#I'm not doing any of my little rituals or things that are good for my brain anymore

[cuntressgoingdigital]

abby knows how god awful you are at taking care of yourself. fortunately, she learned that just a little bit of help and subtle coercion will force you through your nighttime routine.

(aka bedtime domesticity with abby)

free palestine! click this link for more info

at night when you’re already cozied up under layers of blankets, eyes glued to your phone, she pulls you out of bed and gives you a piggyback ride to the bathroom to force you into your nighttime routine. to start, she carefully undresses you while telling you how beautiful you are and how happy she is after coming home to see her beloved. her days were long and stressful. she absolutely hated coming home late at night, only being able to hold your attention for an hour or two before sleep took over. 

“did you have a good day, baby? i missed you.” 

she’d keep you talking about your day and any other musings to keep you from begging to go back and reclaim your imprinted spot on your shared mattress. 

you lean back against her in the shower, feigning exhaustion so she can hold you up. in reality it was an excuse to feel the warmth of her skin against yours. 

“my poor baby. so, so tired.” her tone would almost sound patronizing if you hadn’t known her mannerisms. “you need me to do it for you?”

you’d nod and she would. the question was superfluous. the answer was always the same. she’d start by gently washing your face with a really expensive specialty cleanser she bought for you on nora’s recommendation. then, she’d use a combination of a washcloth and her hands to wash your body. she ran her hands along your collarbones to your shoulders, slowly moving downwards to your waist and hips. she knelt down in front of you, holding your thighs up one by one, making sure she scrubbed every inch of your body. 

while down on her knees, she couldn’t help but place a few kisses against your hips and thighs. abby always had to resist the urge to bury her face in your cunt right then and there. 

right now, she had a mission. 

these moments were mostly for you. she was a morning shower type of gal, but had no problem making sure you were taken care of, even if you didn’t want to.

after the shower she would take her time toweling you off, taking in your body like it was the first time she’d ever seen you unclothed. every time was the first time to her. she couldn’t get enough of you. 

the two of you would do the rest of your identical skincare routine together, a ritual she imposed as a ruse to get you to actually use the products you begged her to buy for you. while she brushed her teeth, you would undo her braid and carefully detangle her hair. 

at the end of the night she’d carry you right back to your spot in your dark room, pulling out a pair of pajamas for you. they never matched, something that bothered you for a while, but quickly got over knowing she would never hear out your complaints. sure, you could get your own pajamas, but it was more fun putting her to work. abby slept in the same thing every night, just a pair of boxer briefs. 

she was always the last to fall asleep, waiting to see your chest rise and fall in that familiar soft rhythm. until you did, she’d lay and watch your scroll on tik tok. abby refused to download any social media app, so you had to bookmark the videos to show to her at bedtime. the two of you softly giggled together shrouded in darkness.

abby glanced at the time, sitting up in bed to leer down at you. "don't you have to be up early tomorrow?"

"buuuuut, i'm staying up to hangout with you." you whined back.

it took a few moments for abby's face to soften with a defeated sigh "and tomorrow you'll wake up complaining about how sleepy you are."

"maybe." you reluctantly conceded. "but, what if i love you so much and want to sit and talk to you all night?"

"what if i love you more and i'll make you coffee while we talk in the morning?"

"fineeee."

wrote this at like 11pm while laying on my bathroom floor trying to convince myself to take off my makeup. love domestic abby #needthat !!

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I received a comment on one of my posts about how Solas and a romanced Lavellan aren't his most important or only relationship, and while I have been trying to work through the content we ARE given in the game (which is, unfortunately, mostly Solavellan focused and less expansive for Inquisitors who had a different relationship for him as far as I currently understand it) before moving on to other things I wish we'd gotten to see, I wanted to take a moment to emphasize that I do love and miss the connections forged in Inquisition. I look forward to seeing more posts delving into it once the initial torrent of emotions settles a bit.

I know that EVERYONE except Cole Greatly Disapproves at the end of Trespasser, but if Varric can overcome any grudge he had claim to against someone who (potentially) set in motion a series of events that killed his best friend, I like to think that even if we didn't get to see it in Veilguard, his other friends tried to help bring him home, too. Maybe in the form of helping out where they could, but at the very least through some meaningful little moments we could have gotten as codex entries (or can imagine for ourselves quite nicely).

My favorite is currently the possibility that in the skirmishes between agents of Fen'harel and the Inquisition (disbanded or not), little slips of paper get dropped/exchanged/found amidst the chaos.

Depending on your worldstate, Blackwall is potentially the king of "I made some REALLY bad mistakes, but exist as proof that with the right people around you, you can still do good." Solas admired him a great deal, and they had some of the best conversations in the game. I like to think he'd send letters both grand and impassioned as well as just short ones, maybe little updates on his life. "Helped an injured farmer repair his roof. Stayed for a fantastic meal. Never would have happened if I hadn't tried another way."

I know there was more to their relationship than chess, but I also would have loved if Bull and Solas exchanged a few more intellectual jabs through it. Solas wins, and wins, and wins, but I like to think that the closer we get to Varric finding him at the ritual, the more ground Bull eventually gains, until finally, panicked, Solas never sends an agent with his next move, and Bull knows he's faltering at the finish line.

And ofc I would have killed for absolutely any interstitial scene with a Cole who remained a spirit, arguably the character that understands Solas the most, talking to him in the Fade Prison. I think he really could have benefited from some compassion while he was busy manipulating Rook.

These are just my initial thoughts though. I know there's so much more that could be talked about (I'm still partial about a world in which Solas' worst nightmare in the form of Sera appears and for once they're on the same page because if he thought she annoyed him? Hoo boy is Elgarn'an even more susceptible).

Anyways. Yeah, I love Solavellan, but I love the entirety of his story and the relationships he formed, too.

[manyblinkinglights]

all the disposable public dive bars in vrchat have fucking BOUNCERS now, ppl with earnest piping little voices asking you to confirm your AGE?! before greenlisting you by username to let you use a door prefab to get in. what has the proliferation of api and moderation tools mcfricking wrought

[corvidiss]

#smile at people #a majority of the time people will smile back and you win Human Points #learn how to compliment people and do it often #Normalcy is a perspective that changes depending on who is looking but kindness and a positive attitude shows the same view to everyone #basic politeness with a little extra effort is amazingly difficult at times #but it goes MILES

Genuinely good advice from @aroace-get-out-of-my-face

can someone recommend some beginner normal behaviors for someone looking to become normal

[hairmetal666]

No one knows who writes the Hawkins High Tattler. It comes out every week, without fail, has for almost two decades. Everyone reads it, even teachers, even parents. It's caused more the one suspension, grounding, and even--famously--a shipping off to boarding school.

Steve's never let the Tattler get to him much. He's in it, of course, practically a new story every week. But it's just silly gossip.

Of course, Steve is also, currently, the titular Tattler, so. It's not like he's surprised when his name shows up.

It's his third year, his last year, and he knows everything that ever goes on at Hawkins High. It's pretty easy, honestly. Everyone thinks he's ditzy and vapid; nothing more than hairspray and polos. People will say anything around him, assuming he's not listening or not interested, and then bam. It's in next week's Tattler. No one even suspects him.

The confessions locker probably helps. Down by the theater, busted and unusable, the perfect place for people to leave tips, to tattle on their friends (or enemies, as the case may be).

That's what he's doing right now, checking the confessions locker. After 9:30 on a Friday night, the place silent as the tomb, perfect time for it. Pretty standard fare this week. The only thing of interest is that Eddie Munson was the person who broke all Ms. Click's pencils and left the stubs on her desk. This one, he laughs at, can't wait to publish it; can't wait to talk to Munson about it.

He gets a lot of stuff about Eddie. Most of it he doesn't publish because it's bullshit about satanic rituals--the nerdy kids he babysits play dnd, and there's no way Karen Wheeler is letting anything satanic happen in her basement--or about his sexuality, and one thing Steve doesn't do is out people.

Gathering up this week's submissions, he closes the locker with a soft clink, and he swears, swears he hears the squeak of a tennis shoe on the polished tile of the floor. He freezes, heart in his throat. Nobody has been here this late before.

Seconds pass but there's only silence. Confident he's only hearing things, he heads out, the parking lot just as empty as when he arrived.

---

He sees Eddie a few days later, when he's picking up the kids from the arcade. They typically exchange casual greetings, but as Steve waits, Eddie stands with him, offers him a cigarette.

"Read that was you who messed with Click's pencils. Good one."

Eddie shrugs, gives a little bow and a smile. "Happy to be of service."

"It was my class, when she found them. Never seen her so mad."

"No way," Eddie laughs. "Not even when Hagan drew dicks on all the textbooks?"

"Not even then, man. She was throwing pencil stubs everywhere."

"Fuck, sad I missed it." Eddie takes a drag, Steve's eyes following the movement, lingering on his mouth. Something warm and tingling builds at the base of his spine and he forces his gaze away.

"How long you in detention for?"

"I'm not. Swore it wasn't me, and Click doesn't want to admit she reads the Tattler, so. Not much they could do. "

"I've seen it sitting on her desk!"

"I know! She reads it when she has detention duty!"

They lean against Steve's car, laughing, and Steve feels good. This is good. He likes Eddie. He's funny and dramatic and smart and kind. He's not deserving of any of the mean things that get submitted to the Tattler.

The kids come streaming into the parking lot then, and Eddie stubs out his cigarette, says "see you around, Harrington," and Steve finds himself flushing for reasons he can't quite explain.

---

He starts seeing Eddie around way more. He's in school most days, smoking in the parking lot after the last bell, chatting with Steve in the hallways.

It shows up in the Tattler; big news that the King and the Freak are hanging out. Most of the submissions are about it, increasingly elaborate rumors about their supposedly deep, close friendship.

He wishes he could tell Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie invites him to smoke at the quarry. He doesn't hesitate to say yes, doesn't even bother to try ignoring the swoop in his stomach, the speed of his heart.

They sprawl out in the back of the van, Eddie's loud, raucous music pounding around them, sharing a joint back and forth.

Steve gets hazy, boneless, can't stop watching Eddie, the way his lips purse around the joint, his long hair glinting gold in the weak light of the camping lanterns, the pleased shine of his eyes every time he makes Steve laughs.

He likes Eddie so much. Everything about him, honestly. Butterflies ping in his stomach, happy and slow, and he thinks how nice Eddie's lips are, wonders how soft they must be. And he thinks--he's read the submissions, right--he knows the things they say about Eddie, and he wishes it was true, he wants--he wants--

He wants

---

Steve's running late to check the locker. Lost track of time at the diner with Eddie, and it's making him panic.

He stuffs the submissions haphazardly into the pocket of his hoodie, dancing with nerves, willing himself to grab them all and get out.

Locker emptied, he sprints towards the exit. He has a second to process someone barreling towards him in the dark, but he's going too fast to stop, can only brace himself as they collide.

It sends him sliding across the floor, Tattler submissions spilling out of his pocket like snow. He hits the ground, scrabbling for the papers, praying that whoever is here with him can't see them in the low light.

Hands grips his biceps. "Stevie, Steve, we have to get out of here" and there's a second where he's comforted by the familiar rasp of Eddie's voice before terror spikes again.

He pulls himself from Eddie's grasp, searching for any dropped submissions in easy reach. "Wha--why--what's--"

"I ran into Jason Carver and his band of idiots at the gas station. They're on their way to here to try to catch the Tattler in action."

Steve freezes. "I don't--that's not--I--"

In the deep silence of the empty school, they both hear the slamming of a door, a bitten off giggle. Eddie grabs his wrist and they run. Into the theater room, through a door Steve didn't know existed, to the backstage area of the auditorium.

"You should be safe here," Eddie says.

Panic spirals through him. "I can explain. I was just--I forgot a--I needed--"

"Harrington! I know, okay? I already know."

Steve can only blink at him, swallows rough in his throat. "What--Eddie, I--"

"I saw you. Weeks ago. Forgot my notebook in the theater room after Hellfire and had to run back for it. You were there, at the locker."

"You can't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to."

"No, Munson, you really can't. Nobody can know. Nobody--"

"Swe--Stevie, I promise. The secret's safe with me." He rocks back on his heels, chewing on his lip for a second before he continues. " I--I couldn't figure you out, you know? I saw you around with those kids and it didn't make any sense. King Steve, babysitting tiny nerds? But I saw you at the locker and..."

