#after many hours and a cramped wrist i give these to you

[citrlet]

infant clothing set recolors by aoifae

because they deserve all the cute patterns and fun colors!

bgc standalones

15 items total: 4 tops, 4 bottoms, 4 outfits, 2 socks and 1 hat

all have the same 47 adorable swatches

download (free)

[yieldtotemptation]

RITUAL ft. Yujin

yujin x male reader smut

7k words

Let’s be clear: you’re well aware of what a monumentally stupid idea this is.

For you, it’s just a job. You’ve been fired from plenty before, and there will be plenty more after.

But for her, for Yujin, it’s her career. Her life. Her everything.

And yet, here, in the cramped confines of a bathroom stall, your hand on her ass and hers diving down your jeans; you can’t let go of the nagging suspicion that maybe that’s the fucking point.

“How much time do we have?” Yujin’s lips are on your neck, tiny, hot breaths tickling your skin, nimble fingers at your waist, negotiating with your zipper.

“We had fifteen minutes, an hour ago,” you remind her. “We’re gonna miss soundcheck.”

“It’ll be fine.” Yujin’s unbothered, dismissive of anything that isn’t freeing your cock from its denim prison. “They’ll wait for me. They always do.”

There’s that hint of arrogance, that unshakeable confidence of youth, the invincibility that comes with being that absurdly hot. You can’t blame her at all for it.

What Yujin wants, she gets. You've seen it first hand.

It’s one of the many things you’ve learned about her over the past few weeks.

Well one of the few that don’t concern how good her cunt feels when she rides you, or how her eyes roll to the back of her head when you hit that spot just right, or the way her voice goes hoarse when she screams your name.

“Oh, it’s so perfect.”  Yujin’s seen your cock before, tasted it, taken it, had it in every way possible (in every place available), yet that still doesn’t stop her eyes from lighting up the second she sees it springing out from the waistband of your briefs, standing tall and throbbing painfully. “I’d say this is worth being late for.”

You’ve got a groan for her when she takes you into her hand, her grip firm and familiar. A half-hearted protest, too: “Yeah, but if we’re late, Princess Yujin gets a slap on the wrist, whereas I get fired.”

Yujin scoffs at that. “Well, I am your boss, so I think I get the last say if it comes down to it.”

Part of you wants to correct her, wants to explain that technically you’re not her employee but an independent contractor hired by the touring company. However, that part of you needs to shut the hell up, because the intricacies of employment contracts for musicians-for-hire really don’t seem pertinent at this moment.

Regardless, it all becomes trivial in the face of Yujin. So annoyingly, unfairly pretty, not even the unflattering harshness of the bathroom lights are capable of marring her in the slightest.

You’d probably give her the world if she asked.

She’d happily settle for your dick.

Her hand’s moving now, her fingers dancing around your shaft, exploring the contours of your cock from base to tip, and she's forcing you to resign, “Your logic, as always, is flawless.”

“See?” Yujin smiles up at you, that wide, confident grin that’s graced a million posters, been on every magazine cover and TV channel, and is now laser focused on you. “I’m always right, aren’t I?”

Her point's made with a squeeze around your length, stroking you in earnest, building to a rhythm that’s become so familiar over the past week—quick and precise, dangerously efficient. Like she was made for this. Made to tease your cock. As natural for her as breathing, really.

Yujin’s had plenty of practice, after all—on the morning of every concert, in the evening back at her hotel, on tour buses and in dressing rooms. On a plane once, even. It's the same torrid routine that’s now become a required pre-show ritual. A quiet spot, a secluded room, and she steals you away, bringing you to the brink and back.

And to think it all started because she asked you to help her ‘calm her nerves’.  

Or more correctly, fuck all the worries and concerns out of her pretty little head.

Still, she's never pushed it this far, never cut it this close.

You lean back against the stall door, your breath catching in your throat, the cheap plastic giving slightly under the pressure. Outside you can hear it, hear the bustling sounds of the venue coming to life—staff moving about, the distant roar of fans, the occasional clang of sound equipment. But in here, it’s overpowered by the noisiness of her palm sliding along your shaft, slick with her saliva, and it fills the small space, echoing across the cold tiles beneath your feet.

She’s undeniable—you know you’ve spoilt her. You’ve let her get her way with you far too many times, let her push this arrangement past any semblance of professionalism. Let her poison your mind with whispered sweet nothings that have you pounding her into the nearest available surface whenever she gets a twitch of stage fright.

But you’re also acutely aware of the fact that without these moments, without the promise of her tight, wet cunt wrapped around your cock, you’d be out there on that stage sleepwalking through just another concert with nothing but a drum kit and a bunch of songs you could play with your eyes closed.

“Fucking hell, Yujin, you look too good doing that,” you manage to get out, doing your best to endure her fingers gliding along your length, to last under the microscope of Yujin's dark, hungry eyes.

Another thing about Yujin: there's a special thrill she gets just from watching you, eyes glued to your face, taking in every single nuance of agony she’s wringing out.

“So fucking—” you settle on the most obvious word in your lexicon, “pretty.”

Yujin keens at the praise, her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink, her teeth grazes the soft skin of her bottom lip. It's hardly new for her to hear this, to have people rave about how she's the hottest piece of ass this side of the equator. Yet there's something about hearing it from you that has her eating up your words every time. "Am I, now?"

You nod, voice momentarily failing you as she pumps your cock, her grip never wavering, never faltering, like she’s milking you, milking words of adulation from your lips.

You still haven't pinned down exactly what it is about you that unwinds Yujin, that makes her chase you so hard. Maybe it's because you're slightly older, a touch more mature than the usual plastic smiles that try to charm her out of her pants.

Or maybe it's because you said 'no' the first time she sniffed in your direction, and then made her scream 'yes' every time after.

Whatever it is, it has Yujin’s other hand reaching up to fiddle with the choker at her neck, flooding your mind with memories of your hand around her throat, her gagging on your length, her eyes watering while you fuck her face.

“And what about this outfit?” She asks, oh-so-innocently. “You think the fans will like it?”

