommy kink, slight public things

As usual if i missed anything let me know!

Author's Note: ...........Shhh it's a Halloween Treat (an unedited one so I do be sorry if it sucks)

Kitmoas | Necrosis Kitmoas | Navigation

Blinking slowly as the sun sunk into your eyes, reveling in the slight pain. The noise below you kept your anxieties down, but you knew that the quiet in your head was only temporarily lulled. Everyone else wanted you to move on, but how could you? Your world had crumbled, the foundation cracked and shattered so quickly and you never even stood a chance. One day the rest of them would understand, and maybe this was selfish but you couldn’t stop the thought, it was always you. First your father, your home, and now your temple; gone. 

A hand on your shoulder, gentle but firm broke you from your thoughts. “Hey Pete is done, you ready?” The small smile makes you blush and you know the influence of others has caused you to not quite understand your own emotions, but you have nothing else to grasp so you allow that to run rampant. Nodding, you let your body get guided with a soft hand on your lower back as the two of you step out onto the thin but strong webbed walkway. 

Your face brightens the closer you get to your friends, all in various states of lounge from where you all dangle in the web that the spider boy created. The sun is setting in the background giving you a beautiful view of the city, even below where you can see kids all dressed up running around knocking on doors and getting candy. Settling down next to your best friend, her hand reaching up to tangle in your pant leg tugging at you insistently, a slight sound of disappointment comes from the one who helped you across the bridge in the first place. “I believe boy of spiders did well with this, do you agree?” 

A loud groan, a small web flying past you, and you don’t even have to open your heavy eyes to see the young boy’s pout. “We have been friends how long Yelena, I am Spider-MAN. Man.” 

Her body shakes as you curl into her, exhaustion starting to catch up despite your want to be a part of the group. You want to speak up and laugh, you know that was the point of everyone inviting you but you can’t help how you relax around them. 

“You say that like our little resident Russian hasn’t had her accent and lack of English stick with her for this long, you aren’t ever going to be a man in her eyes.” The taunting voice of America is obvious, and you know she’s trying to get a rise out of both of them but neither bite as the loud giggles of one night only demons and heroes down below ring through the air. 

Clearing her throat, finally shaking the sting from earlier Cassie stands up. “Why don’t we just start drinking? Yeah? Maybe everyone can be men that way?” She’s giggling as she sticks her tongue out at the boy, tossing him a bottle. “My special cocktail, drink up everyone.” She gently sets one in your hand, waiting for your eyes to open to smile at you. “At your own pace, no rush.” 

“Should we drink since most of us are on duty?” Even you groan at Peter’s question, rolling out of Yelena’s arms to stare at the boy.

“Take the spider mask off for a minute and have fun, does Bishop really have your balls in that tight of a grip?” You mean it as a joke, you swear to yourself but you can almost swim in the haze that the tenseness creates. It was the first time anyone has mentioned the archer, and no one thought it would be you first. Rolling your eyes at the panic spreading across his face, you pop the lid off of your bottle and lean back. The strong liquor stings as it goes down your throat, though anything feels better than the weight of the silence. 

A loud laugh and a slap on the back interrupts your thoughts, “You heard her! Follow her lead you weak little Avengers!” You knew that you could always count on your best friend to match your energy. Everyone else follows suit, but one, gulping down their own drinks.

When you finally pull the now half empty bottle from your lips, a drop of the deep Periwinkle liquid escapes down your chin but a gentle thumb doesn’t allow it to get too far. Swiping it away quickly, the hand cups your cheek and sky blue eyes search for your own. They should be comforting but you always did prefer a storm. “Careful there.” 

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“Careful there sweets.” Always cocky. You knew that before you started dating her, and you know it’s only gotten worse now that you are on her arm. “Wouldn’t wanna ruin your pretty little costume, now would ya?” She’s pushing into your space, her hand cupping your jaw giving her even more control as she smirks down at you. 

