#Magnificent Spotlight

[myhotplaythingsreblogs5]

[tatsumeowv]

BOO! 👻

Halloween has finally arrived at Night Raven College! And after weeks of turmoil and doing Crowley's errands, you, the esteemed prefect of Ramshackle dorm, can finally unwind and party! And as the saying goes, "Halloween is the one night a year when a girl can dress like a total slut." Surely, nothing's going to go wrong. Right?

featured character: leona kingscholar x afab!reader

warnings: hair-pulling, unprotected sex, overstimulation, biting/bleeding (he gets off you licking his blood #freaky), slight bruising, degradation, rough sex, ribbed cock, creampies, semi-public sex (you guys do it behind a wall), squirting (once), porn with plot

wc. 4.6k

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Come on, Y/N!" Ace tapped his foot impatiently as he banged on the door, the mummy wrappings on his arms swaying. "By the time you finish dressin' up, the snacks and ghost would've run out!" The boy yelled, glaring at the door.

"Myaa...Does my henchman really need this much time ta get ready?" Grim groaned, adjusting the cute wizard hat on his head.

"Yeah, well," Ace smirked, leaning closer to the door and making a makeshift megaphone with his hands. "If she doesn't come out in the next five seconds, I'm raiding the table snack myself!" Ace yelled, his hands resting on his hips as Deuce sighed— glancing at the other students running towards the festival hall.

"Ace, give the Prefect a second. She's been waiting for this day, anyways." Deuce spoke, shifting from foot to foot—obviously impatient but torn between his respect for women or the free snacks. The blue-haired boy glanced at his watch, 7:15 PM.

"Listen 'ere, Juice." "Deuce."

"No one cares, but I am not missing out on the chocolate fountain just because the Prefect's busy looking at herself in the damned mir—" Ace's complaining cut off mid-sentence as the door finally opened, a sliver of light spilling out before you stepped out.

Suddenly, like all homoerotic (virgin) male teenagers, Ace and Deuce's faces went beet red at the sight of you. "Wh-hh-hWaWhh-hh?????" Deuce sputtered, face awestruck and dizzy. "Wh-WhAt a-are you wearing, Y/N?!" The blue-haired boy's voice cracked, embarrassment creeping into his veins.

"Hmm?~" Tilting your head, you let out a sultry hum. "I'm a cute, hot, sexy vampire nurse!" Doing a little twirl and pose, Deuce let out a loud squeak—shielding his eyes from looking at your tits.

Coughing into his hand, Ace, whose earlier irritation suddenly disappeared, looked the other way. "Ya sure that's, uh, allowed, Y/N?" Ace stumbled over his words, his face about to match the color of his hair.

The corners of your mouth lifted into a playful smile, bending over slightly to grab Grim, who was clawing at your legs to carry him.

Ace and Deuce froze at the sight of the top of your lace bra.

"Don't worry, guys!" Suddenly, you slung your arms over the two's shoulders. "I told Crowley I wouldn't do his taxes anymore if he didn't allow my costume." You giggled, ignoring Ace and Deuce's blank expressions. "He really is an incompetent Headmage..." No words needed to be exchanged to know what the two males thought.

"Hey!" You exclaimed, staring at the two. "You guys ready to go or what?" Ace and Deuce exchanged glances, coincidentally meeting sight with your tits. Spluttering, two chuckled nervously before melting into eager smiles. "Let's go!" The two shouted in unison, excitement running through their veins. ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎

Grim strutted through the beautifully decorated halls of Night Raven College, confidence and arrogance radiating from him like a spotlight. Huffing, Grim secretly glanced at the students, who stared at him with glee. "Yes, yes! Look at my magnificent self!" The cat meowed, satisfied, reveling in the attention.

Laughing, the cat raised his head high and meowed at you. "Behold, henchman!" He puffed his chest, pride seeping off him. "Everyone's so amazed by my costume, they can't help but stare! Nya!"

Beside him, Ace snickered. "Yeah, right." Ace leaned a bit close to Grimm, a smug smile on his face. "You do realize that everyone's looking at Y/N, not you, right?"

Gasping, Grim glared at Ace. "What'cha mean?! They can't not look at meow!" Crossing his paws, Grim scoffed. "Maybe you're the one staring at my henchman!" Ace rolled his eyes and gestured behind him, where some random students stopped to ask you for a picture. And being the kindhearted Prefect that you are (you wanted clout), you, of course, agreed.

What you didn't expect, though, was for a line to form suddenly.

"Prefect! Let's take a selfie!"

"I am so getting a lot of likes!"

"Hey!— I wanna have a pic too!"

"Back of the line!"

Overwhelmed by the sudden rowdiness of the students, you took a step back. "Wait, Prefect! We still haven't taken a pic yet!" A boy exclaimed, raising his phone high up in the air.

Groaning, you were about to call for Deuce and Ace before a gruff voice spoke up—a tense atmosphere settling in the air.

"Oi." Stepping back, you were met with a rough chest and gloved hands gently holding your waist.

"What do ya'll think are doin' to my herbivore?" Humming, you felt the soft fur of Leona's tail wrap around your thigh, your eyes narrowing in amusement.

All the boys that filed into a line flinched, sweat dripping from their faces. Growling, Leona glared at them, ears flattening sideways. "Leave." Everyone scrambled away within a blink of an eye, leaving you and Leona alone.

Well, not really.

"Henchman!" Grim meows, staring angrily at Leona. "Let's go. We have'ta try out the games!" He puffed, his paws raised, and he clawed cutely. Behind was Ace and Deuce, who nodded their head in response.

"Grim's right, Y/N." Deuce said, "I heard from Cater that the lines were really long, so we oughta go right now if we wanna make it to the Haunted House later."

Sighing, you turned back to Leona and fluttered your eyelashes. "Thanks for the save, Leona." You leaned closer to him, discreetly pressing your hand against his groin. With a teasing smile, you went on your tip-toes and kissed your lover on the cheek.

"I'll see you later, alright?" You giggled, only receiving a narrowed gaze from Leona.

Rolling his eyes, Leona gave you a pat on the head before leaning close to your ear— his hot and warm breath causing a shiver to go down your spine. "I'll get you back for this later." Grinning, Leona pushed you gently to the trio, a smug and sultry grin on his face.

"I'll see ya later at the Haunted House, herbivore." He purred, taking delight in your blushing face.

Huffing, you bent over to grab Grim with your legs spread slightly. Exposing a bit of your panties to Leona. Licking your lips, you cuddled Grim nicely against your boobs before blowing a kiss to Leona.

"Let's go AJuice!" You called with an innocent smile on your face. Groaning, Deuce crossed his arms. "When are you guys going to stop calling me Juice?"

Ace hummed, his eyes closing momentarily as if he were actually contemplating the answer. "Never." He laughed before hitting Deuce on the head.

"?!— HEY! COME BACK HERE!" The blue-haired boy yelled, chasing Ace, who got a head start run.

Chuckling at their antics, you gave one last look behind you. "Oh?~" Smirking, you gave a wink to Leona, who stood frozen with hungry eyes and reddened ears.

"Mwa ♡"

‎

Gripping onto Deuce's arm, you shifted your weight from one foot to another. "We've reached the bench, Y/N." Deuce, your ever-so-kind dear friend, took the paper bags from your hand as you plopped down on the bench, your feet burning.

"My feet hurt." You groaned, toeing off one of your heels and then the other.

Beside you, Ace raised an eyebrow as he snacked on a lollipop, not even bothering to hide his smirk. "Well, you're the one who chose to go out on heels." He snickered, giving you a middle finger in response to yours. "Who wears heels to Halloween anyways?" Ace shrugged.

Grinning, you half-huffed before crossing your legs. "Literally almost every single girl ever."

"Though I can see why you wouldn't know that, considering you're a virgin loser." A loud gasp escaped Ace, who stared at you, baffled and offended.

"I had a girlfriend when I was in middle school, mind you!" You pointed your finger at Ace smugly. "Emphasis on had. Bet you had no dick game at all." You snickered, watching Ace's face burn red in embarrassment and anger.

"I will literally—!"

Sighing, Deuce pinched the bridge of his nose before grabbing Ace's shoulders. "Yeah, yeah, we get it, Ace. You got bored of your girlfriend. That's why you dumped her; no need to tell us again." Deuce looked at you, a tired expression on his face.

"And Ace is right, Y/N. It is Halloween, and everyone's out walking. You should've at least bought a spare." Pouting, you crossed your arms as Ace flipped his hair in triumph.

"Serves you right for prioritizin' style over comfort," Ace stuck out his tongue. "SUCKER."

Before you could even attempt to throw your heel at Ace, Grim's excited voice cut through the air. "Henchman!" Jumping on your lap, Grim stood as his flames flickered with excitement, eyes gleaming with light. "Let's go! The Haunted House is finally open!" Your lovely Grim announced, pointing his chubby paw at the eerie and foggy structure.

Before you could respond, Grim had already dashed ahead (seriously, what is it with all these people interrupting you?!), cackling like a maniac. With a final and deep groan, you put on your heels and hoisted yourself up.

Grabbing some of your purchases from Deuce (bless his kind heart), you and the other two idiots made your guys' way to the Haunted House.

"If I trip, you're carrying me, Ace."

"Ha?!"

"Whoa! Lookin' good Y/N-shi!" Turning your head, you saw Ruggie approach you while enthusiastically waving. Smiling, you waved back.

"You're not looking bad yourself, aren't you, Matey?" You and Ruggie laughed, sharing jabs at each other's costumes for a few minutes before you suddenly realized.

"Speaking of which, why are you here, Ruggie?" Scratching your chin, you let out a hum. "I didn't peg you as the type to like this kinda stuff." Giggling, Ruggie rubbed his nape.

"You didn't know? This Haunted House is from Savanaclaw and Octavinelle's collaboration!" Ruggie pointed to the flags of the two dormitories on display on the register for tickets. "Leona-shi didn't wanna handle all the managing stuff, so I'm here makin' sure we get all the scares!" Ruggie roared jokingly, showing off his sharp claws.

"Scares?" You questioned, "Are you guys the scare actors?" Blinking, Ruggie laughed and nodded his head. "Smart as always, Prefect!" The boy smiled before letting out a small oh!

"Speaking of which!" Pulling out a glow-in-the-dark round bracelet, Ruggie grabbed your arm and slipped it on. "Leona-shi told me to give this to you!"

"Huh?" Looking at your slightly glowing bracelet, you pursed your lips before raising your head to ask Ruggie a ques—

...

Why won't anyone let you finish your sentences today?

Sighing, you adjusted your dress before looking at your bracelet again. "I guess I can ask Leo—" "Oi, Y/N! Hurry up over there! We're already buying tickets!" Ace yelled, his obnoxious voice ringing in your ears.

...

You swear you're going to kill him one day.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get your panties in a rush! I'm coming!"

"Can you PLEASE stop saying that?!"

‎

The creaking of the door shut behind you and your two idiot friends, a loud bang resonating within the haunted house. Your eyes glanced around the grand interior of the house, web cobs occupying every nook and corner, dim lanterns flickering as dark shadows loomed over.

"It's just a haunted house, It's just a haunted house, It's just a haunted house, It's just a haun—" Deuce mumbled nervously, jitters crawling in his skin.

Scoffing, Ace put his hands in his pockets. "This is it? Maaa, I thought it would be much scarier." The boy flexed, ignoring how his hand lingered near his magic pen.

Rolling your eyes, you placed Grim on your shoulder and grabbed Ace and Deuce, venturing deeper into the haunted house. Humming, the four of you walked, encountering the occasional jumpscares and nerve-wracking screams. Your footsteps echoed within the eerie hall, creaks and squeaks.

"This isn't so bad," Ace smirked, his hands tucked away in his pockets. "I should've bought a pillow if I knew it would be this boring." The red-haired boy mocked, ignoring how his hand slightly trembled.

Deuce glanced around, his face pale. "Are we sure we're goin' the right way?" He shivered. "We haven't gotten any jumpscares these past few minutes."

You were about to respond, but then there was a flicker. The lights above you flickered and went out, plunging you and your friends into darkness. Swallowing your saliva, you carefully reached your arms out.

"Ace? Deuce? Grim?" You whispered out, suddenly realizing that Grim wasn't on your shoulder anymore. Taking a deep breath, you glanced at your glowing wrist—using the dim light from your glow-in-the-dark bracelet as a makeshift flashlight.

Biting your lip, you carefully searched for any signs of your friends. Stumbling forward, you glanced in every direction, the shadows of your friends merging with the darkness. Panic swirled in your chest as you retraced your steps, only to find that every corridor looked the same.

"Guys?!" You shouted, your nerves tightening. "Where are— hmmpf?!" Something clamped over your mouth, pulling you back with swift, quiet strength.

Your heart leaped through your throat, your body flinching instinctively as you clawed at the firm grip holding you in place. Your voice muffled by the gloved hand as you squirmed, sharp heels digging into the foot of your assailant.