"You're giving me too much credit, man."

"I don't think so. You're never--fuck, Harrington--you're never mean. At least, not in the last couple years. You spread gossip, but you don't punch down, and you're funny as hell. Mean as shit too, but only to the people who deserve it."

His ears burn and he looks down. "Just because I have fucking--fucking editorial standards doesn't mean that I'm anything special."

Eddie scoffs. "Remember, Stevie, I was reading it a year before you were here. Cruel, vapid garbage. Always the most vile, pointless stories about people who couldn't defend themselves. And how many submissions have you gotten about me, for instance, that you've never used?"

Steve clenches his fists. "I would never--"

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. That's why I li--You're so fucking good, Stevie."

He laughs, ears burning. "I'm really not, Eddie. I try to write about fun gossip that can't hurt anyone too much, and nobody's found me out because they think I'm too dumb--"

Eddie reaches out then, fingers connecting softly with the edge of Steve's jaw. He can't help but lean into the touch, eyes flickering closed.

"You don't want to hurt people because you're fucking kind. You know how I know for sure? You must get submissions every week about me, and you've never once printed that I'm--" Eddie stops then, swallowing hard.

Steve's throat goes tight. He rests his hand over Eddie's, still holding his face. "Me too," he whispers. "Kind of. I like--it's both. For me."

"Oh," Eddie breathes, mouth lifting in a bright, beautiful smile that Steve can't help but return.

He's watching, sees when Eddie's gaze drifts his lips, making his breath hitch. He doesn't really think about closing the distance between them, slotting their mouths together in a tentative, gentle kiss.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you, Steve Harrington? Eddie asks when they part.

Steve blushes. "That's sort of the last of them."

"Sure. Next you'll be telling me you've played dnd."

"I have a character."

"What???"

"Human paladin. Dustin worked on it with me. Ready to get out of here?"

"Human paladin," Eddie gapes. "You know--you said--what's happening?"

Steve twines their fingers together, leading Eddie towards the auditorium exit. "Well, first we're going to walk out to my car and then we're going to my house, and we're going to look through Tattler submissions. Maybe makeout a little bit."

Eddie giggles. "What the fuck? Like. What the fuck, sweetheart?"

He turns to face Eddie, smile big and pure and bright with happiness. "If you're really nice to me, I'll let you help write this week's issue."

"Oh, oh. You're going to wreck me." Eddie mumbles, almost to himself.

"If you're lucky." Steve beams.

[lovelaceisntdead]

.

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 7 - Yandere!Fae King!Seonghwa + Queen & Praise

@stopaskinf Said: Yandere royal fae seonghwa with Queen and praise 🫶 A/n: I kinda went wild with this one.... whoops lmfaoooooo but in my defence, Hwa is one of my muses and this could have been even longer still... It did become longer lmaooo, I added more even after I originally finished this prompt cause I couldn't stop thinking about it. It's intense, but in a good way. All I'm gonna say is: Yan!Fae King!Hwa is a BEAST 🤭 Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Yandere, Possession, Monster Features, Minor Angst to start, Squirting, Oral (fem. rec)... There's a lot :) Word Count: 7,004 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

“My Queen,” A pleased hum escapes honeyed lips. “I’m so glad that you could join me.”

His eyes are sharp as they watch your every movement at the edge of the sacred pool. The crystalline water is as still as stone, even as a gentle breeze drifts through the surrounding forest. Behind him, a soft waterfall feeds into the spring, flowing from the surrounding cliff face.

Seonghwa’s long, wet hair is pushed away from his face, silver droplets of water beading against his skin. Dark eyes glint with affection as he meets your gaze, gently treading the water and awaiting for you to submerge yourself inside of the sacred pool with him. A ritual which he has waited far too long to complete with you at his side.

Cautiously, you dip a toe into the water. 

While Seonghwa has already stripped himself of any offending materials that would hide him from you, the only thing bare about you seems to be your feet. However, the moment your skin breaches the surface, you seem to grimace, retracting your foot and taking a small step backwards.

Seonghwa frowns, his head tilting slightly in concern.

“Why do you hesitate, My Beauty?” The slow trickle of water sliding off of his skin cascades into the pool below as he stands to his full height. The smooths planes of his chest are on full display, the depth of the pool just covering him below the waist as he slowly begins to make his way towards you. “Do you not wish to join me?”

“I do!” Your words come out a little rushed, eyes going wide. “I just-“

The way your voice seems to catch in your throat, whole body deflating as you sigh has his frown deepening.

“Is something the matter?” By now, he’s reached the edge of the pool. Tilting his head up, his dark eyes meet your own once again. Nothing but concern resides within. The way you seem to shrink further in on yourself the closer he gets only serves to make his heart ache.

Something is wrong, and he will do everything in his power to find out what.

Standing on that little ledge, you avoid his gaze. Your hands wring themselves together in front of your body, shuffling from foot to foot. Blinking, you exhale a soft sigh through your nose.

“Seonghwa,” Briefly, your eyes dart to his own before averting them to the side once more. “Why are we doing this?”

Your question catches him completely off guard. “What do you mean, My Love?”

You hesitate, pursing your lips.

“I mean,” You let out another soft sigh, turning your head to the side. “Why me?”

Seonghwa blinks. “Why not you, My Love?”

Again, you seem to fidget in your spot, refusing to meet his gaze. The way you remain silent sparks a memory inside of his mind. He’s only ever seen you act like this twice before, and each time resulted in him gladly lathering his hands in the blood of those vile creatures that sought to deceive you.

“Who told you more lies about yourself?” Seonghwa sees red, lips curling over fangs in a snarl.

Your eyes go wide, finally turning to meet his sharp gaze. “No one told me-“

“Who?” His voice booms out across the forest, a flock of birds taking off in the distance.

You flinch back, breath catching in your throat.

Immediately, his expression softens, features losing the intense shadows that have fallen across his face.

“I deeply apologize, My Love.” He reaches out gently for you, taking your hand into his own. “I did not mean to frighten you.”

You shake your head, your lower lip beginning to wobble as tears line your vision.

Painfully, Seonghwa’s heart squeezes in his chest. The very last thing he ever wants to do is make you fear him. He is meant to protect you. To hold your heart in his hands just as you hold his in your own. There is nothing that he wouldn’t do for you, and the last thing he ever wants is to make you upset.

“My Love, please do not cry.” With ease, he pushes himself out of the pool and onto the ledge you’re standing on. Water drips onto the earth as his arms surround you, your legs soon giving out as you both sink to the ground. “I would never forgive myself if I ever hurt you. The mere thought of anyone feeding you filth about yourself makes me want to tear apart their very souls.”

“I know, Seonghwa,” you hiccup lightly, wiping at your eyes. “I just-“

Your breath catches once more, and he brings a hand up to cup the side of your face. Gently, he guides your gaze to his, wiping at your tears as he waits for you to collect your thoughts.

“I still don’t understand why you could ever want me.” Your words are but a mere whisper on your lips, but it’s as if they are a loud siren ringing inside of his head. “I’m not like you. I’m not menacing, or powerful. Hell, I’m not even that pretty. I’m only human, and yet you want me? I don’t know why you’ve always been so adamant about me. I’m not anything special.”

The way you avert your gaze as you speak those final words has his heart aching inside of his chest.

Gently, he pulls you in closer, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek.

“My Love, will you please look at me?” Seonghwa keeps his tone soft, eyes flitting over every inch of your features as he studies you before him.

Cautiously, you flick your gaze over to his own.

“Would I ever lie to you?”

You blink, brow furrowing lightly as you sniffle. “You can’t lie.”

“My point exactly. I cannot lie. Nor would I ever want to when it comes to you.” He replies earnestly, staring deeply into your eyes. “Every moment you have spent with me, I feel as if I have been reborn anew. I could get lost in the way your mind stimulates my own. You aren’t afraid to tell me off when I’m being a ‘nincompoop’,” you chuckle at that, “and I could never get mad at you for that. You are the one person I could listen to without question. The one person who has touched my very soul. No one else can say that. You are my choice, and I would never choose otherwise. To me, you are perfect. Flaws you believe you have are simply what makes you, you.”

Your expression softens, a fresh onset of tears lining your eyes.

“I will never let anyone fill your mind with such poisonous thoughts. There is nothing I am not willing to do for you. If anyone so much as questions you, or doubts my choice, then I will not hesitate to dispose of them in the most brutal ways I know how.” Both of his hands are now cupping the sides of your face, forehead coming to rest upon your own. “So what if you are a human? You are still braver, stronger, more intelligent, and unbelievably more incredible than half of the fae that live under us. Not to mention how you’re the most stunningly beautiful woman I know.”

“There is no one else in this world that I would rather have as my queen other than you.” He tilts his head forward slightly, brushing his nose against your own. “Whether still human or soon to be fae, you will always and forever be My Queen. My one and only queen. The only one I will ever want. The only one I will ever need. I love you. I love you, and nothing - no one - will ever change that.”

Your breath catches in your throat, swallowing thickly as his words wash over you. The sincerity alone that you can see shining within his dark gaze says it all, and you cannot help the way your heart positively flutters.

“Seonghwa,” The call of his name is but a tender whisper upon your lips. “I love you, too.”

The curl of his lips upwards is nothing but loving as he brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. A moment later, and he closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you softly. The way your hand comes up to cup his own cheek has him humming against you, pulling you in closer.

“Now,” He mumbles out, flicking his tongue teasingly over your bottom lip. “Will you join me, My Queen?”

You pull away, wiping the tears that linger from your face. A soft smile rests on your lips as you trace your hand down his neck and lightly over his chest. “With pleasure, My King.”

The way he shivers beneath your touch says it all.

Leaning in to place one final kiss to your cheek, Seonghwa slides back into the sacred pool. His eyes never leave your figure as you stand back to your feet, gaze hooding over as he sees you reach for the hem of your shirt.

He licks his lips, cock twitching in anticipation.

Long since has he desired you. Long since has he wished for this day, and now that it is finally here, he plans on taking his time with you. No longer shall you doubt his affections for you. No longer will you question your beauty. Once he’s done with you, you will be his, and he will finally be yours.

“My Beauty,” he hums, noticing the way you seem to still hesitate to remove your clothing. “Never be afraid to reveal yourself to me. There is not a part you that is unloved by me.”

Subtly, your hands tighten over your shirt. A movement his eager eyes catch in the sunlight that filters through the surrounding trees. Seonghwa cannot help the way his breathing deepens, hands lightly skimming the water surrounding him in attempts to release some of the tension from his body. It’s taking everything within himself right now not to jump you, to tear your clothes from your flesh and ravage you like he’s long since desired.

His jaw clenches, cock twitching once more.

The slight hitch in his breath is audible even to you as you finally remove the material of your shirt. The way he’s staring at you, eyes dark and predatory, his chest heaving with every breath through his parted lips, makes you shiver. You cannot help the way you swallow thickly, shifting to cover your arms over your body.

A low growl escapes him, those same shadows falling over his features as he tilts his head the slightest bit forward. “Don’t you dare hide yourself from me, My Queen. I want to see every delectable inch of you.” 

A deep rumble fills the air. A tone you’ve never heard him use before with you. It makes you shiver, heart stuttering excitedly in your chest. You can feel your whole body heating as he continues to stare at you with such a ravenous hunger held within his gaze.

Slowly, you lower your arms.

“That’s it,” He purrs, sinking back beneath the water so that only his head is visible. “Do you have any idea how perfect you are?”

You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “If you say so, then it must be true.”

“My Queen,” A devilish grin stretches across his features, eyes glinting as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. “Would I ever lie to you?”

The soft upturn of your lips as you shake your head says it all.

Seonghwa’s grin stretches wider across his face, tongue flicking over the bottom of his fangs. Carefully, he kneels on the bottom of the pool, cock throbbing beneath the water. With every inch of your bare skin that you expose, his hands twitch, body beginning to shake in need. The longer he goes without touching you, without feeling your body pressed against his own, the closer his sanity gets to snapping.

The moment your pants drop, the material pooling around your ankles, a curse in the old tongue escapes him. He tosses his head back, eyes fluttering closed briefly as he takes a deep breath in in an attempt to steady himself.