The barely there costume was already ruined before you were even able to leave the girl’s apartment. She had shoved you against the wall the moment she had sauntered down the steps in her cheesy pirate costume, the tattered vest hanging open to show off her abs and the hat barely hanging onto her head. The brunette was holding a sword when she realized that your torn tied up shirt barely covered anything and your skirt had multiple slits so high that she barely had to swing one to get access to between your thighs. 

Eyes rolling, you hope that the darkness of the room conceals the way your cheeks flush. “Well I know you won’t be getting the chance to, so someone has to.” Biting your bottom lip, you know that you’re challenging her. It’s always fun to see how far you can push her until she finally breaks and gives you what you want. 

Kate’s eyes are intense as she stares you down, dark cobalt swirling before it’s interrupted by a hiccup. Giggles erupt from both of you and you feel your heart almost stop, frozen as you watch her head fall back. You never understood how you got someone so amazing to even look at you, let alone have her fall in love with you too. Her head falls to your shoulder, even as her body still shakes with laughter, as her arms wrap around you. She’s tugging you closer, into her body, and you know it’s the safest place you’ve ever been. 

You can feel soft kisses along your neck, a gentle nip as she finally pulls away. Her smile is wide and the glossy nature of her eyes are the clear giveaway of the alcohol she’s consumed. The breath you take gets caught in your throat while she looks at you, almost like you’re the gravity keeping her on the planet. “Let’s go back to the party, I gotta show off my pretty girl.” 

A whine tears through your teeth and you want to beg her to come back, to put her hands back on you but you know that she’s ready to be back in the spotlight. She’s aching to parade you around, not only you but the fact that you are hers. You love it, something you had never gotten to feel before, but in the moment you just wanted her to take what was hers. 

Sighing you just nod, but when she roughly pushes you back against the wall. Her knee shoving its way between your thighs and her mouth smashing against yours. The taste of alcohol was strong on her lips and her kiss was messy, but her hands were rushing along your body. Desperate to feel you up before she finally pulled away, shaky breaths as she smirked down at you. Watching as your hips subconsciously grind down onto her thigh, “I’ll take care of this within the hour, don’t you worry sweetheart.” Cobalt eyes twinkling as she winks at you, her hand cupping your cheek as she pulls you towards the dance floor.

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Shaking your head, you smile up at the girl and you try to clear your head from the memories. You were working on that, it’s hard but one day you hope that it will be easier. You let her rest her hand on your face for a few moments before you gently move away, settling back into your position with Yelena. 

It takes a bit before the group starts up their normal antics, America dumps her drink on Peter when he starts practically drooling over MJ. “Do you have to dry hump your webs every time your little girlfriend comes up?” Everyone is laughing, the two somehow constantly at each other’s throats. 

“Yes Peter, what does that MJ even do? Can she take down a secret agency?” The blonde leans up, letting your heavy head fall from her shoulder, as she sticks her tongue out at the boy. Everyone likes to give him crap for being the only one that likes someone out of the business. 

Cassie starts laughing, rolling on her back. “Really going for that spider-man damsel in distress trope aren’t you?” She’s trying to keep her hand stable as she almost spills her drink. 

The shaggy haired boy huffs, though used to the teasing and he knows it’s all just fun, the alcohol in his system is making him a bit more sensitive to the taunts. “At least I have someone Cass and I’m not pining over someone I can’t get!” He blinks, but doesn’t make eye contact with you or the other girl. “I have someone amazing, and she’s perfect. She makes me happy and for the first time I can relax. I don’t feel like I’m always on edge or ready to jump into a fight when I’m around her. I can put down the mask and the responsibilities and feel like a college kid. I’m just a kid and she makes my life better. She makes me better. I’m a better Peter around her, a better Spider-Man.” His voice trails off, realizing that he let his emotions get the better of him. 

It's the one thing every single person in the job wants. Someone, despite the title they hold, to love and melt into. It’s hard to find a patient and understanding person, someone who won’t get mad at the late nights or broken bones. To find someone like MJ was rare, and every single person sitting there knew that. They knew that you had to hold onto those ones with an iron grip, and do anything possible to keep them in your life. 