“Yujin,” you say, like she doesn’t already know the very obvious answer. You’ve seen her in it all—tiny hot pants, tight little bralettes, that fucking leather catsuit. Yujin’s a fucking goddess in anything she wears, even a blind man would burn from the sheer heat radiating from her body. “You look fucking incredible, as always.”

“But?”

“No buts.”

“I heard a ‘but’,” Yujin ponders, her hand still working your cock like it’s her favourite toy. “Like: ‘but the shorts are too short, and everyone’s gonna see my cheeks when I bend over’.”

A blatant invitation to take a glance, to look down, down at those denim shorts so tight against her curves, the fabric stretched so taut that it might split open at any moment. Look down at her thick thighs, the way they flex and release as she jerks you off, every movement making the material cling tighter to her skin, moulding themselves around the outline of her perfect, round ass, those juicy cheeks that you’ve had the honour of spanking and biting and bruising.

“Or is it: ‘but your top is cut too low, your tits are gonna spill right out’?”

She’s drawing your gaze upwards, over that smooth, creamy expanse of skin, her stomach flat and toned, up the thin fabric of her flimsy excuse for a shirt, that dips just enough to tease the tops of her breasts, squeezed together and pushed up by her bra. It's so thin, wrapped so tight around her, highlighting the faint outline of her nipples poking through, already stiffened and calling for your tongue.

“Or maybe it’s: ‘the outfit looks good, looks nice and slutty, but you’d much rather rip it off me and just fucking ruin me like I deserve?'"

Yeah, that’s more like it.

You take that as permission, and reach for the hem of her top, eager to finally see those tits, to feel their warm weight in your palms, to have her stripped and laid bare like she knows you’d love to. But Yujin’s too quick, slapping your hand away with a laugh.

“But unfortunately, there’ll be none of that, drummer boy.” Yujin stops, her grip on your cock tightening for a brief, painful second. “Can’t have you ruining my outfit before I go on stage, can I?”

There’s a challenge there, a test to see if you’ll argue, maybe grab her, throw her against the wall and show her just how little of a fuck you give about anything that takes place outside of this toilet stall. But you know she’s right. You're the adult here, remember? Besides there’ll be plenty of time for that later.

You settle for her lips, leaning down, pressing the pad of your thumb against her chin. You tilt her head up towards yours, only for Yujin to pull back, leaving you kissing air. “Seriously?”

Yujin grins, clearly delighting in denying you again, in making your blood boil and cock throb. “Can’t ruin the make-up either,” she explains, making sure to bat her long, fake lashes for extra effect.

“So, I take it that means the pigtails are off limits too?” You ask, idly toying with the ludicrously slutty hairstyle that’s framing her face, bobbing slightly with every stroke she gives you.

“Now you’re learning.”

So, with a frustrated grunt, you keep your hands at your sides, resigning yourself to Yujin’s sweet torture. It’s maddening, just standing there, panting and so horny, at the mercy of Yujin’s slow strokes. “And no concern for my outfit, whatsoever.”

Yujin’s eyes wander over your choice of clothing, and laughs, rather insultingly, if you're honest. “I’m sure all the fans will be very focused on the drummer’s fashion choices,” she says, trusting you to pick up on the sarcasm.

You feign injury. “Ouch, I put a lot of thought into my clothing.”

“Sure you do. Thoughts like: how easy will it be for your little fuck buddy to tear them off?” Yujin’s thumb finds that sensitive spot just beneath the head of your cock, swiping over it with a smugness that’s both infuriating and incredibly hot.

“You’re going to get it later for that one,” you warn, your hand curling into a fist.

“Oh, I know.”

Yujin picks up the pace, her hand a blur, running up and down your shaft, fingers sliding across your slit, smearing the pre-cum that’s beaded there over your cockhead. And there’s a glint in her eye, that needy look that tells you she’s getting off on this, getting off on having you, having someone she shouldn’t be left alone with, squirm and beg and be so desperate for her.

“Look how big you are for me, daddy.”

There’s that word, that sweet, sweet ‘daddy’.

The first time she called you it was an accident, a slip of the tongue during a particularly intense moment when you had her against the window of her hotel, tits squashed against the glass, cunt dripping with your cum. But every time since, it’s been deliberate, calculated, a button she knows she can push to make you give it to her as rough as she wants; as rough as she craves.

“Look how big you are in my tiny hand.” She’s got you moaning now, melting between her fingers, bucking your hips for that extra bit of friction. “You love it when I jerk you like this, don’t you, daddy?”

‘Daddy’ again, rolling off her tongue like a fucking love letter, a song to send your head spinning and your cock pulsing in her hand.

There’s another challenge, can you last a little bit longer? Can you resist the urge to cum all over her fingers? Paint her pretty nails a fresh shade of white? Or would you rather wrap your hand around her lovely neck and force her to admit that she loves all this just as much as you do.

You swallow down the groan that’s building in your throat, your teeth grinding together to maintain some semblance of control. Yujin catches it, sees the effort it’s taking you, and she shakes her head, her lips pursed in a perfect little pout.

“Don’t hold back, daddy,” Yujin's chiding you, disappointed with your restraint. “I want to hear it. I need to hear how good it feels, how desperate you are. Need you to show me just how much you want to see me filled with your cum.”

She twists her hand down on your cock, squeezing when she reaches the base, her other hand coming down to cup your balls, tickling them with her fingers. That has a moan escaping your lips, a low, desperate sound that makes Yujin preen.

“That’s it,” she’s overjoyed, getting what she came for, basking in your pleasure, “tell me how much you want it, tell me how much you want to cum for me.”

And so you do. You tell her, your voice strained with the effort of keeping your orgasm at bay. Not yet, not until you’re deep inside her, not until you're sure that not a single drop will go wasted. “You're too fucking much, Yujin, too fucking hot,” you manage, the words a choked noise that you hope she can hear over the blood pounding in your ears. “You’re driving me fucking mad.”

Yujin’s strokes keep building, one on top of the other, and she’s pressing herself against you, the warmth of her, soft breasts pushing into your chest, her lips sucking at your neck, kissing into you hard. After all, who will notice? Who gives a fuck if the drummer shows up on stage with a few extra bruises on his skin?  