"Stop squirmin' already." a low, sultry growl close came to your ear.

You froze. Leona.

Your struggles ceased as you recognized the unmistakable (and hot) voice of Leona Kingscholar, your head turning to face to face with his usual (and sexy) smirk. You puffed your cheeks as your initial shock melted into annoyance.

Chuckling, Leona slid his hand away from your mouth, a smug grin on his face.

"Wanderin' off, herbivore?" Your lover teased, his tail gently wrapping around your thigh. Rolling your eyes, you leaned your back to Leona's chest. "You're an asshole sometimes, you know."

Purring, Leona wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Maybe don't wander off a half-baked haunted house if you can't handle a scare." Underneath the neon glow of your bracelet, Leona's green eyes shone sinisterly, looking at you with barely concealed hunger.

"I didn't wander off. I got lost." You pouted, crossing your arms in a place in which it accentuated your boobs. "And where did you even come from?"

Shamelessly staring at your boobs, Leona gave you a lazy smirk. "Didn't Ruggie tell ya, herbivore? I'm here to give you and your little friends some scares, roar."

You looked at Leona skeptically, doubt evident in your face. Leona raised a brow at your expression, clearly amused. Pressing a kiss to your neck, your lover took your wrist and suddenly grabbed you down the corridor without so much as a warning.

"What the—?! Leona, where on earth are you ta—" The sound of creaking echoed in your ears. Blinking, you found yourself in a well yet discreetly lit hallway that snaked behind the walls. "Is this—?" You glanced at Leona, realizing you were now on the hidden path the scare actors use to navigate.

"At least here," Suddenly, Leona pressed you against the solid wall and smirked— his hand caressing your thighs. "You won't wander off." He smirked, caging your body against his.

Your eyes flickered with a knowing grin, a breathy laugh escaping your throat. Wrapping your arms around Leona's neck, you batted your lashes and giggled. "Is this what you meant by getting me back?" You laughed, leaning closer to Leona. Licking his lips, Leona slowly unbuttoned your shirt, a deep purr vibrating from the sight of your lace bra. White, how cute.

"Leona." You whispered, a cute pout on your face. "Someone might see." Lowering your bra, Leona's lips curled into a lazy grin. "They won't," He paused, fondling your exposed breast. "Trust me, they'd pick up on my scent and yours before walkin' in here and interrupting."

Before you could say anything (again), Leona cupped your face and kissed you— the rough texture of his tongue lapping against yours.

Whimpering, you closed your eyes and scratched against the cloth of his suit, breath taken away from the rough treatment. Feeling your breath cut short, you quickly widened your eyes and muffled desperate cries against Leona's mouth. Seeing how your lover had no intentions of pulling away, you grabbed his braided hair and pulled him back.

"HiICk! Haghh..." You breathed in, a string of saliva connecting your and Leona's tongues. A thundering growl reverberates from Leona, green eyes glinting sinisterly under the dimly lit lamps. "Little feisty today, huh, herbivore?" Leona's sharp fangs nipped against your lips, a small chuckle escaping him when he saw your fake fangs.

"Tryna look like a predator, huh?" Biting his gloves off, Leona's fingers entered your mouth—a choked cry cracking on the back of your throat. "Unfortunately for you, sweetheart," Leona's free hand went underneath your skirt, playing with the waistband of your lace panties. "You're too easily gobbled up."

"haH!" You whined as Leona lowered his head and carefully bit your nipple, removing your panties in the process.

"Quiet now," Leona curled his fingers in your mouth. "Any louder 'n the students outside are gonna hear ya." Shutting your eyes, you nodded as your hands clawed at Leona's still-clothed back.

After a few minutes of teasing, Leona pulled his fingers from your mouth and removed his eyepatch��� a hungry smile tugging at his lips as he watched your trembling legs and drool-dripping lips. Removing his other glove, Leona grabbed your thighs and hoisted you upwards—kneeling to face your dripping cunt.

A shiver trembled against Leona's spine when he took a short whiff, a satisfied purr breathing close to your pussy. "Wrap your legs 'round me." Looping your legs on his neck, Leona licked his lips before diving in your pussy—his other hand playing and teasing with your clit.

"mMph!" Quickly covering your mouth, your back arched in pleasure from the sudden onslaught bought upon your pussy. Your head throws back as you watch Leona lap your pussy with glassy eyes, his tongue diving deeper and deeper inside you.

Viciously, Leona flicks your clit—a loud moan muffled by your trembling hands.

Inhaling sharply, you gripped your hands on Leona's hair, deciding to throw all fucks if someone hears you. "Too- much!" Calloused fingertips make their way inside your tightening walls, your pussy throbbing from the stretch.

Below you, Leona continues eating you out like a man starved—actually, like an animal starved. His grip on your thigh stays firm,

obvious bruises that will surely start to form later. He runs a fat thumb on your clit, his digits inside your curling just at the right spot. Tongue so good, he's fucking out your thoughts and words.

"You good there, darlin'?" Leona drawls out, his hot breath hitting your sensitive pussy. Your lips pucker into a cute pout, your face red seeing Leona's wet and dripping tongue. Seeing as you had no intention of saying anything, Leona dives back in—eating you out with more enthusiasm and want.

Gasping, you tightened your legs around his head and gripped his hair tighter, pathetic moans escaping your mouth. "'M gonna—!" Vast open hands cling onto brown hair, desperate whines echoing within the dark hallway as your back arches with indulgence—your orgasm sparking a deep growl from Leona.

You hiccup as Leona continues his assault on your pussy, your body still trembling from your orgasm a few seconds ago. "Baabyyyy," You sobbed, your cheeks warm and puffed. "I just came..." You pouted, which caused an amused chuckle from Leona.

"Can you blame me?" He licked his lips, savoring your cum. "You're just too delicious f'me not to get addicted to." Leona's eyes met yours, swiftly removing his fingers from your pussy. Humming, Leona cupped your chin with his other hand and made you watch him lick your cum off his fingers—the dim glow of the lanterns accentuating your lusty haze.

"Mean." You sniff, looking at Leona with irritation. "You really are mean." Tilting his head, Leona leaned close to you and peppered kisses from your neck to your chest, his hands pulling you close. Humming, Leona snuggled close to your breasts and looked at you with pampered eyes, a malicious glint hidden deep within.

"I know, I am." Your lover says softly, his hands delicately holding yours. "So, please," Leona smiles, kissing the back of your hand. "Allow me to indulge in your presence," He says, kissing your palm. "And let me be mean, even for just this moment."

...

You tried to look away. You really did. But damn it, Leona just had to know how to push your buttons. Your fierce, improper Leona, reduced to a pleading, gentle prince so that he can fuck the living daylights out of you.

...

You tried to say no. You really did.

So with a throbbing pussy and trembling voice, you nodded your head—looking straight into Leona's eyes. "Just..." You breathed in. "Just this once." You whisper, watching Leona smile sweetly.

There's a sudden change in atmosphere as you feel your feet get lifted off the ground, a tiny squeak echoing in the hallway as you stare at Leona's hungry gaze—a lustrous smirk tugging on his lips.

"You really are naive, are you, herbivore?" He laughs, the sound of his zipper unzipping ringing in your ears. "Still," Leona shrugs, adjusting himself properly so you wouldn't be uncomfortable. "You're my naive little herbivore." You flinch as his ribbed dick slaps against your pussy, gazing slightly at your clit.

You tried to say no. You really did.

But damn it, you were horny.

You hate Leona.

You really, really hate Leona.

"hIicK! N-No m—!" You squeal, mouth once again covered with Leona's as his hips thrust in you hard. Twitching, you whimper as the fat stretch and drag of Leona's cock aches inside your pussy, tears dripping from your hazy eyes and cum dripping from your already stuffed pussy.

"Loud." Leona grunts, prying your legs open. "You're bein' a bit too loud, herbivore." He huffs, pressing his hips deeper.

Huffing, you gripped Leona's wrist, contemplating if you should really do it.

Fuck it.

"!" Gasping, you instinctively arched your back when Leona stilled his thrusts, your walls pulsing around his dick. Suddenly, Leona pulled his hand away from your mouth—looking at his bleeding palm with a blank.

"Heh." A breathy laugh escaped Leona, who pried your mouth with his fingers—a dark, deep blush settling on his face, seeing his blood drip from your fake fangs.

"So the herbivore bites back, huh?" Before you could speak, Leona shoved his hand on your mouth with a crazy grin. "C'mon, lick." Your lover demanded, the bitter taste of his blood flooding your tastebuds.

Your eyes widened, your heartbeat thrumming so loud that Leona could hear it faintly. A daring smile appeared on Leona, his gaze full of arrogance. "If you're going to start something," He pressed his bleeding palm deeper into your mouth. "You'd better finish it."

You glared at Leona with narrowed eyes before gripping his wrist and pulling his hand away slightly. With a sultry sigh, you stuck out your tongue and slowly licked the dripping blood off his wrist to his palm—a seductive smile on your face as you and Leona stared at each other with lust.

Your eyes never left Leona's enchanting green eyes, your teeth and lips all bloody from the wound. Batting your eyelashes, you pressed a deep kiss to the wound and sucked the blood out. The scent of your arousal heightened as Leona shivered with ecstasy.

"Just that like that." He coos, feeling his dick get harder inside your pussy. "Lick it clean." He smirked, grabbing your waist and dragging pussy deep on his dick.

"mhm!" Moaning, your nails dug deep into Leona's arm, his toned hips bucking into you so hard you see stars. Your lover whispers nothing but filthy words to your ear, which goes out of the other with how merciless and rough he was being.

"Fuck, fuuuEeEK!" Choking, Leona pressed his hand on the outline of his dick hard, the pressure causing your voice to hitch and for you to cum. "You're too- too—" Drool dripped from your open mouth, blood mixing with your saliva as you struggled to form proper words and thoughts. "Deep!" You scream, clear liquid gushing out of your pussy along with Leona's hot cum spurting inside you and straight to Leona's clothing.

Hot, languid breaths filled the dim hallway, your toes curling when Leona unapologetically toys with your clit. "heUk!" You sheepishly moan, your throat swallowing thickly as you try to salvage your nonexistent dignity. For a moment, you and Leona stood still, your thighs trembling and pussy dripping, but Leona's soft and tender caresses gave you leeway to rest, even for a bit.

Mumbling, you felt your eyes droop down, exhaustion finally catching up.

Leona, who was watching you with a tender gaze, quirked his eyebrow. Licking his lips, Leona leaned close to your ear—your mind fuzzy to realize what was happening. With a deep and dark chuckle, Leona's grip on your thighs hardened.

"Boo."

"?!— heUk! HIicK!!!—" Grinning, Leona slammed you against the wall and raised your sticky legs high, his dick hitting juuust right.

"L-leo-Leoonaaaa!!!" You whimper, broken cries, and hiccups sniveling from your sore throat. Ignoring your pleas, Leona pressed his weight deeper to yours, his toned abs harshly colliding with your soft and cum-filled stomach.

Grunting, Leona's spine shivered as he smelt your arousal—glittering sweetness and sparkling lust overfilling his senses—a tight knot forming on his dick.

"Not now." The green-eyed lion thought, fondling a piece of your ass. "Not here." He continued, hazy eyes narrowing when he gave your rear a loud spank. "'Nother day." He decided, controlling his urge to throw away all manners and fuck you like the animal he was.

A shrill scream peaked at your sore throat, your Drool and tears dripping to the cum-soiled wooden floor. He was getting sloppy. Impatient fingers rub against your clit, a strangled moan getting stuck in your throat.

You were so, so sensitive.

Stars cover your vision, your mind turning into mindless mush as Leona continues hitting his dick right into your cervix.

A break. You needed a—

"hAH!" Wanton cries echoed, rough fingers gripping your waist tight as Leona rubbed the prominent bulge from his dick on your stomach with intense fervor. "Give," Leona groaned, swallowing thickly. "Give me a sec." He breathed in, a piercing gaze staring right into your glassy ones.

Biting his lip, Leona gave one, two, three more thrusts before he came—filling your already full and sensitive pussy.

"Mhm." Breathing deeply, Leona pressed his forehead against yours and smiled. His tail curled peacefully on your waist. "You did good, herbivore." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, carefully taking his dick out of your cum filled pussy.

"Can ya walk?" Pulling your panties up, Leona gave one last kiss to your pussy before expertly adjusting your panties so that his cum wouldn't spill.

"Do you think I can walk?" You huffed, gripping tightly onto Leona's collar. Rolling his eyes, your lover gently fixed your appearance and wiped off the cum on your bare skin. "C'mon," Leona looked at his watch, 8:30 PM.

"I'll carry ya. The event's about to end, and I'll never hear the end of it if I leave you here with tremblin' legs like a lamb." He teased, ignoring your annoyed glares.