America sighs, letting her head fall on his shoulder. She leans up to kiss his cheek, a sign that she’s done teasing. It’s quiet as the group take the time to sip at their drinks, enjoying the chilled wind. You should have noticed the way that they all side eye to look at you, the way that Cassie is longing after you, but you’ve lost your own mind. 

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Your giggle rings through the mostly quiet room, body squirming to try and get away from the soft kisses that Natasha was leaving along your stomach. She had been soft and sweet all day, her phone and earpiece nowhere to be found. The two of you had spent the entire day dressed in soft onesies, you in a devil one while the ginger donned a random one that made absolutely no sense to you. She had gasped, acted so offended that you wouldn’t know the classic that is Trick r’ Treat but she just tugged you onto the couch anyways. The movie was immediately started, though you don’t remember most of it. 

After what feels like forever, trying to avoid her tickles, the older woman finally leans her chin on you to look up at you. “Thank you Malyshka.” She giggles at your confused look, kissing your hip bone softly. “I wanted to spend today with you because I know you like Halloween, and though I never really celebrated it I thought it would be nice to at least be together.” She stumbles over her words a bit, a blush rising up her neck. “I made Wanda take my technology and I wanted to just feel the safety of being with you. Nothing taking away from us or the way you make my body feel relaxed, just you and me. Together.” 

Something in your body stops, your heart practically giving out, and you know that you’ve dreamt about this moment since the day that the two of you met. You had always wanted the older women to look at you like you mattered, like you were more to them than you were supposed to be. You could feel your head nodding, mindlessly as you tried to keep your emotions in check. You couldn’t be obvious, or too clingy, or else you might chase her away so you just accepted her words. It felt wrong but you wanted to keep her in her safe little bubble for as long as possible, and if that meant you would spend every single day wishing that she would be different with you more often then okay. If that meant for the rest of your life you would feel inferior so that she would be able to relax just for a bit, then that’s just fine for you. You would give up everything if that meant keeping her happy. 

Natasha was leaning over you, a soft smile on her face. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be on the receiving end of them, but this felt different. It felt real and you did everything in your power to not react. You wanted to kiss her, but you were scared that it would push her away. Instead you waited, with bated breath, as she just stared at you. It was the sound of the music from whatever movie was playing that broke the trance she was in, the ginger bounces back. 

Her eyes were no longer soft, instead they were panicked as she looked around trying to figure out what to do. She was only that vulnerable after she put you in a much more defenseless position, having normally left this type of interaction with Wanda. You want to reach out, but she turns to you suddenly with the smile back on her face. “Let’s make some brownies, we can even decorate them like mummies.” Her hand encases yours softly, and she’s guiding you to the kitchen and for a moment the freak out was forgotten. 

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Blinking, you can’t help the embarrassed look on your face when you realize that everyone is looking at you. You try to look the other way but the sun is gone and the moon is entirely too cloudy to even watch it, so you just sigh. Rolling your eyes at yourself, you try to not focus on how many times you have made the group go quiet or how many times you have completely killed the mood. All you wanted to do was drink and hang out with friends, but even that was too hard for you to do apparently. 

The web moves below you and you feel familiar arms wrapping around your shoulders, tugging you back into her body. The two of you sit in silence for a moment before everyone else starts to move, giving the two of you a bit of privacy. “It’s okay, you know?” America’s eyes are soft as she searches for yours. She shrugs when you reject her, and just pulls you tighter against her. 

“How can it be?” Your voice catches you off guard, it sounds sure even though that was far from what you actually felt. “I’m ruining everything and it’s been so long.” 

The girl shrugs, her messy bangs falling into her eyes as she chuckles. “You think we expect you to be okay? We don’t. We’re your friends, real ones. We want to build you up regardless of everything, and we can’t do that if you act like you’re whole. We tease and taunt and mock, but we love you. At the end of the day we love you, no boundaries and no conditions. If you let us, we’ll be there for you and even when you fight it we will be too; just waiting in the background for when you need us.” She’s blowing her hair away from her face, a quiet falling over you to like a security blanket. Leaning over to place a soft kiss against your temple, she whispers reassurance once more as she leaves you to be. 

