#Elderly art courses

[kyreniacommentator]

Ecoage 60+ Refresher Courses at Girne University

[irithyllians]

cypriélle lesage, knight of the burning dusk

[yansurnummu]

fuck it. azandar & drals fursona time

[heartstringsduet]

Hello! Belated ask! If you could have dinner/coffee/drinks with any 5 living people (together or separately), who would you choose and why?

I forgot to answer omg. Sorry. Thanks for asking and ... who would yours be? First, I would for sure get coffee and cake because I'm the biggest clutz and would spill something on them or cut a bit of food and have it fly through the room accidentally. And I promise I'm not exaggarating, I am actually concerned about my poor coordination?? ANYWAY 1. Taylor Swift - They say don't meet your heroes. They are wrong. And I am basic so, ofc I take my idol

2. John Green - I love that man's mind. Honestly, I would love to hear his writing advice but also how he spreads butter on toast or something.

3. Chanel Miller - She wrote my favorite book and she draws amazing comics on IG now that speak to me.

4. Any of the talented painters I follow on IG or here like heartsl0b or fdasuarez. God would I love to just sit in a café and learn from them and be friends with more visually artistic people because writing I love by myself, art I would love to be a communication.

Oh god the fifth person has me a bit stumped. I'd love to talk to someone much much older than me, someone that I don't share the culture or experience with. I think the older I get, the more I appreciate the wisdom time and perspective gives you. And I don't necessarily need it to be a celebrity in any way. Maybe just need the courage to talk to strangers more then. (Germans are noooot known for that.)

[starmocha]

but grandma i love him! (and him and him and him and him) [Sylus/Reader, Xavier/Reader, Rafayel/Reader, Caleb/Reader, Zayne/Reader ★ 2808 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] 5 times Grandma Josephine meets your boyfriend + 1 time she meets your boyfriends. Or: AU where everything is the exact same, but Grandma Josephine lives, but wishes she didn’t so she doesn’t have to know how much of a hoe her granddaughter is. A/N: I wrote most of this, days before Sylus’ myth dropped as a way to cope with the impending and inevitable pain (and oh, was there so much pain with his myth…). I suddenly remembered this a month later, so I rushed to finish it before Caleb comes home again. This is very, very silly and full-on crackhead energy :’) Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia @valkyyriia @lavlynyan 【 request to be added 】

Josephine had lived a long life, far longer than she would have anticipated for herself. When one lived as long as she had, mistakes were made and regrets inevitable. That was just life.

She knew that, of course, having pocketed many pearls of wisdom as she had navigated this long road, but that still did not make her feel any less foolish for her recent mistake.

It had seemed so innocent. So pedestrian, really.

How could she have realized that asking to meet her granddaughter’s boyfriend would be one of her greatest mistakes and biggest regret of her life?

one.

“Grandma, this is…Skye,” you said with a forced smile as you gestured to your partner.

‘Skye’ stifled his chuckle and extended a hand to the elderly woman. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” he said politely with a charming smile, “Your granddaughter talks fondly about you.”

Josephine smiled in delight, never imagining her granddaughter would bring home a very attractive man. It was like she was looking at a work of art created by God Himself. She shook the young man’s hand happily. “Come in, come in, dinner is ready. We can chat as we eat.”

As dinner progressed, the conversation remained lively. This Skye certainly had a way with his words, his charisma was so radiantly brilliant. Josephine had also never seen her granddaughter as happy as she looked now, noticing how the two would often share sweet whispered secrets when they both thought the old woman wasn’t watching.

Oh, youth, Josephine observed with wistful envy.

After dinner, Josephine left her granddaughter alone in the kitchen to do the dishes as she went to her bedroom to retrieve a family photo album to reminisce over. Along the way, she unwittingly walked in on Skye having a private conversation on the phone in the hallway. She was about to turn away before he noticed when she paused, hearing a peculiar comment from Skye:

“Hm, so they had thought I would be there to be ambushed, did they?”

Ambushed? Josephine furrowed her brows in concern.

“Never mind, I trust you and Luke had taken care of things, correct?”

Taken care? Josephine went pale.

“Hm, they should know that Onychinus does not take betrayal so kindly.”

Motherfucking Onychinus?!

Josephine immediately raced back to the kitchen, not noticing ‘Skye’s’ amused smirk.

You were just finishing the last of the dishes when Josephine grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you immediately and making you nearly dropped the plate you were holding.

“Dear, you have to break up with that man!”

You stared wide-eyed, feeling completely blindsided. “B-but why? I thought you liked Skye, Grandma!”

Josephine looked at you nervously, swallowing slowly before she spoke in a hushed tone, “Dear, I…I just heard him having a conversation…I…I think he’s part of…that notorious group…Onychinus.”

“Oh,” you said flatly.

Josephine stared, confused. “‘Oh’?” she echoed back, flabbergasted. “Dear, I don’t think you understand. Onychinus is a very dangerous group.”

“Uh, yeah, dangerous,” you agreed, tone flat. “Super dangerous…”

Josephine started to get annoyed, not understanding why you were behaving so flippantly about this bombshell news she had just dropped. “Dear, Onychinus is wanted for many crimes. Its leader—”

“Sylus,” you said.

“Right—wait, you know his name?”

“She should.” Josephine heard ‘Skye’s’ deep, smooth voice as he stepped back into the kitchen. “She is dating him.”

Josephine felt like her brain had just short-circuited as she watched this man walked over and leaned down to kiss her granddaughter on the lips.

“Did you even try to be discreet?” You scolded Sylus with a frown after he pulled away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I saw her from the side,” he admitted, adding, “And I don’t like being kept a secret so…”

“You—mmph!” Sylus immediately kissed you again before you could scold him.

Josephine watched this exchange uncomfortably, feeling like she was having an out-of-body experience as her brain tried to comprehend that her sweet granddaughter, one of the top hunters in Linkon City, was in a relationship with a notorious wanted crime boss.

“I…I need some tea…” she managed after a pause.

“Oh, I’ll make some for you, Grandma!” You pulled away from Sylus immediately, rushing to the cabinet.

At that moment, Sylus’ phone rang. He took a glance at the screen and apologized. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”

Once he was out of the room, Josephine immediately rushed over to you, pulling you to the side. “Dear, do you realize what you are doing?”

“…making tea?”

“Don’t get wise with me, young lady,” she chided you instantly with a strong glare, “You know what I am talking about.”

“…Sylus?”

“Haven’t you thought about how problematic this relationship could be?”

“He does have a strange obsession with crows…”

Josephine looked bewildered. “What does that mean—never mind, I meant that he’s a felon!”

“A little bit, yeah…”

“Dear, is dating a criminal your way of getting back at me for not getting you that pony when you were eight?”

“N-no! Of course not!” You protested. “Besides, Sylus also has this amazing horse, although if I have to be honest, I prefer riding Sylus—”

Josephine had decided that was the perfect moment to black out.

“…motorcycle?! Grandma?!”

two.

Grandma, I have someone I would like you to meet! :)

Josephine felt relief when she had seen that text message her granddaughter had sent. It seemed Sylus was no longer in the picture, she thought, a little worried about any repercussion that could come from splitting with a dangerous crime boss.

As she glanced at the message again, the little smiley face at the end of the sentence calmed the old woman instantly. There was probably nothing to worry about. You seemed pleasant. Cheerful, even.

This was a good sign.

The following Saturday afternoon, Josephine was positively thrilled to meet her granddaughter’s new boyfriend, Xavier. She was immediately charmed by his princely appearance and soft-spoken and polite way of speaking. He truly looked like he had stepped out of a fairy tale.

After introductions were made, you had excused yourself from the group after receiving an urgent phone call from Tara. The other woman was in such an overly anxious state, ranting something about her cat? It took you nearly ten minutes to finally calm your friend before you were able to hang up and return to the group.

Stepping into the living room, you were surprised to see only your grandmother sitting in her chair. You furrowed your brows, feeling a strange knot forming in your stomach. Nervously, you stepped over to your grandmother.

“Wait, where’s Xavier?”

Josephine smiled. “In the kitchen,” she answered, not noticing your face was paling. “He mentioned he wanted to heat up the dish you both brought over in the oven—”

“In the oven?!”

“Yes, the oven—”

The fire alarm blared as dark thick smokes billowed from the kitchen, but thanks to the bravery and promptness of the men and women of Linkon FD, the fire was put out in less than fifteen minutes.

Josephine remained in her chair, face covered in soot, her voice peculiarly neutral. “Dear…”

“Insurance will cover this, don’t worry, and if not, I will buy you a new—”

“I don’t even like tuna casserole.”

“I told you we should have made chicken potpie.”

“Xavier—that’s…that’s not the issue…”

three.

When her granddaughter mentioned bringing an artist over, Josephine had some doubts. She worried about her granddaughter having to support a struggling artist until he could make a name for himself, but even if she did voice her concern, it would most likely have the opposite effect and just make that man seem even more desirable in her granddaughter’s eyes.

It wouldn’t do. She didn’t want to meddle, but she hoped things would just naturally end on its own terms.

Her worries instantly disappeared when her granddaughter sent her a photo of the young couple at an art exhibition. Josephine’s eyes caught the name of the artist as well as the face of the young man with his arm around her granddaughter’s waist in the photo.

Wait.

Rafayel.

This was The Rafayel.

As old as she was, Josephine kept up with the news. She recognized both the name and the face of the artist. She laughed heartily to herself, tickled that her pretty granddaughter managed to catch the eyes of a well-known artist such as Rafayel.

Her worries eased, knowing her granddaughter had just secured her future being entwined with someone as successful as Rafayel. She immediately started planning a wedding. Maybe even a guest nursery in her home for when the happy couple would visit with hopefully numerous great-grandchildren.

From this moment all the way to the next Sunday for brunch, the old woman had an extra pep in her steps. As she exited a taxi, Josephine found herself at a well-known restaurant, popular with brunch for the younger crowd. It was typically packed and hard to get in, but Josephine supposed someone as influential as Rafayel would have no problem securing a table.

“Grandma, over here!” you rushed over to hug your grandmother. After kissing her cheek, you sighed playfully, “You know Rafayel and I offered to pick you up. You didn’t have to take a taxi.”

“Nonsense, an old woman like me is perfectly capable of getting around by herself,” she chided you gently. She patted your hand reassuringly as you both walked arm linked into the restaurant. “This is so exciting, darling. I have been looking forward to meeting Rafayel all week long.”

“Wonderful!” you exclaimed, beaming, “He is really the sweetest, Grandma. You will love him. He gotten us a table outside. It really is beautiful out there.”

Well, Josephine can check off meeting a famous artist on her bucket list.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Josephine,” Rafayel greeted the older woman with a charming smile. “I have heard so much about you from this cutie over here.”

“Ra-Rafayel,” you protested with a blush and then whispered harshly under your breath to him, “N-not in front of Grandma…”

He smiled, shrugging. “Sorry, cutie, force of habit.”

“You did it again…”

Josephine laughed and reassured her blushing granddaughter. “You two really are the cutest thing ever,” she said, smiling in gratitude as Rafayel helped seat the older woman.

The time passed with a lot of pleasantries and sharing stories over a delicious array of food. Smoked salmon, quiche, waffles, fruit salad, and bellinis filled three happy bellies. Just as Josephine was already planning on speed-dialing a wedding planner, she noticed Rafayel’s face did a complete 180.

“Rafayel? Are you alright, dear—”

“M-m-m-monster!”

“Excuse me?” Josephine glared when Rafayel pointed at her.

“N-no, Grandma, it’s not you,” you quickly protested, standing up and rushing to Rafayel when he stumbled out of his seat shaking in fear. “Rafayel, calm down! It’s just a—”

“Meow.”

“Oh!” Josephine laughed when an orange cat leapt onto the table, purring happily at the plate with some leftover smoked salmon. She laughed and started petting its head as the cat greedily licked the plate and ate the remaining morsels. “Where did you come from, little one?”

The cat purred happily amid Rafayel’s screams.

“Rafayel, ca-calm down!” You trailed after Rafayel as he backed away.

“Get that monster away from me!”

“Rafayel! Come back!”

Josephine sighed.

After filling its belly with some delicious salmon, the cat napped in the old woman’s lap, purring contently as its ear was scratched. At that moment, the waiter walked over and placed the bill in front of Josephine to her surprise.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she griped once she realized her granddaughter and Rafayel were both gone.

four.

“Oh, dear, I am so excited to meet this one,” Josephine said, meaning every single word, “The way you described him makes him sound like quite a catch.”

Tall, handsome, intelligent, and with the added bonus of being good in the kitchen! There was no way this one wouldn’t be a perfect match for her sweet, darling granddaughter, who, after all, deserved only the best in life.

You laughed. “Grandma, what are you talking about? You know him.”

Josephine blinked, confused. “…I do?”

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Where’s my favorite pipsqueak?”

You gasped as you felt an arm wrapped around your waist, easily lifting you up. You blushed. “Caleb!”

Josephine laughed. “Caleb, you didn’t tell me you were coming home to visit.”

Caleb looked confused as he settled you back down to the floor, but his arm remained wrapped around your waist. “I thought Pipsqueak mentioned it to you already?”

Josephine frowned. “I don’t believe so,” she said, adding, “But what bad timing, we’re having a guest tonight and—”

She paused, suddenly noticing how Caleb’s arm still remained wrapped around your waist and the way you leaned in close against him. You were all giggly and blushing like a schoolgirl.

“…and…”

“Um, Grandma,” You started feebly, “Caleb is my boyfriend.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Uh, yes, he is.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Grandma—”

“No, he’s not.”

“Caleb!”

“Gran, I—”

“I am taking a nap!” Josephine declared, determined to wake up from this surreal dream she was having.

“Caleb—”

“Shh,” he quietly shushed you. “Gran is taking a nap…”

You glared at him, sighing in defeat as Josephine sat in her chair, blanket over her lap, and she closed her eyes, cursing whatever deity who had decided she needed to deal with this weird-ass situation at her age.

five.

Josephine smiled serenely as she watched you and Zayne make dinner together in your kitchen.

Finally, a good man.

Zayne was always the sweetest little boy, and it pleased Josephine to see he had grown into a kind and caring man with a successful career and highly-respected reputation among his peers. Zayne had effortlessly ticked off every single box in Josephine’s list of criteria for a grandson-in-law: intelligent, kind, patient, respectful, charming, handsome, successful, loving. There was not a single flaw in this young man.

“My love, come taste this,” Zayne called out as he held up a wooden spoon.

Oh, my. Even Josephine couldn’t help but blushed and felt her heart fluttering at witnessing how sweetly affectionate Zayne was with you.

“What do you think?” he asked.

You pondered, licking your lips lightly. You smiled. “Maybe just a little more soy sauce?”

Zayne nodded. “Okay,” he said, “Could you grab the bottle for me then?”

“Of course, Zaddy—”

You froze.

Zayne froze.

Josephine stared.

“Za…Zaddy?” Josephine questioned from across the kitchen island.

“It’s…nothing,” Zayne said, his ears turning red, “Just a silly nickname.”

Josephine nodded, seemingly accepting his weak explanation. “How long until dinner is ready?”

You swallowed nervously and barely managed to rasp out: “An hour…maybe?”

“I’ll just take a quick nap if you two don’t mind—oh, don’t trouble yourself, dear.”

“Okay, Grandma, you can nap on my bed…” You said feebly, a little perplexed by how…calm she seemed.

Josephine nodded again and walked to your bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out her phone, searching up ‘Zaddy’ online.

She wished she hadn’t.

+ one.

This was a dream.

A motherfucking dream.

And not even a good one.

Josephine stared at all of the tall, handsome men—and Caleb—towering behind her granddaughter.

“…Dear, I thought you were dating Zayne.” She glanced at the young doctor who looked away in embarrassment.

“I am,” you answered nonchalantly, confused by your grandmother’s behavior.

“…Didn’t you break up with these other young men—and Caleb?”

Caleb blinked.

“No,” you said slowly, “I didn’t want to bombard you with all of them at once, so…I staggered their introductions.”

“You’re…dating…five men…at the same time?”

“Grandma, you are acting like I am banging them all at the same time!”

“Dear, I am sorry, it’s just—”

“We’ve only done it once.”

“…Excuse me?”

“It’s actually harder to coordinate an orgy with everyone’s busy schedule,” you explained thoughtfully, not noticing Josephine’s horrified expression. You continued flippantly, “Zayne has so many surgeries lined up for the next three months. Then Rafayel has an upcoming art show he needs to prepare for, and Sylus—”

Josephine walked away in the middle of the conversation, heading to her bedroom, leaving you flabbergasted.