You fall into the crook of her neck, your forehead on her shoulder, as her lips make their way up your throat, across your jaw, until she’s nipping at your lobe, whispering in your ear, “You’re desperate for my cunt, aren’t you, daddy? You want to fill me up right before I go on stage?”

“Yujin,” you grit out, and you’re holding her, hands on those perfectly round cheeks, holding on for dear life, pulling her close to you so that she can feel just how right she is. The words spill out of you like a confession, “I need to fuck you now, Yujin. I need to feel your cunt, make you cum so hard you won’t be able to fucking move, let alone dance.”

And Yujin leaves one last, lingering kiss on your pulse. “So do it, daddy.”

Her words are a fucking gunshot, and you’re off to the races.

You spin her around so fast she yelps, your chest to her back, your cock trapped between her ass cheeks. Her shorts are barely an inconvenience, yank them down, denim catching on her hips, sliding down to her ankles, leaving her in just her panties.

Yujin gasps, the cool air meeting her bare skin, and she braces herself against the wall of the stall, needing something to keep her on her feet. She’s all soft curves and sweet smells, so insanely proportioned, like she's built for this, curvy and thick in all the right places.

While she’s distracted you sneak a kiss onto the creamy-white skin of her shoulder, hard enough to give her a mark to match yours, a badge of honour that brands her in the same way she’s done to you.

Her panties never stood a chance, completely drenched to the point of ruin, sticky with anticipation, snug against her lips. You pull them aside, thumb brushing against her swollen clit, making her hips jerk forward. She’s on your time now, you’ve got the green light to turn the tables and drag her through the same torment she’s put you through.

“Look at this,” you’re in her ear now, taunting, “you’re already so fucking wet for me.”

Yujin’s cheeks burn red, and she’s pushing back against you, grinding her ass into your cock. “Of course I am. I can’t help it,” she’s a little breathless, a little shaky, “I need it.”

“You’re so beautiful,” your hands like magnets on her bare ass, squeezing, marking her in places only you'll ever know. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Please,” Yujin whimpers, as you slide your finger down, between her legs, tracing her wet slit, testing her tightness, feeling her warmth, feeling how ready she is. “Please, fuck me now.”

You can’t resist her, you never can, not with so little time left and so much of her to ruin. Your cock dips, lining up with her pussy, the tip nudging at her entrance, and all it takes is one strong thrust, and you’re pushing into her, burying yourself to the hilt in a swift, brutal motion.

There’s a scream from her, a grunt from you, blending and echoing through the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles and the stall walls. Someone’s going to hear it, someone’s going to come in and see you fucking the star of the show and that’ll be it for the both of you.

But really, fuck all of that.

Fuck the concert, the venue staff, the fans, the tour managers, the PR nightmare that will follow.

Fuck everything that isn’t inside this stall, that isn’t Yujin’s tight cunt squeezing around your cock, that isn’t the way she’s shuddering in your arms, gasping your name, needing her daddy to fuck her harder, faster.

There's no easing her into it, not like you know you should. You fuck her hard, just like she’s begged. Your hips snap against her ass, the sound of skin slapping skin drowning out the noise outside, again and again, in and out, over and over.

Yujin’s never needed much to get started, always so easily soaked, so easily ready. She'd told you as much one late night (or one early morning): "I can take it, take anything, as long as it's coming from you. "

Her walls clamp down around you, she’s already pulsing, her cunt desperate to wring you dry. You’re gliding in and out of her, using her, letting her mold herself so perfectly around you, her juices coating your cock, making it slicker with every thrust.

“Yes—that’s what I fucking need.” Yujin cries out, her voice high-pitched, her head thrown back, and the flimsy plastic isn’t enough anymore, she needs you to hold her steady, to dig your fingers into her hips and nail her into the wall.

Each stroke, each thrust into her cunt, each time you fill her, stretch her—each one could be the last one, the one that has you exploding inside her. Could be the one that overwhelms you, the one that makes you forget where you are, that there’s anything that exists besides fucking this needy, little brat.

It’s the way Yujin clenches around you, tight and perfect, like she’s made just for you, like she’s never been fucked this way before, will never be again.

(Even though you have. Even though you will.)

Each time is like the first, you’re discovering her all over again, peeling back layers of this beautiful, untouchable idol, and finding something new, something beneath the sheen of purity and perfection. Something that makes you want to ruin her, bring her down to your level, to roll around the filth with the rest of you mere mortals.

And Yujin knows it.

There’s a need to make her feel it, and there’s her fucking pigtails, dangling in front of you like a carrot, flicking up and down in front of your face with every thrust. You need to grab them, to yank her back onto your cock, to force her to take it as hard as you want to give it. It’s almost too much to resist.

But even in your haze you know better. Instead, you settle for that choker on her neck, your thumb sliding under the black leather band, feeling the pulse of her blood racing beneath her skin. You grip it, tight, but not too tight. Just enough to make her gasp, to make her cunt tighten, to make her cry out—

“Gah—God—fuck—”

Strangled cries have her screaming, have her needing you to go deeper.

“Fuh—fuck—yes—right there—right—fucking—there—”

She’s chanting, almost sobbing, doing her best to take everything you’re giving her, everything she’s needs, everything she deserves. You’re tapping into that deep, dark desire within her. The one that gets off on being treated rough, the one that loves having a daddy, the one that needs to be nailed to a wall and reduced to nothing but a shaking, mewling mess of climaxes.

You dare to snake a hand under her top, you’re not going to mess her outfit, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get a taste of what’s underneath. Your fingers stretch under her bra, testing the elasticity of the cotton, before finally finding the swell of her breasts, cupping it, filling your hand with it.

Yujin’s moan is all the encouragement you need, a wordless permit to squeeze, to pinch her nipple, roll it between your thumb and forefinger until it’s a hard little nub.

“Oh fuck yes—touch me. You love touching me, don’t you?” She's feeling it, really feeling you, the stimulation of your palm on her breast, the sting on her nipples. “You fucking love my body.”