Exhausted, you let yourself get carried by your lover's strong arms, the scent of his perfume calming your nerves and giving you a sense of peace.

"You owe me a shopping trip for ruining my costume." You groan, feeling his cum swish inside you.

Chuckling, Leona nodded his head and purred. "Anythin' for you, darling."

this work belongs to @lili-534030, please do not copy or repost.

status: edited (added more smut)

[todayontumblr]

Monday, October 23.

The Return of Nyan Cat 🏳️‍🌈

Fashion trends run in 30-year cycles, or so received wisdom would dictate. Well, rules are there to be broken, in our learned view—because this would mean having to wait approximately 18 years until #nyan cat were to come back in vogue. So we are instead grabbing the zeitgeist with both hands and bringing it into the present: Nyan Cat is back in business, baby. 'tis official. Grab your calendars. Mark Monday, October 23, 2023, as the day this sweet, delicious space feline flew back beneath the glare of the pop culture spotlight. Nyan Cat is in.

For those of you in the fandom community, of course, this cartoon cat/Pop-Tart torso hybrid never went away, and so it is very much business as usual. And what magnificent, intergalactic, and rainbow-trailed business it is.

Nyanyanyanyanyanyanya x

[two-white-butterflies]

she's got away

Description: You frame your husband for your murder. It looks like Homelander has finally found his match.

Pairing: homelander/supe!reader

Warning: infidelity, murder, downfall of homelander, implied domestic abuse, planned suicide.

A/N: inspired by amy dunne. also, because i know that homelander isn't just gonna marry some basic bitch, he wants that crazy 😭

Homelander has read all news articles about you, your ex-boyfriends couldn't stop talking about the beauty of being the recipient of your love, but that was the thing. It was beautiful when the full warmth of your love is focused on them, but once the spotlight shifts - it leaves them feeling empty, reeling because of the loss.

When he married you, he expected that spotlight to be on him 24/7. "I can't believe that you convinced them to cancel the deal," a giggle escapes your mouth and Homelander's jaw clenches. Seeing you draped all over Stan Edgar made him want to kill that man. "It isn't that difficult when you have the D.A's office on retainer," the man boasts in a low whisper, but Homelander can hear him.

He can hear every little conversation happening inside the building. He glances at you - what did you have that he didn't? Why does Stan Edgar trust you of all people?

"Well that ought to remind them," you mused, taking a sip of your fizzing champagne. "Of what?" Stan raises an eyebrow.

You look straight at Homelander's eyes. Aware that he was listening in to your conversation with the executive. "that Vought isn't a superhero company. It's a pharmaceutical company." The sweet smile does not leave your lips, his jaw clenches - eyes glaring.

How dare you!

Openly defying him in front of Stan Edgar. Besmirching everything that he built and fought tirelessly for, just to twist the knife. Homelander had half the mind to march in your direction, to grab you by the arm and fuck you in front of all the executives that you tried to kiss-ass to. He takes a deep breath.

He mumbles a few curses, none loud enough for anyone to hear.

His heart sinks to the bottom of his chest once he realizes the glaring truth, that your love was beginning to slip away. The spotlight that all your exes couldn't stop talking about was now moving to the next big thing, and no one leaves Homelander! No one leaves him!

"Cheers," he hears you offer a toast.

He sees a woman standing in the table in front of him, clad in a black Etro dress that she probably rented just to wear. She looks like you in some lights. Homelander smiles - a lazy yet charismatic smile.

He walks towards her.

"It must be boring for you, watching all these idiots drink wine." He opens his mouth to speak, and the woman's attention turns towards him. Oh, he was going to move his spotlight before you move yours.

You lazily walk towards your shared apartment with Homelander. It was never a great pleasure spending the night here, the decorations were too manly and corporate for you to ever feel at peace with the surroundings. Dark blue walls - endless fake pictures, and that constant smell of perfume makes your head hurt.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you sink deeper into the sheets. His bed was magnificent - almost like he slept all the time. You sent him a message an hour ago, but he hasn't responded yet. "Where the hell are you," you mumbled while opening your phone - quickly navigating towards the 'find my phone' app.

Uh, yes, you put a tracker on your husband without his consent.

The app loads rather quickly, and you zoom out of the map - to see John inside of a Hilton Hotel. "Son of a bitch," you cursed. You rise from the sheets, sitting down and leaning on the bed-frame. You dial Ashley's number, and she answers on the first ring. "Where is Homelander?" You ask before she could say hello.

"Um, uh, I-" she stumbles in her words.

"Don't lie to me, please." Your voice was surprisingly soft. If the phone call was recorded, you didn't want it to come biting your ass in the future. "I don't want to tell you," Ashley responds in a firm tone. "I won't tell him that I know. It's a promise." You vowed.

"He's going to kill me. I don't want to get in the middle of this." She begged, her voice sounded desperate. "Well, you are in the middle of this and if you don't tell me then I'll find a way to screw you over." You threatened, recorded call be damned, playing good cop was over.

"He's at the Hilton. He met with someone; please don't tell him that I told you!" She cried, a scoff escaping your mouth.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

yourname: This cape stands for everything that I believe in! It is also a reminder of how thankful I am to call this beautiful land my home. #FosteringTheFuture #Homelander

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homelandertruther: No supe has ever done as much damage to America than Starlight. Thank you homelander 🦅🇺🇸

MyEyesOpen: God bless this country

BootySheath99: Christians for Homelander >>>>

A fake smile ghosts your face as you feel his muscled arms wrap around your body. "Where were you?" You question. Not a nerve in his body showed signs of nervousness, which only made you think that he's been doing this for a long time. How it didn't eclipse your radar? You're not entirely sure. "I had a meeting with Madeline." He lies, pressing a kiss to your naked shoulder.

All men do is lie.

"At the Mandarin?" You raised an eyebrow, a sigh escapes his mouth. He presses another kiss to your naked shoulder, before pressing his face to the crook of your neck. "You don't have to be so damn possessive. It was just a meeting and Madeline is a prude." He talked down on the woman who was responsible for his success.

Your fingers danced across his clothed body, playing with the strands of his perfect blonde hair. This love story began because of a coffee shop, because he wanted to see the good in this world - and found it inside of you. He liked getting his ego stroked, you stoked his ego and then some. He liked watching old american films in his room projector, and you listened to him ramble about every little detail. He wanted a cool girl, and he got her.

Being a cool girl and being his wife is a mutually exclusive event. The occurrence of one supersedes the other and vice versa. You can't be 'cool girl' and also be his wife. It is humbling to become something that you once mocked. "I can't help it," you mumbled.

"No one is going to steal me from you," he promised. Oh, this was the first time that he addressed your feelings towards one another - and it looks like he's only doing it to not get caught. Who is his mistress? You wondered. Was she more beautiful than you? Did she have blonde hair or piercing blue eyes? Was she a southern belle, or perhaps a foreign woman who he has never seen before?

"What's happening to us? We're not happy anymore," you breathed out, watching as his features turned darker. His pupils dilated, his jaw clenched, and his grip on you tightened. This was another one of your mind games, one of the things that you'd do before pushing him off the edge. "We are happy." He insisted, because the truth is - there is no use being in a relationship with someone when you're not at your happiest. "We were happy." You corrected, pulling away.

"I know that you met with someone else," you whispered - almost in fear that someone else could hear. "I'm angry - disappointed, but I also love you. I want to be happy, again, with you." You confessed.

He kept staring at you, looking deep into your eyes, almost unable to decipher between the truth and your lies. "John," you refer to him by the name closest to his heart. His eyes soften, thrown back into the reality that you're nothing like him - there was not a bone inside of your body that schemed, or got jealous, or thought of bad things. You are good - the only good part of him.

"I'm sorry, baby." He apologized.

You press a kiss to his lips. Fuck you.

"Hello, you may all know me as Homelander's wife or Comet which is my superhero name. But my real name is Y/N Gillman. A few days ago the NYC District Attorney subpoena'ed me and I agreed to testify against my husband. He's done a lot of bad things. I'm not really sure if I'll be safe. If something happens to me, Homelander did it, my husband killed me."

The television screen fades to black, and his daunting reflection stares right back at him. A few hours ago you were reported missing, seemingly abducted in the middle of the day - and now this video is going viral. Homelander admits that it doesn't look good on him. "What the fuck is going on!" Madeline barged into the office, obviously as discombobulated as he was.

"I was hoping that you could tell me," a shrill air of madness hovers over his poignant figure. He wanted to kill the person in charge of posting this video, he wanted to know if you did this on your own accord - or if there was a gun pointed at your head. The thought of both sends him reeling into a cage of madness.

"I-I think that there's a reasonable explaination for this. She could be abducted by a terrorist group and forced to film this confession." Ashley came to your defense.

Homelander clenches his fist.

"If my wife was abducted under Vought's watch, then, I'm going to kill everyone, and I don't care how this plays out in social media." He threatened, glaring at Madeline - who he was sure had everything to do with this. Madeline takes a deep breath, regaining her composure - and an unnerving smile ghosts her lips. "We should all calm down, Vought is trying its best to track her down right now." She smiles.

"Make it fast!" Homelander raises his voice, throwing a vase in Madeline's direction.

Y/N GILLMAN'S DIARY ENTRY #30

Dear Diary,

My husband looks at me so sweetly, I can't help but think that he's the man of my dreams, the father of my future children, and the love of my life. Lately, I think that this man of mine is going to kill me.

He had sex with someone else. Mandarin Oriental. Find my Phone. It wasn't that hard to figure out. I confronted him last night, and the way that he promised me that he was going to change - almost had me believing that he would. My mother always said: men never change. My mother was right.

I opened his phone (don't ask me why I know his password) but I saw that woman's message. MISS U INSIDE ME. I fucking hate her.

Like any good wife, I confronted him about it (again) and he told me that it was nothing. I can't remember the other parts of our conversation, but it dragged on for so long that I almost thought that it would never end. He told me that he'd kill me. I think he's going to.

"Detective Harold Brink. I'm here to solve your wife's disappearance," the man shook Homelander's hand. The Detective had a certain rogue-ish charm to him, tanned skin with a light stubble. He had a head as big as his ego. Harold Brink seemed confident in his skills. Homelander is going to be the judge of that.

"Shouldn't you be out in the field doing exactly that? You wasted time coming here," Homelander gritted his teeth, staring at the man from his head down to his toes. "Nothing but protocol, Homelander. I don't want to point a finger but there was a video going viral, an accusation made by the person missing, if you may." Harold states.

He doesn't have to be a genius to understand that this incompetent detective was pointing a finger in his direction. "We also found her diary when we searched your apartment." The man lays the book on the table in front of him. He sees your beautiful handwriting, with loops and straight lines. Your handwriting always danced between the line of print and cursive. "I think this man of mine is going to kill me, a direct quote if you weren't able to read." Harold says smugly.

Homelander contemplates killing the man, but it would be obvious. His demographics were going down, he was already facing a media trial - Harold was his hail mary, whether he liked it or not.

"Hyperbole. You don't know my wife." Homelander insisted, seeing the glaring red lights in his periphery. The cameras were rolling, he needed to make a performance of the lifetime. "- and clearly you don't either. I have a video of her saying that if she were ever to go missing, then you'd be the one responsible for it. I also have a page from her diary alleging that you wanted to kill her." Harold says.

"I'm not at a deposition." Homelander glares.

"You will be, soon." Harold stands up, hearing footsteps from the outside. Most probably Homelander's lawyer. "I'll give the subpoena to your attorney," he informs.

Homelander stands up.

"Give me all the papers that you want, but my wife is out there. Instead of spending time trying to back me into a corner, maybe you should actually begin to do what the American taxpayers are paying you to do. Find my wife!" Homelander yells, and on cue the door opens. "How dare you talk to my client." His lawyer says.

Homelander sighs, this was going to be a long month.

homelander: My wife is missing. If you have seen her please report to the authorities. Keep us in your prayers ❤️🙏🏻

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homelander: There has been an avalanche of fake news coming my direction. I want to make it clear that I would never do anything to hurt my wife. The video that has been going viral is a deepfake. 📍 pinned comment

cometfanbase: There's literally evidence of u cheating on her 😭

kuchie92: #WeStandWithHomelander #HereForHomelander

"What is this?" Homelander shoves the phone in Ashley's direction. "Your legal counsel and the PR firm decided that it would be wise to post something in light of..." Ashley does not finish her words. She keeps her distance from Homelander. "I'm surrounded by fucking idiots. What if someone looks into that video and finds out that it isn't a deepfake?" He questions.

These people at Vought keep underestimating the power of social media. "We already took care of that. We own all the deepfake detection software, and they all flag that video down. Plus, our influencers have been posting a lot of videos to sway public opinion." The woman continues speaking, after three shots of vodka - fear doesn't make itself evident.