You looked behind you at your five boyfriends and they all shrugged and scratched their heads, just as lost as you were. Worried, you followed after her. “Grandma? Is something the matter—"

You panicked and shrieked.

“Zayne, Caleb! Grandma is smoking and drinking!”

Josephine mentally sighed as she sat in her bed, leaning back against some propped up pillows as she stared at the ceiling with a bottle of brandy resting on her chest.

Surely, dying in an explosion would be better than this fuckery, right?

[e-nonsense]

Request for batfam x estranged daughter who looks like Batdad's mom Martha💔 she's more independent and has been raised by her mother's family who she is extremely close with, but when it comes to Bruce’s side of her fam she gets awkward and shy cuz she never really interacted with them and doesn't know how to approach them which leads to misunderstandings and angsty setbacks in bonding time. But for whatever reason, she gets along great with Damian and Stephanie as if they've been friends for years. Which causes everyone else to feel left out and a bit jealous when they see the trio hanging out having a good time.

𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗔 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗪𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡

pairing. Batfamily x batsis!reader, slight Dick Grayson x reader

summary. Reader looks startling alike to Bruce’s deceased mother, Martha Wayne.

warnings. swearing, platonic jealousy, mentions of death, horrible parenting (its Bruce), reader is like crazy rich, reader is also 22 and dick is 26. NOT PROOFREAD

authors notes. hope this is what you envisioned. no part 2 so don’t ask

wc. 1.4k

It was Alfred who made the mistake first. Accidently calling you Martha first. He couldn’t help it, you just look so much like her.

Of course he apologised right after and then nearly had a heart attack when you smiled reassuringly, “its fine Alfred.”

A kind heart to match the face of a woman long gone. The elderly man just nodded in response, deciding too keep his mouth shut from then on.

Then it was Bruce. He completely froze the day he met you, froze and stared like a creep. “Holy shit—“ He was immediately cut off by your mother’s glare at him swearing in front of you. “Sorry.”

That day went on with you being shy and awkward around him and Dick —his newly adopted son— who didn’t seem to have any interest in you at all.

“Bruce Wayne,” the man kneels in the get to eye level with a twelve year old you.

“Uh—“ you found yourself string at your mother nervously, only deciding to utter your name after she nods.

Bruce tries to smile —could you see the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes?— at you, “pretty name.”

That was the first time he had seen you, and the last — unless you count the little run ins you’ve had over the years— until ten years later. You were twenty-two, and looked even more like his deceased mother than before.

Bruce found himself watching as you gave Damian tips on the perfect brush stroke to get a texture that would look more like a cloud on canvas.

You nod and smile —one of those encouraging smiles his mother (Martha) used to give him when he got something right— “that’s it. Just try to get lighter towards the end, gives it that fluffy feeling.”

When you had decided to contact Bruce yourself ten years later it had caught him off guard but he agreed. He watched as Damian took to you immediately, the ten year old boy milking you for that motherly affection he never got from his own mother.

The validation when you pat his head and smile at him proudly at his minor achievements, something was child's play to him and yet you were so proud because of it.

The warmth you gave when you smiled in encouragement, or when you’d chuckle softly at his annoyance about one of his brothers. His brothers, not yours as well. You didn’t Bruce’s other wards as siblings, they hadn’t tried to reach out to you so you decided not to bother them with trying as well.

You were nice not stupid.

Stephanie walked into the art room you and Damian had filled with art pieces. You chuckled when the younger girl groaned and draped her arms around you, whining about some inconvenience she had been victim to earlier in the day.

You patted her head and chuckled when Damian scowled at the blonde girl, “get off her you mongrel.”

“Damian,” you say sternly and the young boy huffs before going back to painting clouds. You dragged both yourself and Stephanie towards the couch in the corner of the art filled room and listened as she whined about her day. How Bruce had scolded her about a mistake she made on the field, a minor mistake that even who would make from time to time.

You saw the tears of frustration brimming in the girls eyes and you sigh. “It’s alright Steph,” you hum softly as the girl presses her face into your shoulder.

If Damian hears the blondes sniffles he ignores it, leaving the comforting to you.

None of you speak of Stephanie’s breakdown after it happened. Opting to ignore it afterwards and move on.

Dinner later is chattier than usual, both Damian and Stephanie sitting on either side of you, giving the other member of the family zero chance to gain your attention.

Across from you sat Dick Grayson, who tried to gain your attention but continuously failed so decided to annoy his other brothers. You’re attention is finally somewhere else when Jason growls in annoyance at something Bruce had said.

“It’s for kids Bruce,” Jason seems to be seething. “Children who don’t have the luxury of getting a meal everyday.”

“I can’t trust that the money will actually go into that cause Jason,” Bruce simply sighs. You frown at that, for the first time you speak up.

“Sorry to intrude, but what are you arguing about?” Your voice isn’t timid or soft, it’s stern and had an authority quality that has Jason looking at you in shock before replying.

“Charity thing I’m tryna do,” he begins to explain. “Wanted some money to buy an empty warehouse and build a place that serves food on a daily basis to homeless people.”

You hum in response, “it’s a good idea.”

Jason beams at the praise, “thank you.” And you smile in response, “how much do you need?”

The question catches everyone off guard, “sorry?”

“How much, it’s a good idea and I’d like to help.” You ask and Jason nods.

“Well i wanted it in a good area in Gotham, might help relocate people and stuff.” You nod taking in his words. “$300,000. I need that much.”

Jason shrugs nervously as you think it through, “done.” You smile slightly, “call me if you need anymore though. I’d be happy to help.”

Jason stares at you like you’re some kind of saint, “where are you going to even get that kind of money?” He asks nervously, surely this was too good to be true. You barely knew him, why would you give up that much money so easily.

You chuckle in response, “my dad’s rich.” You pause before adding, “the man my Ma married I mean.”

“So is my Ma,” you shrug. “I inherited it all when they retired.” Jason blinks a few times, as if trying to determine if you’re actually real.

“So would you say you’re richer than Bruce?” Tim asks and you glance over at him before shrugging. “Maybe? I dunno.”

Bruce watches from the head of the table, “she is.”

You raise a brow at that, “stalking my bank account or something?”

Bruce chuckles and shakes his head, “no. But I know your father and he’s been years ahead of me for a long time.” You snort in response, “sounds like him alright.”

The rest of dinner passes and you go back to talking to Damian and Stephanie. Jason watches you three from his seat beside Dick. “Why does she only talk to them?”

Dick pauses to look at Jason and puts his fork back down onto the plate, before glancing over at you who seemed to be nodding along to whatever Damian was saying.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “To be fair we haven’t tried to exactly reach out to her as much either.”

Jason hummed in response, “demon brats a bit attached to her though.. don’t you think?”

“Guess so, pretty sure he looks up to her.” Dick says to Jason before moving his fork towards his mouth. “Like a motherly figure or something.”

Jason snorts and Tim looks over at them, “funny. He’s got two of his siblings substituting as parental figures.”

Tim chokes on his food before laughing, “now that you’ve said it.”

Dick rolls his eyes and chuckles, “leave the kid alone. He got a shitty deal of parents.” Jason snickers but he doesn’t deny it.

Dinner finishes quickly after that, and they watch as you let Damian drag you away, Stephanie following closely behind. “You must meet batcow.” Damian says before leaning in closer to you, to whisper in your ear, “Don’t tell father but there are ducks in my room.”

You wink at him and nod, “our secret then.”

The rest of the night passes and Damian is asleep by the end of it. You find yourself back at the front door, slipping your coat on deciding to go home. “Leaving?”

You turn around quickly to see Dick Grayson, an amused look on his face and a small smile playing on his lips. “I am too,” he shrugs approaching you and reaching for his jacket. “I’ll walk you,” he offers and when you nod he grins outstretching his hand.

Nervously you take his hand in yours and let him pull you along towards the front door, “I know a great view.. I could take you?”

You smile and shrug, leaving the decision to him, “guess we’re going then. I’ll warn you though it high up and its Gotham so don’t expect it to be too pretty.”

You chuckle and he keens at the sound, he finds himself wanting to hear it again, and again, and again.

“I won’t get my hopes up then,” you smile up at him.

He grins and leads you out of the manor and onto the streets of Gotham, that coincidently happened to quite peaceful that night. He silently thanked Bruce for fucking up again, he wouldn’t get this chance if he hadn’t.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[ellethespaceunicorn]

You're Mine

Title: You’re Mine

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dark!Daddy!Geralt x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Prompts: Geralt of Rivia + Female Reader + Daddy Kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic, requested by @chibijusstuff

Summary: After coming back from a hunt, you find out that Geralt isn’t himself.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, pet names for Reader (little one, my sweet), Darkfic, dark!Geralt, drugged!Geralt, choking, biting, scratching, manipulation, Geralt rips Readers underwear off, non-con, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, memory lapse, bathtime as aftercare, cuddling, possessiveness, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: Unbeta'd, because I was impatient about posting this. All mistakes are mine.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

My Masterlist

You’ve been watching him for hours from your spot in a nearby chair as he kneels in front of the fire. The silver wolf's face on his medallion shines brightly from the flickering embers, suspended from his chest. The remnants of the potion in his system show themselves in deep, black cracking lines on his ashen skin that radiate from his closed eyes. He has never taken this long to shake off the effects of any of the mixtures he carries in his pack, and your concern is beginning to grow.

He barely acknowledged you when he came home in the early morning hours. He placed his swords in their spot by the door, shed his armor, and took his place in front of the fire to warm himself and meditate. The longer he remains in that spot, the more you wring your hands with concern.

You were but a commoner; you hadn’t much knowledge of the Witcher lifestyle before meeting Geralt in that tavern. And even now, Geralt wasn’t the most forthcoming with things he deemed ‘unnecessary for you to concern yourself with’, as he put it. You hadn’t the faintest idea of what was in his potions, let alone how to make them.

You only knew that he was usually back to himself by now.

Another thing you noticed was that his scent had changed. He tended to keep the smell of whatever beast or monster he had slain. But all you could smell were flowers, and more specifically, the aroma of tuberose.

Heady and exotic, the scent of tuberose is one you are accustomed to. Your mother would use tuberose oil as a perfume, saying it would lure in men with its sweet honey and warm spice combination. Your poor father had died years prior, and your mother barely waited for the dirt in his grave to settle before she was out with other men. But that’s a story for a different day.

Even though the oil performed just as she promised, you couldn't quite grasp why she never revealed the source of that unique blend to you. Of course, you called it magic, but she would always shake her head and say there was no way it was magical. She claimed it was a gift from an elderly beggar woman to whom she had once given a handful of orens. You knew well enough not to push any further, but that doesn’t mean you forgot that story.

Or that smell.

You were so in your thoughts that you almost missed Geralt’s grumbling. Your eyes returned to his face, and this time, his eyes looked at you. Gone was the golden yellow iris you had come to love, only to be replaced with full, black eyes. Black, like you never saw black. Nothingness.

Rising from the floor, he bares his teeth and growls lowly. You stand up from your chair and raise your hands in front of you.

“Geralt?” You attempt, moving backward when he takes a step forward. “Daddy...” you trail off as he smiles at you, a devilish grin showing his sharp canines.

“My sweet little one. Don’t you look delectable?” Geralt coos, crowding into your space as you are backed into the wall behind you.

His hands rest on either side of your head on the wall while he noses at your neck, no doubt smelling the fear-induced arousal that is shooting through your entire body.

“Daddy? Why don’t we take it slow? You’re not yourself yet-”

His hand flies to your throat, tightening at the sides. “You wish to refuse me that which is rightfully mine?”

“Geralt, I-”

“Ah, ah. Try again, little one,” he cautions, his grip on your neck ever sure.

“Daddy, I’m scared,” you breathe, tears falling from your eyes.

“I know. I can smell it on you,” he confesses, leaning back in to sniff under your jawline. He stoops to pick you up and brings you to the bed, lying his body on top of yours. He doesn’t waste time in rucking your dress up and pressing his clothed sex against your own. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

His voice, so delicate as he speaks to you, sounds like your Geralt. But those eyes, the way he takes without asking, and his smell only serve to repel you. It feels like your partner has been swapped out for a harsher, more unkind version of who he used to be.

His hand reaches between the two of you and rips away your undergarments before unbuttoning his pants so his thick and ready length can fall free. As soon as his shaft is uninhibited from its confines, he is pushing and prodding at your entrance.

Without preparation or care, he enters you swiftly. You aren’t given a second to adjust to his girth before he withdraws his cock and forces himself back inside you. By the third thrust, you are crying and begging him to stop. Your hands are balled into fists as you pound on his chest, his shoulders, anywhere you can land a blow.

He only laughs at your feeble attempts to thwart his actions. He also teases you when your body eventually betrays you.

“Look at you, being torn apart from the inside out, and your sloppy little cunt can’t get enough of it. Always so soft and warm for me. Stop fighting and take it, little one,” he soothes. His warm, rich voice invades your ears, and you cease efforts to push him away from you.

Once he has you malleable and compliant, he focuses on chasing his release. Unconcerned with your pleasure, he fists one hand in the sheets of your bed while the other tangles in your hair to expose your neck. Biting and sucking at your skin until blood is brought to the surface, he takes pride in marking you.

Soon, your neck and chest are littered with bite marks and bruises. You can feel every welt as he takes his time poking them as he drives into you over and over. His first orgasm is so intense that he lets out a feral growl, slowing down for a bit before it’s evident that he isn’t done in the slightest.

Realizing your fate, you begin to hyperventilate. Your chest is heaving as you inhale and exhale shallowly; you feel as though your heart could beat out of your chest. But only momentarily as Geralt leans down to speak into your ear.

“You’ve never looked lovelier than you do tonight. I can smell your fear; I can taste your panic. Just have to hold out a little longer for me, my sweet,” he sighs, nosing at your neck.

By now, you can feel nothing but pain from the bites, the scratches, and his relentless pounding into your battered and bruised heat. The stuttering of his hips is a gift, alerting you to his impending climax. You’d already given up on experiencing your peak.

“So close. I can feel it coming, little one,” he whispers, his voice strained and gruff as he forces his eyes shut. He thrusts into you one last time, his hips flush with yours as his cock paints your insides. Once he stops spasming, he lets out a heavy breath and opens his eyes.

You watch as he comes back to himself, the black veins disappearing from his face and his eyes returning to their golden hue. Frozen where you are, you observe the realization on Geralt’s face as he looks down at your marred skin and wet eyes.

As he relaxes just enough to pull away from your body, he quickly adjusts himself back into his pants and settles down onto his knees. He’s unsure of what to say; what can he say that would make this situation any easier? His eyes are drawn to where his semen drips from you.

“Daddy? Are you back?” you ask, your hands pushing your dress down over yourself as you sit up.

The sound of your tiny voice washes over him like a cold shower. He finally looks back at you, and a single tear falls from his left eye. As if a switch were flipped, Geralt appears smaller than before. He shrinks into himself, hunching his shoulders.

“I did this to you?” he guesses, nodding to the angry marks on your skin.

“Geralt, I think you were poisoned. What’s the last thing you remember?” you question, raising your hands to show him you mean no harm.

“The wyvern nest. There were druids; they surrounded me. I felt pain in my neck and then smelled flowers before everything went black. Next thing I know, I’m in bed with you,” he replies.

“You weren’t yourself, Geralt. This wasn’t you,” you insist, feeling the urge to comfort him.

“Poisoned or possessed, I am the reason you’re hurt right now. I could have killed you if I hadn’t come back to myself,” he frets, holding up a hand when you try to move closer to him.

“I’ve already forgiven you, if only you would forgive yourself,” you plead, trying to hide your distress.

“You should have a bath. Let me draw it for you,” he suggests, leaving you on the bed before you can say anything in response.

After he fills the wooden bath with enough water, he uses Igni to warm the water to your liking. He helps you into the water, washing your body and hair when you ask him to stay with you. When you are done, he helps dry your skin. You don’t exchange many words, and neither of you knows how to start a conversation.

After you are dressed in a nightgown, you climb into bed and pull Geralt in behind you. He reluctantly lays next to you, afraid that he will hurt you again somehow. Turning onto your side, you face away from him. You sniff, holding back tears and the lump in your throat.

Before you could clear your throat, Geralt was pulling you into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you, and he inhales your scent. While he can still smell the faint echo of fear on you, the most prevalent fragrance is overwhelming love.

You were pushing down your fear with all your might and thinking only of good moments of Geralt. Images of a smile pulling at his lips, your hands in his, and a stolen kiss cloud your vision.