It’s the damn truth—these past weeks have been a crash course in Yujin, and you haven’t found an inch you didn’t immediately fall in love with. Every curve and dip and line, every soft place and every sharp edge; the weight of her in your arms, the way she fits against you, how she responds to your touch like she’s been waiting for it, for you, for fucking ever.

“Fuck, yes, just like that, daddy, just like that.”

“You’re so fucking perfect, Yujin. So tight, so wet, so fucking mine.”

You slur words into her, words that make her shiver, make her tremble against you, make her so fucking happy to hear them. It’s the words that she loves, hearing you talk like that, like she’s the only one who can make you feel this way. And maybe she is.

So you keep talking, keep whispering those loving, filthy soliloquies into her ear, keep telling her how good her cunt is, how desperate you are for her body, how much cum you have to give her. And her body has an answer for you each time, each syllable a caress that sends shivers down her spine.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, Yujin. So beautiful when you’re like this, when you’re all mine.” You can feel it boiling up inside you, that pressure building with every smack of your hips against her ass. “I’m going to cum so hard for you, princess.”

There’s the guitar, the bass, the keys, the band tuning up outside, noise filtering into the stall, faint but unmistakeable, the only thing missing is the beat of the drums, the only thing missing is you.

Yujin’s grinning, knowing she’s the one keeping you occupied, knowing it’s her cunt that you’re buried in, that’s not letting you go.

“If only they knew,” she’s giggling like a schoolgirl (she might as well be with those pigtails), “if only they know how good you’re fucking me right now. They won’t have a fucking clue, will they?”

“Such a fucking tease, Yujin.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and sends a coy, “Who, me?”

“Yes, you, you little slut,” you answer, not bothering to mince your words. Your hand tightens around her choker, not enough to cut off her air, just enough to keep her right there, panting and needy and yours. “You know exactly what you’re doing out there. I see how you dance, how you move. Like you’re forcing them to picture you fucking, making them all want a taste of what they’ll never have.”

The truth makes her shiver against you. “They all wish they could do this to me, all wish they could fuck me and fill me like you are.”

There’s a tension building inside her too, the blend of your words and the reality of the performance she’s going to have to put on afterwards. It has her body tightening like a bow string, ready to snap at any moment.

And you’re going to be the one to release it.

You venture a hand downwards, gracing over her stomach, her belly button, until you reach the wetness of her pussy. There's her clit, ripe for teasing.

You fuck your cock in deeper still, matching the swirl of your finger with the pounding of her cunt, timing it just right to make her leak all over you.

“That feels so—fuck,” Yujin purrs, so, so blissful. “Only you—only you, daddy. No one else will get to have me—fuck—fuck me like this.”

“Whenever I want, any time I want,” you’re telling her, promising her, even though it’s more likely to be the opposite. That it’s Yujin that will seek you out on those lonely nights and those quiet mornings, or just whenever she’s bored and needs someone to fuck all the nerves and stress out of her system.

“They’d be so—gah—so jealous if they knew. I see it when they look at me—how much they want me,” she’s straining to say it, but needs you to hear it, needs you to know it. “I see it—read it in places they think I don’t look.”

She’s lost, lost in a sea of her own musings, thoughts of how everyone with a working pair of eyeballs wants to fuck her. Relishing in the knowledge that she's found the only person that can fuck her right, and that their cock is buried in her cunt, their fingers working her clit.

“They call me a slut, a whore, but that’s not true, is it, daddy? I only fuck you,” Yujin repeats, “I’m only a slut for you.”

There’s an edge to her voice, a raw, animalistic need that makes you want to prove her right. Want to erupt inside her so badly that she’s forced to carry a part of you inside her when she’s on stage.

“Yours to use,” Yujin taunts. “To fuck, to fill...”

Jesus.

“To break.”

Fucking.

“Maybe I should let you rip off my clothes, fuck up my hair—fuck—my makeup. Go out on stage with all the marks you’ve left on me, with all your cum—gah—all over me.”

Christ.

It hits you like a sledgehammer, adding another layer of taboo to this already fucked up situation. The thought of it is fucking wild, ridiculous to contemplate, you’re sure it’s all just part of the game, another button Yujin’s pressing for her own thrill… right?

“Then everyone would know—everyone would know that it’s you—that you’re the one that’s fucking my brains out when no one else is watching.”

You’re all over her and deep inside her, lips on her throat, her jaw, hands at her tits, her cunt. Devouring her, all of her, from those tightly binded pigtails all the way down to her carefully manicured toes.

And then she stops dancing around the subject and demands it.

“Ruin me. Fuck me, please, daddy. Just—kiss me, now.”

“You said—”

But Yujin’s already twisting around at her waist, angling her body so she can seize your lips, smear her lipstick across your teeth, flood your mouth with her tongue. She’s got fistfuls of your shirt, pulling you closer, as if she’s trying to claim you, claim every inch of you as property of An Yujin.

Now that you’ve got permission, you thread your fingers into her hair, gripping tight, pulling her by the pigtails like you’ve been dying to, kissing her like your life depends on it.

You’re getting rougher with her now, tugging her head back, peeling her lips away from yours, sliding your cock out of her. You ignore the whine, ignore the tears. It’s game over for her makeup, for her hair, her outfit. She’s a beautiful, chaotic mess—so shamelessly yours, so perfect in every way.

The separation barely lasts a second, you’re lifting her up, turning her and depositing her atop the toilet seat, spreading her legs wide, putting her on display.

This is the real show—Yujin looking up at you, eyes dark with need, tits out and heaving with every breath; thick, toned thighs glistening with her juices, your precum; and her pussy, all puffy and so ready to be filled again.

“Daddy—” Yujin starts, and ends, as you’re inside her again. Inside her tight, welcoming cunt, her back arching off the cold porcelain, her legs wrapping around you, ankles crossing and locking in place.

Just one hard thrust and you see it—it's in the watering of her eyes, the wobble of her lips.

She’s close, and you’re not far behind.

“Please.”

It’s barely a whisper, nearly lost somewhere between your haggard breaths and the sloppy wet sounds of your bodies colliding.

But you hear it, and it’s all you need.

It’s her pigtails in your hands again, strands wrapped around your fist, and you’re taking a front row seat in the spectacle that is Yujin falling apart.