You want to reach out, beg her to come back and wrap her arms around you. For her to drag over Yelena or even Peter so that you can fall into their arms. It hurt to let her walk away and it almost felt like a weight was slowly crushing your chest, breaking and cracking at your ribs to puncture your lungs. The breath falling from your lips, blue in your imagination. 

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“I think it would be fun to actually go out to eat tonight, don’t you Мой красивый ангел?” Her voice echoed through the doorway into the room where you were curled up on the bed, a wave of sadness hit you and it felt like your entire body was caving in. A head of curly brunette hair pops into the bedroom, eyes twinkling but the moment she sees your body in the fetal position it dims. 

Rushing over to you she pauses at the foot of the bed, hand hanging in the air as she tries to quickly assess the situation. Before she can even move you’re flopping over, a pout on your lips and tears in your eyes. Reaching out, your hands grab at her as you silently beg for her touch. The pain is searing and you swore that it was real, but you had a horrible feeling that it was just all in your head. Your anxiety is coming to destroy your favorite holiday, but you wanted to fight it. 

She’s on you in moments and it’s almost like nothing happened, unsure of what even started it you decide to instead melt into the older woman. You weren’t sure if it was just her powers at work or if maybe it was just your desperate need to be around the Sokovian, but whatever pain you were feeling disappeared. The secret of which it was would never be revealed to you, instead you decide to spend the time you now have in bed to your advantage. 

Slowly you move in the witch’s arms so that you can look up at her, a twinkle in your eyes as you miss the red mist falling from her fingers. “Mommy, I think I would rather stay in. We can make sure the candy bucket stays full that way!” It’s a bad excuse and you know it, but you couldn’t think of anything else quickly. You were craving her touch on your body, and you knew that if you were to go out the most she would let you do is get filled by her magic. That wasn’t enough tonight. 

The smile on her face is hesitant but the look in your eyes is real, and how can she deny you of anything? If you needed her touch to feel better than that’s what you needed. Her kiss is sudden, surging forward to connect your lips. The brunette lets you have a few seconds of a mostly gentle kiss before she pushes you onto your back, body pressing you into the mattress. Her weight keeps you pinned as she snaps her fingers and your clothes start to rip off. It’s all so fast and you almost want it to stop, overwhelming your senses but when she pulls away to watch you your racing heart calms. 

“Well hello there little one.” Her voice is soft, it’s gentle and you almost think tonight might be different than every other time. “You’re Mommy’s. Say it.” Her hand cups your chin, thumb swiping along your bottom lip. Her eyes are predatory, but in a warm nature, as she watches your body come into view. Her magic is working to tear your clothes to shreds. She makes a mental note to buy you more, as you whisper it. 

Her hand strikes you out of nowhere, the sting along your cheek forces your head to the side before her rough grip on your jaw brings it back. “Mine, and I own your little body.” Something in her snapped as she trails her free hand down your body. “You know, you seem confused for such a smart slut. Did your brain turn to mush already?” She’s sneering as her eyebrows lift, her fingers slipping in between your thighs where she finds wetness already gathered there. 

Shaking your head, you know it’s a lie. You weren’t sure where it came from, unaware of your own arousal. You had thought you wanted her to be nice, but you can feel the warmth in your body as she settles into her normal state. It’s harsh and almost uncaring, but it’s habitual and comforting. The actions and brash tone turns your mind off, and you realize that even in the state that you’re in the way Wanda treats you is what keeps you level headed and calm. 

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

A quiet thwap takes you out of your thoughts, and the bouncing unsettles you from your spot as the group starts walking towards the building. You spot the candy that Peter threw at you, hanging just above you though you can’t pinpoint where the web is connected. Sighing you sit there for a moment, eyes watching as Peter and America push each other–both determined to be the first one off the web. 

A firm hand lands on your shoulder and you immediately smell your best friend’s perfume, the blonde kneeling next to you. The two of you silently watch the last of the trick or treaters below you, and you head falls onto her shoulder. “You know, I think the world really does test the best people. It is unfair and mistreatful, but only the best end up the way you do. I am always on your side. I know you didn’t ask me to be, and you don’t technically need me to be, but I am. I will always save you no matter what, and together we will not just survive but we will conquer.” She smiling now, against your shoulder where she tilts her head to suppress her giggle. 

