#WHY MUST MY BRAIN TORTURE ME WITH SUCH GOOD TIMES

[lucygraysboy]

“i hear you, lucy gray. i hear you,” he murmurs quietly, still stroking her arm. he doesn’t want his encouraging words to be the reason why she begins to wonder whether her feelings are valid. he does hear her and can understand where she’s coming from, but at the same time refuses to agree with her. “but that can’t be the only solution. besides, there are so many songs that could still be sung. if you give up, who will tell your story? everything that you’ve been through? don’t you think you deserve a ballad of your own? you can’t let yourself be forgotten ‘cause that’s exactly what they all want.” pondering his next move for a moment, trying to figure out if he should hug her, he sets the bread aside on whatever clean surface is nearby and begins with wiping her tears away. rough fingertips suddenly tender and shy, touching what little skin isn’t buried in the teddy bear’s rainbow skirt and catching these big, crystalline droplets. “see? that’s another story to tell. your siblings’ story. who else is supposed to sing ‘bout ‘em? me? oh, you ain’t heard me yet but i sound like a buck in full rut, tryin’ to sing. you don’t want me tellin’ no important stories.” undermining his skills just to lighten the mood, try and lift the weight of the world off her tiny shoulders, he doubts it will work but it’s still worth giving a try. “good, think you should sit up, right? i can help if you let me.” help prop her up, feed her, whatever she needs help with — he can do it. but he won’t try to just lay his hands on her and wrestle her lifeless body around, figuring that would only make her trust him less. “of course, there’s truth to that. i know what i’m talkin’ ‘bout. i mean… i don’t really have anybody either,” he admits quietly, tucking a few dark curls behind her ear, wondering what a monster could hurt this innocent girl… part of his brain still in denial. it must have been someone else, not his brother. “i mean, i have a family in thirteen, but are they really that? the same people who saved me, spared me ‘cause i was a little boy and…” he trails off, unsure why he’s looking into the deepest, darkest, most raw corners of his soul, rubbing his nose to refrain from sniffing like a baby, “those same people murdered my ma.” the rebels killed his entire family and then raised him as one of their own, if that’s not some twisted psychological torture… “i need a covey, too. just as much as you do. shh, it’s just the storm, we’re safe here.” seeing her flinch stirs something deep within him, and he once again finds himself wanting nothing more than to lay on the bed beside her and hold her, but he can’t do it. can’t risk doing something that would scare her. 

“i just feel tired tryin’ to survive. once fightin’ through it all seemed worth it, to keep goin’ cause that is what the covey would want. but i’ve lost my hope and will. this is the dead end for me, i’ve sung all i could sing out.” lucy gray replies, soaking the teddy bear’s colorful skirt, her mama’s clothing she used to make the bear’s skirt. it has her tears intensifying and mourning her absence even more. “i had older siblin’s too.” just because she was the smallest, she survived. able to squeeze into a small nook of a tree when her mother told them to all go find a hiding place, she never would’ve done it if she knew her mother wasn’t planning to hide too. “i’m too tired to eat, but i’ll try.” not sleepy tired, just mentally tired and physically tired. that little running and adrenaline spike she had because of him caused her to exert what energy she had left. she hasn’t eaten anything in two days, fruits and leaves becoming more scarce to find the colder it gets. “yeah, there’s some truth to that.” that a covey can be a patchwork family. but — he’s coriolanus and he can’t be trusted. “mm..hm.” usually, she’d laugh but there’s no will to even do that in her. tear drops still slipping off her cheeks, feeling better when he lays the blanket over her body. limbs feel like jello, her head feeling heavy, all of this and processing he’s still coriolanus or not coriolanus but looks like coriolanus all at the same time. it’s all too much. and the slam of the thunderstorm making the floor vibrate, causing her to flinch, burying herself deeper in the bear. hand on her leg trying to soothe the pain away.

[emperor-kaiser]

Hey

I’m in the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror after I had finished gotten ready for the day when this big guy, hairy and chubby, walks up behind me and lifts me but the waist. I don’t even know this guy! But he holds me in his arms so securely that I don’t even complain. It’s somewhat comforting. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d taken off my pants and underwear with how mesmerized I was by his presence. Suddenly, he’s shoving his hard cock inside of me so rough that I can’t help but let out a surprised groan. He’s slamming his cock inside of boy pussy at such a relentless pace that tears start forming from the discomfort but pleasure that the man is making me feel. My vision clears for a moment but I don’t even try to make out this stranger’s face. What catches my attention first is the bulge that protrudes from my lower abdomen. I moan at the feeling of the stranger’s cock fucking my boy pussy, head leaned back in pleasure. The man is grunting as he continues to fuck me before he catches my lips in his. I have nowhere to hold onto but my legs wrap around the man’s legs from behind while my hands tug and run through the stranger’s hair. I’m in utter and complete bliss.

THEN I FUCKING WAKE UP

[merrinla]

Portrait spamming

Recent discovery. If you click on the portraits of the characters like crazy, they will react to it. And the developers had a lot of fun coding these reactions xD

Tav / Dark Urge

normal - I'm awake! Mostly. - I'm starting to get a headache. - Must be the tadpole. - Quit knocking around in there! - A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull.

combat -Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I feel better. - I have an itch in the worst place. - Is being a mind flayer so bad? - Just waiting to venture forth here. - I'm maiming as fast as I can!

stealth - What's that ticking? - Is it me? Am I ticking? - Bomb in my head about to go off. Great. - Ah, well. I had a good run.

Astarion

normal - Why do beautiful people taste better? It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities. - Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit. - More like Drizzt Don't'Urden - no. No that's not funny. - Villains! Dissemble no more, I admit the deed! Tear up the floor - here, here! It is the beating of his hideous hea- oh, no, that's his brain. Where did I leave that heart?

combat: - I'm trying to focus on murder. - *Humming.* - I shot a svirfneblin in Menzoberranzan just to watch him die. - I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.

stealth - Shhh. Just think sneaky thoughts. - Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. - Be very, very quiet - I'm hunting idiots. - I've got a brand new torture chamber, so come and play with me.

Karlach

normal - NOTE TO ACTOR/DIRECTOR: Blow a raspberry at the player. - Don't. Poke. The Karlach. - Who am I? - My eye!

combat - Eyes on the prize - we need to win this! - Not every soldier should've made it out of training. - Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner. - I ought to just burn this whole thing down.

stealth - My back can't take much more of this. - Not now, I'm being a sneak! - I'm getting too old for this nonsense. - I'm not built to crouch.

Gale

normal - I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away. - Sembian wine; Cormyrian boar; Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Oh, what a tangled Weave we web! - All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

combat - Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. - Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you. - Get. Out. Of. My. Head. - I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.

stealth - You made me hide, don't make me come seek you. - Gods, it's like trying to sleep with a mosquito in the room. - A little privacy please. - Stop it - that tickles.

Wyll

normal - Could do for a brew. - Where there's a 'Wyll', there's a 'y'. - Ever get the sense that someone's watching? - So two halflings walk under a bar...

combat - Can't hear myself think! - Wear your scars proudly. - As my father once told me: 'Can we get on with it?' - I find moderation is key.

stealth - Bad time for an itch. - Could do for a brew. - So two halflings walk under a bar... - Shush. No, really. Shush.

Lae'zel

normal - Must everyone be so exhausting? - Weapons high. Standards higher. - Is perfection too much to ask? - Pride is a virtue.

combat - I will know my queen! - There is no right or wrong, only truth. - What is the point, if not victory? - You are right to fear me.

stealth - Hush already. - There is no wisdom in madness. - Is perfection too much to ask? - There is but one way. Vlaakith.

Shadowheart

all modes - I wonder how I'll feel when I remember everything. - Strange. I've had more freedom this past while than my whole life... - Have to keep focused. Can't afford to get attached - to anyone. - If I succeed, maybe I'll be allowed a pet... ugh, stop being silly.

Halsin / his voice is currently bugged :(

normal - What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb... - Such attention... I never realised I was so popular. - Are you feeling lonely, perhaps? - Unwise, perhaps, to poke a bear this much...

сombat - Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe. - Perhaps try attacking the enemy? - Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities. - You are insistent, are you not?

stealth - Most consider it unwise to poke a bear. - My, you are eager, are you not? - Please. I am trying to be stealthy. - Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.

Jaheira

normal - Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too. - I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want. - My, such strong wrists. - Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you? - Please go poke the ranger instead.

combat - You have my attention - now do something with it. - What? What do you want!? - Do you know, I begin to wish they had never brought me back. - Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.

stealth - Dry those sweaty palms and let us try this again, shall we? - Argh, my knees! Oh. It was a twig. - Would that I could hide from you, too. - Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.

Minsc

normal - ARGH! My EYE, Boo! They went for my EYE! - Know that if you poke Boo, no higher dimension will keep you safe! - Heehee. Heeheeheehee. - Well, Boo? How do you want to do this?

сombat - Are you perchance a squeaky wheel in need of a kick? - I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness. - I begin to grow annoyed. It is well for you that Boo does not let me learn the bad words! - Ignore them, Boo. Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.

stealth - A little to the left? But not so hard you make me giggle. - Boo...? Are you dancing down there, or...? - Hush! I am surprising Boo for his birthday! He is... uh... eh... how old do hamsters get...? - I am the night. A pity, then, that it is so bright out.

Minthara

all modes - You had my attention, now you have my fury. - Phlar Lolth ssinssrickla. - Your suffering will be spectacular. - Stop, or die.

[flowersdiceandlove]

Svsss au where Shen Qingqiu’s female. Shen Yuan is still male though. When he transmigrates into SQQ he freaks out not only because he’s the scum villain but also because he’s a girl now. Where is his dick?!? Airplane, you hack, give me my dick back!!!

LBH’s still a guy and everyone else is the same gender too. It’s just SQQ that has the genderbend. And Shen Qingqiu stews over the fact that not only is he a scum villain and a girl, he's the only woman in PIDW that actually gets a bad end and not just tossed into the harem because Shen Qingqiu was just that bad of a scum villain that not even Luo Binghe, stallion protagonist, husband of hundreds of wives, wants to seduce and papapa her into submission like he did with so many other villainess beauties. And it's not the beauty that's the problem. Shen Qingqiu is beautiful. Like an immortal fairy descended from misty peaks to grace the mortal world. Just the type to fit into the harem. So, it really is a testament to how much Luo Binghe hated her that he tortured and killed her instead.

During the three years of LBH in the abyss, SQQ finds a plant or smth that can turn him into a man. So he eats it or whatever. Then, bam. Male Shen Qingqiu.

Fast forward to Jinlan City and Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe meeting again. Luo Binghe freezes and his eyes rack up and down Shen Qingqiu’s form, over his face and repeating the process a few times before stuttering out a very choked and strangled “Sh—Shizun?” Because just did Shen Qingqiu get hotter as a man?!?! (He didn’t but Luo Binghe didn’t know about his transformation and going through the shock of it and a gay panic at the same time. And they’re really close together so he can see all the small changes that are making Shen Qingqiu more masculine instead of feminine.)

“Luo Binghe,” Shen Qingqiu replies, flicking his fan open, his voice cool and even. And Luo Binghe chokes, wheezing out a breath at hearing not only Shen Qingqiu’s deeper, masculine voice for the first time, but that voice saying his name. Send help, this boy is not doing well.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, struggling for something, anything to say.

"Uh..Um.. Sh-Shizun looks...nice," he eventually says, feeling like an absolute idiot! Of course, Shizun looks nice!!

"...As does Luo Binghe," Shen Qingqiu replies, feeling out of depth because Binghe is two years yearly, and why is he acting so weird? Shen Qingqiu's trying to find Luo Binghe's angle for this weird behavior. Is he playing the traumatized victim of the scum villain teacher? But, if he is, this behavior doesn't seem quite right for it... "Binghe has certainly grown more into himself," he decides to add. More compliments can't be bad, right?

And Luo Binghe's brain short circuits again because Shizun just said he looked nice!!

He lets out a high pitched squeak. Shen Qingqiu is horrified, wondering what is wrong with Luo Binghe. Why is his face so red? And his eyes are shifting around erratically, not focussing on anything. (Luo Binghe can't keep his eyes on Shen Qingqiu--he's to handsome to look at--but also can't look away from him. Seriously, he is struggling bad. Gay Panic: 3, Luo Binghe: 0)

Seeing Luo Binghe continue to look bright red, act weird, and his face look kinda contorted honestly, is making Shen Qingqiu worried about him and his eyes land on Xin Mo. Ah. Xin Mo must be affecting him!! Shen Qingqiu thinks, and calms some at knowing what's wrong. Then that calm is replaced by panic, because Luo Binghe effected by Xin Mo is never a good thing. See, Binghe! This is what happens when you rush your leveling up arc!!

Without thinking, Shen Qingqiu steps forward and lifts his hand to feel Binghe's forehead. Just as he thought. Binghe's burning up. Shen Qingqiu frowns and hums. Luo Binghe goes a bit cross-eyed and his face heats up even more at Shizun touching him. He get's a bit dizzy from it and sways on his feet. Shen Qingqiu's eyes widen at this and reaches his hands out to gab at Luo Binghe's upper arms, stabilizing him. At this, Luo Binghe lets out a high and quite whine in the back of his throat. Shen Qingqiu is very worried now.

Keeping Luo Binghe supported in his grasp, he looks around at the gathered Huan Hua Palace disciples, wondering why one of the girls here isn't rushing to help Binghe. That's what you're here for!! he thinks scowling, then barks out orders at them to find a room for Binghe to lie down in. While they don't really want to take orders from him, they do and find a room. In Shen Qingqiu's ordering, he calls LBH "Binghe" not "Luo Binghe" and it's not helping Luo Binghe regain brain functions.

"Come on, Binghe," Shen Qingqiu whispers to him, ushering him towards the room, "right this way. Can you walk or do you need this master to carry you?" Luo Binghe just whimpers which only worries Shen Qingqiu further and he hurries Luo Binghe to the room faster. Once there, he settles Luo Binghe on the bed. In all his worry, he's fallen back into Protective Shizun Mode that cares for his sick disciples (or Mommy Mode if you prefer). So, he orders the Huan Hua Palace disciples to get water and a cloth and lays the cool towel on Binghe's forehead who's just staring up at Shen Qingqiu with wide eyes. "Shhhh...It's okay, Binghe, you're okay..." he murmurs and Binghe whimpers again, needing to close his eyes. He thought Shizun hated him and thought he was a monster to be put down, but here he was caring for Binghe so sweetly and gently, his touches soft and whispering reassurances to him.

Shen Qingqiu continues to hover over him replacing the cloth when it grew warm, brushing his hair out of his face, patting and stroking his head gentle, and transferring qi to him to try and sooth the effects of Xin Mo. While this little...bout...wasn't brought on by Xin Mo, the sword is still effecting Binghe to at least some degree, so Shen Qingqiu is mitigating that effect. Luo Binghe can only lay there, helpless against the effects of his Shizun and soaking in his affection.

The System kept on giving Shen Qingqiu point increase updates, but they got so frequent that they were annoying and distracting, so he muted them. Shen Qingqiu has however clocked that him pampering Binghe like this and caring for him in such a difficult time is helping his situation and he's hopeful he won't be turned into a human stick as soon as Binghe regains his strength.

One of the Huan Hua Palace meimeis finally can't take it anymore and steps forward, "I can do that. No need for Peak Lord Shen to trouble himself," she says, barely able to hold the vitriol in her voice back. Shen Qingqiu knows his queue when he sees it (at least he thinks he does) and nods gracefully, rising from his seat beside the bed to let her sit in his place. The girl looks smug for only one moment before Shen Qingqiu stops and looks back down at Luo Binghe. He had reached out and grabbed onto Shen Qingqiu's sleeve.

"Shizun, don't leave me," he whispers so soft and broken sounding. He's utterly wrecked by the amount of emotions that have been surging in him, first from the gay panic and then Shen Qingqiu pampering him when he thought he was hated. (Xin Mo wasn't helping either.) And, Shen Qingqiu's heart just cracks at how vulnerable and broken he sounds and the teary look in his eyes, and just plops back down in the chair, grasping Luo Binghe's hand, not breaking eye contact.