His hand settles over his cock.

“My Queen,” The title is but a moan against his lips. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Slowly, he begins stroking himself, cock twitching in his grip. His eyes never leave your figure for one second, not wanting to miss a single movement of your body. Your bare skin beckons him, begging for him to touch, and cover you in his marks.

The small, bashful smile he can see playing at your lips has him squeezing his hand firmly around the base of his cock.

“Fuck- you’re so beautiful,” He pants, leaning back slightly in the water to admire you. “Just the sight of you alone makes me want to come undone. You make me so unbelievably hard, My Love.”

A soft giggle fills the air, setting his heart racing. He cannot prevent the low groan from escaping his throat as he sees you step in closer to the edge of the pool. The way your one hand comes up to slip a finger teasingly beneath the band of your bra makes his head spin.

“I cannot wait to have my hands all over you,” He sighs, eyes nearly fluttering at the mere thought as he slowly strokes over his cock. “I promise to show you a pleasure unimaginable, My Love.”

“You please me just by being you, you nincompoop.” You grin, toeing the edge of the pool.

“There she is.” A pleased laugh escapes him, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “There’s the queen I know and love.”

Slowly, you lower yourself onto the ledge, dipping your feet into the water. Your hands rest beside you on the rocks to steady you, glancing up to see Seonghwa stalking towards you.

The moment you submerge even just a part of yourself into the sacred pool, it’s as if the water becomes crystal clear. Your breath hitches as you catch sight of his hard cock practically throbbing between his legs, the tip an angry red.

“The feeling is very much mutual, My Queen,” He purrs, sliding his hands teasingly up the back of your calves. Extending his claws, he lets them dance along your skin before his fingers are hooking beneath your knees. A blink, and he pulls you flush against him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he rests his forehead against your own. “Your mere existence in my life is the most wondrous thing I have ever had the pleasure to experience.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, hands immediately finding purchase on his shoulders. His eyes seem to flash at your touch, shivering beneath your hold as you trail your fingers up his neck. Delicately, you cup his face, your breathing deepening as anticipation claws at your stomach.

A shiver caresses your spine as you feel him slide the claws of his one hand delicately up your side. Teasingly, he slips a finger beneath the band of your bra.

Seonghwa looks down briefly before darting his gaze back to your own. “May I?”

You nod, already feeling breathless just from such a simple touch. “You may.”

Without wasting a single moment, Seonghwa snaps the band of your bra. You barely even register how quickly he tears the offensive material off of your skin, the movements too quick for your eyes to follow.

A low, appreciative moan escapes him as his hands come up to cup your breasts.

“Fuck- you have such pretty tits, My Love.” He squeezes your flesh appreciatively, and you can feel the way his cock twitches against your core. Humming contently, he pushes them together, burying his face in your breasts and inhaling deeply. “You smell incredible.”

A pleasant shiver caresses your spine, hand coming up to thread lightly through his hair. A small smile toys at your lips, pushing your chest further into him as he nuzzles against you.

“All for you, My King.” You sigh, your eyelashes fluttering in bliss.

The low, rumbling growl that shakes his chest can be felt against your own. His dark eyes glance upwards to meet your own as his fangs flash.

“Mine.” He snarls, sinking his teeth into the swell of your breast, directly over your heart.

A loud moan escapes you, arching immediately into his touch. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging gently at the stands as you feel him growling against your skin. Your legs tighten around his waist as you feel him pull his head back only to begin laving his tongue over the fresh bite in the next second.

“Mmmh,” he hums, nuzzling your breast affectionately with his nose. “I can never get enough of you.”

Gently, his tongue flicks over the wound, staunching the bleeding with his magic. Tenderly, he admires you, thumbs beginning to circle over your nipples as his eyes hood over. Again, he squeezes your breasts, lips parting at the feel of them in his hands.

Rolling your hips against his own, you decide that two can play at this game.

The groan he lets out is music to your ears.

Finally, you release the hold you have on his hair, dragging your nails down the front of his chest. The way you feel him shiver beneath your touch has your lips twitching upwards smugly. Only, that smirk is immediately wiped off of your features as you feel him steal your lips with his own.

The kiss is desperate, his tongue delving into your mouth and needing to feel your own. His hips roll into your own, creating a steady pace as his one hand slips behind your back.

He pulls you closer, claws pricking against your skin.

“Do you have-“ he parts from you only briefly, “any idea-“ his fangs nip your bottom lip, “how long I’ve waited for this moment?”

His lips are back on yours, kissing you like you are the very air he needs to breathe. Slowly, steadily, he begins leaning you back over the rocks you rest upon, hovering over you as he greedily swallows all of your sounds.

“Long since-“ he pants, beginning to kiss down along your jaw, “have I dreamt-“ he nips at the skin of your neck, grinding himself against you once more, “of claiming you as my own.”

A loud whine of his name escapes you as you keen beneath his touch.

“That’s it, My Queen,” He hums, tracing his hands lovingly over your sides as he begins to kiss down your body. “Tell everyone who you belong to. Tell the universe who your eternal servant is. Cry out my name as I finally make you mine.”

You arch into his touch, eyes squeezing shut as you moan. His lips ignite a fire beneath your skin, tracing a path over the swells of your breasts until he wraps his lips around one of your nipples. Gently, he begins to suck on that pert little bud, his fangs teasingly scraping against the sensitive skin.

His cock throbs as you writhe beneath his touch, chest rumbling in contentment. His dark gaze watches your every movement, eyes locked on your every expression as he releases your one nipple with a wet pop. No time is wasted before he’s laving his tongue across your skin, eagerly moving to suck your other nipple into his mouth.

He hums, flicking his tongue over the pert bud.

Your hand returns to his hair, pulling him in closer against you as your hips shift against his own. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, and from the way you feel him smile against your skin, you can just tell that he can hear how it beats for him.

“My Seonghwa,” Your voice is but a pleased, airy hum. “My King.”

A snarl unlike anything you’ve ever heard before escapes him.

“That’s right, My Queen,” He places a final kiss to your nipple, grinning widely against your skin. “I am yours. I will always and forever only be yours.”

You practically purr down at him, eyes hooded in pleasure. “Mine.”

Seonghwa’s hips jerk against you, a shameless moan falling from his lips. His breathing deepens, low growls escaping him with every exhale as he continues to make his way down your body. His claws gently scrape against your skin, biting and sucking his marks into you as he slowly settles between your legs.

“I belong to you, My Queen.” The intensity of his dark gaze takes your breath away. “I always have, and I always will.”

Tenderly, he places a kiss directly over your clothed clit, humming as his eyes flutter in bliss. His fingertips trace up your thighs, admiring every inch of skin presented to him, and loving how you feel pressed against him. 

Turning his head, he begins to nibble at your inner thigh. Kisses are placed meticulously over such sensitive skin, tongue coming out to flick over each new mark he gives you. His touch is gentle as he settles your thighs over his shoulders, nuzzling closer and closer to your core as he slips his hands beneath your ass.

His eyes fall shut, inhaling deeply. A shudder wracks his entire body, lips parting as he begins to pant once more.

“Your scent is intoxicating, My Love.” A gentle confession as he noses along your clothed slit. His tongue darts out to flick against your panties, and he moans, whole body shaking in need. Not even a moment later, his eyes are flashing open, a desperation you’ve never seen before shining within. “Let me devour you.”

With those words, he shreds through your panties, burying his face between your legs.

The most guttural groan escapes him as he drags his tongue through your folds, the taste of you making his head spin. His grip tightens on your ass, claws pricking into your skin as he pulls you in closer to him. Lips press against your clit, kissing it gently before suckling eagerly at your precious little bud.

His hot breaths can be felt against your cunt as he rubs himself into you, his eyes fluttering with every drop of you he can taste on his tongue. For far too long he’s waited for this moment, and now that it’s here, he plans on savouring it. Not one part of you will go untouched - unloved - by him tonight, and as the sun arcs high across the sky, he knows that he has all the time in the world.

After all, he’s only just begun.

Slipping his hand from your ass, he guides his fingers up to part your folds. Eagerly, he thrusts his tongue into you as he opens you completely to him, his nose pressing firmly against your clit. He moans into you, swirling his tongue before he’s curling the muscle, flicking the tip against you as he presses in as deep as he can.

His eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your thighs beginning to tremble around his head. His nose slides over your clit as he drinks from you, desperately suckling every drop that pours from you and begins to drip down his chin.

Whimpers and whines of his name fall shamelessly from your lips, hand returning to tangle your fingers in his hair. The way you pull him in closer only causes him to let out a pleased snarl against your cunt. The feeling makes your whole body tremble, moans beginning to rise in pitch as he brings his lips back up to suckle on your clit.

Shaking his head back and forth a few times, Seonghwa begins to flick the tip of his tongue over your clit. The hand he has gripping your ass squeezes your flesh appreciatively once more, tugging you even closer to the edge of the pool. Carefully, he slides his touch along the underside of your thigh, slowly lifting his fingers from you to sneak them beneath the water.

A moan reverberates against you as he wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself in time with his movements over your cunt. His chest heaves as he squeezes the base of his cock. He's already so close to tipping over the edge from your blissful cries, to the way your thighs threaten to close around his head at any moment. The way you feel dripping down his chin, your sweet nectar bathing his tongue as your scent begins to cover him has his cock twitching, his own body beginning to shake.

You can feel a tight pressure building within your abdomen, your walls beginning to rhythmically clench around nothing as your thighs tense. Your hips begin shifting over his lips, grinding against his face in time with his movements over you.

“Fuck- My King! Right there-“ A broken cry escapes you, eyes squeezing shut as he continues to desperately suck your clit between his lips. “You’re gonna make me-“

A loud whine escapes you, moans falling in succession as you tumble right over the edge. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, whole body shaking as your back arches from the intensity of your orgasm. Desperately, your hands cling to his hair, fingers buried in his locks as you hold him to you.

A feral snarl greets your ears.

Without wasting a second, Seonghwa slips his tongue back down to your entrance. Only, this time, as he pushes the soft muscle into you, it doesn’t stop.

A scream of his name tears from your throat as you feel his tongue growing inside of you. The muscle thickens, the tip eagerly stroking along your sensitive walls as you come, your whole body shaking uncontrollably.

A stuttering moan escapes him, his eyes rolling as he buries his tongue within you. Finally, he no longer has to hold himself back, each exhale but a low growl as he feels your walls spasming around him. With every pulse of your warmth, every flutter of your cunt over him, his tongue grows, pushing deeper within you and filling you to the brim.

He jerks in his hand, deep, guttural moans reverberating against your cunt as he comes with you. The feeling of you surrounding him, of you crying out for him and him alone sends him right over the edge. His whole body shakes, heart close to bursting from how much love and desire floods his veins for you in this very moment.

Only now, he can never get enough.

“Oh… my fucking god!” You can barely prevent your eyes from rolling, that familiar pressure within your abdomen feeling as if it hasn’t receded in the slightest.

Whimpers and moans continue to fall from your lips, harmonizing along with his pleased growls as he massages the tip of his tongue against your inner walls. He seems to be drawing a pattern against your innermost sensitive spot, your breath stuttering with every press against you. You can feel yourself dangerously close to the edge once more, chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath.

The moment he presses his thumb over your clit, circling that swollen little nub as his tongue continues to work inside of you, you scream. Your orgasm crashes into you, vision going white as you squirt all over his face. Your grip is like a vice, clinging to him as a lifeline as your whole body shakes in ecstasy.

The snarl that tears from his throat is nothing short of feral as he feels you flood his tongue. His whole body trembles alongside your own, the intensity and meaning of this moment washing over him as he finishes spelling his name in the old tongue deep within your cunt. He can feel his cock throbbing between his legs once more as he guides you through your high, each whimper and whine you give him causing an insurmountable sense of pride to swell within his chest.

Gently, he continues to circle your clit with his thumb as he begins to slowly retract his tongue. The way your breath stutters, high pitched moans still escaping you with every minuscule movement over your cunt causes the corners of his lips to twitch upwards. His hands are soon back on your thighs, lightly stroking his fingers over your skin to help ground you as you come back down to this moment here in time with him.

Finally, his tongue slides out of you.