“Please, fuck me.” There it is again, louder now. “Fuck my tiny little pussy, daddy. Make me yours.”

It’s every single sound out of her mouth, every folding and crumpling of her perfect features, every single drop of sweat sliding down her neck, every time she says fuck me, or break me, or over and over again—make me yours.

You want to savour this, burn this image into your mind, live off the memory of Yujin’s cunt pulsing around you, but there’s no time, no time to do anything but kiss her again; clumsy, hungry, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Please,” she’s biting into your lip, licking into your mouth, clawing at your shoulders, “say my name.”

“Yujin,” you give it to her, offer her name like a sacrifice. “Yujin, I’m so fucking close.”

The porcelain is doing its best to bear your weight, to survive the punishment you’re hammering into Yujin’s tight, perfect body, to outlast your relentless fucking. “Cum for me daddy, cum for me.”

But it’s her, it’s Yujin that crosses that threshold first, coming apart until she’s nothing but a mess of whimpers, moans, and cries of your name. Of pleases and thank yous, until she’s just a hot, tight cunt getting used for your pleasure.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m cumming—daddy, I can’t—it’s so—”

It’s all there across her face, all in the way she’s shaking, the way her cunt is gripping you, her walls fluttering around your cock like a fucking heartbeat, tightening and releasing in endless waves that crash down on her.

“So good—you’re so good—you’re so—fuck—fuck—cum—cumming—"

Her entire body seizes, tenses all at once, and you’d be worried if you hadn’t seen it countless times before, if you didn’t know to expect her to lose all control of her limbs, to not be able to do anything but stare at you, all teary eyed and feeling so, so good.

But you keep going, hips pumping, cock driving into her, keeping her steady, helping her climb to her peak, filling her tender, creaming cunt over and over again. You want to make this last, want to keep her like this, unable to think about anything but you, unable to think about anything that isn’t your cock.  

“So fucking good for me, Yujin, so good, princess.”

“God, fuck—daddy!”

It’s the praise that pushes her over, unravels her, has her mouth frozen in the shape of your name, like the idea of you is the only thing keeping her tethered to this world. That, and her nails digging into your skin, adding to the tapestry she’s already engraved on your back.

And then the silence comes, and that’s the real killer.

Yujin’s always loud when she gets fucked, always desperate to tell you how good it feels, needy for you to know how good you are to her. But when she cums—when she loses herself on your cock—it’s like she relinquishes all ability to articulate, to make any sound other than a whine or a gasp.

You know what she wants to say—don’t stop, please, don’t stop—know what she wants to tell you—thank you, daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you—and it’s your responsibility to see her through it, to plunge your cock deep into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt, to have her rocking and creaming all over you, again and again and again.

And then she falls apart.

So beautifully, so perfectly.

But you’re not done yet.

Your thrusts come in thick and fast, making the whole stall shudder, making your vision swim. Yujin’s still reeling, snapped back into the land of the living by the force of your fucking.

She’s leaning forward, pressing her forehead to yours, able to form whole words again, whispering something that you can’t quite catch, something sweet and needy and demanding.

“I’m all yours, daddy.”

It’s a trigger she’s been waiting to pull—the moment she says it, you let go.

There’s no holding back anymore, you’ve been fighting it for what feels like hours, trying to keep your shit together, but it’s no use. You’re going to cum, the only question is, where.

You can’t shake the image of her covered with you, painted all over her face, her chin, her neck, her chest, her perfect, perfect tits. You want it, want to see it realised, want to parade her out on that stage looking like a fuck doll—your fuck doll.

But not now, not today.

So instead, you bury yourself inside her, so, so deep. Yujin’s nodding, teasing “deeper, deeper, please,” begging you with her whole body, watching you with those eyes, half-lidded and glazed over, licking at her lips, bracing for you to fill her.

It’s your turn to shake, your turn to let go of that knot in your gut that’s been twisting ever since she dragged you into the bathroom, pushed you into the toilet stall and told you she needed this.

You throb, tighten, the base of your spine tingles, and that’s all the warning you get before you’re cumming, rushing Yujin’s greedy cunt with your hot, sticky load.

“Daddy, daddy—daddy—yes!”

It’s an addiction now, she needs your cum like she needs oxygen, and you need to fill her as if you’ll die if you go another day without pounding her cunt.

“So good, so fucking good inside me—all yours, all yours—"

It’s a thousand blissful little moments stacked on top of each other, her clenching, you throbbing, her grinning, you grimacing, but it all comes together in this heated space that leaves you both boneless, breathless catastrophes.

Yujin’s the first to come down, slumping against you, drooling down your chest, staining your shirt with a sheen of her saliva. Her legs go slack around you, finally letting go of your waist, still shaking in the aftershocks of her orgasm. You can feel your cum leaking from the corners of her cunt, oozing down the inside of her thighs, sliding past her knee, down to her ankles.

A finger under your chin to tilt your head to her, to kiss you. One of those quiet, intimate kisses that will have you spending the night trying to decode its meaning. But, for now, there’s just the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“Thank you, daddy,” Yujin says, so sweetly, so sincerely, and it’s like a knife twisting in your chest.

“Always.”

And slowly, carefully, you’re pulling out of her, even though she’s still clenching, still trying to keep you in. Your cock exits her with an audible slosh, and you need to brace yourself against the stall door, lean into it hard as you take in the sight of Yujin, sprawled on the toilet seat, well fucked and utterly ruined in all the best ways.

She reads your mind, “You really made a fucking mess of me.”

“I only claim fifty percent of that responsibility.”

Yujin pouts, makes sure you’re watching her, and dips her fingers into her defiled cunt. “This is all you, daddy.”

She drags out her digits, holding them up for you, your cum glistening on them like a prize. And then she’s slipping them between her lips, flicking out her tongue to catch a drop that dribbles down her wrist. She licks it all up, slow, savouring it, making sure you’re watching, making sure your eyes are glued to her as she devours the last traces of you from her hand.

That sound she makes, that little “Mmm” of satisfaction has you feeling heady, makes your cock twitch, eager to be back inside her, to fill her right back up so you can watch her do it all over again.