Homelander sits down at the head of the table. "Updates about the case?" He wanted all the insider information. He also wanted to know if you were really abducted - or just faking it to punish him. "They think that she was abducted, there was blood on the floor, signs of struggle. Vought thinks that we're dealing with a larger force, people who have the resources to pull this off inside of Vought Tower." Ashley avoids his stare, placing a stack of files on the table.

If Homelander was to find out that she was the one who told you about the affair, then she was going to be food for the worms. "Cameras?" He takes a sharp breath. "All records have been wiped from the database. They're trying to recover it but it's a slippery slope." Ashley continues, shifting as she stands.

Should she really be the person to tell him about all of these? One wrong word and he's going to shoot a laser through her head. "Get out of my sight," Homelander leaned on his chair - Ashley scattered faster than pigeons do at the sight of danger.

Madeline warned him about his temper, told him that he wasn't allowed to kill anyone until they were able to find you. She really thinks that he has something to do with your abduction. For the first time, Homelander is innocent in this crime.

His heart beats a little faster at the thought of you being held in danger. Hopeless against your abductors because he wasn't there to protect you. He looks like a goddamn pussy. It is his duty as your husband to protect you, and he couldn't even make sure that the cameras in Vought Tower were working.

When he finds you - when he finds the person responsible for this. He is going to kill them. He's going to torture them gently until they beg for death, and he's never going to give them death. He's just going to make their existence a meaningless chore. Born to be tortured. Born to be reduced to nothing but limbs and organs.

The perfect radical justice.

He was just about to shoot his lasers through the window but Harold Brink walks through the sliding doors of the Seven meeting room. "Homelander, you're coming with me. You have the right to remain silent..." Harold's voice drowns out once he feels himself stand up, his hands wrapped around by cold steel handcuffs.

You will remain in police custody until the investigation is over.

The following day, his lawyer came marching. His pays the man $10,000,000 annually and Homelander can say that he is worth the money. His cell (if he could call it that) was luxurious, a double mattress bed and five star dining - it was almost a vacation. But his mind couldn't rest - all he could think about was you.

If you were safe, fucking with him, or actually dead in a ditch.

"You need to make a public statement." His lawyer made his message very clear. "The Seven has been doing work without you. Vought has been talking about suspending you, most of all, half of the public thinks that you killed your wife." The man updated.

"If I speak then everyone is going to think that I did it for public opinion." Homelander gritted his teeth. He could easily get out of this facility in a blink, but due to propriety he must stay. "If you don't speak then everyone is going to think that your shameless," his lawyer enunciated. "- if we allow that fact to sit then it will become the truth." He added, handing him a file.

Presumably, the script for his 'public' message. Homelander brought to his knees by a goddamn missing person's report. "My wife is still missing. I'm not seeing anyone do anything about that. They're all pretty determined to point the finger at me." Homelander scoffs.

The man in front of him adjusts his glasses. "Did you do it?" He questioned, aware that Vought made contingency plans - so that no one would be able to record Homelander during his 'jail' time. "No," Homelander said with all the strength in his chest.

His people, the Americans, were turning against him.

"It doesn't matter anyways. As long as there is no body, they can't make us do shit. Now, about that public announcement, I'll be back here tomorrow - and ease up on the whiskey." His lawyer stands up.

HOMELANDER'S INTERVIEW

Cameron Coleman: Did you kill your wife, Homelander?

Homelander: I did not kill my wife, I am not a murderer.

Cameron Coleman: But you hurt her. You were unfaithful to her.

Homelander: I was. I am not proud.

Cameron Coleman: How do you expect us to believe you, when we all know that you're a liar?

Homelander: I didn't come forward about that fact because I knew that it would make me look bad. I knew that no one would trust me if that fact ever came forth. A real man doesn't hurt his wife. A good superhero protects everyone, but I'm just a man. I don't care about my reputation anymore. I need my wife, because I know that I need to make it better. I was a bad husband to a wonderful wife, that is the truth, Cam.

Cameron Coleman: And you expect us to [cuts off]

Homelander: I met Y/N L/N ten years ago and I was enchanted by everything that she did. She made me believe that there was good in this world, as I was always exposed to all the bad sorts, all the bad crimes. My job as a superhero has desensitized me to violence, I thought that violence was normal. When she came into my world I realized that it wasn't, life could be and can be gentle and kind. I wanted her to love me so I pretended to be something that I was not.

Cameron Coleman: You talk like a man who believes that his wife is still alive. Is she?

Homelander: She is alive. Please stop talking like she isn't.

Cameron Coleman: Okay, what would you like to say to your wife?

Homelander: Y/N, I love you. You are the most special person in this world, and I have hurt myself over the things that I've done to you. Come home, please baby. I'll spend my whole life trying to make it up to you, trying to be the man that I promised to be. The man who makes you happy, the man who thinks and remembers everything that you love. I'm sorry for doing the easy things instead of doing the right things. Come back, please.

Homelander: I'll do everything that you want me to do. We'll build a house by the beach, I'll stop being Homelander. I'll give you kids and dogs and make you that surfboard that I always promised to buy.

[tear trickles down Homelander's eyes]

[screen fades to black]

A gasp escapes your mouth as you finished watching his interview. A sudden realization comes to you. This man has killed for you - this man is killing himself for you. He has stripped himself bare of everything that he holds dear (he only holds his reputation dear). The American consensus on his morality has waned significantly.

They all think of his name and spit on the ground. Once he realizes that no one loves him, he's going to burn the world. And isn't it your duty to keep Homelander down to earth?

This husband of yours has hurt you so much, but he also knows what kind of words to say to keep you drawn back to him. You were twin flames, both with large fires, just waiting to burn each other out. No one understood you like him (vice versa) and he is the only person who's able to match your craziness.

The wanton desire that he feels over destruction. The wanton desire that you feel over destroying him. We are born for each other, you thought. You made that man - filled his boring and touch-starved self with attention until he began forming his own ambitions. He's nothing without you, and Vought is nothing without you.

A few weeks ago, you really wanted to kill yourself.

You planned on slitting your throat down the river. Your dead body would wash up on the shores, and everyone will point their fingers at Homelander. His life was going to be ruined, his reputation, his demographics - he was going to be a FAIL in all demographics. But now, maybe you should get back to him.

Because he really loves you. He wants to make it up to you. He knows the words to say to rile you up, and he knows what words to say to make you forgive him. He was the Adam to your Eve.

Your creator and your ruin.

If love doesn't rile you up, make you change yourself, make you evil, then it isn't love in the first place. It's dependence.

This thing that you feel for Homelander. It's love.

... in its own twisted way.

[hard--headed--woman]

Sorry again for the late post ! Today, after talking about my favourite poet (Renée Vivien), I'm gonna talk about on of my favourite filmmaker ;

Chantal Akerman !

Chantal Akerman was a Belgian filmmaker who was born in Belgium in 1950 and died in Paris in 2015.

She has had an absolutely insane influence on cinema, most recently when her film "Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du commerce, 1080 Bruxelles", was named best film of all time (which honestly is very fair, this movie is a damn masterpiece).

She was a lesbian, though she didn't talk about it much and didn't want to be reduced to a "lesbian filmmaker". She was married to Sonia Wieder-Atherton, a cellist. Female homosexuality is a recurring theme in her movies - with sometimes long and explicit sex scenes between women, not at all created for the male gaze.

Chantal Akerman comes from a Polish Jewish family. Her grandparents and her mother, Natalia, were deported to Auschwitz, and only her mother returned. Her relationship with Judaism has had a profound influence on her cinema.

She studied briefly at the Institut National Supérieur des Arts du Spectacle in Paris, before going to New York, meeting some other filmmakers, and making some short movies, movies and documentaries. But her huge international success came in 1975, with Jeanne Dielman.

"I was tossing and turning in bed, worried. And suddenly, in a single minute, I saw the whole of Jeanne Dielman..."

I'm going to try and keep it professional when I talk about Jeanne Dielman, but it's going to be hard, because I LOVE this film.

It's a three-hour film that follows three days in the life of a widowed housewife, Jeanne Dielman, who lives with her son, spends her time doing household chores and prostitutes herself to survive. The film is shot in the illusion of real time: if Jeanne spends 30 minutes cleaning her living room, you'll be watching her do it for 30 minutes. (Obviously none of the scenes are that long and there are ellipses but that's to illustrate my point). It's revolutionary. A poignant film about the condition of housewives, alienation, the way we make sure we're busy all the time so we don't have to think about life or death. The tension escalates little by little until the deeply disturbing end of the film, when everything comes crashing down. A masterpiece. Everyone should watch it. It's long but it's worth it! (Plus the main actress is incredible, both as an actress and as a person).

This film was a huge success, and she continued to make others, with recurring themes of the status of women, mother-daughter relationships, lesbianism, death, mental health, alienation, boredom, the need for freedom, solitude, the passage of time, inner suffocation...

More generally, women are at the heart of his work. Women, their inner lives, their identity as women, their experiences...

Chantal was also a great feminist. She defended women's rights in her words, her actions and her films, and was keen to put women in the spotlight. She even surrounded herself almost exclusively with women to create her films.

Suffering from manic-depressive psychological disorders and deeply affected by the death of her mother Natalia a year and a half earlier, she decided to end her life at the age of 65 on 5 October 2015 in Paris.

She is buried in Père-Lachaise cemetery.

She is remembered today as an extraordinary filmmaker and a true innovator. Her films, long, emotionally chanllenging, psychologically and philosophically profound, are quite simply splendid. Check her work!!!

Chantal had a unique and magnificent style, and many more people should watch her films and documentaries.

[yeetfanficccc]

How bout a dance? Wicked Boq x Reader

Authors note- bro 2 fics in 2 days who am I? Reader can be read as gender neutral. I wrote this in one sitting so sorry for any mistakes- enjoy fellow Boq simps (in this house we simp for the simp) AU where Nessa doesn't like him because that's too complicated my guy. Did I give this (Y/N) my kind of oblivious, a bit stupid personality? Yes.

There he was again. Within the day Fiyero had been at Shiz University, everything seemed to change. Classes felt shorter as students slacked off, the library had books scattered every place a book shouldn’t be, and people were dancing, genuinely dancing, with glee. It was the most fun I’d had in years. I needed more

“He’s kind of cute isn’t he? That Fiyero.” It was a question, but it felt like the most obvious statement in the world. Literally everyone, boys, girls, probably Oz himself, found Fiyero attractive. He was a magnet sucking the world in, and I wanted a taste of what that was like. 

Next to me Boq, my first friend at Shiz, pouted, “I don’t get why everyone is freaking out so much. He’s just some guy.”

If I was being honest with myself, Boq was way more my type. Kinda shy, kinda nerdy, with freckled cheeks, unruly red hair, and a genuine smile. The type to make you feel special. But, I saw how he looked at Galinda, like she was the most beautiful person in the world. So, I resigned myself to the flirty, pipe dream Fiyero. It made me feel less sore inside. 

“Boq, I have a plan. A stupid, crazy plan.”

“You’re implying that all of your plans aren’t stupid and crazy.”

“Crazy I’ll give you,” I smiled, “but not stupid.”

His lip curled, “(Y/N), you thought it would be funny if we told people we liked their hat for a week when they weren’t wearing one just to see when they crumble.”

“The best thing you can take from someone is their reality, besides it was harmless.”

“One guy started crying by day 3.”

“To which I promptly apologized.” 

“Oz,” he laughed, that honey suckle laugh. The one I could never get out of my head. I shot my gaze away. “You’re impossible.”

“Do you want to hear the plan? Or should I find someone else?”

“No,” he shot so fast it sent me back a bit, “I’m your guy. I’ll do anything for you. We’re a team.”

I ignored the heat rising on my face, “you know how a bunch of people are going to the OzDust tonight?”

“Yeah…?”

“And you want to get Galinda’s attention?”

“I did. But now I don’t know. Things have changed.” He wouldn’t meet my eye when he said the last bit. I frowned. 

“If you’re worried about Fiyero don’t be. That’s my part of the plan.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“We pretend to be in love, so much so that everyone is jealous of how desirable we are. Fiyero and Galinda are the type that need the spotlight. So, they will each see us as their ticket back to the center of attention.”

“You want us…. to be in love?” homeboy looked dazed. 

“Only pretend of course! Just until our respective person sees how great we are.” 

“I don’t think this plan will work.”

“Do you not think we can convincingly be in love?” I questioned.

“No. We can do that.” And there went his eye contact, “I just don’t think we can convince Galinda and Fiyero to be with us.”

“Maybe you’re right. Sorry,” I deflated, “I was just really zoned out and this idea came to me”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t try… for research.”

“Really! Boq you’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you…” this time, his eyes meet mine. Brown, like fine Earth melted in amber. I felt a stir in my chest. No, too complicated. Fiyero is brainless, fun- way less emotional investment. That is, hoping this plan worked. Which I definitely wanted!

“See you tonight!” 