"I won't. Shizun won't go anywhere, Binghe, okay?" he says without thinking. Luo Binghe nods and hums, a couple tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. Shen Qingqiu reaches out to wipe them away with his sleeve, one hand still firmly holding Luo Binghe's hand. And, while he hadn't thought before sitting back down or speaking, he can't bring himself to take his words back. Not when Luo Binghe is like this. He clearly needs someone to care for him, and for some reason he wants that person to be Shen Qingqiu. And, who is Shen Qingqiu to deny the protagonist what he wants? And his little disciple at that? While he knows that Luo Binghe is supposed to be blackened right now, when he looks at him, all Shen Qingqiu can see is his little disciple wanting his Shizun.

The Huan Hua Palace girl, though, not wanting to give up just yet, steps forward once more, determined, "Really, I--"

But she's cut off by Luo Binghe growling at her lowly and giving her a harsh glare. She's shocked still by it, her eyes widening and face paling.

On instinct, and so caught up in nostalgia, Shen Qingqiu snacks Luo Binghe's head and glares at him, "Don't growl at her. I taught you better than that."

Luo Binghe looks up at him with wide eyes like a child caught misbehaving, then mumbles demurely, "This disciple is sorry. He won't do it again."

And that shocks Shen Qingqiu out of his nostalgia and he realizes he just smacked. Luo Binghe. The post-abyss Luo Binghe. And scolded him like he was still his teacher and not a scum villain. Terror racing through him, Shen Qingqiu gently pats and soothes Binghe's head, saying sweetly, "Ah, no, it's okay. Binghe needn't apologize, he can growl all he wants." Hopefully that'll do it, he thinks while he continues to pat Binghe's head and fluffy hair. Luo Binghe just stares at him with wide eyes again, his face heating again as well. Then Shen Qingqiu starts fussing over him again and his red face, the girl forgotten. "Ah, is Binghe's fever back? Just lie still. Hey you there--get more water!" then turning back to Binghe and transferring more qi.

Luo Binghe continues to KOed by Shen Qingqiu until he's nothing more than the whimpering, sticky little disciple Shen Qingqiu remembers him to be. just with claws and a demon mark and red eyes and powerful demonic qi. and an evil sword. But still Binghe!! His sweet little bun that just wants his Shizun. (Binghe gets rid of the evil sword when Shen Qingqiu expresses his dislike on how negatively it's effecting him.) And, if Binghe wants his Shizun, then how can Shen Qingqiu deny him that?

[dewdropdinosaur]

Little Fire Lies

SILCO X READER

Summary: Silco is puzzled, why wouldn't he be? His long-time assistant has apparently been harboring secrets from him and he didn't know. What he doesn't know, however, is how much his curiosity will come back and bite him...on the neck.

Warnings: Cussing, mentions of torture and sex. PG-13. Inspired by 1) Season 2 coming out soon and 2) @silcoitus because I read all of their stuff religiously. Word Count: 3500 words.

Silco's expression softened as he listened to her humming. It was a familiar song that echoed the anger and pain felt by many of the citizens, including himself. The anthem of the revolution, a strange choice for a song to hum during the work day.  He knew it well, having heard it many times before. He stood there quietly, listening to the tune with a mix of understanding and resignation

"You're an interesting one, you know that Y/N?", he said under his breath, his gaze still fixed on her form.

Y/N peers at him from her periphery 

“Hmm? Is that so?”

Silco smirks lightly, his gaze still fixated on her.

“You have a habit of using songs to express your thoughts and feelings, don't you? It's quite an unusual, and somewhat impressive, way to cope."

Y/N huffs and mumbles 

“There are worse coping mechanisms”

Silco chuckles at her comment, a smirk forming on his face. He nods, knowing all too well the truth in her words

"That's true, I suppose. I've seen my fair share of unhealthy coping mechanisms in this city. But I must admit, yours is certainly the most... creative I've come across. And oddly fitting, considering your... talent."

Y/N finally raises her head from her paperwork, quirking a brow and eyes narrowing toward the man. 

Silco's smirk grows slightly, a hint of playful banter in his tone 

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about, Y/N. Don't play coy now. Your uncanny ability to stay completely calm and composed, even in the most precarious of situations. I've seen you handle difficult negotiations, tight deadlines, and volatile clients, all with a level head and a smile on your face. It's impressive... and slightly unnerving."

A hum follows. 

“Well, thank you...I think.”

Silco chuckles again, leaning slightly against the desk in front of Y/N.

"It's both a compliment and a note of caution. It's remarkable how you can remain so unfazed by anything. But it also raises the question of what could break that unshakable composure, if anything at all."

Y/N, even the world at large, could see the dangerous curiosity in Silco’s eyes. The Eye of Zaun has always been a man of deadly inquiries, even to those who he trusts most. A way to test loyalty and more so, a way to test vulnerability. She could feel fear creep into her throat as she realized what was happening...an interrogation 

“Thus far boss, haven't found anything yet.”

Silco's gaze remained intently fixed on her, his expression unreadable. He watched her every subtle reaction, the way her eyes might glance away, or how her fingers might fidget slightly.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," he says, his tone smooth and steady, yet there's an undertone of danger "You've always been good at hiding your weaknesses, haven't you?"

She keeps her expression neutral and her tone casual despite her brain running rampant 

“One has to in this line of work–”

Silco nods, silently applauding her facade of calmness. He leans back from the desk, crossing his arms as he continues his questioning.

"True," he responds, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s face, "In this city, showing weakness is a dangerous game. I've seen more than my fair share of people fall thanks to a single moment of misplaced honesty."

Silco's gaze becomes more intense as his voice drops to a lower tone

"But everyone has a breaking point, don't they? A moment where the facade slips, where the careful control is lost. Tell me, Y/N, what's yours? What would it take to break that calm facade you wear."

Y/N pauses, racking her brain for bullshit answers but none come to mind. A flurry of lyrics comes to her brain, the coping mechanism to calm herself but alas she can't voice the fears. Turning to face his intense gaze, her eyes betray nothing that is going on in her head 

“I implore you to figure that out on your own, boss.”

Silco's gaze continues to bore into her skull, his face unwavering. He leans back slightly, his eyes never leaving her as he ponders the response. A hum erupts from his throat, a soft smirk playing at the corners of his scarred lips. He can see the subtle flicker in her eyes, and the slight tightening of her jaw, indicators of the internal battle she’s fighting. He would applaud the facade if it hadn’t been one defended against him. 

 He takes a step closer, his voice low and deliberate

"Now you're just being stubborn," he says, a hint of humor in his tone "But then again, when have you ever been anything but." He pauses, his gaze still intense "You're hiding something. I can feel it in the air. Something you don't want to admit, even to yourself."

She turns back to her paperwork, softly humming 

“Like I said, you can figure it out...on your own.”

Silco lets out a huff, a mix of irritation and frustration at the continued display of nonchalance. Taking a step closer, he towers over her.

"Oh, you really think I won't find out, hm?" he asks, his voice low and almost challenging.

"I've found out everyone's secrets and weaknesses, eventually. What makes you think you're any different?

Y/N felt her heart race at his proximity, a small silent gasp leaving her lips.

“Because...you trust me. You said so yourself.”

Silco pauses for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he processes the bullshit response. He slowly circles the desk, his footsteps echoing in the silent office. His movements are slow and precise, like a prowling tiger stalking its prey. He stands behind her, his presence practically enveloping her form; pinning her between his chest and the desk.

"You're correct," he says, his voice a low rumble "I trust you far more than I've ever trusted anyone else. But trust, as you know, is a fickle thing. It can be broken, sometimes irreversibly."

Y/N’s palms start to sweat, heart pounding inside her chest. She can't admit defeat...even to him. 

“Silco, please. Just let this one be.”

Silco leans down slightly, bringing his face close to hers. The air is thick with tension as his voice drops to a soft rumble, his breath warm on her ear.

"Give me one reason, just one, why I should let this go. Why I shouldn't pry and dig until I find what it is you're hiding from me."

His tone is smooth, almost seductive, yet there's a hint of danger underneath. He is determined to uncover this secret, unwilling to back down this time.

“It’s—it’s really not that important….”

Silco's smirk widens as he notices the slight blush on her cheeks, he’s winning. Leaning in closer, his nose almost touching the base of her neck, he lets out a hum, a low and dangerous sound.

"Not important, huh? If it wasn’t important, you wouldn't be so reluctant to reveal it. I know you, Y/N. You're hiding something deep, something that even you may not fully understand."

He moves even closer, his body almost pressed against the small of her back as he whispers "Just tell me, darling. I can keep a secret."

Y/N holds back a whimper at his closeness, the way his breath tickles the sweet spot on her neck 

“Boss, please don't–”

Silco lets out a soft chuckle, his voice low and gravelly. He can feel the tension in her body, the way she’s struggling to hold back her reactions to his closeness. He moves even closer, his body now fully pressed against hers.

"Don't what, Y/N? I haven't done anything."

He leans in further, his nose now tracing along the flesh of her jawline, his breath warm against the skin.

 "All I'm asking for is honesty. Is that so hard for you?"

“Fine, okay! I’ll tell you…just promise you won’t overreact.”

He can practically feel her resistance crumbling, the way her body responds to his touch. He's enjoying every response far more than he should, but he can't help it.

"Finally," he says, his voice a low rumble "Now that wasn't so hard, was it? Go on then, tell me. Let me in, darling."

Y/N pauses, closing her eyes in a silent prayer. 

“I am in love with...you?”

Silco freezes, his eyes widening at the confession. He was expecting anything but this, the words coming out of her mouth, the honesty in her trembling voice, the revelation of love, it was all too unexpected, too dangerous, too...perfect

He steps back slightly, his eyes fixed on her as he processes her words. The room is silent except for the soft sound of the ragged breaths escaping from his mouth He continues to stare, his heart pounding in his chest, the silence between her thick and heavy with unspoken emotion.

Y/N sighs and places her head in her hands, running them through her hair in frustration. 

“See why I didn't want to tell you?”

Silco's expression remains stoic as he continues to stare at her, his mind racing. He can feel a mixture of emotions coursing through him: shock, disbelief, excitement, and...fear. He takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself before speaSilco

"Y/N..." he begins, his voice thick with emotion "Are you...sure? About what you said?"

Y/N nods slowly and closes her eyes in a plea for a swift end should it come.

“Yes...fuck I–I can't help it, boss. Look if you just wanna fire me, I will never see you again and we don't have to talk about this at all–”

Silco's expression softens at the words, his heart clenching at the thought of her leaving. He reaches out, his hand gently lifting her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his and silence the rambling.

"I'm not going to fire you, you stupid girl," he says, his tone both frustrated and gentle at the same time. He lets out a sigh, his eyes locked in a steely gaze. 

"How long have you felt this way?"

“I have worked for you for 3 years so I would say about...a year of that time.”

Silco's expression darkens slightly at the words, his frustration growing at the realization that she had been hiding this for so long. His fingers tighten on her chin, his hand not letting Y/N look away for even a second.

"A year..." he mutters, his voice low "You've been feeling this way for a year, and you never told me, never even hinted?"

“What was I supposed to do, admit that not only I loved my boss but the King of the Underground himself?”

Silco huffs in disbelief, his grip on her chin tightening further. His eyes are locked on her features, demanding attention, and submission.

"Yes." he says firmly "You should have told me. I can't read your damn mind, Y/N. You just expect me to know your feelings, to know what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

“I didn't want you to know! That's why I didn't tell you–”

Silco's expression hardens as he glares down. His fingers dig deeper into her chin, his touch almost too painful, waxing possessive.

"Why not? Why did you want to hide this from me? Don't you trust me?" he asks, his voice a rough growl "Because if you don't, why the hell have you been worSilco for me for the last three years?"

Y/N whimpers, his nails digging into her chin in a way that will surely leave bruises.

“I trust you I promise, I was just scared…I have seen you do worse things to people in this line of work boss.”

Silco huffs at her words, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. He can't deny the truth in them, but he doesn't like being reminded of his brutal nature, especially not in this moment.

"You think I would treat you like those other people, like one of my employees?"

His voice is a low rumble filled with both anger and something else, something he can't quite name. Y/N tries to pull her chin away, the bruises forming already from his grip

“That's what I am though, your Y/N.”

Silco's grip doesn't waver as she tries to pull away. His eyes darken as he feels his control slipping, the anger and frustration boiling up within him. He leans down closer, his face inches from hers. 

"Damn it, don't do this. Don't belittle yourself and don't reduce what you are to me to just an Y/N. You know it's more than that, damn it."

Silco's eyes flicker back and forth from her lips to her eyes, his control hanging by a thread. He can feel the pull between them, the unspoken tension that's been growing over the years. He can see the desire in her eyes, the need for something more than just a business relationship, and it threatens to break him.

"Damn it, Y/N," he mutters, his voice a low, rough whisper. "Don't look at me like that."

“Like what boss?”

Silco's eyes bore into her skull as he tried to hold onto the last shred of control he had. He's been keeping his feelings locked away for so long, and the innocence, the honesty, it's breaking him down, making him weak; and he hates it, and he loves it.

"Like you want me," he growls, his voice hoarse "Like you want to kiss me."

Barely above a whisper, the Y/N voices her finality “But I do want you, always have.”

She places her lips softly on his, allowing him to push her away, denying his affection should he choose it. Silco's eyes widen in surprise as her lips touch his. The last ounce of control he had evaporates like smoke. He hesitates for a moment, the conflict between reason and desire raging within him until finally the latter wins out. With a low growl, he pulls her closer, his hands wrapping around her waist as he kisses back, fiercely and hungrily.

One hand grips her waist, the other clutches her neck to pull her closer. The kiss is messy, full of tongue and teeth. Fierce and hungry, a place where she is not in charge.

Silco's lips leave her, a whine escaping her throat at the loss, but he moves to her jaw, peppering kisses along the skin, his teeth nipping at her jawline. He can feel his self-control slipping further with each passing second. He's wanted this for so long, and now that he has it, he's not holding back. His hands explore her body, tracing over her curves, possessive and demanding.

She moans softly as his teeth nip the sweet spot on her neck, hands tangling themselves in his neatly combed hair; head dizzy with want

“Silco–”

Silco smirks as he feels her hands in his hair, his ego stoked by her need and the sound of the soft moans that break from her soft lips. He continues to kiss and bite at her neck, enjoying the way her body reacts to his touch. He lets out a low growl, his voice a rough rumble against her ear.

"Say it again," He orders, his teeth nipping at her earlobe "Say my name, darling."

"Say my name, louder, I want to hear you moan it."

The Y/N gasped as his teeth continued their assault on her neck, his possessive grip leaving a small trail of bruises on her hip

“Silco please–”

The Silco shivered at the sound of his name. It sounded like honey, a dulcet candy for only him to hear. Only she could call his name like that and he would make sure she did it for the rest of her life. He can feel himself losing control, it’s driving him further into dangerous territory. His lips continue their assault on her neck, sucking and biting, marking her as his, making her beg in a way that's so damn satisfying.

"Please what, darling?" he growls, his hands gripping her hips tighter, grinding her core against him "You have to tell me what you want."

A tug on his hair and a wave of arousal pool and paint a spot on Silco's pants. The tug effectively ends his lip's attack on Y/N’s neck. Her eyes are blown with desire and her hair is disheveled as a thin line of salvia drips from puffy lips. Her neck is marked with the purple and red emblems of his handiwork. 

“Please kiss me again.”

Silco's eyes widen at the sight below him, marked as his possession, hair disheveled, lips slick and wet, it makes his heart race, his body tense and needy. He almost laughs at the question, not believing she would think he could refuse such a request.

"You don't even have to ask," he growls, his voice low and full of desire "I'll kiss you as much as you want, darling." He pulls her closer, his lips crashing into hers fierce and dominant; his tongue seeking and demanding.