Shoving her away, you can’t help the eye roll as you relish in your time with the Russian. “Okay, don’t get too crazy. The FBI is gonna think you want to start a war or something.” You watch her shrug, rubbing her thumb along your shoulder blade as she stands up. Opening your mouth you go to say something, but she’s already walking away. Even with the mouthed apology, you want to whine and complain but your attention is being pulled from her as someone settles down next to you. 

Feet swinging off the edge of the web, the two of you sit in silence. You wait there for her to say something. You don’t have any negative feelings towards her, and you do really enjoy spending time with the girl. The two of you both enjoy a lot of the same things and conversation is easy, but there’s just something that isn’t right. Maybe you should take a chance, let her take you out just once, but at the same time it’s just too simple. It feels mindless after the past six years but the need to restart is strong, so maybe you should. 

There were a lot of maybes, and you hated that. You were always so sure before, and if you weren’t then someone else was sure for you. It was a stable foundation where your own personal castle was built, but now you have to rebuild. You’re on new land, new terrority, and you have to stumble around to find materials. Even now, lost in your thoughts, you can feel the warmth along your ribcage and it makes you wonder what is happening. Can you truly find a new foundation while the old one pulses along your body? 

Cassie stands, a hand outreached to you with a gentle smile pulling at her lips. She waits, patience unending, as you stare back up at her. Blinking slowly, you try to put together your thoughts. She isn’t rushing or pushing, just there. So you nod, taking her hand and allowing her to pull you up. Her arm is heavy as she wraps it around you, guiding you off the web. The two of you don’t speak, and you hate how it feels comfortable even as you take the stairs down to where everyone else is waiting. 

You can hear the chatter even from the staircase, the three of them arguing about something. “I have a higher ranking than you! I will not switching just so I can have a stupid title!” Chuckling as you hear the Russian yell out, the alcohol must be just starting to hit her with how animated she is being. 

Stepping into few, the two of you immediately gain the attention of the others. Three pairs of stares, the lack of reaction would have gotten to you if America wasn’t able to shake it off first. “Tell them that one day you’ll join the Young Avengers! You wanna work with me and Petes, right?” It’s hopeful even through her confusion as she stares at the arm around you. 

“Why would she want to be a YOUNG avengers when she could be partners with THE White Widow?” Yelena is screaming, howling almost, and you can’t help but giggle with her. 

Peter shrugs, chugging the rest of the drink in his hand before he politely drops it in the garbage next to him. “I personally think you both should join up, we would be unstoppable.” 

There as the entire group starts laughing, the world quiet at the end of the night and litters of empty candy wrappers floating past deflating ghosts, something feels right. You let yourself sink into the feeling, for the first time in months, and you shrug. “Maybe I’ll be on call for both of you, Young Avengers and the infamous White Widow. How about that?” Everyone laughed and nodded along, the group starting to walk down the sidewalk. If anyone looked out the window too quickly it would look just like a group of college kids, laughing and joking, they would never know that the group had fought for their lives from childhood. 

It feels weird to casually agree to something like that, your life on a spiral since you graduated. You weren’t sure where you were going, but at least here on your favorite day of the year you weren’t alone. Surrounded by friends you knew that everything would be okay, and you just needed to allow that to happen. It wasn’t just yet there, but one day it would be and that was all that mattered. 

[yourthirdparent]

quick little liu kang focused drabble cuz he's on the mind. also on ao3 if you'd like to read there

It's something in the way Liu Kang presents himself.

Typically, he's all classical calm, stoic, guiding students and champions with a kind yet firm hand. The crease between his eyebrows is barely there, and his eyes are set in an easy professional stare, blinking evenly as though manual. His body wound tight and his muscles forced steady to hide anything underneath. A comfortable facade, one he's so used to portraying that it falls over his face and his body like a second skin and sloughs off no less painfully.