You snuggle into his embrace, his body heat keeping you warm. He peppers kisses over your hickeys on your neck, lulling you to sleep. But just before you can give in to the draw of slumber, you hear his voice in your ear.

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” he whispers, laughing lowly. “You’re mine, little one. And I won’t let you escape.” His hand goes to your mouth, and you know your night is far from over.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this story. It took so long to write, but I am happy with what I have created here. Also, I feel like there are very few dark!Geralt or Daddy!Geralt stories out there. Is it because we don’t like these or it’s just too taboo? Let me know, cuz I could write more dark versions of this man.

[artificial-transmutations]

Your stories and images are beyond incredible. My favorite blog on tumblr BY FAR. Truly incredible work. I guess it’s kind of selfish, so absolutely so absolutely no worries, at the very least I got to tell you how much I appreciate and love your content. But I’m a short, nerdy, thin, art student in college right now. I’m tired of being in the closet, I’m tired of being a push over, Im tired of being weak and submissive, I’m tired of being a virgin, and I wanna change. Maybe you could help with a story by turning me into one of those jaw dropping beautiful confident men that you make the pictures of, I would very much appreciate it. But no worries if you can’t, I just love your content!

Confidence

Nathaniel sighed quietly, as he came over his hairless stomach. Of course, he had to be quiet! The dorm walls were paper-thin, and he certainly didn't want the guys from the neighboring dorm rooms to hear him. He looked at the website once more, with the story and the hot buff men before he closed the incognito browser tab and proceeded to clean himself up.

When he looked into the bathroom mirror, he sighed again, but this time, it was a sigh of sadness. There really wasn't anything remotely impressive about him. He was thin and weak, and pathetic really. If it wasn't for his lack of boobs and his sorry excuse for a dick, he could very well pass as a woman. In fact, he had been mistakenly called "Madame" more than once, and one time, he had even been asked "how his transition was going".

No, Nathan was a cis man, just not a very impressive one. He was gay, of course, and loved to look at 'real' men while jerking his small cock. Most of the time, he fantasized about some hairy brute rough-handling him, pushing his face against the bed and fucking his tiny ass into submission. However, even though the thought was exciting to Nathan, he even more wished to *be* such a man. The rational part of Nathan knew that both fantasies would not happen anytime, though. It was physically impossible to just *become* a 'real man', and it was impossible for Nathan to even admit to anyone that he was gay. So, he would probably just stay a closeted virgin forever - doomed to masturbate to some kinky stories he was so embarrassed about that he only dared to look at them from an incognito browser tab.

He sighed a third time when he crawled into bed. Perhaps someday he would accept his fate.

Nathan was already almost asleep when he heard the firework starting outside. Right. It was New Year’s Eve. What a way to start the new year.

The next morning, Nathan was feeling a bit better. Of course, his deep-rooted unhappiness still lingered within him, but Nathan decided to try and enjoy the day. He liked new year’s days. Everyone usually was at home after having celebrated the whole night which meant that the world outside was very quiet. Not much happened on New Year’s Day.

Nathan decided to go to a nearby cafe. There, with a steaming mug of hot chocolate next to him, he got out his drawing utensils and looked around the place. There weren't too many people. An older couple sat together, the man reading a book, and the woman reading a magazine, while an elderly lady sat at the counter. She was probably the owner. However, there was one more guy, a young adult like Nathan, who sat on a nearby table all by himself and was playing on his phone. He had his chair tilted back a bit, stabilizing himself against the wall and rocking a bit. He had earphones in his ear, so he was probably listening to music while doing so.

Nathan's first instinct was to draw the old couple, but then he looked at the other young man again. He looked a bit like one of those men from the internet, the kind that Nathan would fantasize about. Just a bit. The other man wasn't burly and muscular and assertive, but instead he had a lean, fit build. Nathan was a bad judge of character, especially without having spoken to the person in question, but the young man didn't look particularly assertive or dominant either. So, all in all, not too much like the men Nathan longed for on the internet. But still, he had a certain charm to him. Nathan liked the fit, lean body and the aura of positivity the man seemed to exude and wanted to capture that on paper.

Nathan began sketching the man, while occasionally looking up, making sure the man wouldn't notice. However, it was hard to keep his eyes off the guy. Every now and then, he would laugh a bit or make a funny face when watching something on his phone, which Nathan couldn't help but find very attractive.

He was just working on drawing the man's hands, when Nathan suddenly heard someone address him.

"Hey, what are you drawing?" The voice didn't sound rude or unfriendly, but plainly interested. Still, Nathan flinched visibly. The attractive man on the other table had removed one earplug and turned towards Nathan.

"Uh, sorry?" stuttered Nathan, not quite sure how to react. The guy pointed at Nathan's drawing pad and smiled: "You're an artist?"

Nathan could feel the blood rushing to his face. The drawing pad was tilted towards Nathan, so his unvoluntary model could not have seen what exactly Nathan was drawing. He could - no, he should - just lie and tell him he was sketching something in the room. But he just couldn't think of anything and the time for a good answer was running out. Almost involuntarily, Nathan stuttered, with his head red like a tomato: "Uhm, yeah, kind of. I was sketching you, actually."

The guy laughed a short and friendly laugh: "Really? Cool! Can I see it?"

Nathan could feel his heartbeat quicken, and his face got even redder. This was so embarrassing! But he couldn't very well refuse now, could he? So, he placed the pad flat on the table, just as the guy came over and sat himself down on Nathan's table.

"Oh wow!", he sounded impressed. "You're really talented! It's like looking into a mirror."

"Thanks" - Nathan hated getting compliments. Not only didn't he know how to react to them, but he also found them mostly fake. He was an art student, but he wasn't that good really, at least in his own opinion. In the dictionary, there was probably a picture of Nathan right next to the entry for "Imposter Syndrome".

"But why are you drawing me?" Although Nathan had feared that this question might come up, he didn't have a good lie to answer it. It was almost as if his mouth was acting on its own, when Nathan heard himself stammer: "Uh, eh, it's because I... I find you quite handsome actually. Good-looking I mean."

Nathan wished for nothing more than to be swallowed by the earth here and now. But to his big surprise, the guy just laughed again and said: "You think so? Thanks! The name's Oliver by the way." Oliver had, apparently, much less of a problem taking a compliment.

"Nathan." said Nathan and started to relax a tiny bit. However, the situation suddenly got even worse, when Oliver continued, in the same light-hearted voice. "Nice to meet you, Nathan! Are you into guys?"

Nathan froze solid. He hadn't expected that. And even worse, the answer was, of course, yes. But there was no way he could say that, was there? So, instead, he just stared at Oliver with his eyes wide open and a deer-in-headlights look.

"I mean, I'm gay - are you as well?" Oliver explained. "With the whole drawing dudes and all."

Nathan's brain had stopped working properly, so he couldn't help but nod and mumble a faint "yes".

Oliver's smile broadened and he said: "Really? Cool!"

Nathan's mind was racing. He had just admitted his homosexuality. To a complete stranger. Out of the blue. He didn't plan to come out that way, it just... happened.

A moment of awkward silence radiated from Nathan, but, thankfully, Oliver salvaged the situation pretty elegantly.

"Listen Nathan, I'll have to run now. But are you free tomorrow around 2? We could grab a coffee and you could show me some of your drawings if you like."

A spark of bravery, completely foreign to him, awakened in Nathan and he answered: "Y-yes. I think I would like that."

Oliver smiled another of his broad smiles. "Awesome! Let's meet here then tomorrow!"

With that, Oliver nodded at Nathan and left the cafe, putting in his headphone again while humming happily.

Did that really just happen? Nathan looked from the unfinished drawing towards the cafe door. Did he really just... got invited to a date? With a handsome guy named Oliver? Nathan wasn't sure whether to be happy or not. On the one hand, it was a miracle, a once in a lifetime opportunity. A cute and hot guy was actually interested in him! But on the other hand, there was no way he could make a good impression. How desperate had that Oliver guy to be to actually ask *him* out?

A small voice in his head insisted that he could just not show up tomorrow and avoid the whole disappointment. But the spark of bravery was still there, and Nathan fought down the feeling. No, he was going to show. If it turned out to be a disaster, he could still flee the scene - it wasn't like Oliver knew literally anything about him.

Nathan quickly packed his things and returned to his dorm room. Once he arrived, he noticed that he was completely covered in sweat of fear. His shirt showed wet spots under his arms and felt cold to the touch. Disgusted, Nathan immediately went for a shower. Only there, standing under the hot steamy water, Nathan could appreciate what happened. He got *asked out*. On a *date*. With a *guy*. Yesterday he had been certain he would die alone and lonely but then, today, he got *asked out*. Was this really a thing? Did it really happen?

He wasn't sure. He had a hard time believing it. Perhaps the whole thing was just a weird dream? A figment of his imagination. But no. The half-finished drawing was proof enough that Oliver really existed.

When Nathan exited the shower cabin, the whole bathroom was covered in steam, blinding the mirrors. Perhaps this - or the spinning of his thoughts - was the reason that he didn't notice that his hair had changed. Instead of his usual medium length brown-ish hair, he now sported a much shorter hairstyle - in a much darker color, almost black. Be it as it may - Nathan had other things on mind than checking his hair. He spent the whole afternoon and even the evening researching on how to make a good impression on a first date.

The next morning, Nathan slept in, which was pretty unusual for him. His whole frame felt weird, when he crawled out of bed. It wasn't too late, either - he had a comfortable 3 hours until the date. When he passed the bathroom mirror on his morning routine, however, he stopped for a moment. Something was... off about his face. His hair. It looked kind of... different?

Nathan stared at his reflection for a few seconds, straining his mind. Somehow, the shape of his jawbone seemed unfamiliar. And was his hair always that dark, almost black?

Finally, he shook his head. No, he was just seeing things. Of course, that was as it always had been. After having finished his bathroom business, Nathan went for a shower and prepared himself.

An hour later, he stood in front of the mirror, trying out a bunch of outfits and felt slight panic rising inside of him. None of his clothes fit very well, it was like he was cursed! It wasn't that his shirts and pants were much too big or much too small, but for some reason none of his clothes really felt comfortable. Both his favorite shirt and his usual jeans felt somewhat constricting today. Finally, Nathan just put on an outfit, and left his room.

When he entered the cafe, Oliver was already sitting there, two coffee mugs in front of him. He smiled, waved and gestured for Nathan to join him.

"Hello, Nathan!"

"H-hi." said Nathan, his nervousness returning.

"Here, I bought you a coffee!" Oliver pushed one of the mugs over the table.

"Thanks." Nathan was somewhat distracted by the ill-fitting clothes, and he could pretty much feel the nervous sweat practically pouring out of his pores.

"No problem!", said Oliver. "I was early, anyway. How are you doing today?"

"Fine." said Nathan and took a sip of his coffee, trying to hide his nervousness. He vividly remembered all the good advice he had read yesterday, but all that felt just impossible to him.

"So, you're an artist? What do you do?" Oliver asked with genuine interest.

"Well, I study art, I guess. I want to be a concept artist, you know, for games or movies or so. But, eh, right now, I'm just a student, and I'm not really that good."

"That's not how I remember it!" smiled Oliver. "Can you show me more of your work?"

Nathan nodded as he got out his sketchbook. Talking about his art was something he was comfortable with and allowed him to warm up somewhat over the course of the conversation. Oliver appeared to be quite a nice guy and had a lot of questions about drawing, so, Nathan, in turn, started to relax and talk more freely. He found out that Oliver was a veterinary technician and had a part time job at a dog shelter. That, combined with the fact that he was, in general, a really nice and positive guy, made him incredibly appealing to Nathan.

After the two had talked for a while, Oliver suddenly remarked: "You know, I really like your stubble! It really suits you!"

Stubble? What was he talking about? Nathan rarely needed to shave, but he had done so this morning, so, it was absolutely impossible that he should have visible facial hair. And yet, as he felt his chin, his fingers met with bristly short hair, so dense and long that there was no way he could have missed it this morning. Nathan found it strange, to say the least, but didn't want to make a scene in this situation. His spark of courage was a small candle flame now, as he just smiled while he felt his chin and said "Thank you!"

The two continued to chat a bit. While doing so, Nathan tried not to think too much about the fact that his clothes were, somehow, tighter than before.

Finally, Oliver's phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen.

"Damn, it's that late already?"

"What is it?", asked Nathan.

"Oh, the dog shelter. I have a shift soon, I need to go!"

Nathan sighed inwardly. He was really enjoying the date and didn't want it to end. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Olivers hand on his. It felt... good. Good and strange, like the texture of his own hand was somewhat wrong, somewhat rougher than before. When he looked up into Oliver's eyes, he found the other man smiling.

"I really enjoyed this. You are a wonderful person, Nathan. We should do this again."

Nathan nodded. He didn't trust his voice right now.

"How about... tomorrow?", Oliver continued. "There's an art exhibition in town, perhaps you would like to go there with me?"

Nathan's heart jumped a beat. He didn't have time or courage yet to go to the exhibition and the prospect of seeing Oliver again so soon was wonderful.

"I would very much like that", Nathan replied and smiled.

"Great! Let's meet there, say at 5?"

"Sure!"

Oliver smiled his beautiful, broad smile, and stood up, leaving some money for the coffees on the table. Nathan too got up, but before he could leave, Oliver stopped him with a warm expression in his eyes. "You know, I really think I like you a lot." He said, and his hand touched Nathan's somewhat bristly cheek. Almost automatically, both of their faces drew closer to each other, until their lips met with the slightest touch. It was a chaste, short kiss, but Nathan could feel Oliver's lips smile when they broke apart.

"See you tomorrow!", said Oliver and left the cafe.

Nathan's knees felt weak, and his heart was beating rapidly. There were a thousand feeling, all happening inside him at once and Nathan needed a moment to sort through them before he was able to move again. There was a part of him that couldn't quite believe what just happened, but the biggest part was just euphoric. He basically jogged back to his home, full of a never experienced energy.

When he arrived in his room, his body was feeling even weirder than before. All of his clothes were way too tight. It was not just that he felt constricted, no, the clothes actually were much too small. He quickly got rid of them, noticing that, again, he had sweated like a pig. As Nathan glanced down on himself, he could almost see that his body was somehow different. Fitter, healthier. It was probably just his imagination, though, caused by his ecstatic mood. He briefly considered taking another shower but postponed it to tomorrow. There would be plenty of time and Nathan felt really glad and tired for today.

Nathan woke up from two different feelings the next morning. First, he felt itchy and sweaty all over his body and was subconsciously scratching himself in his sleep. Second, and perhaps even more importantly, Nathan was experiencing a severe case of morning wood. His manhood was rigid and pulsating under his sheets and was begging for attention. Nathan had a hard time remembering when he last experienced such an urgent urge to jerk off. He wasn't sure, but the memories of their kissing yesterday came to his mind as soon as he woke up, so, he couldn't resist closing his hand around his hard cock and started pumping. His hand felt rough and big, and Nathan couldn't be sure, but both length and girth of his tool seemed increased, too. However, Nathan could hardly concentrate on that due to the waves of pleasure washing over him.

It didn't take very long for Nathan to shoot a big load onto his stomach, with a moan. It was a big and sticky load, too, mixing with the little dark hairs on his stomach and chest. Nathan blinked in post-nut clarity. Hairs? He didn't have body hair.

Nathan got up quickly and went to the bathroom. Something about his perspective was off, too. It was like the ceiling was closer than it was supposed to be, and the ground further away. Once Nathan had used some toilet paper to wipe away most of the cum, he took a look at himself in the mirror. There was no denying that he looked different. He was definitely somewhat taller and broader than before. He didn't have a scale, but he was sure that he had gained quite some weight as well - not only due to the increased height and broader shoulders but also because his previous stickman-like appearance had been altered quite somewhat. All over his frame, a lean definition was visible, hinting at muscles even. His chin was covered in visible stubble and there was a bit of body hair visible, mainly on his chest and stomach as well as peeking out under his armpit.

Speaking of which, as Nathan raised his arm to look at his pits, a certain smell reached his nose. A musky, manly, slightly sweaty odor that wasn't quite unpleasant but was certainly unfamiliar.

Nathan had a hard time wrapping his mind around what he was seeing. There was no denying he looked *good*. He just didn't look exactly like *himself*. And for some reason, this didn't bother Nathan quite as much as it probably should. He should be panicking or calling a doctor. People didn't just grow taller overnight or put on definition without working out. And yet, Nathan only felt a slight bit of curiosity and a weak impulse that he probably *should* work out then.