Y/N allowed his tongue to explore her mouth but soon slows down the kiss, letting the fit of passion fade and lead the way to a more slow and sensual one. One that expresses that this is more than carnal, it's an unspoken quiet desire that consumes her heart and soul. 

Silco's eyes dilate at the sudden shift in the kiss. He can feel the change in energy, the way the kiss becomes slower, more sensual, more loving. It makes his heart clench in his chest, and for a brief moment, his mind whirls with emotions he's never felt before.

He responds to the change, matching Y/N’s pace, his hand going to caress her cheek lightly, his thumb tracing over the skin. Though, he eventually pulls away, breaking the kiss with a soft gasp. The intensity of the moment, the way the kiss had changed, it had completely thrown him off guard. He gazes into Y/N’s eyes, his expression a mix of a million different things: desire, love, confusion, fear. He exhales, one hand still caressing her cheek, trying to find the words to express what he's feeling, but they all seem to get lodged in his throat. 

Y/N takes the pause to caress his cheek, tilting her head in mild confusion as to why they had stopped. Maybe he had decided he regretted it, maybe she had overwhelmed him maybe–

Silco leans into her touch, his eyes flutter closed for a moment as he relishes the feeling. He had never been touched this way, with such gentleness, such tenderness.

Y/N gives him a broken smile, while his expression is unreadable, she can sense he is struggling with something

“It's okay...you don't have to know how you feel. We can end this right here if you want.”

“No," he says, his voice rough and urgent "No, I...I don't want to end this. I just...I don't understand. These feelings, these emotions, they're all so damn new to me, I don't know how to cope with them."

He let out a frustrated huff, running his hand through his hair. Y/N let out a chuckle, sitting up in her chair and allowing him to kneel on the floor before her. Running her hands through his hair and settling them by cupping his cheek. Gazing into the eyes she has come to adore

“Then how about this. We take this one step at a time yeah?”

"One step at a time," he repeats, his voice a quiet murmur. He nods, opening his eyes to meet yours once more

"I can do that."

“We can do that”

Silco's heart lurches in his chest as Y/N says ‘we’ and he can't help the small smile that plays at the corner of his lips. The fact that she is so immediately willing to walk this path with him, to help him navigate these unfamiliar feelings and emotions, means more to him than she could know. He reaches up and covers her hand with his, holding it against his cheek, his thumb tracing small circles against the skin.

"One step at a time. Together."

[heartfullofleeches]

The Blacksmith

Yan Deity HCs [Request]

Tw: Self Harm

-

- Blacksmith isn't what most would gods would consider being one of their own. For the better part of its existence, The Blacksmith has functioned akin to a machine rather than his own individual self. Acting on orders given by those above him was all he knew until the punishment of gods through extensive torture was shunned upon by many. Blacksmith was free to do as they wished, but they're generally stumped to the workings of society outside of what their created purpose.

- Love as humans and even some gods express it is unfamiliar to the Blacksmith. Their creators greatest mistakes was teaching it the painful side of love without the innocence of something puee. He was instilled with the knowledge that any sign of weakness should not be allowed. That being said, a strange warm fills its chest whenever you treat it kindly. He does not deserve the gesture- Are you toying with it because you truly believe he is beneath you?

"My Lord.... I do not understand the purpose of this so called "hug" you have bestowed upon me.... I did not ask you to stop."

- There is no room for error in Blacksmith's eyes. As he adapts to the mortal understanding of affection, Blacksmith showers you with gifts and gestures to prove they are willing to even the playing field with you. If he brings you something you are allergic to or simply not a fan of its wise to keep sharp objects from him until you can calm him down and assure him it was a common mistake.

"May the spill of my blood grant me your forgiveness.. Had I heard you clearer I would not have made this mistake."

"It's cool, dude- Pizza is pizza."

- The Blacksmith is immortal and heals relatively quickly, which is why if you bother to patch them up when they do get hurt their brain just kinda shortcuts for a while. You are the mortal in the situation. Those supplies would be better saved for you. Is this what it means to care for another out of the generosity of one's heart(s)? Is this love? Logically, when you are injured they must return the sentiment.

"Please hold still, My Lord. The cast is almost complete."

"Isn't this a bit excessive? It was only a splinter."

"... Negative."

- The Blacksmith has a hidden profession of making music boxes. It is a tad embarrassed due to the macabre nature of the other objects it creates, but as they learn more if your world it develops a small obsession with the melodies they produce and their mechanisms. He leaves ones he is most proudest of in your bedroom - expecting you to somehow have no clue how it ended up there.

- Blacksmith can easily remove their helmet - they just don't want to. He has been described as beautiful by gods who have met it after the incident due to their eyes, but as for the appearance of its face as a whole no-one knows. It wears the iron maiden to atone for its sin of nearly condemning an innocent god, but it also believes those gods were liars and that its face will disgust you. If you argue back that are gorgeous regardless of if you've seen it or not, The Blacksmith has no choice but to take your word as truth since they trust you not to lie to them.

- Enjoys classical music. Cannot dance to save it's own skin, but would greatly admire your dancing no matter your skill level.

- One rule you must keep in mind is to not give Blacksmith access to the Internet. He will absorb modern lingo and relationship advice like a sponge. It confuses him greatly, but considering you are from this time it might be the key to winning your heart.

"Have a good day at work...Pookie."

[love-anddeepression]

STOP I LOVE YOUR PLATONIC!MIGUEL FICS <333

would you be okay with writing smth where teen!reader makes him something?? like maybe reader loves making things out of paper (like paper flowers, butterflies, tiny stars, etc.) so they decided fo make smth for miguel?

and maybe reader is nervous he won't like it?? :(

I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS<333

Origami and Suit Malfunctions- Miguel O' Hara x teen!spider!reader

See, the thing with being a part time employee of the spider society meant that you had a lot of free time compared to other spiders. Normally anyone would go back to their own universe, but yours was sadly destroyed.

Sad. Anyways, it meant that you had a lot of free time. Free time to annoy Miguel, to conspire with Lyla, to practice your techniques..... and to hone your previously horrendous origami skills.

Like, no joke, you had absolutely no talent when it come to folding paper into intricate shapes. But hey, bored and borderline insanity works wonders for the brain.

So, slowly but surely, you taught yourself to make paper stars and flowers and boats. But you wanted to make something for Miguel. Why?

Who knows? Like I said, boredom does things to the brain.

Miguel wasn't exactly an open book and he'd probably die of a heart attack if you gave him flowers. You didn't have time to make hundreds of little paper stars so that was ruled out-

"What're you thinking about?" the older man's raspy voice reaches your ears.

"How to get your suit to malfunction." you quip back.

"Why must you torture me so?" he replies in a monotone voice as he sits on his seat, opposite you.

"I'm your employee, it's my job."

"Your job is to be a pain in the ass?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Precisely." you stick your tongue out and he rolls his eyes.

After a few seconds, you clear your throat, "Hey, uh, what's your favorite sport?

He's silent for a while and you can see his eyes gloss over, his reply is shaky, "Soccer."

You nod with a thumbs up, "Thank you Bossman Bosserson."

"You call me that again, I'll throw Lyla at you." he threatens as you go to leave the office.

"Jokes on you, I'd love that!" you shout back you walk out.

-----

Finally, he thinks, Finally this mission is over. Now he can go have a hot shower and a good meal and some of the amazing chai you make and he'll be in a somewhat good mood.

When he enters his office, he stunned at the silence.

Normally he can hear the sound of your feet tapping against the floor or your humming and the the fact that he can hear nothing is unnerving.

"Kid?" he calls out, Answer me.

He swings to the top of the platform, and you're not where you normally are. You're not sitting there, zoned out with your foot tapping incessantly like a little child. You're not where you're supposed to be.

"Miguel, your heart is racing, you okay?" Lyla asks him.

"Where's my kid?" he asks her.

"Oh baby Mig's hanging out with Hobie!" she says cheerfully.

"What?" he all but growls.

"Hey! Chill! She's fine! In fact, " the AI smirks and nods towards his desk, "She left something for you."

He turns and his heart skips a beat.

There's a little paper soccer ball on his desk.

It's tiny in his palm, but it has your initials and a post-it stuck on top.

"You said you liked soccer, so this is for you :D. I would never try to screw with your suit, don't worry ;)"

The ink smudges as a tear drops onto where you've signed the post it.

"God, this spider, I swear." he grumbles and wipes his eyes.

"This spider...what?" he jumps and turns at the sound of your voice. You're standing behind him with your hands behind your back and a sheepish smile on your face.

"This spider is my kid." he pats your cheek softly, "Thank you, this means a lot."

You nod with a smile, "You're welcome."

He narrows his eyes at you, "What have you been up to? Why are you being so nice?"

You slowly back away, "Pfft, what are you talking about? I've done nothing wrong"

A hologram pops up and Miguel watches as the T-Rex bellows at Pavitr's retreating form, and his head whips to you.

"Bye! Love you!" you shriek and jump off the platform, disappearing as he tries to follow you.

With a start he realizes what you just said.

"I hate that kid." he groans and then notices that he's grinning like an idiot.

[songmingisthighs]

Pleasure of Punishing

group : ateez

pairing : seonghwa × reader

genre : smut, pwp, request

wc : 1.6 k

warning : mdni, mean dom!seonghwa, rough sex, punishment, dubcon-adjacent?, slight dacriphilia

a/n : requested by @seonghwasbobaeyes. I hope this lived up to your expectations!

buy me coffee ?

Your head was starting to swirl and your thighs had gone numb. It must have been a couple hours since Seonghwa started torturing you but you couldn't really keep up with the time. Neither can you complain. Or at least you didn't want to when your boyfriend was torturing you with his dick. Right then and there, you were nothing but an object for him to release his frustration to. You didn't mean to push him over the edge either. Sure, you were being needy and clingy but how was you supposed to know that your usually composed, calm, and collected boyfriend would suddenly grab you by the neck and dragged you to your shared room when you said "Boo, you're no fun. Wooyoung was right" after he denied to see the new lingerie you just bought from your shopping trip with Wooyoung earlier.

"I told you," he grunted next to your ear, "I told you I wasn't in the mood for your brattiness, this is all on you," the sound of his hips smacking on your ass was loud enough to drown out his voice but thank God he was talking directly into your ear because between the slapping sounds and your brain melting from the continuous abuse to your cunt, you weren't in the state to process intricate information.

You were laid on your stomach with your head dangling off the bed while Seonghwa let his entire body weight prevent you from moving whilst effectively restricting some of your oxygen.

"I-I wasn't-" you tried to defend yourself but a harsh slap to your ass held the words in your throat and instead, you let out a yelp as tears well in your eyes again. "Yes you were, brat, because good girls don't contradict their daddies now," Seonghwa suddenly gripped your chin and pulled your head slightly up so your head was craned, "Do they?" he smirked cockily.

This side of Seonghwa rarely makes an appearance and when it actually does, you always find yourself rather conflicted because while he would suddenly be hyper-focused on you and use terms and do things he normally wouldn't, the next day would always be a hassle. Bruises, sore muscle from being folded and forced into positions only contortionists would be comfortable with, it was a love-hate relationship but you just can't get enough, you can't complain.

"S-Seongh-hwa, please," you whined, trying to get him off of you even momentarily because your thighs were starting to cramp and your joints were aching. Though you kept trying to push him off, Swonghwa didn't budge and his thrusts never faltered. Heck, he chuckled at your pathetic attempts to be free, enjoying the feeling of you resisting him a little more than he normally should. "Aw, baby," he mocked, pulling away completely momentarily, causing you to gasp at the sudden vacant feeling in your hole, "Weren't you just asking for my attention?" you could hear the pout in his voice and when he suddenly flipped you over, you were able to see it in person. "I thought that's what you wanted, hm? Why else would you mention the fact that you went to buy underwear to have sex in with a guy who seem to think that a good conversation topic is 'what sucks about your boyfriend', hm?" you tried to focus on his voice and hang onto every single one of his words but the feather-light touches of his finger on your pussy was very distracting. You caught pieces of his words, something about how you weren't supposed to ask another man about what can turn another guy on, but the way he was lightly rubbing your cunt and spreading your nether lips apart was electrifying. When he complained about how your action could cause him to get mocked amongst the guys, you were too busy arching your back to actually pay attention and Seonghwa knew, it was his plan all along to fulfil his girlfriend's desire. In his own way, of course.

A sudden slap to your left tit made you gasp and you lifted your head slightly with eyes wide, staring at Seonghwa who had a snarl on his face. "You asked for my attention yet you can't even spare me a lousy bit," he scoffed in annoyance but you knew him enough to notice the hint of playfulness in it. You were about to tell him off because if he really wanted your attention, he should not have been so distracting when he pushed your body slightly off the bed, your head and shoulder now dangling from the bed. "Seonghwa! Let me up!" you squealed, trying your best to hold your head up so you could look at him. But Seonghwa paid you no mind save for the eye contact and even proceeded to slide his arms under your back and anchored them on the back of your neck. With one eyebrow raised challengingly, he said in a flat tone, "No," he stated simply.

Your body was almost forced completely off the bed when he suddenly shoved his whole length into you, leaving you screaming and hand gripping his shoulder tightly. "That's better," he smirked, restarting fucking you with a vigorous speed right off the bat. "F-fuck!" you didn't know which caused your blood to rush up your head faster, the feeling that gravity was pulling you down or the feeling of being filled to the brim. "Seonghwa!" you whined again, trying to claw your way back up but he only responded with a harsh thrust that stilled deep in you, "You know, I let you call me by my name a couple of times, trying to see if you realized what you were doing and correct yourself, but how dare you," one more harsh thrust that pushed you even closer to the floor, "How dare you not call me daddy like you should," he hissed before diving to harshly tug the skin all over your chest, leaving teeth and red marks in hopes that you won't forget who he is to you.

Seonghwa's hips slowly restarted their abuse on your cunt once again which was a nice half-break since your cunt felt sore and the impact was still bruising. Literally, you could feel bruises blooming on your hips and your ass and you realized there was a higher chance of you not being able to walk the next day over Seonghwa changing from fucking the shit out of you to making love. You couldn't even muster anything other than moans, grunts, and whimpers, it even took a huge toll on you to stay alert and responsive and you were only able to achieve so because the grip Seonghwa had on your neck was warm and comfortable, a harsh contrast to his rough treatment on the rest of your body. From head to toe, your whole body tingled from the sensation that was overwhelming.

Like a predator, Seonghwa was looking at you as if he was hungry and had been starving before he got a taste of you. The more satisfied he was over how your cunt was hugging his cock just right, the more he craved for you. He loved how obsessive you could make him when he was in such a state, he loved how you were the only one who was able to unlock this side of him. Most people he talked to about sex only talked about how they felt about the experience which made Seonghwa feel concerned over his love of having your body as his. He loved that he knew how to pleasure you just right, he loved the fact that the sounds you produced were responses to what he did to you, and he absolutely loved how he filled you up with his cum every time you had sex. Seeing the person he loves full of him was exhilarating and he couldn't help but want to make sure that you know who you belonged to.

Thrust after thrust delivered, the room did its best to hold in your cries and contain the overwhelming scent of your activity. The bed had become such a mess that the sheets were lifted up from the corners and bunched but Seonghwa didn't care. In fact, the visual of such a mess framed your figure like a throne. His eyes even twinkled when he saw you shakily came for the nth time that night, body bordering on convulsing as you released with a loud squeal that actually sounded like a scream. But Seonghwa's thrusts never stopped, in fact, when he saw how you got overwhelmed and overstimulated with tears spilling from your eyes and hands trying to push him off, the sick part of him got even more aroused. His hips move as if they have a brain of their own, chasing his high with the help of seeing you looking so pathetic under him. He didn't even care that when he came inside you, the neverending movement of his hips caused the cum your cunt failed to hold to pool under your ass, creating a sticky mess. Still, Seonghwa ground into your hips even after he finished filling you up.