“Cumslut,” is the only word you have her for her, as she slides her fingers in deeper, tickling the back of her own throat like it's the most natural thing to do. Her cheeks hollow out, and after a long, dramatic suck, she pulls her fingers from her lips with a wet pop, all shiny and clean.

She corrects you. “Your cumslut.”

And then a switch is flipped, and she’s putting herself back together.

Yujin’s graceful, at odds with the confines of the cramped bathroom stall she’s just been fucked in. It amazes you every time, the way that she moves. All liquid and soft, as if she’s not really touching anything, as if she’s floating.

She licks droplets of cum off her lips, scoops the remainder up her legs, her thighs, and you’re just staring, gawking at her with something akin to awe, because she’s just so fucking beautiful, so utterly composed, so untouchable.

You help her, you try, help her tug down her shirt, pull up her panties, her shorts, help her slip back into the role of Yujin, the perfect idol, the star that can’t be tarnished by something as dirty as a quickie on top of a toilet seat.

She nods towards the stall door, and you let her past you, help hold her steady as you lead her to the bathroom mirror, give her a chance to assess the damage you've wrought on her. The smudged lipstick, the kiss bruises, the hair sticking to her neck—all evidence of you.

And yet, she smiles, looking back at you over her shoulder. Like she’s got it all under control, like you haven’t ruined her, not really. Not yet.

“Well, that’s something,” she says, her voice a little too breathless for the breeziness she’s aiming for.

But then she’s got her compact out, the tiny bag she's had hidden in her back pocket specifically for occasions like this. You stand back, giving her space to work her magic. Cheeks are patted for colour, lips glossed for plumpness, eyes relined with that dangerously smoky look that makes them pop.

“How do I look?” She turns, looking at you through the mirror, hand on her hip, posing.

“Like you’ve just been fucked in a toilet stall, honestly.”

That makes her laugh. “Good.”

She’s heading to the door, smoothing out her skirt, fixing her top, stopping along the way to give your forearm a quick squeeze.

There’s that look in her eyes again.

One you’ll be revisiting once the show’s over and the doors are closed.

“I’ll take off first,” she says, tying her pigtails back in place. “Wouldn’t want to make it too obvious.”

You catch her hand before she can get away, pulling her face close to you, wiping away a stray bit of cum still shining on her chin. “Good luck out there.”

And there’s that smile. That smile that’s going to make an audience of thousands fall in love with her. That’s going to make you fall in love with her, if you’re not careful. “Don’t need it,” she says, pressing her lips to yours, ruining her lip gloss all over again. “I got you, daddy.”

[sshadow-heartz]

HELLO I'm almost new here and I've started reading your writings and the truth is that they have fascinated me 🥺

i really loved them and more about the guards so i would really like more!!!! maybe this time a smut about a circle guard idk 😭 only if you can and want, i haven't read many about them. tysm 💘

Thank you so much, you’re so kind!

After Hours

💕Circle Guard x Player!Reader

💕Written with fem reader in mind

💕Word Count: 1.3k

💕Tags: Smut, Oral, Fingering

• masterlist • c.ai bots •

!!Do not proceed if underage or are sensitive these topics!!

After sneaking into the vents in the bathroom, you had been crawling for what felt like forever. Spotting a vent cover, you look down beneath you. Rows of guards wearing aprons lined up side by side, stirring large pots of what you recognised as dalgona. They worked in unison, stirring, pouring and stamping with varied shapes. Could it be the next game…?

Your studying of the scene down below is interrupted as some dust flows through the vent, causing your throat to itch. You try your best to hold back a cough and stay silent, the irritation proving too much as the sound echoes within the cramped vent. You pause immediately, holding your breath as you look down. You knew if you were caught you’d likely be killed.

A mask with a circle print stares up at you blankly, peering through the vent cover above the pots. Even through a mask, you can tell they’re locking eyes with you. Anxiety builds in your chest, someone knew you were up there…

The other guards continue to work, oblivious to your presence watching over them silently. The sole guard to see you had their attention pulled away, a triangle guard signifying the end of their shift. They exit the kitchen, a line of circle guards hanging up their aprons and filing out of the room. You wait nervously for the last guard to leave, but they simply hang up their apron and look back up at you through the vent.

Just as you’re about to crawl back to the bathroom, you see them wave you down. Arms outstretched, ready for you to land in after you give up and jump down. Pulling back the vent cover, you slip through the opening, falling right into their open arms. They barely move, your weight meaning nothing to their strong physique. Crossing your arms, you make it clear you aren’t afraid of them or what they’ll do. They don’t even have a gun, what’s to fear, right?

The guard looks down at you, shaking their head disapprovingly as they set you down. Placing their hands on their hips, they make a clear show of looking you up and down, noting your features and the curves of your body through your uniform. You had left the thick jacket behind, wearing just the t-shirt and sweatpants to crawl through the vent more easily. You glare up at them, brow furrowed as you watch them stare at you.

“Hey! I’m not afraid of you. What are you gonna do? Tattle on me to a triangle?” You mock, puffing your chest in an attempt to make yourself look scarier. “Yeah, that’s what I thought! You’re just gonna stand there like a… like a wimp!”

The guard watches you yell, listening as you try and think of an insult. You’re adorable. Bratty, but adorable. That attitude just won’t do, you need someone to remind you of your position here…

They step forward, towering above you. Grabbing your shoulders, they spin you around to face the wall, pressing you against it easily. Pulling your hands behind your back, they hold you in place. You feel your cheeks heat up, a blush spreading over your face as you’re manhandled by the tall guard behind you. It felt weirdly good, the hands around your wrists not allowing you to struggle. The attention felt good, even if you were trying to be angry.

Tilting their mask up ever so slightly, they lean over you, large body pressing against your frame. Their head finds your neck, pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin. Trailing kisses along your jawline, they pull a hand away from your wrists, reaching up your shirt to run over your curves. The warmth of the guard’s body and their wandering hands causing your head to spin, the sensations causing you to shiver.