“You don’t know-“ he breathes out, voice ragged as his chest heaves, “how fucking sexy that was.” His dark eyes flick to your own, laving his tongue teasingly over your cunt. “I want to make you do that again.” He flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit, loving how your whole body twitches in response. “I will make you do that again.”

“Seonghwa…” his name is but a breathless whine upon your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, My Queen, especially when you come for me.” He hums, continuing to clean you with his tongue. Not a single drop is meant to go to waste, and he makes sure of that. “You did so well for me.”

A pleased sigh falls from his lips as his eyes flutter shut, savouring this moment with you. He tilts his head to the side, gently resting against your thigh for the moment as his hands continue to rub tenderly against your skin.

Turning slightly, he places a soft kiss to your inner thigh. “Are you ready to become one with me, My Queen?”

The way he looks up at you through his lashes says it all. Nothing but tender love and devotion is held within his gaze, amongst something much darker. Something primal that sets your heart racing, yet still makes you feel safe and secure held within his arms.

A tender smile pulls at loving lips.

“I would love nothing more, My King.”

Seonghwa wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace. Gently, he submerges the both of you beneath the sacred pool, nothing but your heads kept above the water. His grip is firm, one hand squeezing your ass while the other supports your back. The feeling of you wrapping your legs around his waist has his cock twitching against your core, a low, pleased growl escaping him.

Slowly, he turns toward the waterfall.

“I love you,” His hand comes up to tenderly cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin.

You smile, mirroring his actions. “I love you.”

Leaning forward, Seonghwa presses his lips to yours. His movements are slow, wanting to savour this moment, as well as the feeling of you in his arms. The way your bare skin feels pressing right up against his own is making his head spin, anticipation clawing at his stomach.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against your own.

A soft gasp escapes him as he feels you reach down between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand. His eyes flutter as you begin stroking him slowly, squeezing your hand over the head of his cock a few times before circling over it with your fist.

Lining him up with your entrance, you make sure you’re staring deeply into his eyes. Teasingly, you drag the tip of his cock through your folds, moaning lowly as you bump the head against your clit a few times.

His breathing deepens, eyes the darkest shade of brown you’ve ever seen as he stares intently at you. He doesn’t want to miss a single movement, a single expression you’re giving him as he prepares for the moment he’s been anticipating since he first laid eyes upon you.

“Become one with me, My King.” You breathe out, pushing just the tip of him against your entrance.

His heart soars, nothing but warmth and love flooding his veins.

“With pleasure, My Queen.” A low growl escapes him, tilting his head to rest his forehead against your own.

A soft gasp escapes you as you feel him beginning to push into you. The head of his cock parts your fold briefly before he’s pulling his hips back slightly only to roll them forward. With each movement, he sinks deeper and deeper inside of you, his hands squeezing your ass. You can feel his claws pricking at your skin, your arms settling around his shoulders to pull him in closer.

“You feel incredible around me.” He moans, chest heaving as he attempts to maintain some form of control over himself. “So fucking soft… and warm.”

A pleased hum escapes you, nudging his nose with your own as his eyes flutter. The way you can feel him practically pulsing within you as he bottoms out has your lips parting in a moan.

“Feel so full with you inside me.” You hum, fingers threading through the hair on the nape of his neck. “Like you were made for me.”

His hips jerk at your words, a devious smirk tugging at his lips. 

“I was.” His grip tightens on your ass, his hips rolling up into yours. “I was made for you, My Queen. To love you. To cherish you… To please you.”

Again, he rocks himself into you, grinding his hips against you as he presses you firmly against himself.

Your eyes flutter shut, lips parting in another moan.

For a moment, he admires you. Nothing but love and adoration can be seen in his eyes as he reaches up to trace a finger over the side of your cheek.

“Do you trust me?”

You blink, not even having to think about your answer as you smile so tenderly at him. “With my life.”

The moment those words escape you, his lips are on your own. His hands tighten over you, pulling you flush against himself as he kisses you desperately. The way your legs tighten around his waist only makes his chest rumble in content, tongue parting your lips and eagerly swallowing your every sound.

Slowly, carefully, he begins walking towards the waterfall.

You cling to him as he moves, leaning in to trace your lips over his skin. Teasingly, you nip at his jaw, flicking your tongue over his pulse and hearing how he moans in response. His breathing deepens as you clench around him, his cock throbbing deep inside of you.

Pausing just before the waterfall, Seonghwa meets your gaze.

“My Queen.” He growls out, eyes flashing as shadows fall over his face. “For all eternity.”

With those words, he submerges you both beneath the flow of water.

The sensation only lasts a few second, for he doesn’t stop there. You grip him tighter, expecting to feel the cool sensation of stone pressing into your back at any moment. Only, the feeling of being laid atop of something plush and soft has you blinking your eyes open in mild surprise.

“From now, until the end of the known universe,” Seonghwa’s soft voice reaches your ears, his hand reaching out to trace gently over the side of your face as he stares down at you so tenderly. “This place shall always be ours.”

Your breath catches slightly, taking in the sight of a small cave hidden behind the waterfall. Blue and white crystals glow softly, illuminating the interior of the space. You seem to be resting on a large bed of moss, various flowers of your favourite varieties littering the floor.

Nothing but tender love and affection can be seen in your gaze as you stare up at the Fae before you. A look which is mirrored in his own eyes.

“Just lay back and relax, My Queen,” He smiles down at you, standing tall. His hands slip down beneath your knees, pushing your legs up gently. “Let me take care of you.”

Softly, he rolls his hips into yours, fingers digging lightly into your skin. His tongue comes out to wet his lips, some strands of his wet hair falling over his eyes and framing his face.

A soft hum escapes you, purposely clenching around him as you admire every bare inch of his exposed skin. You can see the tips of his pointed ears peeking out from his dark locks, his dark eyes locked on your figure. The muscles in his abdomen tense, and you can feel him twitch deep inside of you as he rolls his hips into your own once more.

His fingers tighten on the backs of your thighs as his eyes flash. Not even a moment later, he’s pulling almost all of the way out of you only to thrust back into you sharply.

Lowly, you moan, eyes rolling slightly as you clench around him.

The corners of his lips quirk upwards as another sharp thrust is made.

“Fuck- Look at how beautiful you are, My Queen.” He moans, hooded gaze taking in the way your whole body shakes with each calculated thrust he gives into you. “You take me so well; I never wish to be parted from you again.”

His pace is slow, making sure to bury himself deeply within you with each sharp thrust he makes. Seonghwa is sure to watch your every reaction carefully before he’s trailing his gaze down your body. His lips part as he watches his cock sink into you with each thrust, eyes fixated on the way your delicate warmth sucks him in.

A loud moan escapes you as he rolls his hips into yours after a particularly sharp thrust. Almost instinctually, you reach out for him, only for him to meet you halfway.

In an instant, your hands are pinned beside your head, fingers intertwined with his own. His looming figure towers over yours pinned beneath him, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he grinds himself into you. The way your whimper catches in your throat has a devious, and a little unhinged, grin pulling at his features.

“I’m going to fill you so full of me, you’ll always feel the impression of my cock buried deep within this tight little pussy of yours.” A deep rasp is all that escapes him, setting a steady pace as he thrusts into you. “Gonna fuck you so full of my love you’ll never question me again.”

A choked gasp of his name escapes your lips, ending on a whine as he snaps his hips against your own. Immediately, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer as you squeeze his hands.

He squeezes back.

A wicked grin stretches across his features as he sets a brutal pace, fangs glinting in the light of the cave. The way your body bounces with each thrust into you makes his head spin, eyes eagerly drinking in every expression you make.

Countless moans and low curses fall from your lips. Your eyes are squeezed shut, head tossed back onto the earth as you feel him hitting that special spot deep within you with every thrust. You can feel that all too familiar pressure building within, and you gladly give yourself over to the feeling.

“You’re the most breathtaking sight I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.” He growls, leaning in to lick up the side of your neck. “I could never get tired of such an earth shattering beauty beneath me.”

“Seonghwa-“ Your breath catches, a long moan escaping you as you arch into his touch.

“Come for me.” His voice is but a snarling command, desperate as he meets your gaze. “Come for me, My Queen. Let me feel you claiming this cock as I claim you.”

Seonghwa releases his hold on your one hand in order to slip his between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit, circling that little swollen nub as he pounds into you. Nothing but rumbling growls escape him with every exhale, begging you to fall apart for him as he pleases you with everything he is.

With one final flick over your clit, you scream his name.

The fingers you have still intertwined with his own cling to his hand as a life line. Your back arches from the earth, whole body shaking violently as your orgasm washes over you. High pitched whines and whimpers escape you, chanting his name like a mantra as you squeeze around him, thighs trembling as you hold him to you.

The moment he feels you clenching around him, his cock twitches. Seeing you come undone beneath him like this sends him right over the edge, and with one final thrust, he’s burying himself deep within you.

A loud moan of your name escapes him, chanting your title like a prayer as spurt after spurt of come escapes him. The way he can feel your combined releases leaking out of you and dripping onto his balls makes his head spin, his thumb still circling languidly over your clit.

He needs to make sure he’s providing nothing but the utmost pleasure to you that you can conceive of. He needs to see you falling apart again, and again, and again.

After all, His Queen deserves nothing but the best from Her King.

Slowly, you begin to calm down. You chest heaves, thighs still twitching as you feel him finally still his thumb over your clit. The way he presses his finger against that swollen little nub causes you to clench, whining from the pressure.

A deep chuckle reverberates from within his chest, his lips pressing softly against your own. Finally, he removes his thumb from over your clit, bringing his hand up to gently trace his fingers over your ear.

Your now very pointed ear.

“My Queen,” He hums, a pleased rumble shaking his whole being as he sees the faintest flash of fangs behind your parted lips.

You open your eyes, meeting his own dark gaze with a newfound intensity swirling deep within your own.

“Welcome home.”

[loveforeren]

My friend requested race car driver Miguel. I found it intriguing so here yall go. Also, imma just do RCD!Miguel because I'm lazy. Feel free to request stuff. I have rules when it comes to writing js go and look at my masterlist for the rules.

RCD!Miguel swears he can't win a race if he doesn't eat you out the day of each race.

"Cariño, you know what I need to do to win," he exclaimed as he ran has hands over your waist.

"It's not a need Miguel. You just want to." You replied.

"No...I need to. It's my good luck ritual~" He grinned.

"Good luck ritual?" You rolled your eyes.

"Please~ Baby I need to." He whined.

RCD!Miguel keeps on insisting that you should give him head in the car as he drives.

"Mami, come on~! We'll be fine!" He'd whined.

"No. Absolutely not Miguel." You'd say sternly.

RCD!Miguel will be getting ready for a race, and spot you in the crown jumping up and down screaming his name. His eyes zero in on your chest. He'll waltz over to you and pull you into a feverish kiss leaving a hard smack to your ass as he goes to finish preparing to race.

RCD!Miguel has you in the car with him in some race. He'll claim your his little cheerleader.

"Seat belt on, baby. Sit back and relax nothing is going to happen. I'm the best racer on this track." He grins as his hand rested on your thigh.

RCD!Miguel always has to celebrate a win by being burrowed deep in your pussy. (Usually in the backseat of his car.)

"I told you, Mami. Your pussy gives me everything I need to win." He purred as his hips snapped into you.

Your body jolted back, your nails penetrate his back.

"Miguel, s-slow down" you slurred out.

His hands were on your hips as he pushed himself deep within your walls. That euphoric and enrapturing feeling washed over your body. His thrust stayed hard and deep as he continued to fuck you through your high.

RCD!Miguel always makes sure to spoil you every time he wins a race. He'll buy you anything your heart desires.

RCD!Miguel makes sure to boast about his amazing girlfriend whenever he has a interview.

"I couldn't do any of this without my amazing girlfriend" he exclaimed.

RCD!Miguel doesn't know what TMI means. People will ask him what he does the hours before a race. Some expect him to say practice or relax but he says the most unexpected thing.

"My face is buried between my lovely girlfriend legs until I have to go to the track." He'll say with a grin.

His grin will only spread when he hears your voice echo his name. Your glare shooting daggers into him.

RCD!Miguel likes to scare you when he's on the track with you in the car. If it's a practice of him just getting to know a track. He'll intentionally speed up and do tricks. His laugh will echo through the car as you scream. He was going to own you big time.