Nathan shook his head and went back to his bedroom. He didn't bother putting on clothing and tried to pass the time until afternoon. The only thing that he *really* regretted about his sudden changes was that his favorite shirt and jeans would definitely not fit anymore.

He ended up watching a bit of TV and browsing the internet, before he decided it was time to prepare himself. Finding clothes that would fit now proved to be quite a challenge, but in the end, he settled on a plain t-shirt and some cargo pants. He had bought both of them a number too big by mistake, which came in quite handy now.

Walking through the city was a strange experience. He felt good about himself and held his head high. Combined with the fact that Nathan's head was, indeed, higher than before, it was like seeing the city in a whole new perspective. Less looking at the ground and more looking straight ahead.

His new posture seemed to have another effect, too. Where before he had to avoid people, trying not to get in their way, now they seemed to be stepping aside for him, which was a foreign but not unpleasant experience.

Finally, he arrived at the exhibition and found Oliver already waiting for him. They greeted with a hug and a short kiss, both fully reciprocated by Nathan, and went inside. Although Oliver seemed to notice something was off about Nathan, he didn't mention it and apparently forgot about it quickly.

Today, Nathan found it much easier to talk to Oliver and brought up topics by himself.

The exhibition however was kind of a let-down for Nathan. Although he could judge on a rational level that the art presented here was really well-done and interesting, on a purely emotional level, Nathan found it mind-numbingly boring. The conversation steered away from the art quickly, and more towards personal matters, which was a relief. So, even though they didn't care much about the paintings around them, the two of them ended up wandering around the exhibition for hours, talking and having a good time.

During the date, however, Nathan was quickly experiencing an unfamiliar feeling. The company of Oliver was... exciting. Exciting on a sexual, primal level. Nathan's larger manhood grew semi-hard in his underwear quickly, so Nathan had to readjust himself more than once. At first, he was very self-conscious about it and tried to be as subtle as possible. However, with every push his cock needed in order not to be too obvious, Nathan actually cared less about who saw him readjust himself. He was a guy after all, and all big-dicked men had that particular problem from time to time.

Besides forming a bulge in his groin, however, his constantly semi-hard cock did one more thing: Nathan was leaking precum in his underwear. First, it was just a drop or two on an involuntary throb, but it quickly became more. His underwear was feeling damp before long, and a faint note of sexuality mixed into his still present smell.

After a while, Oliver even commented on it, in his usual upbeat way: "Hey, Nathan, I have to say, you smell pretty good. Are you using cologne?"

Nathan hadn't noticed his own smell too much. His first impulse was to apologize, but the burning campfire of courage inside of him quickly told him otherwise. Oliver didn't complain. In fact, he liked it.

So, Nathan answered with a grin: "Nope. That's just how I smell."

Oliver took another whiff of the mixture of sweat, dried cum and precum and smiled. "Well, I like it!"

Nathan wasn't quite sure how to react, and just said: "Thanks!"

The exhibition was closing down soon, and Nathan offered Oliver to accompany him to the train station, which he gladly accepted. When they parted, they kissed again. This time, it wasn't a small, timid kiss like before, but a long, sexual one that made Nathan's dick twitch like mad in the confines of his pants. Since their bodies were pressed closely together, Nathan could be sure that Oliver felt the movement against his own groin.

Only after they broke the kiss, Nathan noticed that he was now looking down on Oliver slightly. He could have sworn that Oliver had been slightly taller than him yesterday.

There was no telling on how the evening would have continued hadn't it been for Oliver's train to arrive just then. Before Oliver could board the train, however, Nathan grinned at him and said: "Dinner tomorrow? The Italian place downtown, at 6?"

"I would love that!"

They kissed again and Nathan watched as the train pulled out. Then, he went back to his dorm, whistling a happy tune. It didn't even occur to him that he had taken the initiative in asking Oliver out for a third date. The fire of confidence was burning bright inside of him.

When he came home, Nathan immediately stripped out of his clothes. Even the larger shirt had become somewhat tight. He took a short look at it. There was a wet patch under both arms from his constant sweating, and the t-shirt had adapted his smell. There was something else in the smell, though. At the chest region, there was a medium sized stain, machine oil from the smell of it. Nathan wondered briefly how he could have missed it this morning but then diverted his attention to more pressing matters. His cock was fully hard and was poking out from the waistband of his briefs. Nathan hadn't had an erection like that since puberty and, if he was honest with himself, the feeling was rather nice. Without hesitation, he closed his hand around his hard meat and gave it a few experimental pumps. A low growl escaped his mouth, and a shiver went through his body. He didn't want to go slow, he wanted to fuck. His mind was focused on the task at hand. He didn't even bother to close his curtains, as he went for it. Nathan was jacking himself off, fast and hard, growling and groaning, until he finally exploded all over his chest and face, shooting multiple loads of thick white cum everywhere.

As Nathan was catching his breath, the smell of cum was heavy in the room. God, he needed that. Ever since he met Oliver today. He wiped his face and chest with his discarded t-shirt and briefly considered if he wanted to take a shower. The smell emanating from him was rather strong now, but still, he didn't want to. Oliver seemed to like his body odor, and, if Nathan was being honest, he did so himself, too.

Nathan was woken by his alarm the next morning. As his mind came to focus, his hand reached for the smartphone automatically and dismissed the alarm. He yawned and stretched. He was really looking forward to today. Given, it was the last day before classes started again, but he was going to a third date with Oliver this evening!

When Nathan crawled out of bed and went for his bathroom, however, his body felt weird again. The muscles had become more defined over the course of the last two days and now, the whole body structure felt *strong*. The few hairs from before had become a small forest of body hair and the stubble had grown thicker. He still didn't feel the need for a shave, though.

Nathan wasn't quite sure about the whole situation. Of course, he was enjoying the change. On the other hand, ... No, fuck the other hand. This was great, plain and simple. He finished his morning business standing up while peeing, which he usually never did. But right now, it just felt *right*.

After that, he inspected his wardrobe. He had half-feared that he would need to go and buy new clothes, but apparently, overnight his wardrobe had changed as well. It was filled with sturdy cargos or work pants as well as simple shirts and the occasional overall. Good!

His underwear choice had also changed. Instead of briefs or boxers, the drawer was now filled with jockstraps. That made sense, of course - only a jockstrap would set his large dick in the right scene.

None of the clothes qualified as "clean". Sure, they had been washed before they went into the wardrobe, but permanent grease or oil stains had permeated the fabric just as Nathan's manly stink - both marks no washing machine could ever erase entirely.

Nathan grabbed one of the pants and smelled it. He couldn't help but smile. This was his smell. This was *his* smell. His manly, sweaty, dirty, horny smell. He even felt his ever-present dick twitch a bit at the smell. Nathan wasn't sure if he would ever get used to this new reality. Or if this even was the final reality.

The hours passed quickly. Nathan was keeping himself busy, playing games or listened to music. Not once did it occur to him to draw something or even look at his art. This new him wasn't particularly creative, it seemed.

Nathan's mind wandered back to the date this evening. He couldn't wait to see Oliver again. In fact, he couldn't wait for more than that. It was a third date and Nathan wanted to go all the way with Oliver. He wanted to take his ass and fuck it into oblivion.

At around 5 pm, Nathan stood in front of the Italian place, waiting for Oliver. When Oliver finally arrived, the two men greeted each other with a passionate kiss. Nathan could tell that the kiss was having an effect on Oliver, as his breathing was quicker than usual.

They went inside and sat down on a table. Almost automatically, Nathan's legs spread wide, taking up space, establishing presence and, most importantly, giving his equipment the necessary space. The *old* Nathan would have sat with his legs closed or even crossed, in order to not draw any attention to himself. However, the new Nathan didn't want to draw *less* attention.

The two chatted a bit, with the main topic of the conversation being the menu, before ordering. When he spoke, Nathan noted that his voice had dropped an octave, making his voice gravely and his laugh a low rumble. When Oliver had chosen, Nathan summoned the waiter and ordered for the both of them, his lower voice full of confidence. For Nathan, it was a large meat pizza and a beer.

"You know, I have never seen you drink before", remarked Oliver.

"I don't usually", replied Nathan. "But I thought I'd have a beer today."

"You're not driving, are you?"

"Na, I'm here on foot."

Oliver smiled his usual smile. "I'm here by car, so if you like, I can give you a ride home afterwards."

There seemed to be some subtext to this offer, but it went over Nathan's head. Not that it was necessary, because he had the exact same plans, anyway.

"Sounds great!"

A couple of minutes later, their pizzas arrived, and the two dug in.

"I really like your style, Nathan." said Oliver after a while.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, the way you dress. The way you talk. The way you act."

"Oh. Thanks."

Nathan thought for a moment before he added: "You know, I go by Nate these days."

"Nate, eh?", smiled Oliver.

"Yeah. Fits better, you know."

"I guess so. I like it a lot!"

"I like your style, too."

"What do you mean by that?", Oliver laughed.

"Just, the way you talk, the way you walk. Everything. You're cute, you know."

"Why, thank you!"

The conversation was definitely a lot more flirtatious than yesterday. When they had finished their meals, they didn't linger much longer in the restaurant but got into Oliver's car.

Nate proceeded to give Oliver directions to his home. However, at a certain crossing, he had to stop and think for a moment. He knew for a fact that his dorm was to the left. But he also knew for a fact that his *home* was to the right. Nate decided not to overthink it and directed Oliver to the right with a firm voice.

They didn't get very far from that point, when suddenly, the car stopped with a jerk.

"Damn, sorry!" said Oliver. "The engine is acting up again. It's probably too cold or something like that. I'll just try to start it up again."

When after the third try, the engine didn't start again, Nate laid a hand on Oliver's. "Let me try." he said with a confident voice and left the car. When he opened the hood, the problem became clear to him right away.

"The carburetor is a bit clogged, I'll unclog it real quick and we're ready to go."

While Oliver was staring at Nate in surprise, as the latter quickly and with trained skill removed a few parts and then, with a flex of his mighty arms, applied percussive maintenance to the part in question. After Nate had reassembled the engine, he cleaned his hands on his pants and got into the car again, filling out the passenger seat with his presence.

"It should work again for now, but I'll have to clean it thoroughly tomorrow. The thing is just old and worn down, it needs replacing soon. Just try starting the engine."

Oliver was still staring at Nate with a disbelieving look on his face. Finally, however, he tried starting the engine again, and the car did indeed start running smoothly.

"Wow, Nate, that was amazing! Where did you learn that?"

"What do you mean", grinned Nate. "That's what I do!"

Oliver stared at him for a moment. "Wait, you're a mechanic?"

"Yeah, sure, didn't I tell you when we met?"

Oliver seemed to think about it but then slowly nodded: "Yes, I... think so. Weird. I could have sworn..."

Nate shrugged and pointed down the road: "Shall we go?"

They arrived at Nate's place shortly after. He had a cheap apartment directly over the car garage where he worked. Nate did try to clean up a bit the afternoon, but the place still screamed "Manly bachelor" all over the place with the occasional beer can or jockstrap scattered around.

Neither of them had time to care, though. As soon as the door closed, the two kissed. It wasn't just a chaste, romantic kiss. This was a heated, passionate kiss, full of desire and lust. Nate took Oliver's body and pushed him against the wall, grinding their bodies together. Both were hard and their breathing was rapid. Nate's hands wandered up and down Oliver's body, squeezing and grabbing his body. His fingers were strong and forceful, and he squeezed the smaller man's buttocks and his dick with the same intensity. Oliver responded by moaning and pushing his groin against Nate's, humping him.

Suddenly, Nate broke the kiss. "Oliver, I... I want you. I want to fuck you."

Oliver didn't answer, but kissed Nate again, harder this time. Nate's tongue invaded his mouth, and the bigger man's hands were ripping Oliver's shirt and pants off him. Once Oliver's dick was free, it was enveloped by Nate's big calloused hand, and Oliver's breath hitched in his throat.

"Oh god, Nate, yes!" he moaned.

Nate had enough of foreplay, and he wanted to fuck, now. Without wasting any time, he quickly pushed his pants down and pressed his dick against Oliver's. It was massive, even compared to Oliver's not insignificant size. While Nate's balls were big and heavy, his cock was thick, long, and veiny, with a fat mushroom head. It was also rock hard, and the head was already drooling precum.

With one hand, Nate stroked the two cocks together, rubbing them and smearing the precum all over his dick and Oliver's. With the other hand, he pulled Oliver close and kissed him again, a long, sensual, passionate kiss, which made Oliver moan into his mouth.

The two stood like that for a while, but finally, Nate's need to fuck was stronger than anything else.

"Bedroom. Now!" he growled and dragged the smaller man with him. Once there, Nate simply tossed him onto the bed and followed quickly, his cock pointing up. He positioned himself on top of the other man and kissed him again, their tongues dancing in their mouths.

When the kiss broke, Oliver was panting.

"You really are a big boy, huh?"

"Damn right I am."

"Oh god, I need your big dick inside of me!"

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you?"

"Please! I've wanted to feel your huge meat in me for days."

"Fuck yeah. You're gonna get it."

Nate reached under his bed and produced a bottle of lube, which he applied liberally to his dick.

"You're ready?"

"Do it, big guy."

Nate placed the head of his massive cock against the tight pucker and started to push. Slowly but steadily, his dick invaded Oliver's ass.

"Oooooooooh god, Nate, yesssssss!" moaned Oliver.

The pressure around Nate's dick was unbelievable. Oliver was clearly tight, and the way his asshole was massaging his dick felt heavenly.

Finally, Nate's dick was balls-deep inside Oliver. Both were breathing heavily, and Oliver was moaning incoherently. Nate gave him a moment to adjust and then started moving his hips, first slowly, but increasing his pace quickly. Soon, he was slamming into Oliver's ass as hard as he could, pulling almost completely out and then thrusting back inside the smaller man.

"Fuck yeah! You like that? You like my huge dick pounding your tight little ass?"

"God, yes, Nate, fuck me, fuck meeee!"

Nate was groaning and growling, a sound that came deep from his chest and made Oliver moan even louder.

"Oh shit, Nate, I'm so close! Don't stop, please don't stop, don't st- ooooooooh gooooooood!"

Nate felt Oliver's muscles clamp down on his dick, and that sent him over the edge. He buried his dick as deep as he could and shot a big load of cum deep into Oliver's guts.

The two of them collapsed on each other, spent but happy.

A lot had changed for Nathan in this new year. He had gotten a new body, a new job, a new identity even. But most importantly, he had found love. Nate the manly mechanic sighed. If he were to describe his feelings, looking into the future, there was only one fitting word: Confidence.

I actually generated a ton (okay, 50) of images for this story. If you want to check out the alternate versions of the different stages of Nathan/Nate, check out my tip jar, where I posted them!

[aachria]

Wake up babe the attractive elderly, lore drops, and a WEDNESDAY CHAPTER are happening.

Fine I may have a thing for the hot old man. Just maybe. So here; Rayleigh art with ass colouring I can’t be bothered to fix, and ✨the tattoo✨ because be so fr. Of course I did.

Find the guy’s name it’s so fucking easy and I find it hilarious. I was NOT made for tattoo design AND YET. AND YET I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF.

Genuine ask what is Oda's deal with making strong pirates just dudes in ugly patterned pants with cape-ish jacket things and sandals. What is this blueprint. I drew real feet for this can you believe how far I've fallen.

Oh and. Just like so it’s out there. If you look at the compass from the orientation of the name, the long side points to the east. Which is fun to me specifically.

[baiwu-jinji]

TGCF author's notes translation

@/camilikha on twitter kindly provided links to TGCF author's notes and I translated the ones I find informative and interesting. See translations below:

chapter 58 notes: The second book is all about the overconfident Xie Lian with delusions of grandeur and the tender little flower (mxtx means kid Hua Cheng) and their diaries of the downfall of Xianle. Word count is undecided, I'm never accurate at estimating word counts anyway. It's just like the xianxia I write doesn't fit into your regular xianxia, the royalty I write doesn't fit into your regular fictional depictions of royalty - just the outlandish made-up worlds and social customs in the author's imagination...

chapter 60 notes: If we put Qi Rong in a modern context, we could say that he has bipolar disorder.

chapter 72 notes: about the chapter title "To Meet You in the Mortal Realm; to Find Flowers Beneath the Rain" - eventually I feel that "To Meet You" is more romantic than "To Meet Someone". Just think about it, "meeting you" is one of the most romantic things in the world.

chapte 80 notes: Of course (HC) won't give (XL) a handjob or help him [...], but Huahua's sexual awakening starts with this incident... (XL is seriously obssessed with martial arts combat!)

chapter 88 notes: Xie Lian never gets tanned, I envy him... I finally reached this place - in a dilapidated temple, a god about to be forgotten and a believer who's still young - this is the first mental image I have about this story, which drove me to wrote the story. I'm the kind of person who'd make up a whole book just to get to write a certain passage...

chapter 119 notes: Actually Huahua is just being naughty and wants to joke around playing dead, who'd have thought...

chapter 123 notes: So Black Water made his appearance long ago, he's been hanging around before your eyes all along. Wind Master never knew the real Mingyi, it's always been the same person before him - and before you readers. (Black Water) officially recognized as Best Actor of this story! I've been holding it a secret for so long and so has he, now I can finally let it out.

chapter 141 notes: If you heat up Huahua in the kiln, he'll grow bigger~

chapter 175 notes: "Hua Cheng! Your diary! We've read it all!!!"

chapter 229 notes: Huahua low-key sucking up to the elderly to make a good impression

chapter 242 notes: Why do you like to spook yourselves? - why on earth would there be such plots as (XL) waiting for another 800 years - too long, impossible! Happy ending is around the corner!