That night, the OzDust

The OzDust was more magnificent that I imagined. Music swirled in the air, as crowds huddled around a gleaming dancefloor. Every color of the rainbow, and then some, was fashioned into skirts, suits, and corsets moving in rhythm. 

Boq wore a red velet suit as I dawned blue. Opposites, that somehow end up together.

“(Y/N), you look so stunning,“ Boq grinned his smile lines even up to his eyes, “like a painting or something.” Damn he’s a good actor.

“And you are the most handsome munchkin boy I’ve ever seen.”   

“Just munchkin?”

“Okay fine. Most handsome boy, no superlatives!” I teased bopping his nose. This clearly surprised him, but he quickly went with it. 

“My angel” he leaned in to kiss my cheek. I nearly fainted, the heart palpitations were back with a vengeance. Do it for the bit (Y/N). Do it for the bit. “Am I doing a good job?” 

His whispered words made me remember this is all an act. But he had such a puppy dog smile, like all that mattered was pleasing me. Damn… no Fiyero think unobtainable Fiyero. 

“You’re doing great. But I don’t think we’ve gotten their attention yet. Permission to turn it up a notch? If this is making you uncomfortable though, we can stop.” 

“I’m not as shy as people think I am, not when I’m with you.”

“Well then, let’s dance.”

“Let’s” he reached out his hand. 

The song was upbeat, fluid. Boq took me in his arms and glided me around the dancefloor. I felt like I had wings and was zooming through the clouds. 

“Is this, okay? Am I dancing too fast?” Boq asked. 

“No, you’re perfect.”

“Well then, I’m turning it up.” He laughed, “get ready (Y/N) (L/N), we’re going turbo mode.”

His goofy smile turned to a devilishly handsome grin. He spun and held me to the song perfectly like it was a big, rehearsed dance number. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so alive, so free. And it was all because of him. Just then, the song turned more jazzy, low, seductive. The notes caressed my ears as I could feel Boq’s hot breath on my cheek.

He dipped me. Something within me snapped, I leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine. Warm honey.  Once I realized what I did, I pulled away, 

“I’m so sorry. I got caught up in the moment.”

“(Y/N), I can’t keep lying to you. I like you, like a lot. I’m sorry if that ruins things but-“

“No. That ruins nothing. I like you, like a lot too.” My heart raced.

“But what about the plan?”

“It was a stupid and crazy plan. I only liked Fiyero because I needed a distraction. I haven’t even talked to him. I like you, this whole time I have.”

“Oh.” Boq blushed. It sent me to heaven.

“But I thought you liked Galinda. So, I didn’t think anything would happen with us.”

“I did. But then you came along and showed me I’m good as I am. You make me so happy.” 

“Boq, you are so sweet.”

“Can I be sweet… as your boyfriend?”

“Yes!” I shot, “please.”

“I’m sorry your plan didn’t work.” he placed a hand on my cheek, "you were so excited about it. It was really cute actually..."

“To be honest, I don’t think Galinda or Fiyero looked our way once. They were too busy with eachother… and themselves. It was a bad plan.”

"Or maybe you were secretly seducing me this whole time and playing mind games to make me jealous." Boq baited.

"Boq, I'm about as dull as brick when it comes to you how would I have found the sense to play mind games?"

"For the record, I was jealous when you wouldn't stop talking about how attractive Fiyero was."

"Now you now how I feel when you wouldn't shut up about Galinda when we first met!"

"It was a phase! A weird, weird phase."

“Well, I’m glad. Because now I have you. And you're stuck with me.” I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, he turned someone even redder.

"If you think I was kind of weird and obsessive about her, you have no idea how much I yapped about you whenever you weren't around."

"My handsome, silly Munchkin boy...."

We danced the rest of the night in each other’s arms, holding on to the joy in our hearts.

[hana-no-seiiki]

ARDENT EXALTATION, ETERNAL DAMNATION

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere worshipper! x secret god! reader (ft. yan! god oc)

inspired by my bootiful @sagesskies n baldur’s gate shar/shadowheart

synopsis: if there was one main rule under your creed, it was for your name and titles thereof to never be spoken. but for this worshipper, it’s all that leaves his lips.

tw/cw: yandere & religious themes. yun sadist hours writing. reader calls oc their child but it’s not incest yall ples. character deaths.

TO WORSHIP YOU WAS THE GREATEST HONOR ONE COULD RECEIVE. An honor never to be shared nor declared. Selfishness and secrecy were the traits you valued in your followers. You simply felt that flaunting your presence to be superfluous, if not arrogant — thoughtless. A flaw you often saw in other gods that you wished not to have in yourself.

But of course, you were not perfect. No matter how much you may wished to be, even gods had their failures and oversights.

Once such oversight was Ynaël. The Prodigy, Priest of the Night, and your favorite.

He was immaculate. A perfect example of what it meant to worship you. He dedicated his voice, body, and soul only to you. No one knew his name but yourself. No one else knew he even existed. Those that did were sundered from existence, or lived in the afterlife.

You had only the highest of expectations for your child. He had an outstanding beginning. Unprecedented in your long, well hidden line of followers. You called for his name often. Assisted him in the ways you could as a deity in his adventures. Even allowing him to lay with you underneath the stars as mortals and your more carnal siblings did with their creations.

But as mortal beings and gods alike were, when faced with such high praise, it was inevitable for hubris to fester and slowly creep up on him.

He overstepped.

Sharing his devout adoration to his companions. Showering you with praise as he fought. Spreading your transcendent name throughout the very soil he stepped upon, and the crevices of bodies he’d desecrate.

What more was that he was proud of his accomplishments. You deserved to be known. To be remembered and immortalized. To share the spotlight your fellow celestial beings had. Was it not only right that you praise him even more?

But then, he could feel your presence slowly dimming in its luminance.

You never had a temple built to your name, so he could only ponder at night when everyone else had gone off to sleep or have fun underneath the sheets to wonder why you’ve seemingly left him. Was he too harsh? You were known for valuing mercy and forgiveness, the ability to show compassion even to the most tainted beings. Besides, you would never just leave him behind.

Frustrated with your lack of response to his calls, he sets upon a goal to build you a place for worship. One that was overdue in its establishment, in his opinion.

It took many, many agonizing years without a single word from you, but it was finally complete.

He takes a moment to gaze at the statue of your magnificent form he place behind the altar, soon to be covered with sacrifices and blessings. Anything you’d ask for, just as long as you bless him once more with yourself.

But instead, he is greeted by another presence.

A presence very similar to yours. Yet much, much more powerful.

Their voice almost tore Ynaël’s ears wide open in its magnitude.

“You killed them, you — a worthless scum of a mortal.”

Killed whom? Throughout his years working on your temple he had taken no life. He wanted everything to be completed as soon as possible. He had no time for any sorts of conquests.

“Meet your maker.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

— to be continued

[urrmomzfavorite]

PAC: YOUR Aura

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile One: You are a magnificent sun, a bright light shining in every room you enter. Yes, you are! People stare a lot at you, but you don’t notice since you’re in your own world. It’s hard for you not to command attention. I don’t think you’re aware of the magnetism you exude. Stop selling yourself short and please recognize who you are. You are a phoenix, constantly rising from its ashes—an eternal fire, an eternal spark. You’re downplaying yourself, and I need you to go to the mirror, actually look at yourself, admire your beauty, listen to your own voice, and be kind to yourself. Give yourself some grace. Self-care is important for you to keep up, Pile One; otherwise, you get drained by all the people pulling on your energy. Alone time is necessary. Just know that you are the son/daughter of Ra—you will rise again and again and again because you will never stop shining, no matter how hard you try to hide. It’s time for you to step into the spotlight.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile Two: Pile Two, you are oozing confidence. You are sensual, delectable, magnetic—a lot of people want to own you, tame you, make you a novelty caged in a gold prison. It’s truly odd how people are attracted to your power but only under the guise of overpowering it. They’re silly souls who get lost in your shadow, trying to find a way to chain you. They don’t understand that you can’t imprison a free spirit. I encourage you to bask in your darkness and let it consume you. You are a storm entering people’s lives; wherever you go, somehow people’s truths are revealed, nasty or not. You trigger lots of souls without even noticing, but it doesn’t matter—this isn’t why you’re here. Your path is unique in itself. Follow your intuition, and you’ll find your purpose.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile Three: Pile Three, I’m getting major Klaus from The Umbrella Academy vibes. LOL, I fucking love that guy. You are a leader—people want to follow you, they stop to hear you, they ask for your opinion. Does it get tiring? You naturally seem to sit in a position of authority without even noticing. It’s a lot of King of Wands energy. People admire your vision, your ideas, because they know you’ll go far, and they want to be able to tell others they were part of your journey. Riding off your success? Crazy. Anyway, you have a lot of influence; you just need to get out of your head. Believe in yourself and confront your fears. Only then will you have a better concept of your true self. Random note, but a lot of people have crushes on you. A LOT.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

[prettiinpinkk]

my ballerina 🩰. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

arlecchino x fem! reader(nsfw)MDNI!!

synopsis; you are a ballerina, dancing on the stage under the hot spotlights, the crowd watching you perform. after, arlecchino decides to praise you for your performance in a way she’d rather prefer.

a/n: hihi! first story up! (I don’t know much about ballet so im sorry if this is wrong and first time ever writing smut so 😓) step on me arle :3 anyways send requests i love youu . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

; tying up, nicknames, strap on, semi-public sex, slight overstimulation, wlw.

wc; 2.5k

10:07pm

It was currently a few moments after your performance, sweat dripping over your forehead, the lights beating down like a rapid storm. you danced like a beautiful swan on a lake, gaining applause from the crowd infront. perfecting executing your routine, the tutu flowing as you twirled.

you were approaching the other, wrapping your arms around the white haired female, the woman congratulating you on the magnificent performance.

10:52pm

you were tied up, your arms and legs tied with some pretty pink ribbon, bare, in front of arlecchino. “you did so good out there, doll. your like my pretty little ballerina.” she said, speaking low and sultry. her one hand landing on your neck, the other on your breast. her eyes met yours as she lifted your head to match her gaze, her thumb slowly rubbing over your tit. “sweetheart, you’ll be a good girl and stay quiet, won’t you? don’t want people hearing..as much as I love your little moans and whimpers.” You managed to get out a small “mhm.” but before you could finish, two of arles fingers were inside your pussy, moving at an agonizingly slow speed. “f,fuck-“ you mumble, trying to muffle a groan.

arlecchino began to move her hands quicker, pushing them deeper inside you, curling them slowly, you felt feverish, almost letting out a whimper. you ached for more friction, it wasn’t enough, she was going so slow on purpose, as if to tease you.

you pulled against the restraints, starting to feel suffocated with the amount of pleasure mixed with overwhelming need. “ah-ah- you stay there, baby. don’t want to be a bad girl for me hm?” you responded with just a small whimper, her hands moving faster and faster inside your aching pussy, your fluids dripping all over her hand, making a ring around her palm.

11:03

arlecchino pounded into your soaked pussy, you were about to hit your limit, you’ve came many times, but she isn’t stopping any time soon, you whimpered, holding onto the wall while she pushed into you, muffling your moans with her hand “you look s’so pretty like this- all a mess for me’ mm-f’fuck-“

your eyes rolled back, the endless pleasure continuing, “a’arle-mmph-p’peruere-“ It was like that sent her over the edge, she pushed into you one last time, panting, reaching both her limit and yours, tears of overstimulation falling down your face, being pushed to your limit. “did so good f’me- fuck- such a good girl.” both of you panted softly, her thumb wiping away your tears, giving you a soft kiss, her hand making sure not to put too much pressure on the marks she made on your neck.

[myhotplaythingsreblogs5]

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Thirteen - Dangerous roads

The bar is a small intimate place, but it's perfect for a celebration. Eleanor hired out the back room for you all to celebrate in private. You didn't mind, it was nice to not be around so many people.

Lestat stays by your side the entire time. You arrive together and take your seats around the round table. Amelie sits on the other side of you. Jack sits on the other side of Lestat. Eleanor sits opposite you.

Eleanor calls for drinks to be brought in. Lestat orders for you and himself, the others order for themselves.

Eleanor stays quiet as the drinks come in. She eyes you across the table. You smile at her. You're trying to focus on her thoughts, but Lestat is nipping at your ear. He's stopping you from focusing. 

“Lestat,” you whisper his name.

He grins. “Amour.”

“Stop it,” you scold him lightly.

“Non.”

You chuckle as he nips at your earlobe. He's teasing you on purpose, you know it. Though you don't like to assume he knows something you don't. Not that you can ever tell with him.

“That was quite a performance tonight,” Jack comments.

You smile proudly. “I've been working hard on my music. You could say I have a burning inspiration.”

Lestat grins at you.

“Well, I hope that flame doesn't go out too soon. Your music is bringing in the crowds.”

You chuckle. Lestat brushes some hair behind your ear with his finger. “She is magnificent. People are blessed to hear such precious pieces.”