RCD!Miguel will beg you to allow him to teach you how to drive on the track.

Allllll done 🙏🏾 isn't RCD!Miguel just so fineeeeeeee.

@kaisavampiree here 🫶🏾 I'll write an actual in-depth one when I have time.

[just-some-little-lads]

His Favorite Place to Kiss

Hey, all! First official post I've made for LaDS! So I'm sorry if the personalities aren't quite as spot on (I'll learn more about Xavier, I promise)! Can you tell who my favorite is? Oops. Second person POV and a gender neutral MC!

Xavier

Your eyelids. As a cozy lover himself, he adores the way you look so peaceful when you sleep. So cuddly and…perfect in his eyes, even if you can’t always see it yourself. Oftentimes, he finds he stays awake longer than normal when you relax so languidly beside him. All he wants is to take the stress and troubles away from your life. That way, you can look like this always. But he knows he’s not capable of shielding you all the time… So, in moments like these, he keeps you safe in his own arms, letting you escape into the comfort of a dream. Then he’ll take a moment, pressing whispers of a kiss to your closed eyelids while you rest. It’s a little ritual he does, hoping it’ll chase any nightmares away.

-

Zayne

Your forehead. It had started with checking your temperature; the back of his hand against your head. An overprotective gesture he’d do often outside of the hospital. One which you didn’t always mind since it was better than him carrying a thermometer on him at all times. The closer you got, the more the gesture shifted to him pressing his forehead against yours instead. Then eventually developed into a kiss. It’s a reassurance for him in a way. He loves being able to do something so loving and protective at the same time. He’ll lean down and spend a quiet moment kissing your forehead before placing his chin on the top of your head, bringing you in close. A much needed habit now. Knowing your temperature is normal is a sigh of relief as well. One less thing to worry about. Because seeing you in good health is his only real wish…

-

Rafayel

Your hands. An artist’s fascination with hands might seem like a cliché, but with him, it’s true. He takes very good care of his hands, needing them to hold paintbrushes after all. He’s always said that he can tell a lot of a person just from their fingers, and it’s hard to tell if he’s exaggerating his capabilities or if it’s another secret superpower of his. A lot of times, he’ll tease you over the callouses you have from your weapons, saying that he’d just die if something so unsightly happened to his. But there are plenty of days when you come in with cuts or bruised knuckles, making him freeze. He’ll hold your hands tenderly in his and kiss your palms. He claims there’s some sort of “magic” to it, but how cheesy is that? It’s even more cheesy to think that it sort of works…

-

Sylus

Your neck. He’ll say this loud and proudly with a bit of a tease in his tone. He’ll say it’s something about the way he likes to “dominate his prey” or whatever condescending nonsense he always blathers on about. He likes to laugh about the story he tried telling you a while ago, and how you related him to a vampire. The joke has gone rather far if that’s the case. What he won’t tell anyone is how absolutely dumbfounded he is every time he gets to kiss your neck. He knows how vulnerable of a spot it is, and he's more than well aware of the terrible things that could happen if someone were to take advantage of this weakness. And yet…you trust him. Despite the…’rocky’ beginning and the distrust and the constantly being on edge around each other, somehow he’d done enough to earn your favor. Part of him wants to teach you to better have your guard up, but he can’t do such a thing. Every time he plants his kiss against the side of your neck and all you do is laugh or hum, he wants to melt, to scoop you up into his arms and never let you go. And he likes when you touch his neck too…because it reminds him that he’s learned to trust someone again.

[ane-doodles]

I refuse to create a new au, let's call it "alternate timeline"

Ok so, this is based on this illustration. They were just thoughts that came into my head while I was coloring. I'm bad at narration and good at lists so bear with me...

We are located in the time just before Narinder discovers/creates/idk the way to revive mortals. He is still the bishop of death with his own cult and there are no problems with the rest of the bishops. I want to add a note: since this is set before the whole betrayal thing here Narinder is portrayed as calmer focused on his own thing.

The lamb (we will call her Avan hehe) is part of the cult of the red crown. She is really interested in everything related to spirits and gods and often gets into trouble because of her curiosity.

One day in particular she decides to follow one of the fireflies/devotion lights through the forest and ends up meeting the bishop of death who, thanks to a convenient breeze, ends up revealing his face by accident.

I don't know what happens in this period of time but the lamb ends up visiting the forest often to meet Narinder until it becomes a kind of habit.

Visits in the forest become common company within the cult as well. Avan receives as a gift the red cord that she uses as a belt to match Narinder (thanks to this other cultists believe that she has ascended to a new position and do not usually bother her with questions)

Avan ends up helping Narinder perfect the resurrection method with the knowledge she has of materials (bones, plants, among others) in addition to providing a different perspective and questions to the god of death. In the end they end up achieving the result that we know in the game. [for the ritual to work the summoner gives a small fragment of his life, since Narinder is immortal this does not affect him in any way]

Here the pre-game events take place: the bishops don't like this, they plan a way to stop what Narinder has started and opt to imprison him in the gateway, but first they must kill him (inspired by this post, go check it out )

So Narinder is killed but he is not immediately chained, but rather the bishops decide to first put an end to the cult (to prevent knowledge about the resurrection from being dispersed). Avan's life is spared because "she seemed to be close to Narinder and his memory should not be forgotten" (me to myself: HA FOOLS! they left alive the only one who really knew the resurrection ritual)

As the massacre takes place, Avan (between terrified and confused) decides to do the resurrection ritual on her own. She takes Narinder's heart and hides deep in the forest.

As Avan is a mortal, the ritual affects her quite a bit (you can see her blackened fingers in a sketch). Narinder is brought back to the world of the living as a demigod, as Avan's mortal life was not enough to bring him back fully.

This is where the story gets a little blurry because my imagination started to run out…

While Narinder fervently desires to take revenge, his powers are truly limited now, and abusing them could kill him and even the lamb. Avan, for her part, prefers to hide at least for a while, scared of the bishops and the idea that they will discover that she was the one who brought Narinder back to life.

How the hell do you hide a cat at least three times your height?

Before the story went totally off track this was supposed to be some sort of Narinder flashback for the CFP Au

I did think about designing a lamb especially for this one, but I prefer to take and adapt Avana, it's more fun and I think the blue suits her well.

Is this a romantic Au? dramatic? Platonic? of friendship? of survival? idk, be creative with your own imagination and enjoy.

[ovaryacted]

Really random but dad bod DI Leon🤤🤤🤤 (I really love DI Leon if you couldn’t tell) like I love Leon w abs, and his hourglass shape but just him cuddling w you and being so warm and soft😢 (or when y’all are making love and his tummy just has us fitting together like puzzle pieces and it’s LIKE OMGMGM😭😭😭😭😭)

-🐏

cw: descriptions of body changes, internalized fatphobia, smutty thoughts/acts.

OHHHHHH DAD BOD LEON IS MY VICE PLEASE OH MY FUCKING GOD. LIKE RAHHHH, I NEED IT BAD. Ram anon, I'm on to you.

The changes happen after a year into his forced retirement, he doesn't realize it until he becomes more aware of the way your arms feel wrapping around his soft torso. Once adorned with hard muscle, his body now was covered in a layer of skin that expanded over time. He still had the same physique and the same capacity for strength, but there was an added softness he’d acquired recently that sent his head in for a spin.

Retirement has been good for Leon, he no longer has to deal with the hecticness of mission briefings and assignments. He gets to actually rest, his usual overactive nervous system now rendered down and becoming more manageable. The first couple of weeks he spent falling asleep in bed or on the couch, like his body was playing catchup on the energy that's been robbed from him over the years. You didn’t bother him about it, didn’t even judge him whenever you’d find him limp on the bed and snoring in the middle of the day.

You'd use that time to run errands or do chores around your shared home, often preparing meals for him whenever he'd wake up groggily to go look for you. Eating homemade meals that were made with love certainly started to add up, the consistent intake of food was new and apparently something that his body liked and needed. The constant nausea he often experienced when he was under so much stress went away, slowly learned how to enjoy eating again like he did years before he was forced to become an agent.

He never focused on his appearance most days, but as Leon stopped to observe himself in the mirror one morning, his eyes were fixated on his body. He's certainly changed after a while, stomach a little fuller and cheeks more plump than before, hell even his arms and thighs looked bigger. His initial reaction to the change would have been disgust, to put himself back on a routine to regain the muscle he's lost and to critique every imperfection that would eventually be another nuisance.

But as he looked at himself a little longer, a smile crept up on his face, not minding what he saw for probably the first time in his life. All he saw was your love for him, how the signs of you taking care of him after all this time were starting to reflect in how he looked. He was healthy, he was alive, and that was a win in his book.

You certainly didn't mind the changes either and took every opportunity to remind Leon of just how much you adored him. Cuddling him whenever you could was something that became a ritual between the two of you, sneaking under his arm and digging your face into his chest any chance you got. He was soft, warm, and just a tad bit squishy. He was human, he was himself, not some war machine meant to work like a dog day and night.

One of your favorite things about his new appearance was the intimate moments you both shared and how he felt around you both internally and externally. You loved getting on your knees and worshipping him, sucking over his cock lavishly and running your hands over his thick thighs, biting at them when Leon found himself lost in pleasure.

Or when you were riding him and the sound of his thighs slapping against yours was louder than before, his lower tummy rubbing into you, meshing together so well one would think you were part of the same whole. It made you feral, like a primal instinct to claim him and show him that all you wanted was to make him feel accepted in this new body. Leon didn't complain, he loved how your attraction to him seemed to skyrocket.

Maybe being a bit more soft wasn't so bad after all.

[samuelsdean]

Take A Bite

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: the hunt loomed, a constant shadow. but for now, in the warmth of the diner, you had this – a shared meal, a stolen bite, a silent promise spoken in the language only the two of you understood. maybe that was enough, for now.

genre: fluff

word count: 0.6k

author's notes: my first ever dean winchester fic! and of course, it's fluff. this one's extra fluffy and tooth-rotting because he deserves all the love and pie in the world. have fun reading this one!

GREASY SPOON DINERS WERE PRACTICALLY A SECOND HOME TO YOU AND DEAN. After weeks on the road, chasing whatever monster plagued this random unsuspecting town, a decent burger and stale black coffee felt like a five-star feast. You slid into the red vinyl booth across from Dean, the air thick with the aroma of frying onions and something vaguely resembling a pie. Dean's favorite

"Double cheeseburger, fries extra crispy, milkshake," Dean said to the waitress, a practiced routine etched into the lines on his face. "And your apple pie, make that two slices."

You chuckled at Dean's predictability. One thing about the hunter is that he'll never miss out on ordering pie if it is ever on the menu. You mirrored his order, minus the pie and milkshake, opting for a Coke instead, as a comfortable silence settled between you.

"You know, Dean, it'll never hurt you to cut back on the sugar and fat," you poked at the man's elbow. "You're what? 30 years old? You could die from all the cholesterol you ingest."

Dean shoved another greasy fry into his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Woman," he mumbled around the food, "first of all, I'm twenty-five, almost twenty-six now. Second, cholesterol never killed any Winchester. Besides, haven't you seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer? The girl practically lives on coffee and Pop-Tarts, and she still kicks major demon butt. The point is, you gotta live a little. Besides, pie's calling my name." He jerked his head and smirked towards the display case where a monstrous slice of apple pie sat, practically begging to be devoured.

It wasn't always like this, these quiet moments punctuated by the clinking of silverware. There were times, hunts gone sideways, when the air crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy. But there was also a language you'd developed, a shorthand built on shared experiences and unspoken affection.

The waitress slid your plates across the chipped Formica counter. As you reached for your burger, Dean's hand shot out, snagging a fry. He popped it into his mouth with a wink.

"Always gotta have the first bite," he said around a mouthful of crispy oily goodness—as how Dean would describe the meal.

You rolled your eyes, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. It was a small thing, this ritual of offering the first or last bite. It started years ago, on a particularly brutal hunt that left you both famished and frayed. Dean had insisted you take the last sliver of pie, a silent promise that he'd take care of you, even in the smallest ways.

You speared a fry and held it out to him. "Only because you saved me from the mystery meat surprise last week."