It was only after Seonghwa pulled his cock out of you and pulled you body back to the bed did you realize how the pleasure had turned to pain. You were absolutely ready to just pass out but the sticky feeling of your sweaty body and creamed cunt reminded you how you needed to clean up first. The task seemed annoying but it was important if you didn't want to clean yourself through the aftermath pain the next day

However, just as you were about to get up, Seonghwa forced your body down and crawled up so that he was straddling your chest. Your eyes widened at the sight of his red-tipped, angry, hard cock staring down at you like a gun ready to be unloaded while Seonghwa stared at you with an evil grin on his face. "Oh honey, we're nowhere near being done."

God, you should not have provoked him.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread @spooo00oky @jwnghyuns @cutie-wooyo @asjkdk @shinotani @aestheticsluut @mingiberrii

[magicalgoblinz]

One Thing

Summary: You did it. Cazador's dead and now... Astarion is finding himself working through some big emotions. Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Word Count: 3.5 k Warnings: General angst, eluding to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Possibly ooc Astarion. Quickly edited. Song Recommendation: Never Let Me Go + Florence and the Machine Author's Note: First thing I've ever written for Astarion but I get the feeling it won't be the last. I really genuinely just wanted to get this idea out of my brain even if it's a bit strange and not all that amazing haha.

It had been a long day. Perhaps one of the longest you and your party had endured yet, or... at least it felt that way. It wasn't hard on your body like the goblin fight had been, nor had it been arcanely exhaustive like chasing that damned hag was. No, standing in the halls of Cazador's palace brought a different type of exhaustion. Passing through the spaces that your lover had once stalked attempting to go unseen by his master, seeing the sights of the spaces he was kept, smelling the decay, the putridness that no doubt lingered in the meals he was forced to partake in.

Every sight, smell, and sound you had come across weighed heavily on you. Even now as you sat in the plush comfort that was Elfsong Inn, freshly washed, the scents lingered in your nose and left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You pushed around the hastily prepared hash in your bowl, frown bared for everyone to see. Your thoughts were only for him. Every second of silence you could hear his sobs in that moment. The cries pulled from his very core, the kind of cries you could imagine he had dreamed of releasing for so long through every moment of torture he was subjected to. There was no way to imagine all of the atrocities he had suffered, yet somehow being left with nothing made every idea that flitted past your mind's eye so much worse.

You for so long had wished to weep for him. Weep for the time he had lost. Weep for the pain he must have felt in having to stand on the outside wondering if his family and friends ever thought of him again after he passed on. Weep for the crushed hopes for the future he had at one time had.

But what good would your tears do him now?

Cazador was dead.

And more importantly... Astarion was free.

So why did it all still feel so... excruciatingly heavy?

"Ts'ka --- eat and do not play. You need your strength for tomorrow." Lae'zel pushed from her lounging position on the floor.

"Have some heart, Lae'zel. It’s been a very difficult day." Wyll was quick to defend upon seeing the way your expression soured at the thought of eating. "Y/n, had to assist our resident vampire through some very hard things today. Including walking through where he had been kept prisoner. Imagine having to do the same with your lover." He said with a gesture towards Lae'zel.

"If I had a lover they would be able to care for themselves; it would be the first thing I looked for in a mate. A prowess to stay alive in battle like my own is the only thing that is truly attractive." Lae'zel said with a lifted chin.

Wyll's lips parted as if to say something more but began to shake his head, there was no fighting with La'zel. She didn't dig her heels in when it came to opinions, no her entire feet were buried. "Speaking of Astarion, where is he?" He eventually asked, changing the focus of the conversation.

"I believe he went for a bath." Shadowheart interjected, "He said something about not being able to stand having his beauty mired... you know how he is." She said, not lifting her eyes from her bowl with a small wave of her spoon that was held in delicate fingers.

Her saying this seemed to pull your eyes towards the door of the wash room. It had been a while since he left now that you thought about it. Your brows lowered a bit in thought; Astarion deserved his space right now, but you still couldn't help but want to hold his hand and not let it go after everything that had happened today. Maybe he wouldn't want that though, not with what you did today.

That look in his eyes...

Now that he had the time to actually think about what you did, what you talked him into doing; would he feel betrayed?

You had promised him you'd help him get that power he so desired, but when that chance came you changed your mind.

The idea of Astarion no longer trusting you hurt more than imagining him ending whatever it was the two of you had. The worries made your expression sullen even more, looking down at your bowl with a deeper pit growing in your stomach. Did you really want to find out?

Out of the blue, there is a light nudge to your arm. The little touch is enough to pull you back up from your descent into grieving something you hadn't even lost yet. With a glance to your right you find Karlach with a bottle outstretched to you. "I think we could all use a little drink tonight... but especially Astarion." She said warmly, "Perhaps you should see if he wants some?" She continued with a little jerk of her head towards the closed doors. Her tone made it all to clear that your inner turmoil was written out on your face for everyone to see.

A sigh escaped your throat as you debated on whether or not that was a good idea but the way Karlach began to lazily swing the bottle back and forth with her hand triggered something in your mind that made you reach out and take it in one smooth movement.

It couldn't hurt to check in on him?

Could it?

Astarion's head was rested back, hanging over the edge of the bath he sat in. The water had lost the majority of its warmth, and his hand had pruned but he made no movements to get out. Eyes transfixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace at the side of the room. Every twist of orange and lift of a spark made his mind lurch through another memory; they all seemed to be coming back to him now, one by one. His mind shuddered from the thought of a blade pressed into his skin, carving, etching, his skin becoming the canvas for a dastardly design that he wouldn't understand for years.

Funnily, the recollection of pain wasn't what bothered him. It was having to recall his own voice struggling not to escape his lips throughout the entire gut-wrenching experience that made his hand ball into a fist.

With a pop and crackle of the wood Astarion's memories would carry on to something else.

His ears ringing, echoing the silence of that tomb. Gods above that tomb. That year spent in silence. Those months spent starving. The way his hands bled from trying ever so desperately to escape. Over what...? A boy that he couldn't bear to steal the life away from.

Astarion took in a sharp breath as he tried to shake away the thought, as he sat up.

But still the memories continued to bleed through. The faces of all those people he had brought to Cazador, he could see them in his mind's eye. The memories of bedding some of them, cycling through his head in a complete sequence even though they were spread across centuries. A flash of a young human woman who excitedly spun in a brand new red dress that she was ever so excited to show off. The pale blue of a nervous elf man's eyes as they darted around the room the second Astarion approached. Seeing the tattoos and the scars spread across the back of a dwarven sailor who stretched after returning to the mainland after a long voyage. The shine of a coy tiefling woman's smile as she attempted to steal his coin purse from his pocket. So many lives, so many people. At what point did he begin to stop caring? Who was it that he pulled by the wrist back to a dreary room that made him start drifting away any time he had to become intimate? Or was it any of them at all?

His features twisted into an expression of disgust the second his mind started going down that path. There was no amount of Cazador being dead that made those memories better. In a snap his balled up hands lifted to rub his eyes in annoyance. If only Astarion could wash out his eyes and his mind and start anew. If only.

And to think... he had wanted this for so long.

He had dreamt about the day he'd be able to have the cathartic feeling of stabbing Cazador, again, and again, and again. And now that it had come and gone... he wished he could have kept going forever. Fuck, he wished he had. After everything Cazador had done to him, the bastard deserved so much worse than to bleed out on that cold floor. He deserved to suffer just as much as Astarion had, if not more.

Astarion couldn't help but wish that he had ignored everyone and continued the ritual as a perfect slap in the face to Cazador. Continued that ritual, so for the first time in all these years... he'd be safe. Entirely safe. And the loss of that made his chest ache, he was so close to crying all over again.

But then...

Tap, tap, tap

"Astarion," Your voice started from just beyond the doors. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just um... wanted to check in. Karlach thought you might need a drink."

There was you.

Astarion's head lifted from his hands as he took in a deep breath. He tried to shove all those emotions back down again, to put the cork back in the bottle before they could really bleed out into him properly. His gaze lingering on the door, lips unmoving.

"Didn't you hear him? If you complete the ritual, you'll be consumed, Astarion." You had said with a look of sincere terror in your eyes. The look wasn't foreign to him... but perhaps different? People had been scared of him before, oh people had been terrified once they realized what he was. But just how many people had been scared for him? That... he didn't know.

He couldn't remember his exact words in reply now, the tension and adrenaline leaving them in a silent part of his mind but what he did recall was the way you looked at him. It stung. It stung so much more than the little voice in the back of his mind screaming that you were breaking your promise.

You promised to help him ascend. You swore you would help him ascend. You said---

Gods that look. Astarion couldn’t shake it.

The way your eyes seemed to plead with him before you had even opened your mouth. Begging him to reconsider. "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't." Your voice was so gentle, but still so desperate. "This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador. Is that really what you want?"

You were right, as much as he hated it. You were always right.

But more than that. As he thought about it now, he recognized something that he hadn't in that moment...

Just outside the door you stood listening, hoping to hear something, anything. Your thumb fumbled with the cork of the bottle nervously. This was a bad idea wasn't it? He needed more time. This was too soon to try and come see him. Gods... what if he really did hate you for what you did. You started to shake your head, "...I'm going to take that as a no. I'll um..." you started lightly, trying not to have your worry show through in your words. "I'm sorry again for interrupting. I'll see you when you're finished, my darling."

Once more. You wanted to call him that one more time before he had a chance to break things off.

"Come in."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen ever so slightly, hand moving to the handle before cautiously pushing the door open and poking your head in. From this angle you could see Astarion's side profile, the good majority of the grime and blood from the day having been washed away, though his clothes that sat off to the side on a bench, were stained a deep red that would take ages to remove, if it ever came out at all. His eyes soon looked your way tiredly. As an instinct you quickly held up the bottle you had brought him, no words coming to follow it, they all seemed to have gone into hiding the second his eyes landed on you.

"Are you planning on bringing the bottle here my sweet, or to just... swing it around like an idiot?" He asked in a long drawn out way, a tone that felt like he was trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for you, but at this point in your adventure together the look in his eyes was more than enough to tell you that he was working through something.

You were entirely taken aback by the gentle name used, a little bit of relief seeping into your chest. "Y-you want me to come in?"

"Was that not what I said?"

Your lips parted, deciding not to speak just yet and instead closing the door behind you. "I'm sorry... I just didn't want to overstep with you, you know… washing and all." You said slowly, acting as if you weren’t both adults – who had on more than occasion – slept together.

Even now, even after seeing him at his lowest today, you were still trying to respect whatever boundaries he had. The thought made Astarion close his eyes and let out a soft laugh, "Darling, you've seen me naked before, it's fine." He assured, "Now...please, for the love of gore and everything soaked in blood, can you bring me that bottle."

There was no reluctance now, carrying yourself to his side with ease. As you approached you couldn't help but notice that his hair was still matted thick with blood in places. All this time he clearly had just been lost in his thoughts as much as you expected really. His hand reached up the second you drew near, taking the bottle from your hands greedily, popping the cork and taking a decidedly long drink. Not minding you at all as you reluctantly found a seat on the bench his clothes were rested upon.

The sight of his nose scrunching a bit from the taste of the wine made an ever so small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. It was hard not to recall him making that same face at the tiefling party not so long ago. Vinegar for wine. Would there be a day when the wine you brought him didn't elicit that involuntary response?

Astarion glanced at you from the corner of his eye, "You'd have made an excellent vampire, you know." He said with an amused little grin, all happy to see the confusion cover your features.

"Why is that?"

"Asking to come in, obviously." He joked loosely,

A small laugh left your lips as your eyes drifted to the floor, "I didn't realize that respecting people's privacy was so vampiresque."

"It's not, we're atrociously nosey by nature and well... it's just another fun hindrance to go against that nature I suppose." Astarion spoke in his normal moseying draw. 

"I see..."

There was a breadth of silence between the two of you. A silence that carried the heaviness of the day's events. You knew it needed to be said, but it didn't make it any easier to consider what the exact words were that needed saying. How to broach it? What if he didn’t want to talk about it at all and you misread the situation entirely? You kept glancing his way hoping to have it all come together in your mind like some sort of epiphany, yet he beat you to it.

"I'm not upset with you, darling. You don't have to keep looking at me like that." Astarion spoke suddenly with all the ease in the world.

"You're not?"

"Well,  perhaps I was a little at first. You did go back on your word, after all." Astarion pointed out, eyes now fixed on the bottle in his hand. “I think anyone might be a bit… sour after something like that.”

There was the guilt again. "Astarion... I'm sorry, I---"

"I don't want your apologies." He cut in sharply, finally turning his gaze to look your way.  Despite what his tone may have indicated, his eyes weren't as stern as they normally appeared when he was upset. No, they were instead ever so full of sadness.  "...I-I'm not angry with you. I swear it. But what I don't understand is why I don't feel any fucking better." Astarion said as his voice suddenly sounded so much more fragile. "I... I killed him. I got the revenge I've dreamed about for two-hundred fucking years. The same revenge I begged for the whole year I was locked in that horrid tomb." He hissed, "I took back my life and yet I... I feel like I didn't do enough."

He was cracking. That much you could see.

"I can't help but wonder if I had completed the ceremony if that would have been enough. Enough to rub it in his Gods damned face that I did it." Astarion admitted sternly, lifting his chin as his eyes stayed focused on the bottle still, "Watch this worm take away everything from him like he took everything from me." He mumbled out, the heat leaving his voice for a brief second as all that he was left with was glassy eyes.

"...I-I would have never had to fear anyone or anything ever again..." Astarion uttered through clenched teeth, tears finally breaking free and running down his cheeks one at a time. "...and now it's gone."

Wordlessly you got to your feet, taking a few steps forward to close the gap between you both, leaning down to wrap your arms around his neck in the most comforting hug you could possibly muster. His hand immediately finds your arm, holding it tight as for the second time in your journey, he begins to cry.

Silence seems to be what Astarion needed from you, wailing into the open air as everything he has stuffed away into that bottle comes pouring back out. No apologies. No consoling words. Just for you to hold him, to give him time. His head rests against yours almost as if to ensure that even now, after everything you both had been through, you couldn't see him cry. Perhaps the idea of you seeing it happen twice in a day was too much for him. Or perhaps there was still a festering feeling of weakness that would bubble up if he let you see him cry.

"Oh my sweet, sweet, Astarion." You mumbled holding him tighter than before, listening as his sobs grew softer over the passing moments. 

Waiting. Listening.

Once his frame had stopped shaking you finally raised your voice once more . "...if I could Astarion, I would take away all of the hurt in an instant... but I can't. And I wish you knew just how much it pains me to not be able to." You speak, parting your lips to continue on but pause as you feel a familiar shudder resonate through your mind. He was peering in, confirming the statement for himself it seemed. "The most I can do is promise you something..." you continued on, pretending like you weren't aware of poking around, you had nothing to hide for one key reason…

Gently you pulled back, running your hand from his neck to his chin to tilt his head up. Eyes looking over his tear stained cheeks and then to meet his own shimmering red eyes. "I promise you that, as long as I'm here you will never have to fear anything... or anyone again." You assured, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as you wipe away his remaining tears. “Because Astarion… I love you and… I will never let you go.”

The look that fills Astarion's eyes is something that you had only seen once before when you decided to hug him for the first time back in the Shadowlands. It was a look that spoke numbers towards just how frightening the unknown was for him. How terrifying it could be to have someone love you so truly and want nothing in return for the first time in his life.

You feel a rush of surprise followed by so overwhelming, your lips curl into the same smile you gave him then as you had reached out to wrap your arms around him to hold him tight…

You know the feeling even if he can’t say it yet.

Love.

Because that was the thing. Astarion had realized before this that you… well, you were the only good thing that he’s ever had. That he’d do just about anything to keep you safe and ensure that no one dare take you away from him. Yet, strangely he never once considered…

That he might mean just that much to you.

End Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I'd really love to start writing for Astarion more so if you have any ideas send them over <3

[furiousgoldfish]

This is going to sound incoherent to those who haven't been told over and over they're monsters or demons or animals as children, but I need to write it down.