You lean into his touch.

Amelie looks at the way you two are looking at each other. Lestat literally can't keep his hands to himself. Nor his lips, it seems. She had never seen you this cosy with someone before. It's almost strange.

Drinks are topped up. Conversation remains light and easy going. Lestat is cuddled up beside you, his arm always around you. Eleanor continues to eye you from across the table. Jack has begun to notice her constant staring and clears his throat, but her gaze doesn't waver. Lestat continues to distract you any time you try to read her mind.

It's starting to bug you.

“Something you wish to say?” You ask, keeping your eyes unblinking on Eleanor.

“Not at all.” Her voice gives nothing away. You continue to stare each other down. Lestat presses his lips gently against your cheek and you turn away first, though you can still feel her eyes on you.

Another half hour or so passes. One last round of drinks. You and Lestat are the first ones to leave the table, standing from your seats. Lestat holds out your coat and helps you put it on. Eleanor follows you with her eyes.

Amelie rises from her seat too. She grabs her purse and fixes her hair. Lestat offers you both an arm. Jack rises from his seat after finishing his drink. Eleanor is the last to stand.

Lestat guides you and Amelie outside into the cool night air. Jack comes up beside Amelie. The young woman lets go of Lestat in favour of taking Jack's arm instead.

“Well, this has been fun,” Jack comments.

“Certainly has,” you smile, looking up at the tall blond vampire beside you. Lestat grins and steals a kiss.

“I'm beat. I hear my bed calling for me,” Amelie says, yawning after.

“Let's get you home.” Jack smiles and gives her arm a little squeeze. They both bid you goodnight and take off down the road.

Lestat is about to guide you down the opposite way when Eleanor speaks. “Night cap?”

You look at Lestat. He looks at you.

“Why not,” he grins.

Lestat does not let go of you as he leads the way back to the house. Eleanor follows closely behind. No words have to be spoken for you to know what Lestat is thinking. You can see it in his gaze.

The walk back to the house is slow. Lestat is purposely dragging it out. Eleanor doesn't seem to take much notice though. She listens to him talk. He talks about the city, the music, you. He leans down to kiss you at one point. It makes you smile.

Lestat opens the door upon arrival and lets you in first. He then lets Eleanor in next, watching as she walks right by him and enters the house. The door closes behind him once he's inside.

You make your way over to the cabinet and pour some drinks. Eleanor isn't even discreet as she looks around the room. Little does she know that her brother was killed right in that room.

“Nice home.”

“Merci,” Lestat smiles at her. He comes up beside you and takes a glass from your hands. You smile as you pour another.

You bring a glass to Eleanor. She looks at you closely as she takes the glass. You sip yours, not once breaking eye contact.

“I must confess, I didn't come here just for a drink,” she says calmly.

“Oh?” You don't sound surprised. You know she's been waiting to catch you one on one like this. You've been onto her just as she's been on to you. You didn't need to read her mind to know. Lestat's behaviour tonight told you everything.

“My brother adored you.”

“I'm aware.”

“You were the last person who saw him,” she says firmly. “I know that now. I've been watching you.”

You lift your head a little higher.

“There's something weird about you,” she continues. “I'm not sure when you changed, but you have. I'm only going to ask once… where is my brother?”

You stare at her with no emotion. You're aware of Lestat moving behind you, taking slow careful steps to join you. He sips his drink and puts the glass down, you hear it land on the table.

“Not here,” you say.

“So he's somewhere else?” She asks.

“In a sense.”

“What does that mean?”

Lestat is now right behind you. He brings a hand to your hip and presses his nose to your hair. You don't tear your eyes away from the other woman, but you do tilt your head slightly to make contact with Lestat. He presses his lips to your temple.

“Your brother was here,” you tell her.

“Where is he now…?”

“Dead.”

Eleanor seems to go rather pale. You'd be amused if you weren't so focused on the sound of her blood rushing. She was scared. Good.

“What happened to him…?” She asks softly, fear clear in her voice.

“He was killed here. On that sofa.” You nod your head toward the furniture. “It wasn't I who killed him. It was Lestat.”

Lestat grins.

Eleanor's eyes widened.

“I saw him do it, but that night I ran. That night I learned that vampires were real and I had been keeping one company. Days later I became just like him. Your brother was a horrible man who wanted to outshine me. He wanted to push me into the background while he became a star. Lestat was displeased. No, he was angry.”

Eleanor attempts to step backwards, but in the blink of an eye Lestat was behind her, holding her still. She began to squirm. “Don't kill me!”

Lestat scoffs. “I will not. My love will.”

Eleanor tore her gaze away from him to look at you. You were approaching her like a predator hunting its prey. She was far more afraid than she had ever been in her life.

“Why? Why did you do it?” Eleanor asks.

Lestat leans down to bring his lips to her ear. “For love.”

Quicker than she can form a single thought you're on her. Your teeth are sunk into her neck before she can even make a sound.

Her blood flooded your mouth, sending  your tastebuds haywire. You moaned against her skin, ignoring the way she tried to pry you off. She was a fighter, that was for certain, but with both you and Lestat holding her down, she wouldn't get very far.

Lestat watched you with hungry eyes as you drank your fill. Watching you feed was a delight. You were so beautiful.

Eleanor goes limp and quiet.

You pull away from her neck and lift your head up. Blood dribbles down your chin. An easy fix for Lestat as he leans forward and kisses you. He lets Eleanor's body drop to the floor and gathers you in his arms, pulling you right against his chest.

You lose yourself in his touch. Eleanor is a memory as Lestat leads you over to the couch. He guides you down, his lips kissing along your neck and jaw. His hand works on your clothing, but you don't really comprehend it.

All you know is Lestat.

Lestat is draped over your naked body. You caress your fingers through his golden hair. His head rests on your chest.

“We really did it.”

Lestat smiles and raises his head to look at you. “We did. She shall no longer be a problem.”

“People might ask questions.”

“Very few were acquainted with her.”

“What about her things?”

“Leave it all to me, Chéri.”

You decide to trust him. He will erase any trace of Eleanor. You relax again and go back to caressing his hair.

An hour later you're tucked away in the coffin. Alone. Lestat is busy disposing of the body and anything she brought to New Orleans with her. He had gone to the apartment she was staying in and cleared it out.

Everyone would assume she packed up and left.

Unable to rest, you rise. You climb out of the coffin and grab a robe, putting it on. You sigh and wander down the hall. The house was quiet with Lestat gone. However, there was one thing that could provide some comfort.

The piano sits untouched downstairs. You spend a few moments just looking at it. Lestat had officially given it to you. It brings you comfort just looking at it. You walk across the room and take a seat at the bench, lifting the cover from the keys and gently running your fingers along them.

Music begins to flood the room. You close your eyes and allow yourself to be taken away from your worries. All you have is the music around you, comforting you in its warm embrace.

You smile as each note comes to you naturally. This piece is new, completely spur of the moment. You memorise the pattern of the keys, committing this one to memory.

The sound of light at the end of a tunnel.

You miss the sound of the door opening and closing. You also don't hear Lestat's steps on the floor. You do, however, smell cologne as he comes closer. You open your eyes and smile, but you continue to play. Lestat comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Don't stop,” he mutters.

You don't. You keep playing until you find it's perfect ending. Lestat holds you until you get there. As you let the last note linger he kisses the top of your head.

“It is done.”

You gaze up at him above you. He uses one hand to brush your hair back out of your face. You smile again.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he tells you. “Everything is sorted.”

We'll be fine.

Lestat reaches for your hand and brings you to your feet. He pulls you in close and begins to sway with you in the quiet room. He's trying to keep you distracted. It's sort of working, though Eleanor still lingers in the back of your mind.

You can't help feeling like that family might be a curse to you.

Lestat kisses your forehead. He'll always be here to keep you safe. He swears by it.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4 @darkqueen1995 @bridkesby @caribbeangal @sarcasticandfangirl @missjadesfics @kaybart19 @whereismymindnow @chauchirem @angelrenee239 @ppureheroiine @heyitsaloy

[cera-writes]

First Impressions - A Kurt Wagner x gn!reader one-shot

Summary: You first met Kurt at the Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The first time you laid eyes on the blue elf, you were smitten. Fast forward to the 90s and you and Kurt meet again under much different circumstances. tags: fluff, coming of age, mutual pining

The Bavarian sun, a pale orb veiled by a dusty scrim, cast a sickly yellow glow upon Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The peeling paint on the rickety wooden sign promised wonders, but the air itself held a different story. It reeked of damp straw and the acrid tang of manure, a far cry from the anticipated scent of popcorn and sugared treats. Disappointment gnawed at you, a shadow settling over your heart despite your parents' enthusiastic promises.

Your parents had dragged you along on this trip. It was your summer vacation and apparently you were there to also stay with distant relatives. But you knew your parents were in it just for the free stay and a vacation away from the States. Out of all the touristy things your parents could have picked for you to do, they chose a musty, worn down circus. Honestly, you were ready to be back in America with your friends at the arcade or skating rink. This wasn't how you imagined you'd spend your summer at all.

"C'mon darling. The show is about to start!" Your mother ushered you inside the tent as the ticket master tore your ticket stubs in half as your father followed close behind.

Inside, the spectacle was every bit as underwhelming as the exterior. The big cats, once proud denizens of the savanna, paced restlessly in cramped cages, their magnificent coats dull with neglect. Their amber eyes, once fierce and watchful, were now clouded with resignation. The stench of their confinement hung heavy in the air, a stark counterpoint to the vibrant posters plastered precariously on the weathered orange and red canvas walls. You took a seat in the rafters for the best view, if you even could call it that.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackled to life, the announcer's voice a tired rasp battling with static. "Presenting," he declared, his voice tinged with a hint of forced excitement, "our opening act of the night, the Mystifying Nightcrawler!" A spotlight pierced the gloom, bathing the center ring in a harsh white light. From the shadows emerged a figure unlike any you had ever seen. Your eyes widened. Was he- was he really a mutant? You had never seen one in person. He was absolutely beautiful.

"It's him..." you mother sneered. Your parents however, held gazes of contempt and disgust towards Nightcrawler, and any other mutant for that matter. You tuned out their nasty whispers and just focused on the boy standing at the platform.

He was clad in a costume that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, a deep cobalt blue that seemed to drink in the stark light. A mask, sculpted from some unknown material, obscured his face, but a shock of blue black hair, as vibrant as a summer sky after a downpour, peeked out from beneath it. It was a stark contrast to the peeling paint and sun-bleached canvas that surrounded him.

Then, he moved. There was an effortless grace to his every action, as if defying the earth's very pull. He launched himself from a platform hidden in the shadows, his form a blur of blue and black against the harsh white backdrop. He wasn't just swinging; he was dancing, his body twisting and turning with an impossible fluidity. Every leap, every flip spoke volumes of preternatural strength and agility. He was a silent symphony in motion, an enigma wrapped in cobalt and shadow.

But it was more than just his skill that captivated you. There was an aura about him, an undeniable magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. It was a mystery that whispered promises of adventure and a world hidden just beyond the confines of the dusty circus tent. With each breathtaking leap, with every impossible maneuver, a spark ignited within you, a yearning for something more, something extraordinary.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze seemed to find yours through the harsh glare of the spotlight. A jolt of electricity shot through you, a connection forged in that shared glance. Then, with a flourish that echoed the fading magic of the moment, he vanished back into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of shimmering blue and the lingering echo of wonder in your heart.

The rest of the night was a blur. The other acts faded into oblivion, their performances mere afterimages compared to the spectacle you had just witnessed. Your mind replayed the image of the Nightcrawler, his impossible agility, and the enigmatic smile hidden beneath the mask. The program, clutched tightly in your hand, became a talisman against the fading magic, a tangible reminder of the night that had stolen your breath and ignited a latent flame deep within your very core.

As the applause dwindled and the spotlight dimmed, you felt a frantic energy surge through you. You couldn't just let this incredible encounter end. You had to meet the Mystifying Nightcrawler, to thank him for his amazing performance. It totally didn't have anything to do with your newfound crush. Nope.

Despite your parents' apathy towards mutants, their dismissal fueled a rebellious spark. Seeing the way they interacted with the worn-out animals solidified your resolve. This wasn't a place of wonder, but a place where the extraordinary was exploited. But Nightcrawler, he was different. He brought a touch of magic to the dreary spectacle.

"Come on," your mother called, her voice laced with impatience, "Let's get some overpriced cotton candy and get out of here."

You mumbled an excuse, your heart hammering in your chest. Scanning the emptying stands, you spotted him – a flash of blue disappearing behind a faded red curtain. With a last furtive glance at your parents, now deep in conversation with a vendor, you sprinted towards the backstage area.

The worn canvas walls billowed in the evening breeze, and the air thrummed with a low murmur of voices. You navigated the maze of caravans, each one a peeling testament to the circus's nomadic life. Just as you were about to give up, a figure emerged from one of the larger caravans.