He chuckled, taking the fry and returning the favor by breaking off a piece of his pie before taking a bite. The practice continued throughout the meal, a silent banter intertwined with the rhythm of chewing and swallowing. It's like second nature between you two.

"So," Dean said, finally wiping his grease-stained fingers on a napkin, "what kind of son of a bitch are we whacking this time?"

You launched into the details the local college professor had shared, a tremor of interest lacing your voice. As you spoke, Dean listened intently, smiling now and then with how nerdy you sounded. He liked it when you go off on your tangents about whatever monster it was you were about to hunt. While doing so, Dean occasionally reached across the table to steal a fry or offer a piece of his pie. It wasn't a grand gesture, this sharing of food, but in the quiet hum of the diner, it felt like everything.

The hunt loomed, a constant shadow. But for now, in the warmth of the diner, you had this – a shared meal, a stolen bite, a silent promise spoken in the language only the two of you understood. Maybe that was enough, for now.

[fickleminder]

50 Ways to Die in the Devildom

To prevent another war, one of the cardinal requirements of the exchange program was for the exchange students to be alive at the end of it. No one said anything about what happens in-between.

Content warnings: violence, blood, gore, lots of death. Halloween 2024 fic 👻

Diavolo nearly spat out his tea laughing. "In the freezer? Lucifer, you sly demon!"

"It got the job done, didn't it?" Lucifer took a sip from his own cup with a satisfied hum. "The human has a pact with one of us now, and there's nobody else I trust more than Mammon."

"Indeed. The responsibility will do him good, on top of securing our contingency plan if things go awry. Excellent work!"

"Thank you, Lord Diavolo."

.

.

.

"Well, that was fast."

"The human didn't even last one month—"

"All of you, shut up." Lucifer knelt next to your body on the floor of the student council room. "Mammon, use the pact to keep track of their soul. Beel, stop licking blood off the tiles and help Asmo with the cleanup. Levi, going for the jugular was quick but messy; you're on cleanup as well. Satan, prepare the materials for the resurrection spell."

"Seriously, all this over a stupid quiz…" Mammon grumbled.

Finally coming back to his senses, Levi spat out the chunk of your neck still in his mouth and started to scream.

.

.

.

Beel took one look at his half-eaten custard before transforming with a roar and stomping towards the culprits.

"N-Now wait a second, Beel! Lemme explain!" Mammon quickly put himself between you and his rampaging brother. He didn't want to have to participate in that dumb ritual again; calling souls back to their bodies was too much effort. "There's a good reason for—"

"You... ate... My... CUSTARD...!" Beel's fists smashed into the kitchen counter, the cupboards, the walls, and anything else he could get his hands on, while Mammon kept you behind him and dodged the blows. Any physical contact with Beel was sure to obliterate you in a heartbeat, and not even Satan would be able to put you back together if that happened.

With his attention focused on Beel, Mammon failed to notice when a chunk of concrete came flying in your direction, clobbering you squarely on the side of your head with a wet CRUNCH.

You hit the floor like a sack of rocks, and both demons froze at the sight of all the innards spilling out of your caved-in skull.

"Not again!" Mammon wailed loudly.

.

.

.

"I don't want to hear it."

Despite the very real threat to his life, Mammon still felt the need to rub it in Lucifer's face. "Hey, I'm just sayin', ya can't pin this one on me this time!"

"At least Luke didn't see anything. I hope." Beel frowned at the little angel's unconscious form in his arms, with the grimoire still clutched tightly in a death grip. The poor kid had fainted when Lucifer unleashed his power and... Well.

To prevent another war, one of the cardinal requirements of the exchange program was for the exchange students to be alive at the end of it.

No one said anything about what happens in-between.

You had literally dropped dead after Lucifer shifted into a higher demon form to intimidate you into getting out of his way. He never intended to use force against you to begin with, but had also completely forgotten that some things were just not meant for mortal eyes. Your eyeballs were burnt to a crisp, leaving behind charred, bloody sockets in your face.

Lucifer rubbed his temples with a sigh. "Mammon, take my card and go buy a new pair of human eyes. Make sure to get them in the right color."

"Ugh, fine, but you're getting Levi to call their soul back!"

.

.

.

Henry 1.0 purred loudly and coiled up to take a nap after his snack.

"Asmo, quit messing around and do something!"

"Shut up, Mammon! Or do you want to get eaten as well?"

"Mmm grilled snake..."

"For the last time, we're not eating Henry 1.0!"

The human-shaped lump in the giant snake's belly was unmoving.

"You realize that if they die, you ain't gonna get this kind of power anymore, right?"

Asmo froze, the drunk smile on his face faltering. Mammon had a point; Solomon had only lent you a tiny fraction of his magic, and yet you were able to draw out so much power in him! It was undeniable, you were one human he definitely had to hold on to.

"I think it's starting to digest—"

"Bad Henry! You spit them out right now or—"

Sighing, Asmo batted his eyelashes at the giant snake and began working his charm.

.

.

.

"I can explain—"

"Let me guess. You tried to make a pact with the human in another pointless bid to get under my skin. They refused, and so you chopped them up. Not exactly helping your chances here, are you."

"Tch. I can put them back together—"

"You'll have to convince one of your brothers to call their soul back, since you obviously can't do it yourself—"

"Don't you think I know that already?!"

"Stop throwing books at me! You should know better than to lose control of your wrath—"

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—"

"Wait, that book is—!"

*THUNK*

"…"

"…"

"F—"

.

.

.

Belphegor knew you and his brothers were close, but he was still determined to make his point. When he had thrown your body down the stairs and into the foyer as though you were nothing more than a mangled rag doll, he expected tears, anger, heartbreak—

"…Seriously? We just finished the last ritual yesterday!"

"ROFL not it!"

"Not it."

"Not it~"

"Belphie, I missed you so much! Oh, not it."

"You guys are the WORST!"

—not whatever the hell this was.

"What the fuck is happening?!" Belphie snarled, pointing furiously at your corpse. Blood was soaking into the carpet, yet even Lucifer looked only mildly annoyed. "Why aren't any of you mad? The exchange program—"

And then your body dissipated into wisps of fading light, another you poked your head over the top of the stairway to stare at the commotion, and Lucifer gave a long, deep sigh before revealing the secret he'd been keeping for centuries.

.

.

.

You'll get the rest when we get our money back! The note read.

Inside the parcel it came with was a severed hand with broken fingers. The area where your forearm had been sawed off was still sluggishly oozing blood, but Mammon guessed you had probably already bled out by that point.

He shouldn't have left you to walk home by yourself after class, but what's done was done. All he could do now was come and get you and put you back together. It was his responsibility as your first, after all.

Mammon cracked his knuckles with a grin. Time to show those lesser demons why messing with the Great Mammon's human was a bad idea.

.

.

.

"How was I supposed to know they couldn't swim?" Levi complained despite looking thoroughly chastised.

"I shouldn't have had to tell you that a mere human doesn't stand a chance against Lotan's floods." Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. Behind him, Satan was attempting something called CPR, having read about it in a book and wanting to try it out. There was a loud CRACK, followed by a quiet "oh shit", and that was when Lucifer decided to call it a day.

"Levi, cleanup duty. For the entire house."

"But—!"

"Satan, ritual. You can handle the spell on your own this time."

"Tch."

.

.

.

Levi and Beel watched from the broken window on the second floor as you floated face down in the garden's pool fountain. At first they thought the fall would have killed you, but apparently the allure of water from the siren's song was too strong for that.

"…Should I try CPR?" Beel asked after a while.

"Please don't, you'll end up shattering all their ribs like Satan did." Levi grimaced. "Tell you what, if you call their soul back, I'll perform the spell and nobody else has to know."

"Deal."

.

.

.

"Drop it."

*growling*

"Cerberus! I said: Drop. It."

Whining sadly, the giant hellhound lowered his middle head and carefully deposited his cargo at his master's feet. The left head nudged it gently with his snout, and the right one howled mournfully when it did not move.

Lucifer couldn't help the small wince as he took in your state. He could tell it had been quick at least; it wasn't the first time you had to take Cerberus out for his daily walk, but he had likely been in a playful mood today, hence the accident.

Said hellhound was clearly remorseful and kept glancing at the small pile of snacks and toys you had brought along to entertain him during his outing. Even Lucifer softened at the sight, and as he bent down to scoop you into his arms, broken spine and charred flesh and all, he found himself looking forward to personally calling your soul back to him.

.

.

.

When your skin started to break out and swell rapidly, Asmo realized that something had gone terribly wrong.

"Darling!" He screeched as you clawed at your throat, which had ballooned in the few seconds Asmo took to reach you. The moisturizer he had given you dropped to the floor, and he quickly picked it up to inspect it.

"Acid lavender scented... Demonologist approved..." Asmo murmured as he read the printed label. "For external use only... Hyperallergenic—"

By the time the answer finally clicked in his brain, you had already turned blue. Not a good color on you, in his humble opinion.

.

.

.

The curse was simple: the afflicted would experience random bouts of frostbite on their fingers and toes, no matter how warmly they dressed. The nipping cold would serve as an excellent inconvenience and at worst, it could completely freeze over entire limbs.

Perfect for a stuck up older brother who always dressed like a prude.

Unfortunately for Satan and Belphie, Lucifer was not the first one to touch the newly-cursed air conditioner remote.

"W-what's going on…" You slurred on the floor, curled up and hugging yourself for warmth. You weren't shivering anymore, which was a good sign, right? "Wh-why… s'cold…"

Satan and Belphie exchanged looks. The effects of the prank were clearly more severe on humans, but even then it didn't seem like you were going to kick it anytime soon. They could try to break the curse, but given how complicated it was to cast it in the first place, maybe they were better off putting you out of your misery.

"It's a Devildom thing. We get cold snaps out of the blue sometimes," Satan explained as he cradled you close, feeling as though he were holding a block of ice. "Due to the skies being constantly dark here..."

Belphie's magic trickled into you as Satan distracted you with magical theory, and before long you had gone still in his arms, eyes closed.

.

.

.

"...Are you sure we can't tell Solomon? I mean, we have solid proof that his cooking is lethal now, so this is technically his fault."

"Who the fuck brought his food into the house to begin with?!"

"I did, sorry. He must have snuck some stuff into the basket of pastries Simeon and Luke gave us."

"Seriously, this guy needs to take a hint when everybody tells him to stay out of the kitchen..."

.

.

.

Lucifer was seething. "What. Happened."

"I didn't do nothin'!" Mammon exclaimed, still clutching you tightly. You looked like you were sleeping in his arms, if not for the blue of your lips and your still chest. "We were just walking home, and then the next thing I know, they're eating dirt!"

"Liver failure, brain damage, collapsing lungs…" Satan looked extremely grim after assessing the current state of your body. "There's no singular cause; everything's just… falling to pieces."

Asmo paled. "But why? We've been so careful! We always got the freshest parts, and there hasn't even been an incident in weeks!"

Levi and the twins nodded frantically.

But the truth was undeniable. There were only so many times you could have your organs and limbs replaced or repaired with magic before your body decided to break down completely. Death was inevitable; it was coming for you regardless of how often you'd already cheated it.

How long did you have left before they couldn't bring you back anymore? You had exceeded all their expectations, lasting until the end of the exchange program and beyond, and they'd grown too attached to let you walk out of their lives permanently. You had gone from becoming a chore for them to prevent all-out war to something akin to a beloved house pet.

"What do we do?" Mammon looked to Lucifer for answers.

But for once, the first-born had none.

.

.

.

"Blacked out from stress, you say? How uninspired."

"I know, right? You would think they'd be able to come up with new excuses over time, but nooo, it's always the same old story."

Michael gave a deep sigh. "Those brothers never learn. How long was it before they became complacent and stopped wiping your memory?"

"Four months." You grinned and reached for another scone on the tray of pastries. "To be fair, they do tend to make it quick so there usually isn't much to remember to begin with."

"I still can't believe those idiots thought the Celestial Realm wouldn't find out," Thirteen snorted. "How dare they think I don't know how to do my job!"

"Now Thirteen, it's natural for souls to spend some time in Purgatory before ascending or becoming Damned. Their mistake was assuming the pacts gave them any claim in the first place."

You tilted your head slightly, as though you were listening to something far away. "Speaking of, I think I hear them calling! Thanks for the tea, it was lovely chatting with you, as always."