The guard notices your reactions, seeing you press against their hands, the way your lips part ever so slightly, cheeks dusted with red. They smirk, burying their face in the crook of your neck, sucking and nipping, leaving behind dark marks. Their hands squeeze your breasts softly, fingers pinching your nipples. Your quiet sighs and moans don’t go unnoticed, only fuelling their desire for you further.

Running down your sides, their hands pause at your hips, leaving you reeling in anticipation. Pulling a hand back, they slap your ass hard, chuckling to themselves as you gasp. Looking over your shoulder, you watch as they look down, kicking your legs apart. They tilt their head up towards you, eyes covered, yet their intense gaze causing your legs to go weak.

Pulling down your sweatpants, they let the fabric drop to your feet. You hear them let out an appreciative sigh, hands reaching down to grope your ass. You arch your back, pushing against their large hands. You can feel their gaze taking you in, feeling small under their looming height.

Their fingers hook the sides of your panties, yanking them down. Exposed before them, they waste no time reaching down to rub your aching clit. They hum, amused by how wet you are for them. A quiet moan slips out of you, the touch feeling incredible as you ache for more. Trailing circles around your sensitive flesh, they dip down towards your slit, a finger pushing into you. Your thighs shake ever so slightly, caught up in the pleasure being brought to you.

Pumping their finger slowly, they lean to press a dominating kiss against your lips, their tongue battling against yours. You feel a second finger slip inside of you, your moans swallowed by the kiss. Pulling away to let you catch your breath, they continue to pump their fingers, curling them against the sensitive spot buried within you.

Strings of moans and whispered curses leave your lips, their fingers filling you up so perfectly. They speed up ever so slightly, their pace rough yet still causing you to see stars, eyes barely open as you squirm beneath them.

Feeling you clench around their fingers, they quickly pull away, causing you to whine as your climax is held off. Gripping your jaw with their hand, they bring their fingers up to your mouth, pressing them against your lips. Watching your tongue work against their fingers so desperately pleases them, seeing you act so beautifully submissive.

Pulling away from your mouth, they kneel down between your legs, lips trailing up your thighs. Trailing their tongue around your clit, they tease the sensitive bud, listening to your pathetic moans. Sucking your clit softly, they moan at your taste, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. Their tongue trails down towards your soaked slit, trailing the entrance before plunging inside. Moans spill from your lips as they explore your aching heat, only growing louder as their fingers work your clit once again.

Feeling your climax building, you buck your hips, tilting your head back. They only continue, spurring you on and working you ever so perfectly until you reach your finish, moaning loudly as your eyes squeeze shut. You pant heavily, the pleasure taking your breath as you gasp between moans. The guard continues through your climax, only pulling away until you squirm from sensitivity.

Standing up once more, they yank your panties and sweatpants up, patting your ass teasingly. They gesture to the vent, reminding you to get yourself back and cleaned up, knowing you’ve already been gone a while. You feel their smug proudness, having left you a mess, smoothing your hair with shaking hands. Your legs felt so weak, the thought of crawling back through the vent already tiring you out.

They let out an amused hum, giving you a boost up to the vent. Something tells you this won’t be the last time you’re reduced to a moaning mess, beginning to crawl back to the bathroom. Until next time, you suppose…

[stararch4ngelqueen]

hey! just hopping on the period train here…can we get tender, soft, tooth-rottingly sweet ghost with a reader on their period? reader has cramps and will 100% try to overexert themselves if not directly managed lol. Anyway love your work🤍🤍🤍

The unintentional period train 😆 I’ll try, haven’t written about Ghost in a hot minute.

It’s not as grand as I’d like it to be, but I think it’s pretty good for a quick half hour ✨let’s say this is at home too for convenience sake

—

Simon wouldn’t be aware you were on your cycle at first, which makes the most obvious sense.

You; his sweet, bombshell of a woman, had a tendency to hide what irritated you. Physical or not.

Moving into a new house was a bit of a process, one that had a lot of challenges to overpass before enjoying the rewards. You believed their wouldn’t be as many boxes, or as many things to haul off the moving truck and through the front door.

Simon would then assume something was wrong by the amount of breaks he’d find you taking. Moments you’d catch your breath, stand completely still with a hand along your side, or sitting down in the passenger seat of the truck.

Try as well as you like, it’s his job to be concerned about your well-being. Exertion was a high price to pay in the military; sore muscles, lack of proper sleep, etc.

You weren’t in the military anymore. Pushing yourself wasn’t necessary inside your new home.

You figured this pain would go away. Exercise was always a factor to lessen cramps. An annoying tale, but sometimes effective.

Sometimes.

The more boxes you hauled, the quicker you’d walk, the more you’d pace yourself was met with more pain on your end.

“Go rest.” Came his voice from behind you, startling you after you settled some kitchen appliance boxes on your new marble counter.

“I’m fine,” you quickly state, turning your head to meet your husband’s gaze. “I’m okay—“

“That’s an order.” Simon states, leaving little to no room for doubt or denial. You’d frown, but he didn’t care, maintaining his ground with a firm brow and stern expression.

“Simon—“

“Now.”

You scoff, glaring up at him as if he asked something vile from you. Again, he didn’t care.

“Fine,” you bite back a bitter tone before leaving towards your bedroom. “You can finish unpacking all by yourself.”

Simon expected this, seemingly unfazed as he watched you go. He didn’t mind the attitude, he would’ve found it funny. He kind of did, but you didn’t see his smile.

He’d find you later curled up on a bare mattress, yanking blankets out from their boxes to wrap yourself up in. Your head settled on a pillow, his pillow, he recognized after a second glance.

He approached, proceeding to pull off your socks and shoes for you.

He pulls the blankets back after crawling into bed, per your irritation, only to apply a warm bottle compress along your tummy.

“M’sorry,” he murmurs into your ear, proceeding to lay the blankets back over you. Your raised hand stops him, your fingers grasping along his wrist.

Your quiet plea encourages him to join you in bed, clutching your body like a gentle wall of support. Occasionally, his hand would remain over the compress, moving it around along spots you desired it the most while his other massages the back of your neck.

“I’ll start unpackin’ in the morning,” Simon murmurs, his head settled ontop of your head, breathing in your sweet scented shampoo.