It was often I would be told that I was some kind of evil creature and not a child, as a justification for abusing me, and I wouldn't have any kind of response to that, because how do you combat that? How do you respond to a parent or a family member calling you a snake and a swine and satan? I would get frozen in doubt and start to internalize, that I must be non-human, I must be evil and fundamentally wrong and demonic in some way, because I couldn't find any argument against it. After all, these people were saying it so surely, so filled with rage and righteous justice, that I was non-human, that it was not only okay but necessary to hurt me, and it's all I've ever known. And I still get flashbacks to those moments when I would be told stuff like 'you should have been strangled to death the second you were born', and I freeze. It hurts. I can't reason with hatred like that.

It's only today my brain finally found some counter arguments to it.

Was I born to a human being, or to an animal? If I had been an animal, I would have been born to an animal mother. And she wouldn't hate me like you do. Even if I was a baby snake, there would have been no need to torture me, I would have been normal and natural as a snake. But, even as a child, I had arms and legs, it was obvious I wasn't a snake.

If I as a demon, how would I be born into a family of humans? Wouldn't it be shown in the color of my eyes, or my skin, or my actions? Have I been displaying anything but normal child behaviour? How would anyone be able to tell I was a demon, if I was born to humans, acted like a normal human child, and had never done acts of irreparable evil and sadism? What made me a demon then?

If there was nothing but evil in me, why was I in so much fear and pain all the time? Is that how evil-doers feel? Why was I too scared to do even normal, mundane things that other kids fearlessly did? Why was nobody afraid of me? Why did people feel comfortable hurting me, cornering me and attacking me, if I was so dangerous and malicious?

It was painfully obvious that I was a human child from the start. Calling a human child demonic is not normal, it's not well-intentioned, it's not for the child's own good. It's cruel and vicious. And it wasn't based on anything inside of me. You saw a child you wanted to hurt repeatedly, and making the child believe they're not human was the simplest way for you to get away with it. Why did you need to hurt the child repeatedly? Even if you believed it was something else, an animal or an evil creature, why did it give you pleasure to hurt it over and over again? Why would you intentionally corner a small creature inside of your home and cause pain to it? Did it give you pleasure to see fear and tears? Did you enjoy it so much you just had to keep doing it?

All small humans are the same, they have small little limbs, they're squishy, they're sensitive, they get spooked and scared easily, they like playing brave to make themselves feel stronger. There's no reason to corner and torture one, and call them evil for that. I was the same. I was acting brave but I was small, and soft, with little limbs, easily spooked, easily brought to tears. What was in you to want to break me? What was it worth to you to do it?

You could have picked any child for it, and it wouldn't have made any difference. I was just what was in the house.

[kiko---random-stuff-probably]

Incorrect quotes of the bishops because I am having a brain rot

I already say this, I'm applying some of my headcanons. We cool? Cool.

-

Shamura, about to torture a war prisoner for information: I know over two hundred ways to kill a man.

Kallamar: You could glue an open jar of rats to his face. Then blowtorch the other side of the jar, so the rats have to eat their way out through his face.

Shamura: two hundred and one

-

Heket: Siblings, i'm a lesbian

Leshy: I thought you were a toad?

-

Heket: Plants have feelings too?! What is this? Now I can't have food!

Leshy: You can eat a rock.

Kallamar: Water.

Shamura: The fabric of time and space.

Narinder: Chugging a bottle of bleach can solve all your problems.

Heket: You guys are not helpful.

-

Kallamar two second before posiononing an entire village (again): I'm hot, I’m tall, I'm gay, and I'm on my theatre kid arc.

-

Leshy: There are some things beyond our understanding. We must accept them and learn from them. Because these moments of crisis are also potential moments of faith. A time, when we either come together or fall apart. Nature always has a way of balancing itself. The only question is, what part will we play?

Narinder: Did you just make that up?

Leshy: No. I read it in a fortune cookie once.

Narinder:

Leshy: A really long fortune cookie.

-

Shamura: Narinder is okay.

Kallamar: He's okay? He said he was going to break my legs! And don't tell me he didn't mean it, okay?! 'Cause he gave me the mackerel eyes, he meant it!

Shamura: Kallamar, Narinder threatened me. He threatens Leshy every day. He probably threatened Heket before breakfast this morning. It's what he does. Grow a pair.

-

Heket: Why would you think any of this was a good idea?!

Narinder: Probably because I’m a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence.

Heket: Oh...

Kallamar, from across the room: I don’t understand how you keep forgetting that.

-

Narinder: We’ve been conducting an ongoing study to see what Leshy will and will not eat.

Heket: Grass? Yes!

Narinder: Moss? Yes!!

Heket: Leaves? Ohh, yes!

Narinder: Shoelaces? Strange but true!

Heket: Worms? Sometimes!

Narinder: Rocks? Sure!

Heket: Twigs? Usually!

Narinder: Kallamar's cooking? Inconclusive!

Shamura: How did you… test this?

Narinder: You just hand him stuff and say ‘eat this’ and if he eats it, he eats it.

Shamura: ... I don’t know how to feel about this.

Kallamar: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT?

[ashthewaterghoul]

I'm Still Your Favourite Regret, You're Still My Weapon Of Choosing - A Banana!Verse One Shot

It wasn’t too common for Alpha to stay in Dew’s room after their nights together. It only happened when they were both too worn out. No other reason, it wasn’t like either were particularly cuddly after their usual hate fucks. Yet last night wasn’t the usual hate fuck… Or, Dew and Alpha make an impulsive and rather permanent decision. The morning after, with the sun shining down on what they did, makes the two react in a less-than-healthy way for their now-bound souls.

Words: 3190

Rating: Teen and up (just bc of like a smidgen of sex talk)

Relationships: Alpha/Dewdrop, some background Swiver and Air/Earth.

Tags: Whatever the Ghoul-equivalent of getting impulse married in Vegas is, bc this is that, angst, whump, feels, unhappy ending, Alpha can't deal with his emotions, the morning after, mating bonds.

Inspired by @anotherbananasong 's universe.