SVSSS is my first work so it has some exceptions that I won't discuss here, but MDZS and TGCF both only have one main couple. I said this repeatedly in the author's notes when MDZS was being serialized and in other places. As for Mo Xuanyu, he is a little gay dude but he died at the beginning of the story so he doesn't count as a serious character...It's fine to have headcanons you like as long as you don't seperate the main couple. But for me personally, my taste leans towards having only one gay couple in the story, and I have no plans to write about another secondary couple. I'm stating this to avoid some unnecessary disputes.

XL is good at making pickled vegetables. Because pickled vegetables are needed with steamed bun and rice porridge, so XL became quite experienced after practicing for hundreds of years. Also you can just leave the pickled vegetable by itself most of the time and let it undergo chemical reaction. XL mostly fail because he get inventive.

XL and Mu Qing chose the same path of cultivation and are both Daoists. But Feng Xin never studied under a master at the Holy Royal Pavillion so he's not a Daoist and simply a plebeian martial god, so he doesn't need to observe the celibacy rules like XL and Mu Qing.

My passion for inventing new dishes (or rather weapons) cooked by Xie Lian is only slightly less than my passion for making Huahua change into new clothes

Huahua often turn into human forms, in which he has two eyes, so you guys can stop counting the number of his eyes.

In the setting of this story, if you want to be a god,you need to be a human hero first, which means you need to be the best of the best among humans. Only heaven officials who ascended are real heaven officials and belong in the Upper Court. How do you ascend? Firstly it depends on your personal ability, you have to be outstanding in some aspect (such as martial arts or literary talents) to enter the path of ascension. Secondly it depends on luck, if you're extremely lucky and a favourite of fate, and just picked up some rare secret guides (to ascension) or immortal pills by the roadside, that works too. Officials in the Middle Court are appointed, which means someone in the Heavenly Realm could promote you to that position. But Middle Court officials have the opportunity to become a bona fide Upper Court official too if they're capable enough.

Black Water indeed owes Hua Cheng a huge sum of money and is a very impoverished Calamity, seriously lowering the income standard of the Calamities (although there're only three of them). But his debt isn't completely due to eating too much. As for the money Black Water owes, it's an ancient debt - 40% is the cost of buying gifts for heaven officials of Upper Court and planting agents there (bribery!), 30% is maintenance fee for his territory and expenses on pet food, the rest 30% is food (for himself).

Talismans are probably the equivalent of the business cards (of heaven officials)... "Hello this is my consecrated talisman" = "hello this is my business card"

You can't get rid of ghostly essence (which XL is tainted with because he spends too much time with HC) simply by brushing your teeth with plain water...you need to use consecrated spell water (which is super bitter and weird).

The weapon forged by a heaven official is called fabao (literally "dharma treasure"); if it's a weapon forged by mortal Daoists and monks, it's called faqi (literally "dharma tool") - only after their ascension can their weapons be called fabao.

In my imagination, Xianle ia the kind of small ancient kingdom that's overall culturally Han, but has peculiar customs...although I feel like what I wrote on Xianle is mostly just peculiar hahahaha [facepalm] [beat myself up]

Not only are the forms, customs, cultures, and politics of countries in this story made-up, the kind of arcane stuff like occult sciences and philosophical values are all made-up. Although I did research but the records I consulted are too difficult to understand, so I just made things up on my own. Please bear with me If you're knowledgable in this sort of thing hahaha.

Puqi refers to water chestnut.

Look up "Blood-Soaked Fire Social" (xue she huo) if you're interested, it exists in real life and is very thrilling. What I wrote is different from the traditional festival, there're some made-up elements to make it more exciting

[beddybites]

hi!! just a quick update:

yesterday i got a call that my dog has a malignant tumor, and long story short, has cancer. he is an older dog but a healthy one, and unfortunately it’s really just a waiting game with him, as we cannot risk treating him due to his elderly age

some of you are well aware of how much this dog means to me, as he has been with me for all my life, and ive always dubbed him as my best friend ): so of course this is a lot and im needing a moment to properly digest everything haha

on top of this im very sick, due to a number of things. i dont want to get personal or go into detail on my struggles, but im physically very weak right now :,D

and ofc, with the holiday season on top of everything else, social media isnt my main priority

all of this to say, heres what posts are gonna look like for a little bit:

• old art being reposted

• little sketches / doodles

i do have a couple projects like another couple animations and a whole psp au scene, but due to everything, im needing to put it on hold

my hope is that by the end of the holiday season i’ll have a better idea on my dog’s condition, and i physically will be healthier

ideally, these new projects will be posted in january… i was hoping along with some progress on my online shop & a patreon, but… life :,D

**TDLR:

theres a LOT going on with me, and i need a moment to gather myself, so any posts this upcoming week will be a lot of old art or simple doodles/sketches

as always im very grateful for your kindness and support, and i appreciate your patience with me!

smudge says thank you too!!

[barblaz-arts]

I haven’t sent any of the other messages, and this is the first time I’m even seeing your opinions on this matter as I’ve followed you for your Wenclair art.

I’m an Israeli citizen. On October 7th thousands of Hamas terrorists went into Israeli villages (on Israel’s territory) and raped, shot, beheaded, burned alive and murdered 1400 CIVILIANS. They kidnapped 230 more citizens into the Gaza Strip, including babies and the elderly (no idea if they are alive, as Hamas didn’t let the Red Cross or anyone else see them and REFUSED any deal to release them, despite all the lies they are spreading). Hamas uploaded videos of them doing these deeds, they were proud of them. We are still not done counting our dead, 3 weeks later, because of the state they were left in. We identify people by DNA pulled from pieces of skull tissue, by CT scans of burned masses of flesh showing parents hugging their children as they were burned alive.

A little bit of history. In 2005 Israel completely pulled out of Gaza, and handed it over to the Palestinians. In 2007 Hamas was elected to lead the Gaza Strip. This is an organization that in its charter says loud and clear they want to murder Jews. It’s not hidden, there is no question about it. They are proud of it. And since 2007 they have not allowed for an election in Gaza, they have stolen international aid money to build terror infrastructure and embedded themselves deep within their civilian population (just a few days ago evidence was provided that Hamas built their HQ under a hospital, specifically because they knew Israel wouldn’t bomb it).

The truth is, the pictures from Gaza are heartbreaking. The civilians are suffering and it’s making me sick. But how is Israel supposed to respond to the massacre of October 7th? Just pretend it didn’t happen? No country would. Israel isn’t targeting the civilian population though, unlike Hamas. I’m not saying innocent civilians aren’t killed, they very sadly are because war is horrible. But it’s always an accident, they are never the targets. Hamas is the target.

Israel has its part in creating Hamas just like the USA had its part in creating ISIS and Taliban. Still doesn’t excuse terrorism. Israel didn’t deserve the October 7th massacre anymore than the USA deserved 9/11. I hope that you can appreciate that.

The truth is, there are innocent civilians on both sides here that are suffering. Things aren’t black and white, and they never were with this conflict. And if you want to have a discussion I’ll happily talk to you privately, answer questions as best as I can. But only if we come from a place of mutual respect. If you want to block me, that’s fine too.

I do want to let you know while I can that your art is beautiful and made me smile on multiple occasions. I hope you continue it. And I wish you luck with everything and hope that we all have peaceful days in the future.

First of all. Gaza was not given to Palestine. Israel put them there and had Gaza serve as an open air prison.

You can't go around saying "Israel has its part in creating Hamas but it still doesn't excuse terrorism" then go around saying that this genocide is justified because "What else are we supposed to do after what happened in Oct 7?" What a double standard. You do not get to say that what happened to them makes you feel bad but say that you were left with no other choice. You dont get to say that Hamas being born from 70+ of brutality is still not an excuse to kill but also say Israel doing the same thing is justified.

Now, of course this does not mean that I side with Hamas. Never have, never will. I side with Palestinians, something so many Zionists cannot seem to comprehend, because they see killing them as one and the same.

Listing off those atrocities, though heartbreaking, as I will always mourn the innocent, still does not change my stance or how I feel. I feel like a broken recorder, constantly having to repeat that the civilians in Gaza did not do those and in turn did not deserve any of this. The hostages don't either of course, and the families of the ones still held captive are furious with their government for choosing to bomb them along with Hamas like some sort of sacrifice, like what you are implying the civilian deaths to be. Just unfortunate casualties for the greater good.

You can go ahead and say that only Hamas were meant to be targeted all you want, but they did not need to cut off their water so they're not even able to clean and defecate. They did not need to cut off power and render hospitals useless. And NO they did not need to bomb those same hospitals, even IF it were true that it was a Hamas base. And they did not need to use phosphorus bombs to do it. This has, and always will be about Israel's hatred of arabs and Muslims, as it was 70 years ago before Hamas even existed, as it still is now.

Tell me, if the past two or so weeks was really about Hamas, then why are these people mocking the civilians that are mourning their families' death as they starve?

None of this should have happened. Hell, you shouldn't even be living where you are in the first place. No one has any right to colonize. Whatever white supremacists or religious reason anyone says.

Of course this does not mean that I believe all jews or Israeli are as evil as the pieces of shit in that tiktok compilation or the powerful pile of dung that rule your country. There are Isreali and Jews protesting for Palestine as well, and I deeply admire them for their bravery and to feel compassion for the other side and act on it.

It's baffling how you're aware that Israel is responsible for Hamas creation but still, maybe not want it, but think all you can do is reluctantly accept the unavoidable. Because this was definitely avoidable. But your government actively wants this, and frankly I dont think it cares about you. It does not care about the soldiers they send out and the people that died and the hostages that were taken. They are using you as an excuse for more death and money.

"Those thinking of revenge should be ashamed," said by one of the survivors of Oct 7. And she is right. You are demanding the wrong things of your government.

And no, I will not be talking to anyone about this in my direct messages. Talking about it privately makes it feel like some debate to be won, when this shouldn't be a debate at all. The reason why I answer these kinds of asks is to make people aware of what is happening. I'm just some girl, I cannot fight for Palestine in any way that can directly save a life and I dont have the financial capability to donate, but I can do this. We can make those sick excuses of humans on top know that we know of their stink and we will not give it any excuse.

[bitethedevil]

Raphael going to a noble party of some kind, disguised as a human, in order to find and schmooze with current and potential clients. While engaging with one such individual who seems particularly taken with him, from across the room he spots Tav, for once not dressed in adventurer's gear but decorated with finery. The Hero of Baldur's Gate is so radiant that, at a glance, one could be forgiven for mistaking the mortal as an angel in disguise. However, like the cambion, Tav also has noble-born partygoers vying for their attention, asking (and more often than not being granted) a dance with the hero, and perhaps gossip of nobles approaching the hero with dowry proposals and attempts at wooing this illustrious guest begin to reach the fiend's ears.

Thank you for the prompt! <3 Super interesting. This is just Raphael being Raphael pretty much. It's not super edited so bear with me.

And to others who have also sent me prompts: I have gotten so many of them! I'm very grateful and I'll try my best to get to as many of them as I can, though I have already warned that I am pretty slow.

Revenge (SFW)

Viola Gist, an elderly member of the Gist family who had run the trade of dyes in Baldur’s Gate, was talking Raphael’s ear off in the corner of the grand ball room. Nobles from all over the city had gathered in High Hall for one of the city’s annual balls.

Raphael was dressed in his best as always and managed to fit in so well that no one ever bothered to question if he actually belonged to the nobility of Baldur’s Gate. It was an art he had perfected many centuries ago. He rarely needed an invitation to go anywhere.

It was even easier when he happened to know quite a few people there. There was not a family in the Gate that he had not dealt with at some point. The ones who knew what he was kept wonderfully quiet, for no noble wanted to confess that they had asked for the help of a devil to keep their place far above heads of the smallfolk.

In fact, Lady Gist’s late husband himself had been a client of his and his soul was currently stashed away in his House of Hope. It seemed that his wife had moved on rather quickly, with the way she was dressed and the looks she was giving Raphael.

He indulged her, of course, with his smiles and charming comments. Her soul was not worth much, but what could he say? He was a collector, and he did love the idea of having the full set. Was their son and heir as gullible as his parents, he could be tempted to swing by to get him too in a couple of years.

Viola Gist kept blathering on while he tried his best to look intensely interested in what she said. He already had her. He was sure that all she needed was the tiniest push to convince her to sign his contract. Lady Gist was interrupted by some commotion behind her. Raphael raised an eyebrow and looked to where people seemed to be gathering around something or someone.

“Oh, it’s her,” the elderly lady said with a sneer after looking over her shoulder. “Can you imagine that? She was barely even raised in the city and now that she has returned, everyone is fawning over her for her hand in marriage. Between you and me, she might have the Sashenstar name, but she is truly only a distant relative to the main family.”

“Indeed? What a shame,” Raphael said and smiled at her. “The men of Baldur’s Gate surely must have terrible taste to hunt for anything new and shiny when there is such a magnificent jewel such as yourself right in front of them.”

His flirtations worked like a charm. Lady Gist blushed and giggled like a woman at least 40 years younger than what she actually was.

“It’s kind of you to say,” she said with that shrill giggle of hers. “Furthermore, I have been raised like a lady. You would not see me traversing through the wilderness with strangers, killing creatures of any sort like some brute.”

An odd description, Raphael thought.

“A brute, you say?” he asked. “What is the lady’s name?”

Lady Gist looked like she was trying to remember.

“Oh, it’s some dreadfully simple name,” she said and looked at the floor as she was thinking. “I don’t recall. It’s that girl that saved the city, or so they say. Mav? Tav?”

Raphael’s eyes widened slightly.

“Tav?” he asked slowly. “Tav…Sashenstar?”

“Yes, her,” Lady Gist said and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture.

That was news to him. He had done so much careful digging on the adventurers back then, but the fact that the little mouse who had snubbed him of his crown was a noble had not come up.

He looked through the crowd over the Lady’s shoulder. There she was, being almost smothered by suitors, wearing a dress, looking…presentable. Raphael might not have recognized her had he not been told she was there. Her smile was strained but polite as she greeted the people around her. She was rather pretty when she was not dressed in shabby armor and her hair did not look like a rat’s nest, he thought.

He had not seen her for so long. He had of course heard about their success with defeating the Netherbrain and everything that had happened after. He also knew who the Crown of Karsus had been given to and how that had ended. Perhaps there was an opportunity here…

Tav looked over the crowd and her eyes fell on Raphael. Her eyes widened completely and the smile on her lips fell when she saw him. She immediately averted her eyes from him, acting like she never saw him. Raphael smiled widely.

“We will talk again later, Viola,” he said and kissed Lady Gist’s hand. “There is an old associate that I simply must talk to.”

Tav had almost forgotten about him amongst all the noise and all the people, particularly young men, who wanted to speak and dance with her. She was dancing with a young man who was her age. He seemed nice, but like all the others, he was dreadfully boring, and it was so painfully clear that he was trying to sell himself to her. She hated it. She hated all of it.

The music finally stopped, and she was freed from him. She smiled politely to him before curtsying. When she turned around, someone grasped around her waist and caught her hand as the next song started. She looked up and panicked. She tried to move away but Raphael’s grip on her waist was firm.

“Ah-ah, dear,” he said and began to lead the dance. “No reason to cause a scene.”

She was still staring at him with wide eyes and dug her nails into his shoulder as he lead the dance with complete ease.

“Why are you here?” she asked hurriedly with a frown while trying not to fall over her own feet.

“I am working,” he answered with a smile. “I would ask why you are here, but word travels quickly in these circles. It’s been a while, hasn’t it, dear? Does the noble life suit you?”