When around those he trusts with his life but not his soul, with the raw flesh under his skin but not the bones that flesh protects, he relaxes, softens. His muscles are no longer held tight, the slight, hardly noticed tremor of his hands disappears, and the corners of his lips raise ever so slightly, as though pleased with peace and company alone.

If you catch him in the wrong moment of that peace, you can see his distant, wistful sadness, eyes gone soft, glowing dimly, lines and creases smoothed and eyebrows upturned. If you manage to get close enough to him, you can see that the glow of his eyes is mostly a mirror effect of itself, provided by tears that well in his eyes and never fall. You can see the subtle shake of his hands and how they seem to reach forward, as though chasing visions. When he turns towards you, you can see the way his eyes seem to stare through you, the way they stare through everything and everyone. If he realises you've noticed him, he slips back into his calm. He winds back up, his hands still save for that ever present tremor from how hard he forces them stiff.

If you catch him in worse moments, around people he hardly trusts with his presence, being taunted or threatened, you can see the cracks in his facade, his stifled anger. His lip curls into what looks like a deep set frown but upon further observation appears to be a slight snarl. His eyebrows furrow down hardly enough to be seen or interpreted only because he forces them up. His eyes’ glow seems to waver, brightening, then dimming at the same time as his brows raise, like he forces the glow to soften as well. His hands clasp his wrists behind his back, as though balancing his slight lean forward. His words come out even and measured, often softer than normal unless caught by surprise.

Only seen once, when others are in danger, something angry tears through him, a primal rage, shedding his skin and flesh and revealing the bones underneath. His tattoos seem to shift, dragons growing snarling faces. Their inked scales spread across his arms, seeming to become his own. His lips spread openly into a sneer and his tremor stills entirely, perfectly still, perfectly even. His eyes grow as bright as fire, and his fists grow hotter than any flame. His teeth act as fangs and his hands act as claws as he lunges forwards and attacks his target, tearing them apart with sheer force. In these moments, he looks more like a dragon than a god.

Once he's completely eliminated the threat, crushed bones and a mess of unrecognisable viscera on the ground, hands covered in flesh torn to shreds and mouth dripping with blood, once all others are secured, he carefully grows back the flesh. He's vulnerable like this, relying on trust that no one will hurt him as he recovers. He's frail, delicate, holding onto the nearest surfaces for support but refusing to accept help from anyone still as he stands wide to keep himself from collapsing on shaky legs. He keeps his head down, eyes hidden from view if they're open at all. He flinches at sound, at touch, and he hides away from others for hours or even days before he returns, calm, stoic.

He moves like every action he takes is carefully chosen to protect what lurks underneath his layers of masks. He fights like there's something underneath, like if the hateful bones of his draconic skeleton were shattered then there would be more inside.

Perhaps, under his clean, carefully maintained distance, under his soft pleasure and hazy longing, under his animalistic, protective rage, he hides his frail mortality.

comment on ao3!!

[angelinaaabn]

What are the benefits of collagen in skincare?

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[delicatevalentine]

After the battle had settled, it had taken some time for Niamh to awaken. Though Goldmary's shield had made the final blow manageable, the injury prior to that had made wandering around a tad difficult.

Did this stop Niamh from wandering anyway? Absolutely not.

Luckily, the search for Hilda isn't long or difficult, and Niamh is all too eager to head her way when she catches a glimpse of her. "I heard we won..." she states, expression firm but the raised hands telling that she's quite pleased with this knowledge. "Good luck..."

Niamh doesn't depart immediately though. Her stare fixed on Hilda's face - and she really only can hold a good stare thanks to her mask - she collects her words before quietly remarking, "I haven't seen words used like that...you almost fooled me..."

Niamh doesn't recognize that that was...maybe the point.

Her next sighting of Niamh was sooner than anticipated; she visibly winced at the sight of the dark-haired student charging towards her, the memory of the knock-out still fresh in her mind.

"Hey, shouldn't you be resting...?"

The girl's next words had her brightening, however. "All thanks to you! I still can't believe you sacrificed yourself. I certainly would not take a blow from this for the sake of winning." She raised the shield she'd taken from Goldmary, its weight straining her arm sufficiently to prove her point.