Title taken from 'Blood Sport' by Sleep Token

~~~

    It wasn’t too common for Alpha to stay in Dew’s room after their nights together. It only happened when they were both too worn out. No other reason, it wasn’t like either were particularly cuddly after their usual hate fucks. Yet last night wasn’t the usual hate fuck.

    You barely had to look at Dew to know how much of a dive his self-esteem had taken since his forced transformation. His hair, his temperature, his very soul had been changed by whatever torture was laid upon him. Alpha had sat with Dew the first time he summoned flames to his hands, and the crushed look on Dew’s face said it all. He was broken.

    Alpha didn’t do emotions. He was the Ministry’s resident asshole. His Fire fuelled his every word and action and no one ever came to him for any of that teary, feely bullshit. He’d burnt those bridges long ago.

    So that’s why it came as a shock when Dew dropped the usual vague message for one of their nights together. Dew hadn’t been with anyone since waking up, so why was he getting that chance?

    Alpha found himself to be nervous for the first time he could remember as he walked up to Dew’s room. And when Dew opened the door so Alpha could duck through, he knew he couldn’t do it, couldn’t give Dew those biting words and harsh treatment he usually did. Dew’s eyes were red and raw from crying, his clothes looked like he hadn’t changed them for days and his entire demeanour was just completely and utterly sad.

    The door locked behind him, and Alpha found his mouth running before his brain.

    “I- I can’t, Dew. Can’t do this when you’re like that.” Since when was he considerate?

    “No! Don’t leave, please.” Dew begged, more tears falling as he threw his arms around Alpha.

    And that’s when Alpha felt it. The familiarity in the flames that coursed through both their veins. Two souls begging to burn together.

    As Alpha woke up, his face dropped at the feeling in his chest. There was something else there. The flames in his soul dancing with Dew’s own in an eternal duet. His hand was throbbing and a bloody strip of fabric laid on the other side of Dew’s nest. When Alpha looked at his palm, he held back a gasp as he looked at Dew.

    For the first time since the Ancients got Dew out of that Satan-forsaken ritual room, the little Ghoul looked peaceful. He must have been having a good dream because even asleep he was smiling like the cat that got the canary. He looked as young as he was meant to, not the haunted gaze he’d taken on recently. Alpha could feel the contentment thrumming in his chest. What was this magic? Why was he so attuned to Dew? What happened last night?

    “Mate with me. Give me your heart.”

Read below the cut or on ao3

“Oh shit.” Alpha said as the memories came back crystal clear. He held one hand in the other, a finger tracing the wound that matched one on Dew’s own outstretched palm.

    The little Fire Ghoul was so broken and Alpha had just gone and broken him even more. No, Dew was too good for this world. He’d been through so much; he didn’t deserve what Alpha always gave him. Careless and cold and cruel. He wasn’t sure how it even started, the dynamic between them. He doesn’t remember Dew asking for it, and he doesn’t remember ever wanting it. He always walked away from their sessions feeling dirty and guilty, even with aftercare and maybe a round of make-up sex. But he wasn’t for all the feelings and emotional intelligence. So, he always snuffed it all out and shoved it into the far corners of his mind.

    He got out of the nest, careful not to disturb Dew, and got his clothes back on as quickly as he could. A quick check in the bathroom to make sure his veil was in place and he beelined for the door.

    Dew rolled over and gave a contented little hum, still fast asleep and oblivious. Alpha surprised himself with the smile that grew across his face at the frankly adorable sight, but it was soon replaced by an unbearable guilt for what he’d done. He silently padded back over to the nest. He brushed Dew’s hair from his face, leant over and said the words he had said the previous night. Words he would never say again out loud when he knew people could hear,

    “You are so loved.”

    He gave Dew’s head a small kiss, then steeled himself for the walk back to the catacombs. Luckily it was still early so no one was out. River had been talking about going to Swiss’ for the night, Omega was probably still asleep, Lake was somewhere and so he just had to worry about not seeing-

    “Morning.”

    “Hey Alpha.”

    Oh great. The fucking lovebirds.

Alpha gave non-committal grunts to Air and Earth.

    “Is Dew okay?” Air asked. While Alpha would always call him a literal airhead, he knew what Dew and Alpha got up to. And it being so soon after Dew woke up, the concern in Air’s face the previous day when Alpha left for the little one’s room was severe.

    However, for Alpha the mention of his mat- the Fire Ghoul had him growling, tears once again welling up in his eyes.

    The rarely seen tears were enough to make both Ghouls freeze. Earth didn’t even have a remark to make about someone growling at his mate.

    Alpha went to his room, slamming the door behind him and falling to the ground against it. His tears were coming more rapidly now and just to boot he could feel Dew. He must be awake now and his own confusion and pain were radiating down the bond they now shared. It twisted Alpha’s heart, and he hated it. His throat burned with the sobs he was slowly failing to hold back so he ripped his veil off and held it to his mouth to muffle his cries.

    His pain and Dew’s swirled around in his chest. He never dealt with his own emotions, now he had to feel someone else’s?! Alpha grabbed at his shirt and balled up the fabric over where the bond was.

    Couldn’t it go away? Just go away! Alpha internally begged, crying and rocking himself until he felt something shift. Dew was getting nearer. Oh fuck no, he was coming down to the catacombs. So, Alpha did what he always did. He took his pesky emotions, locked them down and threw them into the back corner of his mind.

    There was no conceivable reality in which Alpha would ever be a good mate, so he promised himself he wouldn’t even try. Maybe it would push Dew away enough so they could ignore what they did, maybe the little one could find a mate who was truly worthy of him. And maybe Alpha whimpered as he felt it weigh down on the bond.

----

    Dew woke up feeling odd.

    Usually after his sessions with Alpha he was sore, or just tired. But this was different. The Ancient had left before Dew woke up but that was more common than not. Dew couldn’t quite explain why that hurt more than normal though. He shrugged, blaming it on the cut on his ha- Oh shit.

    “You are so loved.” Alpha had said as he held Dew like he was some sort of deity. Every pass of his large hands was nothing less than reverent as was everything he had done with Dew that night.

    Dew didn’t know he could be so genuine and heartfelt and in a rush of his own emotions he said something mad. He expected Alpha to say no, for the dynamic to shift back to what it usually was and all emotion to be lost. But Alpha kissed Dew oh so gently, took the spare veil Dew kept stashed in his room for any of the Ancients, just in case, and said, “Do you think this would work? We don’t have any of the normal ritual bindings in here.”

    The fabric was just a few feet away from Dew, soaked with both their blood and the infernal magic that the rites carried. That wasn’t the only evidence of what they had done last night. Dew could feel Alpha in his soul. His burdening turmoil weighed like a stone in Dew’s heart. It made him whine as he felt every note of pain his mate was in.

    Dew and Alpha may have made a very stupid heat-of-the-moment decision, but he always tried to be a Ghoul of his word. If he had a mate now, he would do his best and be a damned good mate.

    He pulled on his clothes and ran out of his room. Sure, his t-shirt was on backwards and he was completely barefoot, but he didn’t really care. Something in the bond came alive as Dew steadily grew nearer to the other end of it. He almost allowed himself a small smile at the warm fuzzy feeling of it until it was suddenly gone. It felt like a wall had gone up, and he couldn’t feel Alpha anymore. Not in the same intensity at least.

    Dew had to stop halfway down the stairs and grasp at his chest, ironically enough with the hand that bore the wound of their mating. Fuck, it hurt. Mating bonds weren’t supposed to do this. They were meant to be left wide open, conveying nothing more than the Ghouls’ love and commitment to one another. Dew started whining at the stone that had suddenly become a boulder in his chest.

    “Dewdrop?” The familiar voice of Air echoed up the stairs, his footsteps too as he drew nearer, falling to his knees to be closer to eye-level with Dew, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

    Dew, desperate for comfort his own fucking mate didn’t seem to want to give him, fell forwards against Air’s chest, managing to become somewhat acquainted with the pain that showed no sign of letting up.

    “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Dew.” Air soothed, wrapping his arms around the little Ghoul.

    The two stayed there awkwardly on the steps until Dew nodded and pulled away, “I need to speak to Alpha. Is he home?”

    Air’s eyebrows furrowed with concern as he nodded, “In his room.”

    Air led the way even though Dew knew the catacombs like the back of his hand, and Earth was waiting by Alpha’s door.

    “Nothing.” He said, to his mate as they approached. Dew’s own concern grew at Earth, of all Ghouls, being worried for the Fire Ghoul.

    Air knocked on the door, “Alfie? Dew’s here, can he come in?”

    There was silence from the room and Dew could feel the muted panic of the Ghoul inside.

    “Alpha, you’re never like this. We just want to help.” Earth added.

    Still nothing, and Dew could feel the bond being more and more shut away. His wounded hand still over his chest, he did his best not to show the pain all of it was causing him.

    “Satanas, fuck. Alpha! Open the door or I’m breaking it down!” Earth said in a much louder voice and angrier tone.

    “What are you shouting for? It’s too early.” Omega came from his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and scowling at the Earth Ghoul.

    “No need for breaking anything.” Air said to his mate, before glimmering away into the vents.

----

    Alpha was frozen in fear when he heard Dew’s name. He couldn’t face him, not after what he’d done. If he just ignored it, they would all leave him. He could come out in a few hours with his usual bite and snark and all would be back to normal.

    “What happened to your veil?”

    “Fuck!” Alpha startled, not noticing Air materialising in front of him, “Warn a Ghoul before you sneak into his room.”

    Air gave a small smile, “Maybe you should stop wrecking your veil and you’d notice me.”

    “I don’t know about that. Mattresses are hard to take any real notice of. And I didn’t wreck my-“ But as Alpha looked to the mound of fabric that until moments ago had still been up to his mouth. Not only was it stained from tears and snot, but dozens of fang and claw marks had been slashed through it in his frantic attempt for comfort. It was completely ruined.

    “Oh, fuck. I- I- I didn’t mean to! I promise! I-“

    “Hey, you’re fine. It’s fine.” Air assured, “It’s just cloth. This is why we all have multiple.” Air got up and walked over to Alpha’s wardrobe to get a fresh one.

    Alpha couldn’t rip his eyes away from the wrecked veil. Twice in twelve hours, he had desecrated what the Ancients used to show their faith, their worship, their commitment. His own was a burnt orange to match his Fire. It was a random idea when the Ancients started veiling that they would all have colours that matched to their Elements. Alpha called it dumb but he stuck with it. He couldn’t help that it complimented his eyes! As Alpha stared at it more, he realised it was now a perfect match for the shade of Dew’s eyes.

----

    Earth was anxious as Air disappeared into Alpha’s room. He didn’t like interactions between the two when he was present, let alone with a locked door in the way.

    “Everything okay in there?”

    “Yup, just a veil situation.” Air shouted back.

    Earth visibly relaxed, but Dew tensed. He knew how important the veils were to all the Ancients, especially Alpha. It had taken a while for the older Fire Ghoul to let Dew put his hands or face anywhere near it.

    A few moments later Air slipped out the door and shut it behind him before Dew could so much as smell Alpha within.

    “He, uh, doesn’t want to see anyone right now.” Air said regretfully.

    “Doesn’t want to see anyone? Or doesn’t want to see me?” Dew questioned.

    “He said ‘anyone’.” Air confirmed.

    Dew snarled low in his throat, his Fire prickling away under his skin. Alpha’s own much bigger, angrier flames burned with them.

    “Well then, he’s a big grown-up Ghoul. When he’s stopped fucking pouting and sulking like a kit, he can come talk to me like a fucking adult!” Dew raised his voice enough that Alpha absolutely would’ve heard him. He kicked the door, rattling it within its hinges, before turning around to leave the catacombs. He shouted as he left: “And I need another spare veil for my room!”

    Air, Earth and Omega were all left staring dumbfounded at each other and the space Dew had been standing in.

    Dew however, was seeing red and needed to be as far away from Alpha as he could. He stormed back up to his own pack’s dorms and his eyes narrowed when he saw Swiss’ door. He knew River had stayed over, he could hear them giggling as the TV played, and Dew decided No Happy Couples.

    He knocked and River answered, “Dew, you okay?”

    “No, I need Swiss.” Dew said shortly, his chest twisted as River’s face fell at his tone.

    “Oh, okay. I’ll, uh, head down then.” River mumbled, saying a short goodbye to the confused Multi.

    “The fuck, Dew?” Swiss said annoyed, everyone knew how sensitive River is.

    Dew couldn’t hold back anymore and started bawling.

    Swiss’ frustration completely faded as he rushed over and gathered Dew up in his arms. Swiss was no Ancient but he was still taller than Dew and carried him over to his nest. Swiss tried to get Dew to talk but he just shook his head as he cried, carefully keeping his hand balled up and hidden.

    He managed to fall asleep for a while, and when he woke up, there was one glorious moment where Dew thought the larger body wrapped around him was Alpha’s. But reality soon came crashing down on top of the boulder that had remained rigidly in place. He thanked Swiss, apologising for ruining his morning with River, and went back to his own room.

    Dew tried to clean up his room, put it back so it looked just as it did before Alpha had arrived, trying to erase what they did. As he picked up the veil they had used to bind their souls, Dew felt his eyes welling up again. He wanted to burn it so bad. Say a big ‘fuck you’ to Alpha and destroy the fabric that held so much significance to him, with the flames he had taught Dew to use. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

    Instead, Dew raised it to his nose. It smelt so delectably of the two of them. He hid it under a pillow and continued fixing his nest. What he didn’t realise was that as he shoved the fabric away, he shoved the bond away and closed it off, just the same as Alpha had.

    Alpha wanted to be stubborn and play this game? Fine, he could do it. But as Dew was learning to dance with the flames, he was also learning that he could go on too. Dew would pretend that none of this had bothered him, and it would just be more fuel for their hateful dynamic.

    In reality? Dew couldn’t sleep until he was clutching that bloodied veil to his chest, smelling the both of them on it.

    And as for Alpha, he kept the veil he had wrecked that morning too. Because after his nose had pushed past the scent of his own misery, he could smell where Dew had held onto it and begged Alpha to be his, for their souls to be one.

    It was only in the moments in the dead of night, when he was sure Dew was asleep, that Alpha would lift that veil up to his face and wish the little Fire Ghoul himself was there with him, to kiss away his tears just as he did for Dew did on that fateful night.

    The two fell into a game of circling each other, silently trying to goad the other into breaking first. They never spoke about it and refused to acknowledge the bond that tied their souls together forevermore. They didn’t seem to care that by hurting each other they were only hurting themselves.

    Every time Dew tried to get Alpha to just look at him, he was treated like nothing more than a smear of shit on his boot. And Alpha never even tried to get anything from Dew other than to be left alone.

    It landed them in an endless cycle of their flames fully coming out for each other and neither were willing to even try and douse it out. Always yearning for love and comfort, and not realising they could have it in each other if they just let it happen. Forever stuck in an eternal world of shared misery that they isolated themselves in.

a/n: ...…Until Earth says ‘fuck this shit’ and beats Alpha to pulp for being such a dickhead.

One shot master post can be found here!

[bg3fan]

My own pet

My first try at yandere, I hope it's decent, but I had a lot of fun writing this as a warning I'd but kidnapping and a bit of violence in here if I missed something please let me know but I think it's mild yandere in general.

"So that's how mortals treat their hero of baldrus gate?"

Raphael snickers as he walks around your little home on the outskirt.

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to the paper in front of you, hoping that he'd stop mocking you about every little thing that doesn't come from him.

"Please leave me alone, Raphael. I'm content with what I have." You say annoyed.

But Raphael wouldn't be the devil you know if he'd just leave you alone.

Even before defeading the elder brain, his constant unannounced visits and scolding, pushed you to ultimately sign his contract.

Humming, he walks up behind you, putting his warm hands on your shoulders. His thumbs draw little circles, immediately soothing your tense muscles.

"Those peasants don't know your value. They shoved you in this claustopic place, forcing you to even work for them. Have they no shame?"

His hands suddenly hardend their grip and you fear that he might actually hurt you.

"But me, little mouse," his hands relax as one of them slide up to your jaw, and the other one wraps around your throat, forcing you to look up at him, "I'd treat you like the most priced treasure I own."

It's not the first time, the devil proclaimed that he'd like to have you as his little trophy by his side while he rules over the nine hells.

You can't help but feel hypnotic by his rich voice. Promising you a life with no hard work, a life where he'd give you everything you desired, a life where you could devote yourself to all of your hobbies which he would support and the only thing you need to do is be his little pet.

But there's a little voice in the back of your head, warning you not to get close to him. He is a devil. Even if he wants to be good, he'll hurt you one way or another, and these days, he's been visiting you more often, trying to make you ultimately submit to him.

Swallowing, you put your hands on his, squeezing them as you try to form a complete sentence but to no avail.

He lets go of you, steps back and turns your chair around so abruptly that you let out a little squeak to which he chuckles, obviously enjoying it.

You frown at him, gripping your armchair to steady yourself, the papers scattered on the floor.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't need you, and I never will. I'm happy with my life now." You don't want to give him the satisfaction, so you try to stay calm.

Raphaels expression is challenging and sly, he steps between your legs to look down on you which makes him seem so much larger than he actually is, even in his human form.

Putting both of his hands on your cheeks as he bends down towards your face, "Why don´t you come in my house of hope? I can give you everything you desire. What more must I offer for you to be by my side?" he whispers against your face, his eyes stare directly into yours.

Even though you defeaded the elder brain, broke the shadow curse and fought against the three chosen ones, you don´t doubt that Raphael wouldn´t be able to kill or even torture you, especially with the crown in his hands.

Again, you find yourself unable to form a proper sentence to which you try to squirm out of his grasp, afraid that he´ll lock you up just like he did with Hope.

From all the letters you've read in his house you can assume that she was in the same position as you are right now.

Your breath goes uncontrolled and you feel panic spreading inside your body, you´re suddenly aware that you´re all alone, no friends, no weapons and no armor.

You liked your time alone as you are more of an introvert, but you failed to sense the vulnerability that comes with it.

His borad shoulders blocking the view behind him, making it impossible to think of an escape plan.

The devil in disgues seems to notice your fear, and he can´t help but fuel it by showing his true form, chuckling as you try to push him away.

"GO AWAY!" You scream and try to scratch his face. He shoves you away when you manage to cut his cheek, and you knock over with the chair and hit your head hard.

Even though you feel dizzy, you try to get away from him and crawl away from him as your body is sent into a flight or fight mode.

As you reach the window, you hear a scoff and feel Raphael yanking you away from the door towards him by your ankle.

He pulls you under him, keeping you pinned against the floor while you scream for help, regretting the choice of rejecting Wyll's offer to stay with him and help him around the gate.

A hand stiffles your noise, and fat ugly tears roll down your cheeks and his hand. You're kicking and hitting, only hurting yourself against the hard wooden floor.

Raphael is tsking at your behavious, "How pathetic you are, I guess I can understand why they shoved you here in this hole, all alone with no one on your side" his hand on your back presses you down as if he wants to break your spine in half, his tail holding your legs together.

The warmth is unbearable and it feels like his hands are burning your skin. He snaps his fingers and suddenly you find yourself in his house of hope.

Finding yourself in an unfamiliar room, and as he lets go of you, he walks up the stairs to his throne. You turn around and sit up to see him up there with his legs spread, looking down on you "Don´t worry now, I´ll take care of you, and make sure that you're safe." he flashes you a wide grin.

You clutch at your shirt, trying to think of a way to inform your friends or a way to escape, but before you could even calm down, there are three debtors coming your way.

Immediately you try to run away but two tackle you down as you try to fight them off and you even manage to knock one out but it´s been too long since you´ve been doing anything physically and it shows because the other one holds your hands behind your back as the third one puts a collar around your neck.

Raphael´s laugh booms through his throne hall as the one carries you back only to throw you in front of the devil´s booted feet.

"If I were you, I wouldn´t try to leave this house or try to take it off. It´ll only hurt, little mouse." his voice sickly sweet.

Propping yourself on your fours, not accepting the fact that he would do something like this to you. But the second you try to remove the collar an unbearbale pain shoots through your body, as if thousand of nails are being pierced through your body and you can´t help but let a high-pitched scream out.

But the adrenaline in your body allows you to try again even if the pain is unbearable. He sits there relishing in your screams and counts the seconds when you will give up.

You fall to your side, letting your tears fall on the floor. Raphael shifts his head to the side, expecting more defiance from you, a bit disappointed that you gave up this fast.

You only stop because you feel yourself slipping out of consciousness. Looking up at the tall ceiling, you try to stay awake as your body tries to cope with the pain while you taste your own blood on your tongue.

Raphael allows you a moment to ground yourself again, even though he enjoys your suffering he doesn´t want you to kill yourself so quickly.

"Come here, pet," he orders after some time as he pets his thigh, signalling you that he wants you on his lap, and to his wonder, you still have the guts to deny him by turning your head away from him.

Suddenly, he pulls on an invisible leash and yanks your lying body towards him, and before your head hits the stairs, you lift yourself up on your fours.

He stops and raises his eyebrows questioningly, and you have to bite down on your tongue and swallow your pride as you slowly make your way to his lap.

As you lower yourself on his lap, he brings out a tissue to wipe your face clean, and you let him, too exhausted to fight the pain again.

He doesn´t recognize you. You who once stood tall and fought all sorts of monsters are now shaking and sobbing in this frail body. The thought making him smile because it was all his doing.

He puts his arm around your waist as he guides your head to rest on his shoulder. "I think you´ve punished yourself enough for scratching my cheek, dont you think?" You don´t answer. Instead, you try to grasp the fact that Raphael managed to trap you like this while catching your breath.

"There, there," he pets your head, "it´s OK now, I´ve got you," he coos in this sweet voice of his, "I´ll take care of you, little mouse" his wing comes over to cover you like a blanket.

You can´t help the way his warmth makes you sleepy and sluggish in his arms, and as your eyes close, you hear him promising to keep you for eternity.

[bubblegump-1-nk]

Shall I Write It in a Letter

pairing: Gryffindor!Reader x Theodore Nott

summary: In which Theo wakes up one morning and realizes he can no longer not have you, so he writes you a letter. But when that letter gets lost, things become complicated. - inspired by Anne with an E; song: Bloom by The Paper Kites.

Warnings: angst that could be fixed by simple communication 😒, hints of cheating

P.S: I super duper highly recommend to listen to the songs either before, during, or after you read my fics . Not only do they encapsulate what the fic is about, but they’re also just super good songs!! <33d

~~~

Christmas break had been in session for about a week and a half, and Theo was spending his time off at home. Although he was sad to be away from his friends, he was happy for the much needed alone time.

The sun was shining brightly through the dark velvet curtains in his room, and he slowly woke up from his dreams. As his eyes fluttered open, he felt a pang of pain in his heart. His dream had been of you, specifically of kissing your soft lips on a warm summers day by the Black Lake. He’s found that more recently than ever, his head is full of you, as is his heart. As he’s laying in his bed, he closes his eyes once more, trying to hold onto the bits of you he won’t ever experience. In this moment, thoughts of you more prevalent than ever before, he realizes he doesn’t have to not have you. Quickly, becoming fully awake, he springs out of his bed and walks quickly to his desk.

He pushes all the papers and miscellaneous items off the surface, and pulls out a paper and quill. He’s become fully aware of just how much he longs for you, and why should he not be able to tell his best friend that he’s in love with her? He’s been yearning for your love for as long as he can remember, and it has finally transformed him into a fool, giving him the confidence to express his love for you.

My dearest y/n,

I’ve found that you’ve been circling my thoughts more than usual lately, so much so that I can hardly call them my own anymore. I think about you all the time, yet I’ve been too much of a coward to say anything. But I’ve realized that I don’t want to wake up one day, either in the near future or in the years to come, and regret not trying, because of pride, or embarrassment, or just simple fear. I need to escape this torture chamber I’ve made for myself, where I must hold you at arms length though I know I wish for nothing more than to be wrapped in your embrace at all hours of the day. So I need you to tell me if it’s all in my head. That the lingering touches and longing stares are just simple delusions I’ve created in my mind. But if they’re not, and Merlin how I hope they’re not, I’m telling you here and now that I am in love with you y/n l/n, and I don’t think I can bear to be apart from you any longer. I also want to go ahead and apologize for telling others I loved you, that they knew before you did, but to be fair I think everyone knew before I did, too. You are my breath of fresh air, the light in all my darkness, my proof that life is pure and good and that happiness is achievable. I may not be a religious person, but if worshipping you was a religion I’d be its most devoted follower. And if my feelings are not reciprocated, please find a way to put this past you because I could not endure losing you as my best friend as well.

Yours Forever, Theo.

After pouring his heart out onto the page, he carefully placed it into an envelope, wrote your name on it, and walked to give it to owl. After sending it away, he walked back to his room, his anxiety suddenly crashing through. Thoughts swarmed his head: She doesn’t love me, I’ve ruined everything, I should stop it from reaching her. But his heart quickly stopped his brain from doing too much damage. You needed to know or else Theo would live in agony for the rest of his life. Upon reaching his room, he sat back at his desk and sent letters to each of the Slytherin boys, confessing what he’s done. He even slipped a copy of the letter to Mattheo, the only one he felt he could truly trust with that piece of his heart.

~~~

It had been two days since the letter had been sent. Had his owl reached you by now? Had you seen it? What were you thinking?

He was an utter mess, his mind swarming with questions and his body teeming with anxieties.

Soon it was 4 days, then 6, then a week, and then the last day of break rolled around the corner. Still he had received no response from you, perhaps you wished to talk in person? His heart hoped that that was the answer, and that the lack of a letter was not your rejection

~~~

You got onto the train just as it was about to take off, thanks to your missing jumper. The train was packed with kids saying their hellos and catching up, and with much effort you finally found Harry, Hermione, and Ron and got inside the compartment.