“I don’t need anything, and you are not getting my soul.”

Raphael chuckled deeply.

“You wound me, dear,” he said and spun her around. “Is it truly such an impossible thought that I simply wanted to hear how you were faring?”

“Yes,” she quickly answered. “I’m fine. I’m doing wonderful.”

“Splendid,” he purred with a smile. “Although…I am terribly sorry to hear about your little sweetheart. The God of Ambition, was it? At least it must be to some relief to you that one of you got what you wanted.”

She stepped down hard on Raphael’s foot. He groaned and tightened his grip on her.

“Whoops,” she said and smiled spitefully at him. “I’m still getting the hang of this dancing thing, I’m afraid.”

“Mm, yes. How clumsy of you,” he grumbled and then continued talking. “And now you are to be married to one of these fine men in here. Has anyone caught your eye?”

“You know I could just tell everyone in here what you are,” she warned.

“So no,” Raphael sighed. “Marriage…Such a dull concept, isn’t it? You have seen horrors beyond most mortal’s comprehension, beaten terrible odds, saved the world, and now you are soon to be a noble lady. Sitting pretty beside some fat patriar. Is that truly what you want?”

She looked at him with anger in her eyes. He knew the answer to his question, of course, but she was all too easy to rile up.

“I wanted him,” she confessed quietly with a frown. “That’s all I wanted.”

“And all he wanted was the crown,” Raphael said with feigned sympathy. “Now Gale Dekarios is a god of the Heavens. He got everything he wanted, and yet you lost the man you loved, and I the crown I craved for centuries. Poor us. Fate is cruel, my dear.”

She sneered at him. The song finally came to an end and Raphael let her go. He smirked at her and bowed. She headed straight for the balcony, grabbing a glass of champagne on her way. Raphael followed. She was not going to escape him so easily.

“You look stunning tonight, by the way,” she heard Raphael’s voice from behind her. “Any of these poor fools would be lucky to have you.”

She looked over her shoulder and glared at him.

“Piss off, devil,” she grumbled and took a sip of her champagne.

“I see that your dancing is not the only thing you will have to work on,” he said with a chuckle and leaned against the balcony railing beside her. “Those manners of yours are horrendous as ever. Hardly befitting of a noble lady.”

She leaned her back against the railing and looked at him with her arms crossed and a furious frown on her face.

“I know what you are doing, you know.”

“Oh? What am I doing, my dear?” Raphael asked with a wide smile at her.

“You are trying to lure me into something,” she said. “Trying to remind me of my past, what I lost, but oh you can ‘help’, isn’t that right? You can make it all go away and make me happy again, if only I sign my name on one of your contracts. So, I reiterate: Piss off.”

Someone was on their way out to the balcony. One of her suitors from the look of recognition in the young man’s eyes. Raphael snapped and made the door close and lock in his face without even looking over his shoulder.

“You have me all figured out, haven’t you?” Raphael purred. “No, Tav. I simply stumbled upon an old client who seems miserable with the way that everything has turned out. No matter how much you smile in there, you cannot convince me that this life is something you want.”

“It’s none of your concern,” she said firmly.

“Oh, but it pains me to see people like yourself drenched in so much misery,” he cooed with feigned sympathy. “And it is miserable, isn’t it? To be so close to greatness just to have it snatched away again and be forced to face the same old dreadful sense of normalcy in one’s life.”

It bothered her to no end to have him compare losing the Crown of Karsus to her losing the love of her life. She knew that a part of him was just taunting her for not making the choice of giving the Crown of Karsus to him, because things would have been different if she did. Gale would never have ascended if she had.

“We are not the same,” she said. “And I really do not need your shoulder to cry on.”

“Perish the thought. I am not pitying you. I am simply saying that we are not so different after all. We are simply…” he waved a hand as he looked for the right word. “Talking…Bonding. Isn’t that what your sort calls it?”

“Bonding?” she said and wrinkled her nose at the absurdity of his words. “Spare me your annoying sales tactics and get to the point. What do you want?”

“You,” he said casually and carefully caught her hand with his. “Not your hand in marriage, you understand, though I am sure the two of us could have an awful lot of fun together, and ambitious men do seem to be your type…”

When she did not remove her hand, Raphael smiled and snaked his other hand around her waist. He had her right where he wanted her, and his little theory had been correct: she was lonely, and she was desperate. He was almost salivating at the thought.

“I am proposing a partnership of a different sort entirely,” he purred and wrapped both of his arms around her waist. “One that can reignite that spark in your eyes and take you far away from this dull new life of yours. You won’t even have to give me your soul. You simply have to answer one little question…”

She was looking up at him with expectant eyes. She was interested and there was no doubt about it.

“What?” she asked.

“Your lover left you to pursue greater things,” Raphael stated and ran his hand slowly up and down her back. “You tried to convince him not to, but he didn’t listen to you. He left you here, all alone, forced to go back to a life you never wanted in the first place because you did not share his ambition. My question is this: do you still only want him, or is it something else you crave now? Is it love…or is it revenge you are after?”

Her breathing got slightly heavier as she thought, as if caught up in conflicting emotions.

“Revenge,” she admitted in a quiet voice after a while.

“Good,” Raphael purred with a wicked smile. “Then it is settled, is it not? I want the crown and you want revenge. You are possibly the only person he would ever let into the Heavens. We can both get what we want and let me assure you, I never forget those who helped me to power like your dear Gale did.”

“I’m not sure,” she said quietly as she looked up at him. “Gale is a god now. He might be watching over me. That could be a hindrance in your little plan.”

They were standing so close now and the way her eyes ever so briefly went to his lips did not go past him. He could easily give her a taste of that revenge she so desperately wanted, just to draw her in further.

“Indeed. He might be,” Raphael purred and smiled. “Should we give him a show then?”

Raphael pushed her further back against the railing with his body. One of his hands went to the back of her neck as he pulled her in for a kiss. She kissed him back eagerly. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she pulled him in further. It was a hungry kiss.

Raphael was no fool. He knew that it was all simply to anger her old flame, but that did not mean that he didn’t thoroughly enjoy her enthusiasm. They stopped when they heard a knock on the door to the balcony. They both looked and saw a group of nobles looking at them through the glass window.

Tav was blushing when Raphael looked back at her. He smiled and snapped his fingers to take them away to the House of Hope to further discuss their plans, away from the nobles and gods who might have been listening.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Beneath the Bookshelves | BakuDeku 🌶

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Katsuki Bakugo x Izuku Midoriya 💋

Summary: A humble repost of my work b/c I think this one flew a lil under the radar when I posted a few months ago! It's Class A's 3rd year at UA, and Bakugo & Izuku are 18 years old. Katsuki and Izuku have been hot for each other for years, but have never discussed it. Katsuki asks Izuku to accompany him to the library during finals week, and the two do some *studying* amongst the shelves.

Genre: Smut, Romance, S*xual Tension

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, hand jobs, dirty talk, teasing

💕Link to My Master List 💕

Beneath the Bookshelves

“Hey, nerd. I need something from the library – let’s go.”

Katsuki is leaning against the doorframe of Izuku’s dorm room, arms crossed. It’s a Saturday evening towards the end of the semester, so most of their classmates are in their rooms studying or training for the practical exams. Up until this moment, Izuku has had his head buried in his math textbook, trying desperately to wrap his mind around quadratic equations. He was just thinking about texting Ida or YaMomo for help when Katsuki appeared.

“Oh, hey Kacchan.” Izuku says brightly, looking up at his friend. Over the past 3 years of school, Katsuki has really filled out. He’s less wiry, more muscular and solid. His jawline is more defined than ever, and now sports a soft layer of blonde stubble. His mouth is set in its typical hard line, a sure sign that the young hero is in a bad mood. Izuku’s stomach does a summersault as he pries his eyes away from Katsuki’s soft cupids bow. “For sure, I could use a break. What do you need?”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s get going.” Katsuki jerks his head in the direction of the library and Izuku scrambles up to stow away his math books before following along. They walk through the dorm and out onto the quad in silence, Izuku looking at his friend quizzically.

It’s a nice night out – the stars sparkle up above them and a light breeze dances through Izuku’s recently cut hair. He’s feeling nostalgic as he looks at Katsuki walking ahead of him, watching as his friend angrily stomps towards the UA library building up ahead. How many times have they walked like this – Katsuki marching irritably, Izuku a few paces behind? He smiles softly as they cross the library’s threshold and the warm light of the building bathes them both in gold.

At this hour of night, the library is practically devoid of life. The only soul in the space appears to be the elderly librarian who sits sorting books at the front desk. They nod at her as they make their way towards the stairs and to the upper floors. Izuku pauses at the second floor, looking towards the math section. It’s their first final, so naturally he assumes that’s the sector Katsuki needs to visit. But he’s wrong – Katsuki rolls his eyes at Izuku and continues to stomp up the next flight of stairs. They continue like that – up, up, up until they are at the fifth floor.

The fifth floor of the library is an area Izuku hasn’t spent much time exploring. It’s where all of the oversized books are kept – the art books, the cookbooks, the graphic novels. It’s a space that, unfortunately, the Hero Course students don’t get to frequent. Sure, he’s taken a liberal arts course or two at UA, but the Hero course does not put much emphasis on the arts or culture. So Izuki is surprised when he sees how easily Katsuki navigates the floor and its various rooms, booths and study sections. It’s as if he’s been coming here consistently over the past three years.

The explosion hero leads Izuku to the back of the floor, past a few study rooms and rows of books. Finally, Katsuki looks over his shoulder at Izuku to ensure he is still close behind. The green haired boy is surprised to see a slight blush of embarrassment heating up his friend’s face. Katsuki stops in the architecture section, taking care to push a large shelf slowly to the side. Izuku is surprised when the shelf reveals a small, secret alcove hidden amongst the rows of books. There’s a red cushioned loveseat hidden amongst the shelves. Art and architecture books line the space floor to ceiling. An All Might plush blanket is folded across the side of the couch, and as Izuku enters the space he notices a few pictures and mementos stashed here and there within the shelves. It’s shockingly private and cozy.

“What is this place, Kacchan?” Izuku asks, running a finger along the book spines closest to him. Katsuki rearranges the loose shelving unit, effectively sealing them into the cozy space. Izuku is suddenly hyperaware of how alone they are. He feels Katsuki staring at his back, and a faint flicker of arousal zings up his spine.

“This is where I come to study and get away from all the damn distractions of the dorms.” Katsuki says, deliberately not looking at Izuku as he sits down on one of the loveseat cushions. Izuku looks back over his shoulder and drinks in his friend – Katsuki is sitting comfortably, his long legs crossed casually on the couch. He’s wearing baggy grey sweatpants and a tight fitting black band tee. He looks so casually gorgeous that Izuku feels his heart flutter up to his throat.

“I always wondered where you went off to when we had group study sessions.” Izuku says thoughtfully, peering over to look at a photo of Katsuki and All Might from their first Sports Festival. All Might is grinning and posing – giving the camera two thumbs ups. Katsuki is chained to the podium, the gold metal from the festival clutched in his angry jaws. Izuku reaches out a finger to trace across the photo, touching the photo Katsuki’s harsh jawline. He chuckles before turning back to his friend. “This place is awesome! You deserve a quiet spot with solitude. I know how annoyed you get when everyone is noisy.”

“Yeah. I can dish it out, but I can’t take it.” Katsuki grins, referring to his ability to yell and be a dick around their friend group.

“Thanks for showing me this place.” Izuku sits down next to him on the couch. He’s hyperaware of how his hand is just inches from Katsuki’s. “So what do you need? Did you forget a book here or something?”

Katsuki shifts uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I’ve been really stressed about exams lately. And this being our final year at UA, I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure.”

Izuku nods, he’s definitely been feeling the same way. The pressure and expectations of the future are weighing heavily on all of their shoulders this year. They are Class A – the class that defeated Shigaraki. The class that helped win the war. There are expectations for each of them – they are the new symbols of peace. At times, it feels like the weight of the world is resting upon their young shoulders.

“I understand.” Izuku says empathetically. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, I’ve been having similar feelings lately as we start to wrap up our first semester as third years.”

“There’s just so much happening right now. I wish I could slow everything down. Do some things over.” Katsuki is deliberately avoiding Izuku’s gaze now. He’s shifting uneasily in his seat, his hip accidentally bumping Izuku’s.

“What would you do over?” Izuku asks blankly. Katsuki ignores him.

“I brought you here because I kinda want to blow off some steam, and you’re the only one who I want to do it with.” Katsuki says, a rosy red blooming in his pale cheeks.

Izuku’s not sure if he’s hearing correctly. Katsuki’s voice has dropped a few octaves, and Izuku can’t imagine how they would possibly “blow off steam” in the cramped quarters of Kacchan’s hidden library den. Unless…?

Izuku turns to his friend, confused. “What do you - ?” But he’s cut off when Katsuki grabs him by the collar and pulls him into a searing kiss. Izuku did not anticipate this, and so he’s caught by surprise. He tumbles backwards with the force of Katsuki’s momentum and ends up awkwardly leaning against the arm of the couch. Katsuki is half on top of him and getting as close as humanly possible. His mouth is hot and wet and impossibly soft as it moves against Izuku’s with a ferocity that only Katsuki can dish out.

It doesn’t take long for Izuku to recover and then respond enthusiastically, throwing his arms around Katsuki’s neck and winding fingers into his soft blonde hair. Katsuki is kissing him desperately, mouth moving and sliding fervently against Izuku’s willing mouth.

“I’ve wanted this…for so….long.” Katsuki huffs out between kisses, his hand moving up to ghost along Izuku’s throat.

“Ah! Kacchan…” Izuku moans as Katsuki moves to kiss down his neck, carefully sussing out the most sensitive spots of Izuku’s skin. The green haired hero is in absolute heaven, enjoying each soft kisses and caresess that Katsuki is kind enough to share.

After a few minutes of desperate kissing, Katsuki realizes what an uncomfortable position Izuku is in. He pulls himself off of the One For All wielder and offers out a hand to Izuku. The green haired teen takes it, and allows Katsuki to pull him out of the plush couch until he’s sitting upright again. They both spend a moment catching their breaths before Izuku turns to face his friend.

“W-what was that?” He asks, breathlessly. His eyes zero in on Katsuki’s plush mouth, practically begging the explosion hero to get back to kissing him.

“I just need to do something physical right now to get out all my energy. And I’ve been wanting to kiss you for God knows how long.” Katsuki leans forward and kisses along Izuku’s flushed freckled face. “Let me keep going?”

Izuku nods, for once he’s not babbling. He snakes his hand up to cup Katsuki’s cheek and pulls the blonde towards him. Their lips meet again and he lets out a soft moan of contentment.

Katsuki brings his hand down to rest on Izuku’s chest, appreciating the toned muscle that’s taught even under his friend’s thick All Might t-shirt. He smooths his hand down towards Izuku’s waist, and dips it under the navy blue t-shirt fabric so that he can fully appreciate his friend’s washboard abs.

“Oh!” Izuku pulls away in surprise at the contact, not used to being touched in such a way. Katsuki takes advantage of the break in kissing and moves to suck and bite at the One For All wielder’s smooth neck. He continues to spread his fingers wide across Izuku’s stomach, sliding his fingers up to feel his strong chest. Izuku is absolute putty in his hands, melting into each touch and kiss. As Katsuki kisses down his neck he glances down to see Izuku is hard in his comfy joggers. Izuku’s cock is outlined clear as day in the thin material. Katsuki smirks and lifts his friend’s shirt up to reveal pale, lightly scarred skin.

“Take this off already.” He practically growls, helping Izuku to pull the fabric over his head. Izuku can’t get it off fast enough, he just wants Katsuki’s hands and mouth back on him as soon as possible.

Katsuki has seen Izuku shirtless countless times – in the locker room, in the dorms, in battle. And each time he’s caught a glimpse of his friend’s unclothed body he’s quickly looked away. Not this time. Katsuki just wants to look and look and look until his eyes no longer work.

Despite the criss-cross of scars across Izuku’s torso and arms, Katsuki thinks he looks absolutely goddamn beautiful. He wonders for a moment if he should say so, if that’s something that people do in these kinds of situations.

“You should take off your shirt, too.” Izuku says huskily, shaking Katsuki from his inner thoughts.

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki says challengingly, a bit more harsh than he intended. Izuku meets his gaze with a level stare. He’s gotten so much tougher in the past few years, his quirk lending him a newfound confidence that he had lacked in their childhood.