It was him. The Nightcrawler. But instead of his vibrant costume, he was clad in worn jeans and a simple white shirt. He held a red rose in his hand, its vibrant color stark against his stark blue fur. His mask was off, revealing kind golden eyes and a mischievous grin.

Your stomach did a nervous flip-flop. This wasn't the enigmatic performer you'd admired from afar. He had to have been around the same age as you. His vulnerability made him even more captivating. You hesitated, unsure of how to approach him.

Sensing your presence, he turned, his yellow eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile spread across his face, as warm and genuine as the setting sun.

"“Hallo Schöne”," he said, his voice a melodic baritone. "Seems the Mystifying Nightcrawler has a little fan."

You stammered, cheeks burning. "I, uh… I just wanted to thank you. Your performance… it was incredible. Um, you're also the first mutant I've ever seen. Sorry, I'm not from around here. I'm from America." You played with the hem of your shirt, fidgeting nervously around him.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound. "Thank you, frau. You make a kind audience. I hope I did not frighten you. I know I look a bit... ungewöhnlich."

He held out the rose. "Would you care for this?"

You hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take the flower, its soft petals cool against your fingertips. "It's beautiful," you breathed.

His gaze held yours, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. "So," he said, his voice dropping a touch, "what's a junge Dame like you doing backstage at a traveling circus?"

You inhaled deeply, the scent of hay and diesel fuel filling your lungs. As you spoke, a strange tingling sensation crawled up your arm, making the hairs stand on end. It felt... electric, like a current running just beneath the surface of your skin. You flinched, dropping your gaze from Kurt's captivating golden eyes to the rose in your hand.

"I…" you started, your voice catching in your throat. The tingling intensified, spreading across your body in a wave. Panic surged through you, a primal fear of the unknown. Before you could apologize or explain the sudden tremor, your vision blurred at the edges. The world seemed to distort around you, the vibrant red rose in your hand pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

Kurt's demeanor shifted instantly. His playful smile vanished, replaced by a mask of concern. He reached out, his hand hovering a safe distance from yours. "Are you alright, Freund ?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You struggled to speak, your tongue thick and heavy. The strange energy within you crackled, yearning to be released. This wasn't the first time your body reacted this way. You feared the worst. You were starting to believe you were a mutant too. But you could never reveal that to your parents.

They'd disown you in a heartbeat. All those scholarships they made you apply for would never matter if they found out you were different. You knew you needed to get away, to disappear before you lost control and revealed your secret in front of the mysterious Nightcrawler.

"I… I don't feel well," you managed to force out, your voice shaky. Shame burned in your stomach for the abrupt change. "I should get back to my parents."

Kurt's eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "Of course," he said gently. "Let me take you to them."

He moved with his trademark agility, guiding you through the maze of caravans with an ease that left you breathless. You stumbled slightly, your legs shaky under the weight of the unknown power coursing through you. Kurt offered you his arm for support, but before you could reach for it, your parents' voices cut through the air.

"There you are!" your mother exclaimed, her voice laced with annoyance. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

You turned to see them approaching, their faces etched with concern. When they spotted Kurt hovering beside you, their expressions hardened.

"Don't touch our child, freak!" your father barked, his voice thick with disgust.

Shame washed over you, hot and suffocating. Kurt's hand recoiled as if struck. His shoulders slumped, the joy that had previously emanated from him extinguished.

"I was just helping, Herr," he said, his voice mild yet firm. "They seemed unwell."

Your mother scoffed. "Don't need any help from your kind." She grabbed your arm possessively, dragging you away before you could even look back at Kurt.

"Wait!" you cried, struggling against her grip. But your voice was lost in the bustle of the crowd. You stole a final glance over your shoulder, only to see Kurt standing alone, with one hand rubbing subconsciously over his other right bicep.

His yellow eyes, once filled with warmth, now held a flicker of sadness as they looked off in the distance. He was the first of his kind that you had met and you finally felt like you resonated with him. But it was all too short lived. All you were left of him was the single red rose he'd given you as a memory of your encounter.

With a heavy heart, you were whisked away from the circus, your first encounter with the Mystifying Nightcrawler ending abruptly, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste and a burning question: would you ever see him again?

The 90s were a whirlwind of discovering and finally, somewhat, honing your mutant abilities. Mutants, now looked down upon more than ever, made you even more of an advocate for your kind. You got that scholarship but at the expense of your parents actually disowning you after a fight at the dinner table ended up with your mother's smashed fine China on the floor at the expense of your powers.

For some reason, they'd brought up Nightcrawler again and it sickened you to the point that you'd had enough. When they found out you were just another "freak" that was the last straw and they kicked you out and you never heard from them again. Good riddance you'd said.

The only thing that sucked about them kicking you out was that you had to quickly find a job and a place to live or you'd end up just another homeless mutant on the streets. All that trust fund money had long gone down the drain when they cut you off completely.

You were residing in New York now. You found a dingy little apartment to live in while you finished up your degree in Advanced Physics. You were finally set to graduate this month and after that, who knows.

You wanted to find a job and finally move out of the crappy little apartment you'd called home for a few years now. At least your neighbor next door, Peter Parker, was usually quiet and it gave you room to study without having to complain with a knock at his door, even if he did come and go at odd times of the night.

One particular day, you were sitting at your favorite little corner coffee shop, studying for your final exam, when all hell broke loose on the street. A piece of large shrapnel flew through the glass of the shop, eliciting screams and terrified shouts from pedestrians as people flew to take cover.

You dove for cover under the overturned coffee table, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The tremor that had rattled the windows had morphed into a full-blown city-rattling rampage. But it wasn't an earthquake. The tremors moved, a monstrous crimson figure stomping through the city streets, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Juggernaut. You recognized him from news reports – a mutant powerhouse the X-Men struggled to contain. And here he was, rampaging through your city like a bull in a china shop.

Panic threatened to consume you, but amidst the chaos, a voice in your head rose above the fear. You were no longer the scared kid, afraid of their powers, who watched Nightcrawler perform at the circus.

If this new era taught you anything, it was discovering your mutant abilities, the escalating anti-mutant sentiment, and the brutal fight with your parents that ended with disownment and shattered family heirlooms. The memory of them calling you a "freak" like Nightcrawler still stung, but it also ignited a fire within you. You wouldn't be another victim.

Squinting past the overturned table, you saw the X-Men, their familiar blue and gold uniforms standing resolute against the crimson giant. And there he was, Nightcrawler – older, even more handsome than you'd remembered, but with the same twinkle in his eyes. He fought with a desperate grace, teleporting in and out, trying to flank Juggernaut. But the red behemoth seemed unstoppable.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, you channeled the theoretical knowledge from years of studying advanced physics. The raw energy of the city pulsed around you, a live wire waiting to be tapped into. It felt almost like an extension of yourself, hungry for release. You stood, running from your sense of security, and joined the chaos outside.

With a surge of will, you unleashed it. A concentrated beam of pure energy, hotter than a thousand suns, erupted from your outstretched palms. It slammed into Juggernaut's side, the red giant staggering with a surprised grunt. The X-Men seized their chance, a flurry of attacks momentarily halting the crimson tide. Cyclops blasted an optic beam, Storm unleashed a swirling vortex of wind, and Wolverine harried Juggernaut with his adamantium claws.

Kurt, finally free from the relentless onslaught, materialized beside you, his yellow familiar eyes widening in disbelief. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. "It's you," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of the battle.

You offered a small smile, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. "Helping hand, remember?" Your voice was hoarse, but it held a newfound strength. With another surge of energy, you deflected a stray blow from Juggernaut, allowing Storm to unleash another torrent of wind.

The X-Men, rejuvenated by your unexpected intervention, pressed their attack. Professor Xavier's telepathic voice boomed, urging Juggernaut to stand down. The fight raged on, but your power tip, the concentrated beam of pure energy, proved to be the turning point. Juggernaut, overwhelmed by the combined forces of the X-Men and your unique ability, faltered. His helmet had crumbled, rendering him vulnerable.

Finally, with a roar of frustration, Juggernaut surrendered, taken away by the NYPD as they forced his hefty frame into the back of a mutant prisoner containment vehicle. Exhausted but victorious, the X-Men regrouped. Kurt materialized beside you once more, his gaze still filled with awe and disbelief. "Freund," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Is it really you?"

You met his gaze, no longer the scared kid from the dusty circus tent. The years of hardship and self-discovery had forged you into a new person. With a defiant smile, you nodded, ready to tell your story and finally find your place amongst the X-Men.

You wanted more than anything to catch up with the infamous Nightcrawler. But Professor Xavier was making his way over to you, clearly wanting a word. The look on his face was nothing short of astonishment. Kurt, sensing this, gave you a reassuring nod as he turned to join the others once more.

"Are you alright, young one?" he inquired, his voice warm and calming.

You nodded, finding your voice a little hoarse. "Yes, Professor. Just a bit… surprised, I guess." You couldn't believe you were talking to the Professor X.

"Surprised?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I imagine so. But you were quite… extraordinary out there."

The compliment brought a shy smile to your face. You explained how you'd been studying advanced physics, how the energy in the city resonated with you, and how you'd finally been able to control it. You confessed your situation too, about the fight with your parents and being disowned. Shame burned in your stomach, but you held Professor Xavier's gaze.

"It seems you have much to learn, young one," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "But you also have much to teach. We've been looking for someone to help our young mutants hone their abilities, someone who understands the science behind them." His eyes twinkled. "Would you be interested in a position at the X-Mansion, once you graduate of course?"

A wave of emotions washed over you – relief, hope, and a flicker of something more. The X-Mansion. A place where you could belong, where you could use your abilities without fear. You looked at Kurt, who stood a few feet away, a wide grin plastered on his face. His saffron eyes held a spark of excitement, mirroring your own.

"I… I'd be honored sir," you stammered, a genuine smile blooming on your face.

Professor Xavier chuckled. "Excellent. Now, how about we get you cleaned up and settled in? The X-Mansion can be your home. In the meantime, we can work on your new alias." He chuckled lightly.

The mansion, a sprawling structure that seemed to rise organically from the wooded landscape, took your breath away. It was a world away from your cramped apartment, a sanctuary for those who were different. You settled in quickly, the warmth of the X-Men a stark contrast to the cold rejection you'd faced at home.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the lake behind the mansion in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself drawn to its peaceful serenity. As you sat on the edge of the dock, a sudden bamf! sound reverberated next to you as a scent of brimstone hung in the air. It was Nightcrawler.

Suddenly, you felt very conscious and shy all over gain. It was really him. There was no mistaking that sheen of blue fur that lined his skin.

"Quite the entrance you made today," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed, a nervous flutter in your chest. "I figured you could use some help."

Silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of the water. You took a deep breath, finally ready to share your story.

"Remember what you said at the circus? About me being a kind audience?"

Kurt nodded, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features.

"Well," you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper, "I wasn't just kind. I was… smitten. You were the first mutant I ever saw, and it was like watching magic. The thought that for one second, I wasn't alone. That there was another similar to me."

You explained how your parents' reaction had fueled your fear, how you'd kept the rose all these years. You confessed how they'd called you a "freak" just like you'd mentioned, and how you'd ended up alone after they disowned you.

Kurt listened intently, his expression a mix of sympathy and something else you couldn't quite decipher. When you finished, he reached out, taking your hand gently in his. His blue fur felt surprisingly warm against your skin.

"My Freund," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "You are no freak. You are extraordinary. And your parents… well, they were wrong. Trust me, I've lived all my life thinking I was an abomination."

You felt a twist of pain at his words. He was so kind and sweet. Even just so as the night when you'd met him the first time back at that old, sketchy Bavarian circus.

He squeezed your hand, and a spark shot through you. You looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of your own feelings there.

"The truth is," Kurt confessed, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck, "you've never left my mind either. There was something about you that day, a spark I couldn't ignore."

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. The thought of him feeling the same way all those years sent a warmth throughout your body. The thought that you'd somehow made an impression on him sent butterflies wildly dancing in your stomach.

The truth hung heavy in the air, a silent confession echoed in Kurt's blushing cheeks and your own hammering heart. The twilight sky, ablaze in fiery hues, seemed to witness the unspoken yearning that crackled between you.

His touch, a gentle pressure on your hand, sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You leaned in, drawn by a force stronger than gravity. The kiss, when it came, was a revelation – tentative at first, then deepening with a passion that mirrored the vibrant tapestry of the setting sun.

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours, the sweet taste of berries lingering on his tongue. Your hand reached up, tracing the contours of his face, the velvety texture of his blue fur sending shivers down your spine. He reciprocated, his touch delicate yet firm, as if afraid to break the spell.

The kiss deepened, a silent conversation flowing through the press of your lips. He tasted of adventure, of something innocent but also skilled in the ways of romance. A gentle breeze rustled the nearby leaves, momentarily pulling you apart.