A crinkle appeared between her brows. "Oh, um... Thanks!" Hilda had no idea what Niamh was talking about, but it sure sounded like a compliment, so she accepted it all the same.

[originemesis]

@brokendreamscreation xxx

That was the most intense copulation Lucid has experienced with Adam, the shock still throbbing in the form of bruises dotting his thighs. Never has the seraph seen the First Man so aggressive with his domineering in the act, his words of degradation and praise still singing in Lucid’s ears. But he is not upset, far from it actually. Seems the angel discovered that being called a slut for Adam is rather…exciting~ Well the man worked hard, ensuring that Lucid would be properly bred with his seed (the angel is going to have to address this soon with Adam), so surely he has worked up an appetite. Thus, apron tied on and setting out the needed ingredients and utensils, the angel gets to work. Pancakes, bacon, sausage, toast and eggs are in the midsts of being prepared. The seraph wishes he could include some fresh fruit, but that is like trying to poison the man and a sure bludgeoning for himself. As he works on the poached eggs, Lucid catches movement from the corner of his eye, brightening as he sees Adam is awake. However this is short-lived as Adam clenches hands against the island and cracks it further. Lucid blinks, shocked by this aggressive warning. Is he really still this pissed for him showing up unannounced to the apartment? It’s not like he was going to sneak out like a bitch while the man snored away! Hell, he’s in the middle of making breakfast for him. “Err, I’m kinda poaching eggs right now. If I stop they’ll burn. Let me finish them and I’ll go, okay? I’ll be out of your hair and not ruffle any more feathers, I swear.” Canting his head to the side, Lucid’s brow furrows with concern. “…You okay, Adam?”

It's not like the breeding panic fail safe he'd been equipped with to ensure that he'd continue putting in the work towards solving population dips well into his 900's provide any sort of memorable experience past what he usually got up to when fucking around with his angelic side fanbase when they were in the egg laying mood. Waking up with post-fuck fog is nothing new to the archangel, but with the more intense urgency in the application, it does lend to a far more clueless state of awareness that he can only really piece together with the clues set before him- namely the cracked countertop, the clone half dressed in his kitchen, and the obvious feeling that his balls weren't suddenly going to explode. Of course it had to be the errand bitch to stop by, and worse- agree to be his sauce sock for the evening. Fuck. Shit felt way too empty in the tank now. Which meant he probably hit it six more times before finally deactivating into a puddle of dream drool.

"Annnnnd- for that, you're getting one second less. Who the fuck eats poached eggs unironically??" The scowl that had settled across his mask scrambles into dismembered particles of light as he gives his face a firm scrubbing with the balls of his palms like he could rouse himself into a proper seraphim slapping state in the remaining few seconds the other had left before he had to lunge over the counter and corral the other outside. A few furious wing beats was all it would take. But the golden span of feathers seem less aggressive when they shuffle open at his seat and stretch out with a slow shrug of his shoulders. When the display that consists of his face scrambles back into place, it's featuring a yawn, followed by a blink as disgruntled as it is mismatched. His stomach answers for him with a rumbling growl before he can muster another round of vitriol.

"What do you mean? You're the one turning my place into a fucking Waffle House. Shouldn't you...I dunno! Be out of commission to bother me for at least half a day?" At least he'd counted on some minor vacay time from the other's pest permeance around the office after he served the dynamite role in collapsing the other's pussy mine like eight times in a row.

[comfortmindbody]

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[demiclar]

Reflection

Eris lets Drifter see the truth behind the mask.

(AO3, 1024 Words)

There’s a gentleness to his hands that a stranger would not have expected from him. The scars on his cheeks, the sharpness of his smile speak the promise of cruelty, a reflection of the harm that has been done to him. Eris knows, however, that this is not the case. She knows from the way he woke her from nightmares beyond the Pyramid, in the Witch Queen’s Throne World, from the hot drinks he pressed into her hands amidst the bitter cold of Europa, the softness of his lips on hers.