“Is it just me or is it crazier than usual?” You ask as you sit down.

“Definitely crazier, apparently Lavendar and Parvati got into a huge fight over break so everyone’s running around to hear about it.” Hermione explains as she hands you some candy she bought for you.

You say your thanks and continue talking with your friends when there’s a knock on your compartment.

“Hi Dean!” You say as you get up to slide open the door. You step out quickly to talk with the tall Gryffindor boy.

You have a friendly conversation, lasting about 10 minutes before entering the compartment again.

“What was that about.” Ron asks, before anyone else has the chance to.

“I saw him at Diagon Alley over the break and he asked me out. We hung out a couple times over the break.” You explain.

“Never would have expected that one.” Says Harry.

You raise you eyebrow at him, “and why would that be?”

“Just always assumed it would be Nott.” Harry says.

“I can’t just sit around like a fool waiting for him. He’s shown he just sees me as his best friend and the quicker I get over him the better.” You explain.

“But, he hasn’t shown you that he feels that way.” Explains Hermione, who is team Theo and y/n.

“He hasn’t shown me any differently. Wake me up when we get there I’m taking a nap.” You say, tired of constantly being reminded of your inability to be with Theo.

~~~

You arrive at the castle, and you make your way through the crowds to find your Slytherin friends. Just as you spot their group, Dean Thomas stops you.

“Hey, I’ve saved you a seat next to me, ok?” He asks, while his hands snaked around your waist.

“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” You say to him, giving him a small smile before turning your attention back to the group

-

“Merlin.” Theo says, causing the group to turn their heads. He had seen you walking around the crowd, and had turned away quickly when you had finally spotted them. He hadn’t seen you on the train and obviously hadn’t received your letter, so a part of him still hoped that you just wanted to talk to him in person. His anxiety began to take over him when he saw you walking towards him - would you tell him to fuck off? That he’s some sort of creep best friend? Or would you tell him that your heart beat for him? - that’s when he saw it. Dean Thomas gripping your waist and you sending him that sweet, tooth rotting smile his way.

“Oh shit.” Said Mattheo, who had been the first to spot the pair.

“Fuck that’s messed up.” Said Draco.

“I’m sorry mate.” Enzo said, patting Theo’s shoulder.

“How’d that even happen?” Asked Blaise, confused because he had never really seen you interact with Dean.

Mattheo sent him a look, warning him to drop it.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Mattheo said, gently grabbing Theo’s arm, pulling him away towards the dining room.

Theo could still feel his heart breaking, each shard falling to the pits of his stomach and stabbing him. He got his answer at least, not only did you not love him, you clearly didn’t care enough about him to even write back to him. And now, his God-sent Angel, was flaunting around with another man. How could the sweet girl he grew up with, the one that showed him that even salt could be beautiful, break his heart and crumble its pieces in your fist?

-

You were confused when you suddenly saw the group leave, making their way into the dining hall. You tried to get to them, but the crowds of people pushed you back until finally, you realized it was fruitless when the crowd began pushing you back towards the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. You decided to just sit down, and that you would try to find the group, Theo specifically because you missed him deeply, after dinner.

Dinner passed quickly after the tedious sorting ceremony. You talked with your friends and caught up with those around you, sneaking glances towards the Slytherin table as often as possible. Finally, Dumbledore dismissed the students and you all made your way towards your common rooms. Since it was the first day back, teachers were making sure students went directly to their rooms, leaving you no time to find the Slytherins. You decided it would be best for you to just wait until tomorrow, though you thought you might implode if you spent one more second away from Theo. A thought that made you feel instantly guilty when Dean appeared at your side.

~~

The next day rolled around, and still you hadn’t been able to get ahold of the Slytherins. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed they had been avoiding you. Finally, right before lunch you entered the library to grab some books when you saw the boys congregated in the back. You made your way over to them, carefully stepping around the stacks of books Madame Pince was reorganizing.

Once you finally reached the group, you went to announce your presence before Theo looked away from Draco (who was telling some boring anecdote) and looked down at you. Before you had any time to give him a smile or say your hello’s, he detached himself from the group and stormed right past you, through the stacks of books, and out the door. You stood shocked, facing the doors before finally turning back around to face the group. Your face was painted with an expression of confusion, which only deepened you received a nasty look from Enzo.

“We’ll be on our way now.” Said Enzo, walking past you with Blaise following close behind.

What..?” You finally managed to get out in your state of shock.

“Listen, y/n, just do us all a favor and leave us alone, especially Theo.” Mattheo said, in quite a rude tone before walking passed you. You stood confused and shocked at the interaction that had just unfolded. What had you done? Why were the boys mad at you? What had you done to Theo?

~~~

“I just have no idea what it could possibly be.” You said to Hermione, as you paced around your dorm room, recounting the story from earlier.

“Maybe it’s Dean. Maybe he’s just jealous.” Hermione offered.

“No, but I’ve had flings with guys before, and it’s not like he hasn’t been with girls before. It’s some thing deeper than that I know it.” You state, picking at your fingernails.

“And your sure you haven’t done anything? I mean you can’t think of one thing that could possibly have led to this?” Hermione asks, just as confused about the situation as you.

“Yes, I mean I literally cannot think of one thing that could have led to this. I would never hurt Theo, ever.” You say, plopping down on you bed, exasperated by the days events.

“I’m sorry y/n but I have absolutely no idea why they’re acting like this.” Hermione said, sad she couldn’t be of more help.

“It’s fine Hermione, it’s not your fault. I’m just going to go to bed.” You say, wanting this nightmare to end.

Could you really be losing your best friend to a reason unknown to you? Not only can you not be with the man that you love because he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, but now you may have just lost him completely. You fall asleep after hours of rolling back and forth contemplating your complicated relationship with Theo, and even in your unconscious state you cannot escape him because he peeps into your dreams.

~~~

The following week is agony. Your best friend won’t talk to you, let alone allow himself to be in the same room as you, the boys you’ve known since childhood give you nasty looks every chance they get, you have to entertain a relationship with Dean your not even sure you want to get into and your teachers are stuffing you with assignments. All you need is a good party with lots and lots of alcohol. Once Friday afternoon finally rolls around, you can feel a slight weight lift from your shoulders.

~~~

You walked into the Slytherin common room with Dean. Pansy, Daphne and some other Slytherin girls hosted the first party since break and seeing as you’ve been close with them since 1st year, you were clearly invited. You decided you were going to look your absolute best for this party: you’re makeup was flawless, your hair done to perfection, and the corset and low-waisted mini skirt you were wearing was doing your figure perfect justice.

“Fuck me.” Said Theo as he saw you walk in with Dean. “I’m going for a smoke outside.” He says.

“Need company?” Mattheo asks, not wanting to leave his vulnerable friend alone.

“Nah mate, thanks though.” He says, before walking outside quickly, before he can see anymore of you.

It had only been a few minutes, and you had already downed about 3 drinks. Once the alcohol started to hit, you detached yourself from Dean’s grip making up some excuse, before finding your way towards the Slytherin boys.

You spotted Mattheo sitting on the arm rest of a couch, sipping out of a plastic cup. You walked up to him, hips still swaying to the music.

“Where’s Theo?” You stated, once you reached him, your confidence booming.

“What do you want?” Mattheo asks, looking up at you with contempt.

“I need to find Theodore Nott. Where is he?” You state.

“You have some serious nerve.”

“What?” You ask, taken aback.

“Listen, y/n, you’re once of my closest friends, but Theo’s my best mate. And what you did, that shit’s just fucked up. Like seriously, I didn’t even know you were capable of that.” He says, disgust leaking out of his words.

“I’m sorry?” You say, confused by his words.

“Merlin y/n, I mean how dull can you be? You just expect everything to be all right after you not only completely ignore his letter where he fucking tells you he fucking loved you, but you turn up with some Levski (famous quidditch chaser) wannabe? I mean that’s some next level shit.” Mattheo says, getting up as he presents his rage induced speech.

“What letter?” You say, unaware of what he’s talking about.

Mattheo just stares at you, stuttering to get some words out.

“I said: what letter, Mattheo?” You say, much more sternly.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you never received it?” Mattheo asks, in shock.

“I don’t even know what I didn’t receive.” You say, exasperated.

“Just, wait right here, I’ll be right back!” Mattheo says, before running up the stairs towards the dorms.

You stand there in shock, your adrenaline pumping. Had you heard him right? Theo had sent you a letter confessing his love to you? How had you missed it?

“Here! Here! I have it!” Mattheo yelled, running towards you, waving a piece of parchment around in his hand.

“This. One.” Mattheo says, between breaths as he reaches you, handing you the parchment.

You rip it from his hands, reading it quickly yet thoroughly. Tears brim at your eyes, did he really feel this way? Merlin you felt so stupid, how could this have gotten lost?

“I-I…” you stuttered, unaware of what to say.

“Outside. He’s outside. Go!” Mattheo said, stilling catching his break.

“I- ok, thank you!” You say, before quickly running out the door, finding your way outside.

You see Theo sitting outside, smoking a cigarette. His face is illuminated by the moonlight and you swear in that moment that you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“Theo! Theodore!” You yell to him, as you run towards his figure. The grass was still wet from the rain that had fallen earlier that day, and the blades of grass began to stick to your calfs.

Theo looks at you, before getting up and attempting to escape you.

“Theo, wait, please! Mattheo just showed me the letter! I never got it!”

He stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned around.

“What?”

You finally catch up to him, breathing heavily.

“I never got your letter, I didn’t know about it until just now.” You explain, showing him the letter Mattheo had given you.

“What?” He said again, bewildered by what was going on.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, or your feelings. I just never got to read about them until tonight.”

“So, you’re telling me you never received it, at all?”

“No. I never got a letter.” You explain, your eyes searching his for some hint of how he was feeling.

“Did you read it?” Theo asked slowly.

“Yes, just now I did.”

“And…” Theo asked, hope returning to him and hitting him like a truck. He was filled with anxieties and he felts his stomach doing flips waiting for you to answer.

“Of course I’m in love with you, I thought I made it so obvious!”

“I thought I made it obvious!” Theo said with a laugh, all negative feelings and thoughts leaving his body and head at your confession.

“My heart quite literally beats for you, Teddy. I’ve never been so scared then when I thought I was losing you.”

“Really?” He asks. His eyes are lit up and he can barely contain his smile

“Yes you idiot!” You say, smiling wildly

“What about Dean?” He asks, afraid.

“Fuck Dean! It’s only ever been you, Teddy. It’ll always be you.” You say, staring up at him with nothing but love and devotion.

“Does this mean that you’ll have me?” He asks, grabbing your hands.

You nod vigorously, unable to get any words out as tears of happiness are threatening to spill if you utter a single word.

And with that, Theo dips down and kisses you. The kiss is deep and passionate. You two explore each others mouths, and your hands explore each others body. You taste every bit of each other, and feel each others hair, faces, arms, waists, chests, in ways that you’ve never felt before. You take this chance to make up for all the lost time you’ve spent pining for each other in secret. The kiss is hungry, yet gentle and Theo holds you close, as if if he doesn’t hold you as tightly as possible you’ll slip away from him. After a few minutes he pulls away, touching your forehead to his and holding your face in his hands.

“I’m so so sorry for believing the worst in you. I was just in so much pain. Ignoring you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done” He states, referring to the week prior.

“It’s ok, Teddy. Let’s not worry about that now.” You say, causing his lips to come crashing down on yours again.

[anastasiareyreed]

all russians are guilty and let me explain why.

make yourself comfortable, it's gonna be a long ride.

you might notice that every time, if russians appear in a movie, series or documentary, they have either done something criminal, are doing it or are planning to do it. because the entire history of russia's existence is built on crimes, wars, genocides and occupations — Ukraine, Syria, Georgia, Chechnia and many more.

russia unleashed the most frequent genocidal attacks against Ukraine. occupation of Ukrainian lands and enslavement of Ukrainians, constant persecution and murder of speakers of the Ukrainian language, Ukrainian poets, writers, teachers — the entire nation, any Ukrainian figures of culture or politics. And, of course, the awful Holodomor (if you more into visualization, watch the movie about the Holodomor — «Mr Jones».)

no matter who is in power, throughout its existence, russia has been trying to destroy Ukraine and everything related to Ukrainian culture and history.

first of all, I think the terms «guilty» and «bad» must be separated here. I'm not saying all russians are bad, because «bad» is quite subjective and vague term. just like term «good». a person can be good in relations with neighbors, good at their job or good meaning polite. but what happens to a «good» person who stands by when other people are killed, tortured and raped in front of this person's eyes and on this person's behalf? this person becomes guilty. and many can and DO have the right to call and consider this person bad.

what exactly you are doing when you write «not all russians support the war»? you tell Ukrainians that THIS TIME there are definitely good russians, good guys among the people who constantly repressed Ukrainian people. but let me tell you this. if ten people stand in front of me and tell me that only one of them probably is not a murderer, I WILL NOT trust that person. I won't risk my life, and I'm sure you won't either.

I, like many Ukrainians, had friends or relatives in russia. but all of us were betrayed by these people, because it is in their DNA to put themselves above Ukrainians. and it's quite unreasonable in the digital age to justify their position about war by the fact that they don't know anything and totally drowned in propaganda. do they not know how to search for information, use their phones, computers or brain?

when you say that right now not all russians are against Ukraine or Syria, you cannot be sure that a russian who writes «I don't support the war» is telling the truth. that this person is not trying to maintain their public image and avoid condemnation. how can we believe the word of the representatives of the nation that every decade wage a war? the presumption of innocence doesn't apply here, hundreds of thousands of victims of russia are proof of that.

my favorite topic that people like to manipulate is how can we blame russian children. sure, we are in our right mind, so we don't say that a russian child is as guilty as an adult russian man who raped Ukrainian children and tortured Ukrainian women and men. we say that the russian child must know and feel collective responsibility from an early age, so that in the future the child doesn't take the place of that adult russian man.

while other countries honor the memory of their heroes and victims of the WWII on the day of victory over the fascists, only the russians proudly and joyfully said every year that they could repeat and start another war. which they did. that's why russian children should see that the world associates russia only with death, crimes and wars. that the world doesn't tolerate russian products, art, culture or people. this is the only way children will be able to realize from an early age that this way of russia's lifestyle is condemned by the world and must be radically changed.

Ukrainian and Syrian children, who are currently suffering from russia's actions, grew up too early and lost their childhood, they know what war is, know that it's evil and russia is a terrorist state. russian children should know this as well, so that the changes in the russian mentality — that the world has been waiting for several centuries in a row​ — have come.

you say russian children are not guilty, sure, but they are taught that war is branded, powerful, cool and solid. Ukrainian and Syrian children are not guilty, but they are taught how to act if their parents are killed by a russian missile. you say russian youth are not guilty and shouldn't risk their future to protest against the war. Ukrainian and Syrian youth are not guilty, but every day they give their lives for the freedom that the russians are trying to take away.

russian soldiers who went to kill Ukrainians and Syrians. russians who are relatives, friends or colleagues of these soldiers. russians who openly support wars in Ukraine & Syria or show their passivity. russians who volunteer to support the russian army. russians, who for centuries raised their children with imperialist views and contempt for other nations and races. and, as history shows, will continue to raise in the same way, no matter how the war ends. if russia loses they will raise children ready for another revenge. if russia wins they will raise children with mindset that Ukrainians are an inferior nation. russians have hundreds of years of experience in it. ask how the peoples that russia once occupied live today.

imagine what those hundreds of thousands of russian soldiers would achieve not on peaceful Ukrainian streets, killing people, but somewhere in a square in moscow, protesting against the war. soldiers, their relatives, friends and neighbors. eight years ago, Ukrainians protested against the dictator, dying for their principles and freedom.