Michael frowned. "You can't keep this up forever."

"Chill out, Mikey—"

"Don't call me that."

"—it's all good! No need to start a war in my name or anything."

Thirteen rolled her eyes. "He's right, you know. And just because you had nothing going for you in the human realm doesn't mean you have to keep playing along with those brothers in the Devildom."

"What can I say?" You shrugged nonchalantly as the reaper prepared to escort your soul back to your body. "They make me laugh."

[mothandpidgeon]

Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 2

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: T (evenual E) MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old crused witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), alcohol, jealousy, angst, slow burn, yearning, probably anachronistic witchy stuff, love triangle (quadrangle?), Ezra is a cat, he won't be forever, this isnt a beastiality thing, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 3.4k

a/n: Thank you to everyone that read part 1!! I'm so pleased that you're enjoying it so far! I really would've liked to let this part simmer a little longer but I'm holding myself to this publishing schedule. It's time to yeet this into the world. I'd love to know what you think. Your comments and reblogs give me so much joy!

Thank you @lowlights for the beta and help with witchy stuff. Thank you @moonlitbirdie @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre for listening to me bitch about this and supporting me always.

“Don’t you look nice,” Aunt Margot says. 

You’re putting the finishing touches on your make up in the Page’s office. Usually you’d go back upstairs but you don’t feel like hearing it from Ezra.  

“Thanks. I have a date,” you say, packing your mascara in your purse. 

“Oh,” she replies, not hiding her disappointment in the slightest. 

You hadn’t intended to see Connor again but when he texted you, you couldn’t think of a good reason not to. He invited you to his place to check out his vinyl collection which sounds like an insufferable version of Netflix and Chill but you have no plans to listen to a single record. You just want to fuck in his bed and avoid any drama with Ezra. 

“Well I hope you’ll put as much effort in for the equinox,” she says. She flips the sign in the door from open to closed then snaps her fingers to turn off the overhead lights. 

You and Margot host the coven for the equinox each year which already means extra preparations in addition to work at the bookshop. 

“Why would I do that?” you ask. You don’t wear make up for moon rituals, don’t wear much of anything at all. 

“Esme is bringing River,” she says with a casual shrug. 

“No” you groan. 

“He’s visiting from Ireland,” she tells you. 

The last time you saw Esme’s grandson you were both in high school. River was built like a string bean, his upper lip dusted with the saddest mustache— if you could even call it that. He reeked of some badly brewed potion that was supposed to attract lovers. You still gagged when you smelled licorice root. 

“Good for him,” you say. “Please do not set me up with River.”

“I’m not a matchmaker, dear. I’m just trying to expand your sexual horizons,” Margot replies. 

Suddenly, Connor’s vinyls don’t sound so bad after all. 

—

Ezra pads through crystals and altar bells. Everything’s been laid out on Aunt Margot’s paisley scarves— scrying bowls and athame blades and jars of rain water all waiting to be charged by the moon of the autumn equinox. 

It’s just after midnight and the witches of your coven are gathered in a small clearing far enough into the woods that stray mortals won’t stumble upon them. The air smells fresh and cold like mountain spring water. A bonfire crackles, layered with herbs and pine needles. 

The waning moon feels heavy and close like it might just fall out of the sky and nick Ezra’s ear. It makes him feel uneasy. Then again, it’s hard to enjoy these rituals when he can’t participate the way he once did. 

Ezra watches you offer mulled wine to Esme and River, steaming cups scented with cinnamon balanced on an antique silver tray. You look beautiful in your simple white dress. It glows in the moonlight and he can see your body silhouetted beneath the fabric of its long skirt by the fire. 

He’s never cared much for Esme but, then again, he doesn’t have many kind words for any of the Elders even if the ones that cursed him are long dead. Even if he deserved that curse. She wears her long hair coiled on top of her head, a jade hair pin perched in its nest the same way her familiar, a tired old owl, watches from the branch of one of the trees. 

Ezra’s attention isn’t with Esme tonight. He’s keeping a close eye on her grandson. 

“He totally sucks. Please don’t leave me alone with him,” you’d implored. 

Ezra would be wary of him whether or not you’d asked. River is nothing like how you’ve remembered him to Ezra. He must’ve done a lot of growing up since your last encounter. Tall and lean with thick waves of auburn hair. He’s the kind of witch that even Ezra would have taken to bed when he was human. 

He sees the way River looks at you, watches him turn the charm on as he smiles. River’s eyes travel down your body and Ezra knows exactly what he sees. Waves of hot jealousy consume Ezra from nose to tail. For a moment, he worries he’ll get another thousand years added on to his sentence. 

After some small talk, Esme wanders away and that's Ezra’s cue. He slinks up between you and River, rubbing up against your legs to let you know he’s ready to bail you out. 

River swallows his drink with a chuckle. 

“That tastes just how I remember it. Me and Moss used to sneak glasses of Ariadne’s mulled wine when we were thirteen,” he explains. 

“Me too. Although I’m pretty sure Margot knew,” you say with a laugh. 

“Little mage, you asked me to fetch you when the oils were ready,” Ezra says. 

“Oh,” you say, throwing a self conscious smile at River. “I’ll go in a minute, Ez.”

“Margot could use your assistance,” Ezra adds. 

“Why don’t you go help her and I’ll be there soon,” you suggest.

Ezra can’t help but glare up at River. 

“Would that I had opposable thumbs,” he responds. 

You laugh. River doesn’t. You crouch down and glide your hand down Ezra’s spine.

“It’s okay, Ez. I’m good,” you tell him and you wink at him.

His blood turns molten as you turn back to River and continue your conversation. He wants to hiss and claw at him, draw blood. It feels like you’re slipping through his fingers not that he ever held a claim. Not that he even has fingers anymore. He’s completely powerless, standing at your feet like the dumb animal he is.

Rather than watch you moony over River, Ezra turns away and slinks off to the edge of the gathering to sulk. The fire’s warmth doesn’t quite reach and he presses back his ears to stave off autumn’s chill. He can’t run off into the woods the way he’d like to, not without raising questions from the other witches, make you look like you can’t control your familiar.

He can’t stop his eyes from wandering back to you. Your head thrown back in laughter, your hand on River’s forearm. Each moment of your joy is like a knife in his heart.

Ezra’s eventually relegated to the circle where the familiars commiserate. River’s is a jet black bird named Rhea who turns her beak up at him. He’s not one of them, not really. He was human himself with a familiar of his own but that’s not the only reason why they scorn him. They all know that he’s the worst kind of witch. 

There are many reasons why a witch might be turned into a cat but there’s only one crime that was punished with 1000 years— murder. And not just any murder. Ezra desecrated the life of another witch and, no matter how loyally he serves you, he’ll always have that stain. 

The rituals are done, the chanting. The embers from the fire float up through the trees towards the fat moon. Then the dancing begins. It’s erratic and joyful, Ezra can remember the ecstasy of it in his bones. Esme lets down her white hair and one by one the witches disrobe. 

He hears your laughter as you spin, shoulders shrugging with the pulse of the magic that swirls around the bonfire. 

He knows he shouldn’t look at you like that. Not you. Not here. You’re not putting on a show, you’re doing your magic. But the way your body moves against the glow of the fire is its own enchantment. He could worship you like the moon. 

The spell is broken just as quickly. River’s right beside you, bare skin radiant, muscles rippling with his own rhythm. His fingers tangle with yours and Ezra feels acid in his throat. 

The whole night becomes an assault on his senses. The sound of chanting rises, the old words frantic and savage. Amber and patchouli mix with the woodsmoke to choke him. Grotesque shadows fall over the faces of the witches like a carnival of horrors. And then there’s you— incandescent and naked and whispering something in River’s ear that has him grinning. Ezra’s hair stands on end.

“Come dance with me!” you giggle as you leave the circle of merriment. Your teeth are stained purple, drunk on wine and magic. 

“I’m quite content here,” Ezra lies. 

“Are you having fun?” You ask but you don’t wait for his answer. “River is…wow. He did not look like that when we were kids.”

You pick Ezra up and whirl around in a circle. He smells the incense of your skin, the alcohol on your breath. 

“You’re going to get your wish. I’m finally going to fuck a proper witch!” you say. 

You toss Ezra in the air and catch him. The bile has come so far up his throat it’s an absolutely nauseating sensation. 

“Enough!” Ezra hisses. He swats at you with his claws bared. 

You yelp and drop him. Before he even hits the ground, he feels it— a searing hot pain that makes his back arch. You’re defending yourself with your powers like a reflex. He lets out a yowl and just as quickly it passes.

Ezra staggers and looks up to find you with tears in your eyes. He’s never seen you looking so hurt, betrayed. Your jaw quivers. Ezra landed on his feet but he feels upside down. He’s realizing what he’s just done, that he tried to hurt you because he’s pathetic. Jealous. 

“Ez,” you say, your voice strangled. 

Like a coward, he takes off, ignoring you as you call after him. 

—

It’s the sound of the cat flap that wakes you sometime after sunrise. You’re sprawled out on your bed, head aching, eyes swollen. You’re still wearing your white dress, you threw it on before going after Ezra but it was no use. He was as black as the shadows in the forest and had slipped away under some bushes.

You abandoned the equinox celebration and went home in hopes he’d be there. You waited. Alone with your guilt and anxiety. 

I’m sorry. Please come home. You were never very good at telepathy but you tried to reach out to him with your thoughts. 

The sound that he made echoed through your mind as you paced the floor. Strangled, terrified. You tried to stop yourself from picturing him out there in the dark shaking with pain. 

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. It was involuntary. As soon as his claw grazed your skin, your powers flared. Maybe if you hadn’t been drunk you could’ve controlled it. It happened so quickly you still can’t be sure of how strong it hit him. 

Even if it was just a momentary shock, you saw just how much damage that moment did. His hair standing on end, his tail rod straight. But what really crushed you was the look in his eye. 

Suddenly you were just as horrible as every other witch that he’d served. You’d used your powers to punish him, to harm him. Every promise you’d ever made to him had broken in that instant. 

You see Ezra’s slim form dart to your doorway. In a flash, he slips under the bed and your heart sinks into your ankles. 

“Ez,” you say, your voice ragged from the night’s festivities. 

He doesn’t answer. You press your eyes shut and swallow hard then crawl to the edge of your mattress. Your stomach lurches as you look over the edge. On top of everything else there’s a hangover churning in your gut. You guess you deserve that, too. 

“Ezra, are you ok?” you ask. Whatever words of atonement you pieced together before you cried yourself to sleep have dissolved. 

He’s in the furthest corner beneath the bed, tucked against the wall with his tail wrapped tight around his body. You think you might burst into tears again seeing him cowering away from you. 

“I hope I didn’t make you fret,” he says. 

You want to scoop him into your arms and hold him as tight as you can but it feels like you’ve lost that privilege. 

“I’m so sorry, Ez,” you say, climbing down to the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that. I'm sick over it.”

“You were well within your rights. You’re my master and I struck you,” he says. “I’m the one that should beg forgiveness.”

To hear him call you his master makes you feel even worse than before. There’s no amount of tuna belly that will make this right.

“No. It was my fault. And I promise I’ll never use my powers on you again. Ever,” you say. 

His gold eyes shift away. 

“Keep your apologies,” he says. “And I see I’ve kept you from your new paramour. Another act to add to my contrition.” 

“I don’t care about that.” If you hadn’t been so caught up in the prospect of taking River to bed, none of this would’ve happened. 

“Nonsense, little mage. You’re a witch. Be with other witches,” Ezra says.  

–

River’s in the bookshop when you arrive, standing opposite Aunt Margot. When you couldn’t convince Ezra to come out from under the bed, you decided to give him space. Maybe you could distract yourself re-alphabetizing the cookbooks. You were hoping for some quiet but you’re confronted by the very attractive witch you’d been flirting shamelessly with the night before.

You know you look a mess, your face still feels puffy. River, on the other hand, looks like the definition of a sight for sore eyes. Freshly showered and dressed in a well pressed shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows, the sun is streaming in the front window outlining his still-damp hair like he’s Prince Charming himself.

“There you are!” Margot calls. 

You smooth your hand across your top nervously as she appraises you. You threw on a more than slightly wrinkled shirt that was languishing on the floor of your bedroom, too preoccupied to put together a real outfit.