“It’s only fair.” The green haired man states, moving to pull Katsuki’s tight shirt off by the sleeves. He doesn’t fight back, allowing Izuku to whip the band tee over his fluffy blonde hair. Izuku’s bright green eyes grow wider as he’s faced to face with Katsuki’s rippling muscles. The blonde is a little more built up than Izuku, but not by much. Katsuki is almost ashamed at the way he goes red under Izuku’s thirsty gaze.

“Kacchan…you’re absolutely gorgeous.” Izuku says reverently, reaching out gentle fingers to caress Katsuki’s exposed flesh. He runs a fingertip down from Katsuki’s collar all the way to his bellybutton, and then bravely traces down the fuzzy blonde happy trail that disappears into his waistband. Katsuki shivers at the contact, having never been touched so lovingly. He bites back a smile.

“And what about you? Looking like a goddamn dream over there.” Katsuki pushes his friend into the couch and moves to straddle him, kissing every bit of exposed flesh he can reach. Izuku is laughing now, wrapping his arms around his friend loosely so he an enjoy the closeness.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do to you for a while…” Katsuki whispers as he lightly bites the shell of Izuku’s ear.

“What’s that?” Izuku asks, breathless. His eyes are hazy and he cups his hands around Katsuki’s cheeks and pulls his friend back into a searing kiss. Katsuki all but dissolves into the kiss, sliding his mouth against Izuku’s in the most delicious way.

“You taste so damn good.” He whispers in between kisses, bringing their mouths together again and again. He revels in the feeling of their bare chests pressed flush together. He can feel Izuku’s hardness collide gently with his own through his sweatpants, bringing out a breathy moan from his throat.

He gives Izuku a few more kisses before shifting to sit next to him on the couch once again. He slides his hand down from his friend’s neck, to his chest, and then down his stomach until he reaches the waistband of Izuku’s soft All Might branded joggers.

“I wanna get you off.” Katsuki hisses, sliding his hand on top of Izuku’s hardness and giving him a tantalizing squeeze through his joggers. “Shit, are you not wearing underwear? I can feel you right through these.”

Izuku’s face turns impossibly redder and he splutters out “I had no idea I was going to be whisked away in the middle of studying quadratic equations to hookup with my best friend! Had I known, I would have worn something sexier.”

Katsuki raises his eyebrows. “You own a sexy outfit?”

Izuku looks at him indignantly. “Of course. I own plenty of hot outfits. I exude sexiness at all times.”

Katsuki barks a laugh and slides his hand across Izuku’s clothed cock again, drawing a squeak out of his friend. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“I have, like, 5 other All Might shirts that are considerably sexier than this one.” Izuku manages to say, watching as Katsuki’s hand begins to trace up and down his length. This makes Katsuki belly laugh, he quickly runs through every All Might outfit he’s ever seen Izuku wear in his head.

“The Silver Age shirt is my favorite.” He says, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe up Izuku’s exposed neck.

“Yeah, that is a particularly sensual one.” Izuku grins and then lets out a harsh moan as Katsuki tightens his grip on his dick.

“You okay with this?” Katsuki whispers, all joking aside.

“Y-yeah. Only with you.” Izuku shifts to get more comfortable in the love seat, eyes transfixed on Katsuki’s strong hand. The blonde runs his hand along the edge of Izuku’s joggers again, ghosting a finger beneath the waistband. He brushes his fingers lower and lower, finally caressing the tip of Izuku’s dick with a delicate finger. Izuku makes an embarrassingly high sound in the back of his throat as Katsuki caresses his cock.

“Lose the pants.” He says in a hushed voice, tugging at the joggers with his empty hand. Izuku shifts his hips and makes quick work of discarding the joggers, they land in a heap on the carpeted library floor. Katsuki absentmindedly licks his lips as he takes in the scene - Izuku is now sprawled across the loveseat, stark naked.

The blonde hero can feel his heart beating incessantly as his eyes roam over his friend. In all of his fantasies, he never pictured Izuku looking this goddamn hot. He’s so toned and freckled and lovely. Katsuki sucks in a deep breath as he wraps his hand back around his friend’s heavy cock. Izuku’s biting his lip as he watches his friend start to work at his hard member. Never in his wildest dreams did he think studying would lead to this insane display of intimacy from Katsuki.

Katsuki has never touched someone else’s dick before, so for a moment Izuku’s hardness feels foreign in his callused palm. But as he begins to pump lightly at his friend’s member, he realizes this is really no different from pleasuring himself. He knows his way around his own cock, so of course he can figure out how to work at Izuku’s. He thinks through what he likes when he plays with himself and mimics it on Izuku. He works his way slowly up from base to tip, concentrating on the expanse of skin right below Izuku’s blunt tip.

“Fuuuuuck Kacchan.” Izuku groans out. Katsuki spares him a quick kiss, reveling in the way his friend’s adorable freckles contrast against his blushing skin.

“Yeah, you like that?” Katsuki says smugly, smiling at the way he’s making his friend arch into his touch. He suddenly has a thought. “Oh – hold on.”

Katsuki draws his hand away and Izuku cries out at the loss of contact. “I’ve got somethin’ that’ll make this even better.” Katsuki reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny bottle of hand cream. He grins sheepishly at Izuku, who recognizes the bottle as a specialty item the Support Course cooked up to keep Katsuki’s hands from getting too chapped from his explosion quirk. Izuku has seen his friend use the lotion on many occasions, usually on days when he’s stressed with sweaty palms. The lotion helps sooth the hero’s tough skin.

Izuku watches with wide eyes as Katsuki flips open the lotion cap and pours a small dollop in his open palm.

“I bet this’ll make you lose your mind.” Katsuki says, voice low. He closes the bottle and tosses it so that it lands on top of Izuku’s discarded joggers. “Now let’s see…”

Katsuki brings his hands together and rubs the lotion between them, warming it up before he reaches out to smooth it over Izuku’s hardness. The noise that escapes Izuku’s mouth as Katsuki begins to stroke him is sinful. The explosion hero grins mischievously as he works his friend from base to tip, hand gliding along the velvety expanse of Izuku’s cock.

“Kacchan…faster…” Izuku lets his head fall back onto the back of the couch, his eyes half lidded. Who is Katsuki to deny him? He speeds up the pace, feeling his own boner twinge with need in his sweatpants. This is literally the single hottest thing that has ever happened to the two of them.

Izuku is looking absolutely wrecked, and it’s turning on Katsuki more than he ever thought was possible. Izuku opens his eyes a bit and surveys Katsuki lustfully, his gaze tracing the heavy outline of the explosion hero’s cock in his soft grey sweatpants.

“Take off your pants, Kacchan.” Izuku slurs, punch drunk on the way that Katsuki is pleasuring him.

“Nah, I want to put all my focus on you.” Katsuki says almost sweetly. Even he’s surprised at how syrupy his tone has turned. But he’s so blissed out and fucking pumped that he’s finally getting some that he can’t help but let his happiness radiate into his voice.

“Pants off. Now.” Izuku sits up, authority slipping into his voice. For a moment, Katsuki almost forgot about how strong his friend is. The tone Izuku’s using calls back to his dark phase during the war. It causes a shiver to zigzag its way up Katsuki’s spine. He would never admit this, but he was so incredibly horny for his friend’s “Dark Deku” phase. Of course, Katsuki wants his friend to be healthy and happy. He would never want Izuku to relapse back into the emotionally repressed and exhausted vigilante that he once was. But the energy of Dark Deku was so intimidating, so feral. When Izuku dips into that strange and terrifying well of energy, it leaves Katsuki feeling electrified.

“You think you can boss me around Deku?” Katsuki decides to push his luck, throwing around the childhood nickname that he used to use to bully Izuku a few years ago. This elicits exactly the response he was looking for – Izuku sits up, eyes bright. Small flashes of green energy roll across his body in waves as he holds his quirk at bay. Izuku presses his mouth into a hard line, his brows furrowed. His hair stands on end with electricity.

“I said: Pants. Off.” Izuku intones, an untamed energy crackling around him.

Katsuki’s cock pulses at being bossed around and he quickly complies. He stands up and yanks down his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion, stepping out of them with practiced skill. His erect dick kisses his abs and leaves a sticky smear of pre-cum across his thick muscles. Izuku takes him in, licking his lips as his eyes all but devour Katsuki’s 7 inch monster of a cock.

The explosion hero shifts nervously under his gaze. Izuku is so turned on he’s not even trying to hide his interest in Katsuki’s fit body.

“You like what you see?” Katsuki asks, sticking out his chin defiantly and placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh, yeah. I definitely do.” Izuku says brightly, eyes shining. He looks like he wants to lick Katsuki up and down. He switches back to his devastatingly sexy vigilante voice as he says: “Fuck. Come here. I need to touch you.”

Katsuki rejoins him on the sofa and Izuku reaches over, hovering his hand above Katsuki’s leaking cock.

“Can I - ?” He asks, eyes flashing up to meet Katsuki’s as he waits for permission. Katsuki grins and reaches down, taking Izuku’s hand and moving to place it around his cock. He lets out a hiss of satisfaction as Izuku starts to jerk him off.

“You know, I’ve thought about touching you like this for what feels like forever. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this now.” Izuku babbles, letting his fingers roam across the expanse of his friend’s testicles. He gives him a light squeeze and Katsuki sees stars. “I’ve always thought you were so goddamn beautiful. Your face is so perfect. I love the way your chin dips into a sharp point, the way your hair shines like starlight when you’re flying through the air and activating your quirk.”

Katsuki’s heart squeezes at the words. “I didn’t know you were a fuckin’ poet.” He says, trying to posture. But it’s Izuku – the person who knows him better than anyone on Earth. There’s no need to keep up appearances. Not when his dick is in one of Izuku’s hands, and his heart is in the other. “That means a lot.” He amends, sighing as Izuku starts to pump at him slowly. They sit like that for a moment, eyes locked as Izuku enjoys the feeling of Katsuki’s hardness in his palm.

Soon, the green haired hero realizes that he needs some lubricant to keep the good vibes going, so he spits cleanly into his free hand before adding it to the mix. Katsuki gasps, his soul almost leaving his body as he watches Izuku slide two hands onto his cock. He twists them lightly in opposite directions, pumping as he goes.

“Have you done this before?” Katsuki groans, almost afraid of the answer.

“No.” Izuku says truthfully. “But I’ve imagined all the things I’d do to you if I had you naked. And this is one of them.”

“God fuckin’ dammit.” Katsuki throws his head back at the comment, letting out an easy moan as Izuku continues to pleasure him. “That’s the single hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Izuku’s smile shines throughout his face, his eyes beaming down at Katsuki.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” He says as he works at Katsuki’s balls again. “I’ve been wanting this for forever.”

“Beats me.” Katsuki groans as his friend tightens his grip. “Move over a little, let me touch you.”

They find a comfortable position that allows them to stroke each other in tandem. They’re both smiling stupidly at each other and kiss lazily. Eventually, the tension and pleasure becomes too great and they can’t concentrate on kissing. Izuku leans forward so that he can touch Katsuki’s forehead with his own in an intimate touch. They’re both gasping and breathless as they bring each other towards completion.

“You gonna cum?” Katsuki intones, speeding up his pace as he jerks off his friend. “I wanna make you cum.”

“K-Kacchan!” Izuku moans out quietly as Katsuki hits a particularly wonderful spot. Katsuki grins and uses his other hand to trace around his balls. He pulses them softly and the green haired hero cries out with pleasure. He tries to keep up a steady pace as he pumps at Katsuki in return, but feels himself getting distracted and sloppy.

“Come on, ‘Zuku.” Katsuki encourages, shortening his friend’s name endearingly. “Show me how good I’m making you feel.”

Izuku is feeling absolutely wrecked and over stimulated, fat tears leaking out of his bright eyes and down across his cheeks.

“Always fuckin’ crying.” Katsuki says huskily as he continues his brutal pace. “I love that about ya.”

At this comment, the build up of pleasure is too great for the One For All wielder.

He loudly cries out “Katsuki!” as he cums hard, thick ropes of cum leaking across Katsuki’s fist and splattering across his pale freckled abs. Katsuki smiles as he continues to pump at Izuku’s cock, pulling him through his orgasm and helping him to come back down again. Izuku’s hand spasms around Katsuki’s dick, bringing the explosion hero to the point of no return as well.

“Ah, shit!” Katsuki sputters as he finishes hard, white sticky cum flowing around Izuku’s hand like a volcanic eruption. He forgets to breathe as his lower body seizes up and then relaxes, pleasure coursing through his veins in a way he’s never felt by jerking off alone. They continue to pump each other’s cocks to completion until they’re both spent, sticky and over stimulated.

They lay there for a moment, naked and trying to catch their breaths.

“Fuckkkk Izuku.” Katsuki finally sighs out, hiding his face behind an arm as he processes what they’ve just done. “That was so fucking hot.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to pick up a math book from the library.” Izuku laughs out weakly. “You tricked me, got me alone, and then seduced me.”

Katsuki laughs at this – lightly at first, and then he’s laughing so hard he can’t breathe. He reaches out and pulls Izuku bodily towards him, interlocking their sweaty limbs and torsos as they both laugh and laugh, entangled in each other. When they finally calm down, Katsuki kisses Izuku’s cheek sweetly.

“You know I wasn’t expecting you to moan my full name there. What a treat.” He teases, noting the way that Izuku avoids eye contact at the comment. “Am I gonna get that treatment every time I make you cum?

“Every time?” Izuku says slowly, as if he can’t believe his ears.

“You didn’t think this was only a one time thing, did you?” Katsuki barks out a harsh laugh, pulling Izuku closer into his embrace. Their both smeared with cum, sweat, lotion and spit – each is desperately in need of a shower. But Katsuki couldn’t care less. “We’re going to need to do this at least ten more times.”

“Right.” Izuku says weakly, he can’t believe his luck. “We’ll need to do this until we truly master it. And that could take weeks.”

“Maybe months.” Katsuki says with a smile, mussing Izuku’s wild green hair.

“Years, even.” Izuku agrees, and he’s beaming. His face is bright and alight with joy as he turns so that he can kiss his friend on the mouth.

“You nerd.” The affection in Katsuki’s voice is so genuine, it makes Izuku’s heart squeeze with fondness. “You know you’re stuck with me now.”

“Always have been.” Izuku says easily, settling into Katsuki’s arms and letting his eyes slide closed as he basks in the afterglow. “Always will be.”

FIN.

[liminalpebble]

Stray (A Lokitty Tale): Winter Blues

Hi, my darlings, since we all could use a little (or a lot) of cozy emotional comfort during these difficult times, I wanted to offer you just a bit of Jotun Loki/Lokitty fluff. This does take place in the Stray universe, in the middle of the story, but you don't need to have read that series to read this.

For a quick, tl;dr summary: human lady in 70's Seattle takes in Loki (disguised as a kitty) after his D.B. Cooper stunt, adorable shenanigans ensue.

Here's the series link

Lokitty/Jotun Loki x human shop girl reader

cw: Talk of depression and loneliness (remedied, of course, by our favorite handsome icy boy). The biggest hazard is the tooth-rotting fluff. Enjoy.

“Come on!” you grumble to your elderly space heater, giving it an encouraging pat on the side. Luckily, the coils eventually rouse themselves into a faint orange glow. You breathe a sigh of relief and sit cross-legged on the floor of your apartment, staring daggers at the broken radiator which the landlord never really plans to fix.

The newly-adopted black cat pads towards you and immediately curls into your lap with a graceful slinky twist. You slide your hand gently over his silky fur, feeling the knots of your anger and frustration gradually loosen.

“Sorry, buddy,” you say to the cat, who fixes you with his stunning aquamarine eyes. “It's not usually snowing like this yet, or quite this cold. I guess the whole city is stuck inside.”

Loki gazes up at your face. Bathed in the warm amber glow, the contours of your cheeks, lips, and lashes look like a work of art to him.

She's so lovely. I hope some day I can tell her so...really tell her so.

But beneath your loveliness, he can see the circles under your eyes, the way you rub your temples and slump your shoulders, the way the growing darkness (literal and metaphorical) are weighing on you. You gather him up in your arms and sling an afghan around your shoulders, shuffling towards the window. He watches as a bittersweet grin spreads over your features.

“At least it's kind of pretty, isn't it? And at least I have you, little friend.”

He purrs contentedly as you scratch lightly between his ears on your journey to the couch. Loki watches with concern as your silence gradually turns into the telltale gasps and sniffles of tears. He flinches slightly as the salty drops hit his fur.

“Oh. Sorry, kitten,” you say, sniffing and swiping a hand across your cheek. “I just...god, I'm so tired and...and so alone. It feels like all the cards are stacked against me sometimes. My paycheck barely keeps us here...shitty as the place is. I'm just so frustrated, and tired, and angry, and afraid....and sad...and...”