Iranians went against a real dictator, dying for their principles and freedom. because this is the only way to achieve change.

the only «protest» action of russians is to post a picture somewhere online or to stand peacefully for half an hour in a small group of people, passively holding «no war» piece of paper and leaving before dark, because tomorrow they have to go to work or universities. russians support the war or simply don't care, because it's easier to live that way. if they chose collective indifference, they must face collective responsibility.

your «not all russians are guilty» is based on your assumptions about the good faith of russians, a naive idea of what this nation really is. my «all russians are guilty» is based on hundreds of years of history of relations between russia and Ukraine. on the number of wars russia has waged in the past and is waging now, the number of nations it has destroyed and the number of evil actions the world has forgiven the russians, hoping that THIS TIME everything will definitely be different.

[rina-teatia]

Stockings, panties, skirt and heels (18+)

Summary: Everything that Gojo put on exited Getou. As usual, two idiots can't get laid in any way, but smart women save them (they are really idiots but thats funny).

Characters: Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Ieiri Shoko

Tags: Past Getou Suguru/Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru Being an Idiot, Foot Fetish, Stockings, Student Getou Suguru, Ieiri Shoko is a Good Friend, Student Ieiri Shoko, Fluff and Humor, Blow Jobs, Foot Jobs

Notes: hi guys! my name is Rina Tea-Tia and English is not my native language. However, I really want to make friends with you and I have a lot of work on jujutsu kaisen so I hope we get along 🥺 pleeeeeeease i just want friends in fandom 😭😭😭

Words: 2934

“Holy shit! How do you wear this?!” Gojo stood on the balcony of the student dormitory of the magic college and concentrated on stretching thin tiny women's panties in different directions.

“It's fine, you idiot!”

“Ouch!!!”

Shoko threw a comb at his head, causing the panties to fall out of his crooked hands. Gojo rubbed the back of his head, nonetheless looking at her with a smile as he fixed his glasses that had slipped down on the tip of his nose.

“We don't need to put stupid gyoniku sausage! That's why they're so small. Give it here.”

Shoko was laying out her clothes after drying, and Gojo came into her room to get under her skin. However, he obediently picked up the underwear and returned them to Shoko. Probably, another girl would have been ashamed to sort through underwear in front of a friend of the opposite sex, but Shoko didn't care at all. She had already taken away some bras from Gojo, which that jerk was trying on instead of his glasses. Asshole. “You'd better go to Getou. You have nothing to do.”

“To Getou?” Gojo repeated, idly searching for gold in his ear with his little finger. “I see him every day anyway. It's more interesting here. Oh, and what is this? Tights?”

Shoko turned to look sourly at Gojo. He had pulled off the nylon stockings from the clothesline and was now stretching them in all directions.

“Fuck, Satoru, these are stockings! Give them give back! You'll tear them up!” This time the white-haired boy was hit with deodorant. Gojo didn't let himself get caught off guard again, using his technique just in time, and the deodorant froze in mid-air a few centimeters away from him before falling.

“Haha, I'm sorry. So, these are stockings? They’re so… tight. Don’t your legs hurt in them? It must be very tight.” Gojo innocently fluttered his eyelashes and returned the stockings. Shoko rolled her eyes, took her piece of clothing away from him and began to fold it carefully.

“They don't hurt me at all. Nylon stretches well and is barely felt on the skin. These are not compression stockings.” The girl herself went out on the balcony and collected the rest of her things from there so that Gojo's playful hands would not get to them. He sat down on a chair in her room with his legs spread and his arms outstretched.

“Really? Come on! How is this possible?! Is nylon some kind of material for shamans? Is it using the territory expansion technique?!”

Shoko made a face that looked like a statue from Easter Island. Sometimes Gojo amazed her with his natural idiocy beyond measure, and being in the same room with him for more than fifteen minutes became a torture. And how did Getou tolerate him on a regular basis?! Moreover, how did Gojo manage to be one of the best college students if he had brains like a shrimp?!

“Oh Gods… Well, if you want, put them on yourself. Then tell me what's so tight about them.” Shoko rubbed the bridge of her nose. These words were not an invitation, but rather another mockery, but Gojo suddenly found himself near her underwear organizer.

“Really? Thanks!” He pulled out the stockings with lightning speed and returned to the chair. Shoko only saw him begin to unbutton his pants before she turned away.

“Fuck, Gojo! It wasn't an offer! You’re a complete idiot!

“Look, have I’ve already put on one… stocking? Is it the right word?

“Are you with your pants down?!”

“Of course! They're stockings. How do I put them on with my pants?!”

“I don't want to see your underwear!”

“But if I put on my pants, you won't see the stockings on me!”

“Satoru, for fuck's sake, Gojo, darn you,” Shoko sidled over to her closet and groped for one of the skirts. The soft cloth flew to the side where Gojo was supposedly sitting, and he deftly caught it.

“Thank you!” He rustled his clothes for a couple of minutes. “It's done! That's it, you can take a look.”

Shoko turned around and immediately doubled over with laughter. Gojo looked surprisingly natural — they wore the same uniform, and in general, the combination of a women's skirt and a men's Gojo's blouse looked as if it had been intended. The stockings were black, they gracefully darkened Gojo's legs, making them even thinner and longer than they already were. By the way, his legs were extraordinary long, not crooked, almost not hairy, with a chiseled curve of the calves and fragile ankles. What a model indeed.

“What's so funny?” Gojo was grinning stupidly, his hands on his hips. “You know, you're right! In general, nothing is tight. Only a little bit in the hips, but these are stockings, not tights, so it's kinds fine. If it were tights, I think I would have died when they squeezed my balls!

“Ha-ha-ha, what the hell, Gojo!” Shoko continued to laugh. “You should try heels with these on! You look like a balding Mei Mei!”

“Really?” Gojo laughed as well. He opened the door of Shoko's closet to admire himself in the mirror. “I think we have the same foot size”

Shoko, choking with laughter, pointed to the corner of the room. There stood really beautiful high-heeled shoes. Gojo put them on and tried to walk amid both’s laughter, but almost fell right on Shoko, and she caught him by the arms.

“What's going on here? Your roaring is heard from... — Getou knocked on the door and entered the room. He froze in mid-sentence when he saw this picture: Shoko on the bed holding Gojo standing on high-heels, wearing stockings and a skirt. Both of the merrymakers burst out laughing again, while Getou looked at them in complete awe.

“Getou... fuck, Getou...” Shoko moaned between fits of laughter and waved her hands “This is not what you thought!”

“Does it suit me, Suguru?!” Gojo somehow straightened up, trying to get into a sexy pose, but he looked like a locust.

Getou looked at them both for a couple of minutes with an unreadable expression on his face. Gojo giggled, and Shoko narrowed her eyes: Getou was clearly embarrassed, his light, slightly yellowish face became a couple of shades closer to red.

“Idiots,” Getou finally told them, quickly leaving the room and slamming the door.

“Suguru! Stop!” Gojo howled, falling off his heels in another burst of laughter.

Shoko narrowed her eyes again, but didn't say anything. She thought about something, but decided not to voice her suspicions yet.

***

A little over a week has passed since that incident. Shoko smoked slowly, listlessly twirling a short strand of hair on her finger. She watched her two friends practice. She had some small suspicions about Getou, and she was still thinking about how to confirm them.

The guys had been more than just friends for a long time. They both understood that. They even confessed to each other to some extent, but it was still as if something was missing, they were shy about it and preferred to behave as usual. Or maybe it was only Getou who thought so, and Gojo was just being stupid. This six-eyed dummy was capable of intelligent thoughts only during combat, but not in interpersonal relationships. It was partly true. Shoko knew Gojo well and he sometimes cried to her about Getou's cold attitude. Gojo was sure that he was the victim of unrequited sympathy. In general, everything was difficult. Shoko hated to get involved in this, but if it wasn't for her powers of observation, they would have continued to wallow helplessly in their pile of emotional shit like blind kittens. But they had eight eyes for two!

After lunch, she stole Gojo for a conversation. Getou went to take a shower, and it was a great opportunity to talk privately.

“Suguru likes legs. Legs in stockings.” Shoko said from the doorway, lighting another cigarette. She and Gojo were walking around the college grounds.

“What?” He bowed his head in a disbelief.” What kind of legs?!

“Ordinary fucking legs. Human legs.” Shoko rolled her eyes.

“Well… good for him. And where did that information come from?” Gojo grimaced.

“He has a second Twitter profile that he thinks no one knows about. He likes all kinds of foot fetish shit from it.” She chuckled. “He didn't even close the account. And only the main Getou profile is subscribed to it.”

“Shoko... why do I need to know that?” Gojo clearly became more gloomy, he kicked one of the stones on the road. “No one wants to know what his friends are jerking off to!”

Shoko rolled her eyes even more actively.

“He's jerking off on you, Gojo. On your legs, you stupid crustacean.”

“What makes you think that?!”

“Satoru, he liked it when you put on my stockings, skirt and heels!”

“Did he?!”

“Of course not, he was just looking at you for three minutes and blushing for nothing!”

“You're lying!”

“Like I have nothing else to do! Check it yourself, if you don't believe me! “Shoko threw her skirt at him, which she didn't have time to change into after training, and then left.”

***

Getou just wanted simple peace of mind, maybe life in the forest, so that no one would touch him. However, this wasn’t possible when your friend was Gojo Satoru. Getou made himself a cup of tea and sat on the floor in a traditional pose to relax a little when the door to his room was abruptly pushed open. Gojo was standing in the doorway. In a skirt. In stockings. And, damn, on heels.

“Ha, Suguru-kun! It's me, Shoko-chan! I think my stockings are torn from behind… Can you take a look?” Gojo howled in a squeaky voice, and then walked over to Getou, who was just stunned. He was staring up at Satoru, dumbfounded. His face was flushed.

”The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Suguru—kun, come on, help me!” Gojo continued to whine. He arched gracefully at the waist, slightly lifting the skirt so that Getou got a full view of what was under, not that he wanted to, though. There was indeed a small tear on one of the stockings, extending downwards with pulled-out nylon fibers. Getou grimaced and pushed his friend's ass away from him.

“Listen, I do not know how to help you. I advise you to start with a psychiatrist.” He had to continue pushing Gojo’s ass away as he immediately tried to shove it back in Getou’s face, threatening to sit on it.

“Wa-a-a! Suguru-kun baka!” Gojo finished his attack and eventually turned around, looking at Getou with displeasure from under his glasses. He spoke normally.” Actually… I just want to check something out. Relax.”

“What? …” Getou blushed even more, awkwardly crawling back until he was stopped by the toe of a delicate shoe pressing on his groin. From this, Suguru choked on air and gasped hoarsely.

“Really?! You’re hard already…” Gojo looked genuinely surprised.

“Wh-what?! No! Satoru!” Getou felt like he was drowning in a swamp, with every jerk he got more and more bogged down and could not do anything, he fell deeper into the very essence of his preferences, secret desires and fetishes, which Gojo somehow mysteriously revealed.

Meanwhile, he took off his glasses and put them on the table. Now big blue eyes full of tenderness were looking at Getou, glowing in the semi-darkness of the room.

“Suguru...” He moved closer and pressed Getou's head against his thigh, covered with a skirt’s fabric. “Just relax. I can do anything for you. That's why I'm here... looking like this.”

“How the hell did you even know ...” Getou felt a terrible mixture of seething feelings. It was difficult for him to resist Gojo. In this form.

“I know a lot of things.” Gojo chuckled. He brazenly lied, deciding to keep silent about Shoko's role in this study.

Getou carefully hugged his slender legs with both hands, stroking their curves, slightly pulling off the nylon with his fingers. Gojo was warm, and Getou's breathing was getting faster and faster. Gojo's legs were just... something. Luxurious, perfect. He lowered his head lower to bury his nose between the guy's thighs, which he immediately pushed together like a shy girl.

“I didn't want to tell you. I was afraid to scare you,” Getou admitted, lightly squeezing the soft part of Gojo's thighs before lowering his hands down. With a careful movement, he took off the shoe that was pressing on his groin. God… Gojo's legs were indeed perfection itself. The stockings clung tightly to a neat foot, emphasizing the protruding bones and the smooth curve of the ankle. A thicker black cloth hid the toes. Getou bit his lip, his pupils dilated with delight.

“You... you really don't mind what's going to happen? This is... not quite typical. But I can try to make it nice for you as well.” Getou raised his head to look adoringly at Gojo. He nodded quickly.

“Don't ask, Suguru! I've already said that I want this!” To be honest, he got turned on himself. Getou was sitting with his head right next to his groin, looking up at him… Gojo couldn't believe what was happening.

“Then… Let's take off the heels first. They look great on you, but I bet you're already tired of standing on them.” Getou chuckled, helping to get rid of the second shoe as well. Then he unzipped his fly and lowered his underwear. Gojo's foot went back to his groin, this time the toes gently caressed the erect length. Geto groaned, clutching at the guy's hips. “Damn, you... how did you know that…”

“You want me to jerk you off with my feet?” Gojo smiled. He understood. And once again he ran his foot down Getou’s penis, slightly squeezing it with his toes, as far as the nylon fabric would allow.

“I am!.. Fuck, Satoru... don't say it like that!” Getou groaned again, his fingers gripping the edges of Gojo's skirt. “I mean… Please…”

“I'll do it for you.” He nodded. He gently wrapped his arms around Geto's shoulders, playing with his dick with his feet. He alternated between them, making the guy below shudder and squirm. Getoг did not remain in debt for long, he indecently lifted Gojo's skirt and quickly pulled off his underwear.

“Kya-ya, Suguru-kun!” He screamed again like an anime girl. Getou's eyes widened.

“You… Are you also wearing women's underwear?!” He looked up at Gojo with a dumbfounded look.

“Please don't tell Shoko...” he giggled. “She only allowed me to take a skirt.… The rest… I had to get it. She's going to kill me!

“You're just... something.” Getou exhaled. Thin girlish panties didn't cover Gojo's erection in the slightest, and he tried to shove his cock upward, but it was obvious how uncomfortable it was. His scrotum dangled to one side and without support it didn't feel secure either. Getou felt like the dirtiest pervert in the world as he pulled Gojo's woman's panties down over his stockinged thighs and got under his skirt like in a tent. He began sucking, paying particular attention to his balls. Gojo twitched and moved closer. He was trying hard too, kneading and pressing lightly on Getou's cock, from which the pre-ejaculate was flowing generously. The socks of his stockings caught the drops and rubbed them higher, the stiff nylon was getting wet and painful, especially when Gojo started to play with the head. Getou kept up with him and took the other man's cock in his mouth, choking on it every time Gojo got particularly rough with it. His mouth was filling with saliva all too quickly. Getou thrust himself more roughly, tears of pleasure running down his cheeks and saliva from the corners of his lips, the tight fabric of the skirt and Gojo's gorgeous thighs were surrounding him, he felt like the happiest man in the world, not thinking about anything.

Gojo could barely keep from cumming, the blowjob from Getou was wet, he already felt saliva on his thighs, and soon on his feet — Getou came first right on them, unable to hold on any longer. Gojo rubbed his cum over his stockings and went over the entire length of the other’s penis again. They both puffed and moaned, clinging to each other: Getou grabbed Gojo by the hips and skirt edges, and Gojo grabbed his shoulders and hair. Satoru's orgasm was also approaching, he pulled Getou away from his groin, but, not calculating the speed of his discharge, accidentally poured out on his face.

“Ah... damn it… I'm sorry...” Gojo widened his eyes in surprise. He didn't expect it, but the sight of Getou wiping his cum off his face was mesmerizing.

“Don't apologize...” Geto was clearly delighted. “To take a cumshot on my face when you look like this… It's something.” He pulled Gojo by the hand and sat him down beside himself. “You're amazing.”

They kissed, reaching for that kiss at the same time.

Shoko was sitting in her room smoking. There were aahs, oohs, sighs, juicy wet slaps and the creaking of the bed from behind the wall.

«Having fun, these perverts… God, it's hard to work as a matchmaker. They'll keep me up all night after stealing half of my closet.» — she thought, sighing and throwing the cigarette into the ashtray. «Satoru, you're going to buy me new clothes. I won’t wear panties, skirt and stockings that both of you have finished off on.»