“Looks like we had too much of Ariadne’s little potion,” she says. 

“I have a tonic that’s great for that,” River says with a smile. “But coffee’s faster.” 

He hands you a steaming paper cup from the cafe down the street. He and Margot have their own perched on the counter. You take a sip and are surprised to find that it’s your regular order.

”Are you clairvoyant, too?” You ask.

River blushes. “Nah. Margot told me how you take your coffee,” he chuckles.

It's so thoughtful and you’re not feeling very deserving. You swallow down a lump in your throat.

“I wanted to go foraging around here but I really need a local,” he says. 

“That sounds fun,” you say half heartedly in an attempt to demure. You’re not really up for a good time but it feels like a real asshole move to turn River down considering he brought you coffee after you ditched him at the bonfire. Margot is beaming at the register.

“Doesn’t it?” she asks. “Why don’t I get you a basket?”

—

River carries the basket now overflowing with mushrooms and wild herbs. You’re deep in the woods, branches crunching beneath your shoes. Nature’s sounds echo around you, starlings and chipmunks, the constant whoosh of the breeze through the turning leaves. 

This path is overgrown but you know it well. You spent your childhood getting lost in these woods. They have their own magic. 

Your guilt overshadows the date. If it is a date. River seems to think it is if the way the back of his hand keeps brushing against yours is any sign. It’s hard to enjoy it especially when your mind keeps drifting off. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re only half-listening as he tells you just how mystical the vibes are at Stonehenge. 

You stop at a stream, sitting on a fallen tree that’s overgrown with moss. It’s one of your favorite spots. The water sparkles where the sunlight spills though the branches, peacefully trickling over rocks. You pick up one of the smooth stones and trace its wet surface with your thumb. 

You’ve sat in this very spot before feeling just as shitty. Heartbroken then, too, trying to figure out if you could call it a break up when you hadn’t actually been anything official. She hadn’t wanted anything complicated and you swore your feelings wouldn’t get involved. Unfortunately they had their own plans.

Ezra found you there, sulking by the stream, wondering if anyone would think you were worth breaking their own rules for. 

It struck you how quiet he was. There were no anecdotes about what the witch scene was like in 1924 or tips for mouse hunting, indoor versus outdoor. He just padded into the water and nudged a little stone towards your feet. It was just big enough to fit in your palm and it was cool against your skin as you held it there. 

“A thing of beauty,” he said and he head butted your shins affectionately. 

It was. Round from years, maybe decades under the water’s friction. A dull gray cut through the middle by a wedge of some crystalline mineral like shards of broken glass. You recall exactly what it looks like because it still sits on your night stand. Each time you see it you’re reminded of how Ezra slumped down beside you, his warm body weight like a cozy blanket, a faint purr reverberating through him. 

“You’ve got a big heart, little mage,” he said. 

You choke up at the memory, unsure if Ezra would ever think that again. You certainly wouldn’t say it about yourself today. 

“Either you’re really hungover or something’s bothering you,” River says gently. 

You laugh tearfully and he rubs a circle on your back. You try to shake your head but River doesn’t give it up, looking at you with a soft concern.

“I really fucked things up with Ezra last night,” you admit. Telling him what a cruel witch you are might be a huge turn off but the feeling of his palm through your shirt makes you feel at ease.

“Ezra?” he asks.

“My familiar,” you remind him.

“Oh.”

“He scratched me and —”

“He hurt you?” he asks, face painted with righteous indignation. 

“No. He barely got me. I totally overreacted,” you say. “I used my powers on him. It was just a reflex, you know? But…I just feel awful.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he tells you with a relieved chuckle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

If that’s true then why do you hate yourself?

“If Rhea was out of line I’d do the same,” he goes on.

You wince at the thought.

“You’d hurt her?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I’ve never had to. She knows who’s boss.”

You’ve always considered Ezra a partner. Of course, there are plenty of witches that think of their familiars as nothing more than servants. It’s an old school way of seeing it. You hadn’t expected River to use words that remind you of the way your grandmother used to talk.

“Maybe it’s different,” you say, trying to give him the opportunity to walk it back. Ezra’s not like Rhea. Maybe you’d feel the same way River does if your familiar hadn’t once been as human as you are. Still, it doesn’t feel right.

“You’re a funny little witch,” he says with a grin.

“What does that mean?” you ask. 

“Crying over your familiar. It’s sweet.” He says it as if it’s a compliment but the condescension makes you frown in disgust.

“If you want to make it up to him, why don’t you find him a lady cat that can make him feel good,” he adds with a laugh.

“Is that what you’re into?” you ask with venom.

“What? That was a joke,” River says.

“I don’t think it’s funny. You know, just because Ezra’s a familiar, it doesn’t mean he should be treated like shit. And he’s not a cat. He’s a human,” you tell him.

“He’s a witch killer,” River spits back. “So I’m sorry if I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him.”

Your stomach turns. It’s the truth. Ezra’s served as a familiar in your family for centuries, his history has never been hidden from you and he’s never shied away from it.

But his punishment has never made sense to you. A thousand years, so many lifetimes, watching his friends and family die as he toiled in servitude for witches as backwards as River. It’s cruel, that’s why the Elders changed the laws years ago. And yet Ezra’s remained a cat, a familiar, disdained. 

Suddenly, the anger you’ve been tormenting yourself with turns outwards and you think your powers could set fire to the dry leaves at your feet. It’s all so unfair. The Elders turned him and witches like River scorn him and none of them feel a lick of shame. The back of your neck heats with a protective rage.

“He’s my friend,” you choke. “And you’re a fucking asshole.”

And you leave River speechless in the middle of the woods.  

🐈‍⬛

Part 3

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs appreciated! My inbox is always open.

[spiribia]

not sure how common of a sentiment it is but some of my favorite particles of guild wars 2 were in wandering the maps early on completing the renown hearts. i've seen these referred to as tedious fetch activities before, but i loved to 'walk around putting feed in cow troughs / disarming landmines / clearing out giant spider egg sacs / setting up bear traps / selecting the correct dialogue options for NPCs.' i loved getting to know the world in that manner - the free roam format of gw2 doesn't instruct you 'i run a farm - what you have to do now is fetch me 5 pieces of firewood and return, thank you, here's a second thing, i have rats, go kill 5 rats and return', it says 'i run a farm where i'm currently stretched thin ever since the elder dragon disruption - we have a rat infestation, we need firewood, our fences are in disrepair, wild animals keep killing my chickens, and workers are forgetting to take breaks and eat, and i haven't had time to make the rounds and bring them these lunches i packed. if you could lend a hand with any amount of any number of these things, you would be saving my hide.' then you go to the next settlement and they're like 'we're a research team studying the effects of the elder dragon blight on the land - we need to make sure our monitoring devices are set up properly, that any researchers that may have passed out from environmental hazards are recovered and / or defended against hostile life, and that we weed out any inquest spies among us that want to use our data for nefarious purposes.' and so on. eventually, the accumulation of any small activities you do in aid fills up the bar for the area to completion. i even like traditional fetch quest format myself, but it's the difference between being told 'hey, my hands are full, can you hold the door for me' and seeing someone with their hands full approaching a door and having the option to hold it open. you become a good samaritan and an active participant in the world. you understand the broader scope of people's daily struggles and get a sense of what their lives are like. it made me care about the world. my long winded post to say they should have let you help kryptis in their little camps set up fortifications and raise morale by talking to them and helping one of them collect nayos flowers because it heard that tyrians have rituals to commemorate their dead and a few astral ward people died in here and they want to do something for them

[perlukafarinn]

Usually when Claire works the closing shift at Rocky's, she and Dean will wind down with a couple of beers at the end of the night. It's a nice little ritual Claire looks forward to every time she comes around, though she'd never admit as much out loud.

Tonight, Dean has mixed up a batch of one of his specialty cocktails - The Queen of Moondoor. It's bright, a sort of red-orange color, and has a sweet and sour taste that makes Claire's jaw ache.

"Do you like it?" Dean asks, like Claire's opinion really matters.

She nods. "It's good."

She's not lying. Dean isn't really a cocktails kind of guy but he's put a lot of effort into every detail of Rocky's. From the various pride flags carefully hung behind the bar, to the salt painted into the windowsills, every inch of the place is meticulously planned out. Rocky's isn't officially a hunter's bar - though it is explicitly a gay bar - but it's become an unofficial gathering place of queer hunters across the continental US.

Even the cocktails on the menu are Dean's own invention. All of them have a backstory, some of which Claire isn't privy to. She knows enough to understand why the Queen of Moondoor is Dean's personal favorite, though.

It also packs a surprising punch. Two drinks in, and Claire already feels herself tilting from tipsy into full-on drunk. She slows down her pace.

"How long are you planning on sticking around now?" Dean asks, because free booze is never just free booze with him. There's always the interrogation. He's almost as much of a mom as Jody is.

"A few days," Claire answers vaguely. "Maybe longer, who knows. I don't have any hunts lined up right now and you pay pretty well."

She knows for a fact he pays her double what he does his other bartenders. Neither one of them ever mentions it, though.

"Weren't you heading back to Jody's?"

Claire shrugs, uncomfortable. She had been, before last night's call with Kaia. They're good most days, even with the strain of Claire being on the road half the time, but sometimes when they talk, they'll hit on a sore topic for one of them and things will get stilted.

The anniversary of Mom's death is coming up in a couple of weeks. Kaia wanted to join Claire for her visit to the cemetery.

"What's on your mind, Strawberry Shortcake?"

Claire is supposed to roll her eyes now. Tell Dean to fuck off and mind his own business.

She doesn't really want to do that. But she doesn't know how to explain to Dean what she's feeling, either.

"It's stupid," she says. "I'm being dramatic."

"You? Never."

Claire scoffs, and Dean's eyes soften.

"You can talk to me, you know."

"Yeah," Claire says, because she does. He gets her, weirdly enough. They get each other. It probably doesn't say great things about either of them. "I just... I feel like I'm making up problems."

Dean takes a sip of his drink. It's difficult to look dignified, drinking out of a straw, and he does not remotely manage it. "Let me be the judge of that."

"Kaia wants-" Claire stops herself, because that's not the point of it. "I - we're good. Me and Kaia. I don't feel ashamed about it."

Dean waits for her continue.

"I'm a lesbian," Claire adds, even though, duh.

"Congrats," Dean says, and it feels like it could be sarcastic but it's not. He means it.

"I don't think -" no, that's not right. "I know my parents wouldn't be okay with that."

The statement lands heavily between them. It feels bitter on Claire's tongue, an ugly truth held at bay for far too long. She feels awful saying it, like she's failing her parents. Speaking ill of the dead. But it's the truth.

Mom and Dad would make these... comments. And Claire remembers each one with perfect clarity, because she's known something was different about her for a very long time. She knew those comments were aimed at her, even if her parents didn't.

They were wonderful parents in every other aspect. Up until they abandoned her, that is. Claire still can't help but feel like she's failing them, sometimes, being who she is.

"They might have changed their minds," Dean offers. "If they'd known. It's different when it's your own kid."

Claire eyes him, curious. "Was it different for your parents?"

Something crosses over Dean's expression, too quickly for Claire to catch it.

"No," he admits after a beat. He runs his hand over his face. "Maybe - Mom might have been fine with it. She didn't know."

Claire swallows. "But your dad did. And it wasn't different."

She feels cruel, pushing the topic. But there's some perverse part of her that needs the confirmation. Dean reminds her of herself, in a lot of ways. He'd say it was the other way around. If he experienced the rejection that Claire feared as a kid, the one that still scares her even if it's purely theoretical now, then that proves something.

"It wasn't," Dean admits. "But Jimmy Novak was no John Winchester."

Claire's chest aches. There's some hollow triumph at the abstract confirmation of her worst fears. Mostly, she just feels like shit.

"For what it's worth," Dean adds, "I think you're perfect. No notes."

Embarrassingly, Claire's lower lip wobbles. She clears her throat, looking off to the side as she tries to regain her composure.

"You think you're my dad or something?" she asks, voice rough.

Dean shrugs, looking embarrassed himself. "I kind of think of you as my kid, yeah. If that's okay."

Claire crosses her arms, feeling warm and aching and off-kilter. "I - yeah. Yeah, that's fine."