He starts with the band of fabric at her waist, resting at the base of the armor plate that covers her chest. He unties the simple knot, unwinding the fabric from around her waist. He lifts the armor plating from her chest, her shoulders, setting it aside. He removes the layers that cover her with gentle hands, and sure movements, comfortable with her and everything she is.

 She hasn’t let someone touch her like this in centuries, but no one has tried, either. Those around her look at her with unease. Her colleagues don’t know how to interact with her, her friends fear the consequences of a misstep. The comfort in him, the calmness, the ease with which he touches her, interacts with her, simply exists with her is a breath of fresh air after a century of stuffiness. 

When her armor is gone, softer layers left behind to cover her skin, marred with scars like his own, he reaches for her head covering. Her hands shake when she reaches out to hold his arms.

“Germaine.” The corner of his mouth turns up at the sound of his name, murmured so softly from her lips. 

“I’ll stop if you want me to, Moondust.” He promises. He leans forward, lowering his head and nudging the fabric of her head covering aside just slightly to press a kiss to her jaw. She shivers at the brush of his beard against her bare skin. “Just say the word.”

He draws back, his hands slipping down to find hers. He gives her a long moment, letting her consider and breathe, but Eris doesn’t speak. She lifts her eyes from their hands, to his face. Something rolls across his features when her gaze doesn’t waver, when her chin doesn’t dip, and he reaches out to cup her face as he presses their lips together. The kiss is firm and sure, and Eris feels the same surety in her bones when the Drifter draws back, placing his hands on her head covering. She gives him a small nod, and he unwraps the fabric, setting it aside. 

The first thing he does is run his fingers through her hair. She keeps it cropped fairly short, a few inches of dark, wavy hair that spends almost all its time hidden under her veil. He wraps an arm around her waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of her head in his palm, his fingers weaving into the waves above the bandage that covers her eyes. He presses his forehead to hers, turns his cheek into hers until the inky blankness that spills from her eyes trails onto his own skin. He kisses the side of her nose.

“This too?” He reaches up to cradle her face again, his thumb running along the edge of the bandage over her eyes. She feels a scar on the pad of his finger trace over her cheekbone. 

She nods again, though she catches his wrist in her hands before he can take off the bandage, turning her face into his hand until she can press a kiss to the heel of his palm. She kisses the scar on his thumb, and she watches his cheeks heat, his head lowering just slightly. 

“Thought I was the one bein’ soft.” He murmurs, a soft smile on his lips. His expression brightens when she begins to return it, color rising on her own cheeks, below the phantom tears. He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks. “Don’t worry, Moondust. Nothin’ wrong with a little comfort every once in a while.” 

He slips his fingers underneath the bandage that covers her eyes, guiding it up and off gently, careful not to drag it across her eyes. He looks away from her face briefly as he sets it aside, but he doesn’t balk when he meets her gaze, he doesn’t hide from her or avoid her the way the rest of the world seems to. Very carefully, he traces his thumb just under her left eye, his calloused fingertip brushing over the soft, delicate skin below her eye of growing green. Darkness stains his fingertips for as long as his touch remains, but Drifter doesn’t draw back, he just smiles softly at her. 

“What do you see?” 

Eris knows what she looks like. She has no belief that she is beautiful, she has no value for beauty anymore. If she ever had an inclination towards it regarding her own body, the Hellmouth drove it out of her. When she looks in the mirror, she sees her glowing eyes. She sees what others fear, the features she covers with black cloth like she still mourns what once was. She does not. The cloth is only to keep those around her from flinching, from proclaiming her a monster, tainted by the Darkness.

“I see strength.” Drifter nudges a lock of her hair away from her center eye, leaving her face uncovered, the darkest parts of her bare for him to see. “I see survival.”

He shrugs out of his own armor, his own outer layers set aside until they’re dressed for comfort rather than protection. The air is cold around them, and she finds herself longing for his warmth. She reaches for another cloth, tucked away into a pocket of her outer layers, a clean bandage to cover her eyes, but Drifter catches her hand. 

“Don’t.” He looks into her eyes, her vision clear without the fabric to obscure them. “Don’t hide it.” 

Eris stares at him for a long moment, then tucks the bandage back into her pocket.