You shiver. “And cold.”

His paw pats gently but insistently on your hand. You feel crazy even thinking, not for the first time, that it's as if he understands you. Those bright, clear, eyes seem so wise and perceptive. You'd swear he's trying to comfort you.

Sweet human. If only you knew how much I care for you. I'm the god of outcasts. Appropriate, I suppose, as I'm always being cast out...but not by you, my sweet human because you are special...unique. I wish I could hold you. I wish you could understand me.

And then, he considers a way. It's a way he's used cautiously only once before, uncertain of how it might affect his precious human, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He smiles to himself and nuzzles his velvety head against your arm.

Patience, human. Your savior is here, you just don't know it yet.

----

It's an absolutely adorable habit, your little naps in the evening. Or, at least, Loki thinks so. Sometimes, he'll even join you under the tattered old throw blanket to sleep against the undulating warmth of your body.

He joins you today, but not to sleep and not just to use you as a heating pad. The little cat pulls the blanket carefully up and over your shoulders by his teeth, ensuring that you're warm and comfortable (all the while cursing his lack of opposable thumbs). Then he settles himself in between the curve of your neck and shoulder, holding one delicate paw against your temple. A green glow shudders through the little creature and flutters around your head like glitter swirled in water.

----

Your vision is foggy at first as your eyes blink open. Initially, everything is a mass of pearlescent white and a pale aquamarine (a shade you could swear you know from somewhere). As your eyes open wider, and the fog clears, you begin to orient yourself to the sharpening view.

You're standing in the center of a clearing, in a dense snow-covered forest. It's a far cry from the filthy gray slush of downtown Seattle. This snow is a shocking white, glowing, even in twilight. The vast crystalline carpet unfurls beneath you as the sky above dances with northern lights. All you can think, for a long suspended moment, is that this place is ancient. You breathe in and it hits you; the complex aroma of pines and evergreens which have been there long before you were born, and somehow you know, deep in your bones, that this is a magical place.

To your surprise, you don't feel at all cold. Your body is swaddled in rich furs and draped in lush velvet, keeping you warm as you observe it all. Everything is quiet, draped in the muffling blanket of snowfall, and you feel your breathing quiet in kind.

The crunch of footsteps catches your attention as a figure moves gracefully, deliberately, towards you. It glides, back lit, from the inviting amber glow of a wooden lodge where candles sparkle and flicker in every window.

You guess that this mystery person must be over eight feet tall, broad-shouldered and sure-footed, striding through the ice and snow easily as a cape of regal black fur dances around him. As he nears, you see a pair of majestic onyx horns rising from a crown on his noble head.

Closer still, you see his skin; a striking cobalt blue moving against the snow, and his eyes; two crimson rubies cutting through dusk like stars.

Finally, he stands before you, and though you know you should be afraid, you feel only curious and struck by his otherworldly beauty. He acknowledges you with a bow and the sharp lines of his cheeks raise to show a wide, striking, smile. His teeth are as white as the snow itself.

Loki extends his huge hand to cradle yours and you feel your heartbeat kick up with the thrill of it. As it is so often with dreams, it doesn't occur to you to ask where you are, or how you got here, or who he is, or even if he means you harm. You simply trust this beautiful creature of a man before you.

“Come with me,” his deep voice invites, and you accept, taking his offered arm as if you were a princess at a ball.

---

He opens the enormous doors and steps aside for you to enter. The entire cottage (or really, more of a Viking longhouse, if such a thing were made cozy) was perfumed by a roiling fireplace, giving off a toasty, woody incense, like honeydust.

The stranger removes his hooded cloak and impressive crown. He smiles that same charming smile and runs a hand through his long hair, as black and shiny as raven feathers. It occurs to you that this regal being seems nervous, downright boyishly giddy, around you.

“Please. Make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing magnanimously to the plush velvet couches with their layers of warm furs and quilts. You nod and gladly obey, lulled and comforted by the heat as if sinking into a warm bath.

The giant returns with two warm mugs (one the size of a pot, and one of normal size) of something delicious and spicy-smelling, then settles beside you in the heat of the crackling fire.

“Thank you,” you say, reaching for the cup and enjoying it's warmth against your palm. Finally, your rational brain kicks in and you ask, “Where...what is this place? I'm...dreaming?”

He laughs, a deep rich baritone chuckle, and you think it might be the most beautiful thing you've ever heard.

“In a sense.” The corners of his crimson eyes crinkle as he smiles and says, “Your body is asleep, yes. But I'm real...this place is real.”

“And...not to seem rude, but you are...?”

He finishes a sip quickly and politely dabs at his lips before speaking, “Oh yes, I suppose this form must be rather...exceptional...to you.”

You sigh and nod with a smile, relieved that he was the one to address the elephant (or rather, the frost giant) in the room. Meanwhile, Loki thinks that this shy smile must be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I'm a frost giant...a Jotun. King of Jotunheim, actually...not to brag,” he says with a flirtatious wink.

He chatters on genially, careful not to give you time to ask his name. “I've brought you here because you deserve some kindness. You've taken in a creature quite sacred to us and cared for him diligently, asking nothing in return.”

You're about to speak but you're momentarily distracted by the beverage you've just sipped. It might be the most delicious thing you've ever tasted; sweet and rich and spicy. You make the rather absurd mental note to ask the King of Jotunheim for his mulled wine recipe. That thought alone makes you chuckle.

“What is it, darling?”

“It's just...all so strange and...wait, are you trying to tell me that my stray cat is a sacred creature?”

“Well, yes. All cats are. But that one is very special, in particular. Some day, you'll find out why.”

He sets his mug down with surprising dexterity, considering his size, and continues in a more somber tone. He takes both of your hands in his and scoots closer. He smells subtly of mint and pine, and his mere towering presence sitting beside you, curled around you, makes you feel safe, protected.

“I know that you are in need of some kindness, some hope, and I'm here to tell you there is good yet to come. There are splendid things yet to come. I know you're exhausted, sad, and frighted. It pains me to see it, but I know you're strong.

“I don't feel strong,” you admit, bowing your head toward you lap.

His long finger slides gently beneath your chin, lifting your face to meet his kind ruby eyes.

“Please, meet my gaze. It's a pity to hid that lovely face from my eyes.”

God, he's charming. Are all frost giants just oozing charm like this, or is it only their king?, you wonder, as your cheeks begin to burn brighter than the fireplace.

He wraps one strong arm around you and assures you, “Needing some kindness or help doesn't mean you are no longer strong. Everyone gets lost sometimes. Everyone stumbles and needs some tenderness occasionally.”

You give him a wry smile. “Even you, Your Highness? I find it hard to imagine that the world could make you feel small."

He laughs, then he kisses your hand in a gentlemanly gesture that has chills running down your spine; chills that have nothing to do with his slightly chilly skin.

“Even me,” he whispers as he strokes your cheek. The comforting touch melts you into his arms, into the comfort him, of this place, and you dare to put you head on his shoulder. He strokes your back and pulls a blanket more closely around you, then says lightly, “you know I'm actually a runt, for a Jotun. I often feel small. It's all a matter of perspective.” He breathes deeply and you feel the smooth waves where you rest against him. The sound and feeling join the crackle of the hearth in a sweet lullaby of sensation.

You close your eyes and whisper, “I wish I could just stay here.”

“Ah, but you can't, darling. I'm sorry. But you can visit. You must live your life because there is so much good yet to come. In the meantime, know that I'm your humble guardian, always.”

He sees the sorrow in your eyes and decides to ease it with humor. “Besides, who would feed the cat?”

You laugh, your face lights up, and it utterly melts him.

He moves in very gently and cradles your face as your eyes close in anticipation. Planting a light chilly kiss against your eager lips, he whispers, “Time to wake up, my dear.”

-----

You open your eyes to your lamp lit living room and sigh at the vivid memory of your lingering dream. As you stretch, the cat hops away from you with an indignant little chirp. How dare you remove his warm seat!

As a peace offering, you kiss his velvety head and scratch between his ears before rising to your feet. You know it was only a dream, but it's left you feeling better, more hopeful.

Silly, you think, silly brain...putting me on a date with the King of Jotunheim. At least it made me feel better, anyway, imagining some kind of magical guardian angel.

As you cross the room, still yawning, you stop in your tracks. Right before your eyes, the radiator softly tings and hisses into life, sending warm balmy air into the room after weeks of cold. You step nearer, gingerly, as if it might be possessed. How can it possibly be fixed?

On the coffee table beside it, There's a piece of rather fancy looking antique parchment with a delicate cursive skating across its surface. You hold it up to your face and read the title at the top.

Jotun Mulled Wine (courtesy of His Majesty)

A recipe...for mulled wine...from...

You feel the wheels of your mind trying desperately to gain traction and explain this, but you're interrupted by the cat, begging to be held again.

You oblige him, holding tightly to him like a security blanket. When his blue-green eyes meet yours, you finally say, “Well kitten, this is all pretty weird. I guess I found this earlier and forgot, but it sure did give me some wild dreams.”

As you walk to the kitchen, feline in tow, you say, “Christ, here I go, talking to the cat again.” You pause and smirk playfully to your companion, “Say, kitten...did you know that you're a sacred animal?

Well, obviously, Loki thinks, I'm a god.

You chuckle at his sassy mews as you cut carrots and begin to heat up a skillet.

“I love you, you cocky little jerk.”

I love you, too, pathetic little human.

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @primrosesposts @fruityfucker @arunabrak @mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @queenofstarsign85 @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @little-wormwood @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @coldnique @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @peachyjinx @mischiefmaker615 @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @madi0987 @buttercupcookies-blog @annoyingsweetsstranger @anukulee @aesonmae @salempoe @n3rdybirdee @litaloni

[midn310]

obscure

Your stay at Heelshire Manor was nothing more than a convenience. Having moved to England with the aim of getting a degree, the job came up as an opportunity to support yourself with something more than a scholarship.

Without a second thought, you applied and, as soon as you met Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire and their harsh rules about looking after their child and the house, you thought nothing could be more intimidating. That was until you met the "child"

The emotionless doll was treated better than any real child you'd ever met, but you wouldn't judge, the memory of the only child lost in an accident was the only thing the elderly couple had to cling to.

You were diligent with your tasks up to a point, but in the third month things got difficult. Your studies consumed your time and energy, in addition to the obligatory extracurricular activities of a poor scholar.

It's not as if you weren't trying, you tried, but the doll-related tasks became mechanical and less and less frequent.

That's when the storm began, you didn't believe in ghosts, but the dark antics of a doll were destroying the skepticism you had cultivated. The childish voices you heard weren't coming from a sleep-deprived mind, nor were the things mysteriously disappearing the result of forgetfulness or the daily rush to college.

Until one night, things got sinister.

One night, as she finished writing her essay, her tired body, fueled by coffee and cereal bars, almost didn't distinguish the sounds coming from the bedroom wall, imagining that they were just rats exploring the mansion in search of food (you should remember to put those damn traps back).

That's when the sounds increased, the sound of footsteps upstairs, too loud to ignore. Your mind went into alert mode, heart beating fast, as the fog of sleep disappeared in favor of your growing panic when you realized that SOMEONE HAD INVADED THE HOUSE.

While your sham experience of horror movies told you to stay locked in your room until the stranger managed to take what he wanted and leave, the other part wanted to check and protect the house, since you depended on your job and your bosses would blame you for some missing expensive pieces of art and the doll..... wait.

Shit, the doll! You'd forgotten it upstairs.

That's how you found yourself in that situation, an umbrella firmly in your hands staring at a man almost two meters tall wearing a mask similar to the face of the fragile little porcelain boy in his hands, the burn marks on his shoulder and arm leaving little to imagine.

You weren't an idiot, you just had to put two and two together and realize who that man was: Brahms Heelshire.

The adjustment wasn't easy, especially given Brahms' demanding personality. You really preferred the days when he was just reserved.

Even more so, you developed a strange feeling for him, and he seemed, as always, attached to you, so of course you would set limits, no matter how difficult it was to get close to him without scaring him and making him run for the walls.

But today is a totally different day from the others.

Brahms is more isolated than usual, you've only seen him during bath time and breakfast, it's almost dinner and he hasn't shown up.

Very worried about him, you decided to search the walls, vaguely remembering the places where Brahms used to disappear. You managed to locate one of the entrances behind the mirror in the room that belonged to you. A shiver ran down your spine as you imagined what Brahms must have seen you doing.

You decide to ignore the sensation in favor of navigating the narrow, dusty path until you find a light source, that must be where he is when he disappears, you thought.

Approaching with a determined stride, you stop abruptly when you hear a low, guttural moan.

"Y/n".

Shit, is that ......?

Curiosity gets the better of you as you move into the bedroom and see a scene that could only be described as debauched.

Brahms propped up in bed with a pair of stolen panties pushed up his nose while pumping his monstrous cock with one hand.

Faced with the perverse scene that was unfolding, you remained frozen. Just after a eternity, you moved your gaze upwards, only to be surprised by Brahms' bare face. But what gave you chills were his eyes.

Brahms was staring deeply at you, almost as if he expected you to appear. He wasn't the shy man you were used to seeing and now he certainly wasn't an innocent little boy.

That cold, dark gaze made your core burn with excitement and shame, both at having invaded his sanctuary at such an intimate moment and at Brahms' indecent action of moaning your name and jerking his cock in front of you.

And even after crossing your eyes with his, he didn't stop!

"B- Brahms, I have to go, I'm sorry". You were already spinning on your heels, nervous and ready to run under the covers and pretend it never happened, when Brahms cornered you with absurd speed, pinning you to the wall before you could process what had happened.

"I need you, Y/n, I heard you moaning my name that night, I see the filthy things you do".

For a minute your heart dropped, knowing now that your private nights had a fucking audience, and that the audience in question was the reason for your frequent attempts to relieve stress late at night.

"Brahms, I-I..."

"Tell me you want your pussy filled with my cock, let me taste you and fuck you until I make you forget that stupid delivery man." There you go. The reason you couldn't even imagine that triggered Brahms' dark and perverse behavior was Malcolm and his increasingly frequent attempts to get close to you.

You almost roll your eyes at how ridiculous that sounds. As if you cared.

You were about to retort, but the only thing that came out of your mouth was a confused moan as Brahms lifted one of your legs and rubbed his cock against your clothed core, the skirt you were wearing doing little to protect the friction against your panties.

And of course Brahms heard. The attentive, lustful look he gave you was nothing short of obscene and made your pussy moist and clench around nothing. You just wanted him to fuck you into oblivion

Throwing all caution to the wind, you grabbed Brahms' face and captured his lips in a needy kiss. The hungry, messy kiss turned into a section of heavy petting, but soon Brahms was tearing the clothes you were wearing to shreds, leaving you naked to his shameless gaze. He took off his own clothes in one swift movement.

You had little time to ponder Brahms' muscular body when he suddenly lifted you up and held you by the back of your knees. Fuck! Where did he learn that?

Any thoughts were interrupted when you felt that delicious cock rubbing directly against your wide-open, wet pussy, making you both moan with excitement.

"Please, Brahms. You didn't even know what you were begging for, but Brahms got the message, pushing inch by inch of his cock into your pussy.

You only had time to sigh before Brahms started pumping into you. Hard.

"Ah! BRAHMS!". The wet sound of you being brutally fucked echoed through the room, anyone passing near these walls would wonder what was going on, you hoped Malcolm wouldn't show up today.

His movements became more erratic until he couldn't stop himself, semen leaking out of you as he gave his last thrusts.

You hadn't come yet, trying to rub your clitoris in an attempt to relieve yourself, Brahms seemed to notice, pulling your hand away and carrying you to the bed, depositing desperate kisses on your neck and breasts, he didn't seem to get enough. Moving down your torso and onto your hips, he deposited warm veins and bites close to your wet core.

Brahms' first lick on your slit made you squirm, causing Brahms to hold you in place with his arms, a cocky little smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around your clit and started sucking you hard, washing your release and his own with his tongue.

The way he fucked you was hungry, Brahms was lost in your sweet taste, needing more and more. You felt your orgasm building strongly until you were hit like a train, rubbing shamelessly against Brahms' face as you descended back to earth.

Brahms licked you clean of your release, not wasting a drop, and worked his way up your body to your face, kissing you sloppily. You looked into the man's eyes through the mist in his eyes.

"Y/N, don't leave me". You were perplexed, the heaviness in your heart at the thought that this man thought you would leave him.

"I would never leave you, Brahms"

And you didn't.