"It's Kurt... my name is Kurt Wagner," he'd finally told you his name.

You gazed into Kurt's eyes, a newfound understanding blooming there. The dam holding back your emotions seemed to break.

"Kurt," you whispered, your voice thick with a desire you could no longer deny.

He responded with a low rumble in his chest, his blue fur darkening with a blush. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, teleporting you both to a deserted corner of the mansion's rooftop.

The cool night air whipped around you, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter and music from the common room. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a glittering backdrop for the nascent intimacy unfolding between you.

His touch became bolder, exploring the exposed skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers trailed down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine and the surprising strength hidden beneath his lithe frame. Clothes became an unwelcome barrier, discarded in a tangle of limbs and whispered promises.

The moonlight, a silent witness to your blossoming love, bathed your entwined forms in an ethereal glow. Passion flared like wildfire, fueled by the years of unspoken attraction and the shared trauma that had bound you together.

The night unfolded in a symphony of whispered endearments and stolen breaths. With each touch, each lingering kiss, the anxieties of your past faded, replaced by the promise of a future brighter than the city lights on the horizon. You'd found each other, and this time nothing would take Kurt away from you.

[2-dsimp]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy,moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious,gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, slendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride.

These are the things that I want Nokka to do with me I love him 🤭☝🏻💕

Welp that’s one way to introduce the SPOTLIGHT WEEK 1:

Meaning that starting today (which isMonday) I shall only Feature posts about Nokka, Uriel, Harumu, and Danny from the winning polls.

A/n: with some side posts about the Darling cafe 👀

[slexenskee]

Creep

Still trying to write things for the actual story but in the meanwhile here's a Bakugou x Yui oneshot 😅

He creeps into the hallway in the dead of night, bewildered to find the light is on in the music room, just the tiniest bit of it seeping through the cracks of the doorway. Over the hum of the air conditioner and the emergency lights, he can make out the steady beat of a bass, muffled by the many soundproofed layers in the walls of this particular room.

He’s usually the only one who haunts these halls this late at night, but he supposes he really shouldn’t be surprised to see that’s changed now that there’s more classmates rooming on campus. 

And one classmate in particular.

He should just turn around, chalk the whole thing up to a wash and go back to tossing and turning in his bed. Or maybe head to the gym for a midnight run to burn off all this pent up energy.

He should leave her alone. She obviously wants the solitude, if she’s out here at this hour. 

It must be hard, dealing with all their nosey classmates and the domineering pressure of her band’s fame. Kodai has never been the type to enjoy the spotlight, always keeping quiet on stage as her bandmates heckle each other, and dodging questions in interviews. She avoids any and all marketing. 

She must hate it. All the attention the other kids give her, now that her identity (and Satoru’s) has become common knowledge. 

And the last thing Katsuki wants to do is add to that burden. 

Yet he can’t bring himself to just turn around and leave.

Actually, he’s crept closer, until his ear is pressed gently against the door. 

The soundproofing is impressive. He can barely make out the throughline over the bass. It’s a good sound, though, a very strong and heavy rhythm that seamless transitions into what must be the chorus, crash cymbals adding into the mix. He can’t identify the song though from just that alone. 

At this point, he can’t help but nudge the door open a little bit further, breaking the soundproof seal.

He sucks in a breath. 

Yeah, he’s certain of it now. It’s not a song he’s ever heard. Not even on that unreleased album Ru-kun himself had given him.

And— holy shit— not only is she playing it on the drums, she’s singing it too. 

He’s never managed that. Not very well, anyway. Sue him, it’s really fucking hard, okay? And to keep the melody so well while still maintaining the backbone of the rhythm section? He can’t fathom it.

And she makes it look so damn easy, too.

Her voice takes his breath away.

“Ain’t it fun? Living in the real world—“

He doesn’t think he’s ever really heard her sing— not like this, with her head thrown back, belting out the words. She’ll harmonize with Jirou sometimes, but for the most part, leaves the vocals to long ears. Jirou swears up and down she’s just as good, if not better of a singer than Jirou herself. Katsuki privately thinks she has the right of it— Kodai is amazing. No wonder Ru-kun put a song for a female vocalist on one of their few publicized albums. He must have really wanted her to sing it.

Katsuki can see why.

He thinks he could watch her just like this, forever. Something about her presence is magnetic, quieter and steadier than Ru-kun’s effusive persona, but no less charismatic. He wonders if he’s ever really seen her at peace like this, the way she is when it’s just her and her music, no one else to see it or get in the way.

She’s not just an artist— she’s art. 

He shouldn’t linger here.

He’s intruding where he shouldn’t be. This is her private space, the solitude she craves after hours of dealing with other people, just a kid and the simple joy of a drum set. He knows that feeling better than most. So he knows damn well he should get the fuck out of here and leave her alone.

So why won’t his feet cooperate? 

She’s reached what must be the breakdown of the song, a fun chant that has him automatically tipping his head to the beat. Then there’s the magnificent drumroll as she barrels into what must be the final chorus of the song. He needs to get out of here before she finishes, before there’s no rumbling bass to hide the click of the door shutting behind him. Before she sees him, and this bewitching tableau is utterly ruined. Before he ruins it. 

“Ain’t it good— being all alone?”

Maybe one day he’ll have the courage to open the door and talk to her properly. Tell her all the things he wishes he know how to say—

How much he admires her, not just as a fellow musician, or even as a fellow hero in training— just her, as a person. Although yeah, he’s got a hell of a lot to say about her music. 

How much he wants to play this fucking song with her one day, maybe with all their friends or just the two of them. Maybe they’ll make it into a dueling drum duet, or maybe she’ll teach him the drum part and sing it with him. 

How much he wants to play all her songs with her. And maybe make a few new ones together someday. He doubts he’ll ever come close to Ru-kun’s musical genius, but he thinks it’ll be worth a shot, if only because it’s something they’ll make together. 

He slides out of the room just before she gets to the final fill, slumping against the wall just outside it as he buries a hand into his hair.

He lets out a long breath.

Great. Just great. He’d come out here in the middle of the night to clear out his head— and now it’s even more muddled than ever.

//

Yui was originally going to be playing Creep by Radiohead because I was really into that song when I wrote this, but decided Paramore was more her vibe haha. Meanwhile, Katsuki is definitely going to be playing Creep for the foreseeable future and Satoru and All Might are going to be like 'yeah great song and all but why???'

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Wasn’t Jiang Cheng so bad at relationships that he was blacklisted by matchmakers, even though he is one of the most powerful and richest men in the setting?

That he was.

Three failed dates confirmed during Mo Dao Zu Shi's second anniversary (10 strange facts about Mo Dao Zu Shi) on MXTX's weibo

Transcribed:

5. 江澄相亲过三次。由于各种原因，上了女修相亲黑名单。

他的要求是：素颜美女，温柔听话，勤俭持家，家世清白，修为不能太高性格不能太强话不能太多嗓门不能太大花钱不能太狠。对金凌好。

English:

Jiang Cheng has been on three blind dates. Due to various reasons, he has been blacklisted by all female cultivators.

His requirements are: a natural beauty, gentle and obedient, thrifty, with a pristine family background, not too high in cultivation, not too strong in personality, not too talkative, not too loud, and doesn't spend ruthlessly. Be nice to Jin Ling.

This is expanded on as a short in the CN Audio Drama where his Aunt Yu tries to set him up with a lady cultivator and she leaves in anger not even a minute within 5 minutes of speaking with him.

Other noteworthy mentions of his stellar personality from the 2016 broadcast interview:

女主持：对，公屏上有一段刷过去了，就是江澄作为江氏的族长，他为什么这么多年都没有结婚呢？

Yes, there is some public discussions, as to why Jiang Cheng, as the head of the Jiang family, hasn't married even after so many years?

墨香铜臭：就性格比较差劲吧，谈了几个，吹了。

He just has a (n) 差劲 chà jìn (average/lame/disappointing, let down) temperament, he dated several times but they were all failures...

The third date is also spotlighted in a season 3 extra of the CN Audio Drama: Blind Date. ( You can find this on MissEvan as a purchase )

???: Incredible!

Jiang Cheng: You are?

Rong Yan: Anping Rong sect’s Rong Yan. Ah, it was Bomu Yu who brought me here. She had told me to come her to wait for her.

Jiang Cheng: Ah, so Jiumu is who brought you...

Rong Yan: Mn.

Jiang Cheng: Then please have a seat.

Rong Yan: Alright. Jiang-zongzhu , just now, the weapon you were wielding was Zidian? You were amazing! I’ve never seen anyone with such a magnificently and elegant mastery of a whip before!

Jiang Cheng: Ha, I’m alright with it.

Rong Yan:Jiang-zongzhu is being humble.

Jiang Cheng: The purple dress you are wearing is rather nice.

Rong Yan: Oh, really?

Jiang Cheng: It’s a shame however... If your skin was a bit paler, it would look even better.

Rong Yan: Eh…? I didn’t realize Jiang-zongzhu was so knowledgeable about fashion.

Jiang Cheng: Oh, I’m just making a casual observation. Mn? What’s that smell? Do you smell it?

Rong Yan: Ah, what?

Jiang Cheng: It smells like a mix of flower pollens. It’s like a poisonous gas. Eh? It seems like it’s coming from your direction--

Rong Yan: Ah, my clothes are often perfumed. You don't seem to be used to the scent, Jiang-zongzhu.

Jiang Cheng: Oh, so that’s why. You’re right, I’m not used to it.

Rong Yan: Uh…

Jiang Cheng: Eh?

Rong Yan: J-Jiang-Zongzhu, why are you looking at me like that?

Jiang Cheng: Are you feeling unwell?

Rong Yan: …Ah?

Jiang Cheng: Your face is white and red in splotches . Are you sick?

Rong Yan: I… This…! (In feigned patience) Thank you for your concern, Jiang-zongzhu. I’m fine.

Aunt Yu: Eh? I see that you two have already started conversing. Aiya, I seemed to have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Ah, have you two been properly introduced yet? Aiya, Jiang Cheng you haven't even offered Miss Rong some tea yet?!

Rong Yan: Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Bomu. But I won't be taking any tea. I’m not feeling too well. I’ll be taking my leave now. Good bye.

Aunt Yu: Eh? E-EH?! Miss Rong! Sigh Aiya… JIANG CHENG!!!!

JC: Jiumu.

Aunt Yu: Did you stick your foot in your mouth again?!

Jiang Cheng: Of course I didn’t. I spoke properly the whole time and gave her some suggestions. She didn't listen, not understanding what's good for her and left. Hmph, not even a thanks.

Aunt Yu: This is already the third time! Don’t you know there’s no one left who wants to matchmake for you?! Finally, there came a Miss Rong who was interested in you. She put on such make-up! She took this so seriously! I had such high hopes for this meeting! And in the end?! You angered and drove her away! Aiya, you’ll be the death of me! If you want to be like this, then just stay single forever!

Jiang Cheng: Hmph, as if I care!

[astrolocherry]

The Archetypes of Venus in Leo - Golden Girls of the Astrology Age 

Nobody puts on a celebration like Venus and Leo together. While it may seem unusual for socialite Venus to relish in such a self-focused sign, there seems no doubt that Aphrodite delights where she can shine in the direct sun spotlight. There is natural sass and style, the heart illuminates an inner glow that cannot be replicated through cosmetics. 

Venus and Leo stand together on stage in the design of a magnificent character type. The heart is the audience’s object of desire, and the heart is never quite as tender, sensitive, raw, childlike, and big as when in Solar Leo. The self-gratification is giving and receiving love in return. 'Beautiful' to the Venus in Leo is all about demonstrating, enhancing, and utilising her organic beauty in the most enriching possible way

She is highly responsive to the feeling of being desired, being hungered and wanted for, being the climax of anticipation. Venus in Leo is a creative romantic. Though far from being hopeless, she is a hopeful romantic who knows that true love will come one day just like the sun rises each morning.

Southern Belle - Light and Dark Feminine: Interplay between the Feminine Angelic play with love, and the suggestive seductive Feminine following desire. Wholesomeness expressed with eroticism. Personal style as a dispensed aphrodisiac; visual innuendo, 'eye candy' The High Queen - even simple robes and aesthetics look majestic on her Royal Blood - Personification of the Royal Birth/Heiress

Lady in Red - Creatively generates feelings of lust and arousal. Exciting, enticing, tantalising; though dangerous should she be crossed. Exudes sexual command and prowess.

Based more on projections than actual intention. Intimate partners pass a clearance test, she is not readily available - to simply abide would only reduce her aura of mystery 

Queen of the Jungle - Bombshell, leopard fur two-piece, wild mane. Obeyed and protected by undomesticated animals. Strongly self-willed and directed by instinct, the rescuer romanticised by the rescued 

Amy Winehouse

Madonna

Coco Chanel

Dita Von Teese

Nicole Kidman

Cherry