Your mouth opens to persist, but he beats you to it.

“No no, don’t wanna hear it. I’ll unpack the rest of the frame, an’ the sheets, give you a proper bed to rest on.”

Your silence meant you were listening, which makes him assume you’re growing irritated by his unique form of ‘persistence’.

“Sickness an’ in health, love,” He kisses underneath your earlobe, hearing your small sigh.

“I’m not sick.”

“You’re cranky.” A faint rumble of a chuckle erupts from his chest. “Often times I’d hear ya say you would get lobotomized back in the day for this type of behavior.”

“That’s what I used to tell Soap just to mess with him,” you faintly muse, nearly falling asleep from his rough hand providing the most gentlest of massages along your nape.

“Get some shut eye, sweetheart. Talk about your self diagnosis in the morning.”

-

I don’t know how to end this 🧍🏽‍♀️this is not proofread. Back on the grind.

[virtual-bunny]

Gojo and Squirt

bunny’s note: i haven’t been able to write a lot bc i have no motivation and it honestly upsets me, so this is probably trash

pairings: Gojo x chubby reader

WARNINGS: overstimulation, force, a bit of dub-con, short “fic”

Gojo would whine when you squirt.

Like he would be fingering you, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Please baby give it to me, please please.” He would whine.

And you have no idea what he’s even saying because his fingers feel way too good and you just keep gasping and moaning and tossing around the bed, holding onto Gojo’s hair.

Your moans turn into heavy breathing as Gojo starts too eat you out like his life depended on it, looking at you and fingering you without stopping, his face and hand covered in your juices.

“Satoru-!” You whine, but Gojo is in a trance, he could feel his arm and hand cramping up but he didn’t care. Your poor pussy was so sore it started to hurt. You tried pushing Gojo off but he would grab your wrist and look up at you.

“Don’t move me.” His face was smeared in shiny and white juices, his eyes so darken, you felt like could cum just by looking at him like this.

You tried to tell him to stop but he just couldn’t, he wouldn’t and didn’t stop.

Gojo liked to hold onto your love handles, squeezing them so hard it would leave marks. He loves holding onto your tummy for support, to bring you in closer. But it also made him go faster, and faster, and faster

So you squirted again, your whole body shaking, Gojo having to put his arm on you to restrain you. You cried out, telling him to stop, but Gojo would just laugh, thinking it was so funny that he could make you react this way.

And although you kept repeating to him that “is too much Satou~”, he didn’t care, he was selfish. He moaned and groaned every time he licked you, jerking himself off to your taste. (and your cries)

You were overstimulated, barely thinking. It didn’t matter how many times you’d tell him to stop, he wouldn’t listen. As time passed, you’d realize that Gojo never listened to your protests. You think it’s been about maybe an hour or so, and he was still going at it. Gojo only took two breaks.

One of them was to drink water.

And the other one was to make you sit on his face.

You had protested because you were self conscious, but Gojo only groaned and rolled his eyes, pushing you onto his face, his strong arms wrapped around you.

You didn’t even know you were grinding on his face until he gently pushed you away.

“I thought you didn’t want anymore?” He’d grin, but you didn’t hear him, you thought you’d lost your senses, the only thing you could feel was how your pussy was pulsating.

Gojo kept going, he didn’t care that you were crying, and he didn’t care that you felt like your soul was getting sucked out of your body, so you just let him do whatever it was he wanted to do to you.

You were his toy after all.

[iridescent-solstice]

Fic 1/2 made for the amazing @cinsilly for winning this contest I hosted a while back. I hope you like it and also thank you for participating in my silly little shenanigans. If I did my job right, hopefully you’ll join future events too! 🙆🏻‍♀️

The candle by his side burns faithfully as Julian leans over his cluttered desk. Wispy strands of his ginger hair wave back and forth as he grumbles in frustration. With an aching back and cramped wrists, his sleep deprived mind urges him to take a break.

But he won't. Because there is much to be done. Far too much.

He chides himself internally for not working enough. For not being fast enough. Because, despite the countless hours he’s spent here, there are still too many old journals to comb through. Too many documents he’s scribbled and had to scrap or re-read. He's frustrated. Tired. Hungry and extremely worried for all the people out there in worse conditions than he is. The physical states of those already infected aren't getting much better, and the count's temper is only getting worse. "DAMMIT WHY IS NOTHING WORKING!" He curses slamming his fist down on the poor table. It's like he's walking around in endless circles, isn't he? There has to be a cure! He chants in his head. With a library as huge as this, there must be something here about a plague spreading by beetles.

It’s almost beginning to feel like he’s drowning in pile and piles of unending assigned reading. Even with an apprentice, there’s still so much he has to do. If he doesn’t . . . No. Julian shakes the thoughts away. He doesn’t want to think about those consequences. Finding the cure is too vital a task to slack on. And he won't discover it if he spends all his time wondering about what will happen if he doesn't manage to uncover it. He can do it . . . Well, even if he couldn’t, there are too many people's lives at stake to not try his darn hardest. Too people relying on him. The countess. The citizens of Versuvia. The count. But most importantly . . . his apprentice is counting on him too. So, he has to find a cure. No.matter.what.the.cost.

Books, letters, documents and other knick knacks are sprawled all over the cinnamon-coloured table. But the mess inside his head is even worse than the one infront of him. A looming giant window behind him gives a glimpse into the internal state of the city. Cold, dark, deserted and in complete disarray. The normal hustle and bustle is no longer as usual as it once used to be. You’d be lucky if you saw a single person in sight. Not anymore though. They’re all hiding away inside their homes. He has no doubt that you would be too if you gave yourself the luxury too.

But he’s glad you haven’t taken that liberty. That you care enough to stay by his side. To risk your life. He has no idea how he'd do this without you. Throughout all his travels at sea, he's spent a great deal of his time alone. But he doesn't think he could ever go back to that lifestyle anymore. He needs you. 

He needs you to check up on him. To hold his hand and cheerfully tell him everything will be alright again. To not give up. He nee- No he wants you. Wants you to sit suspiciously close by as he navigates the medical forms. While he relays the important findings he just discovered. As he flips through the records. Patient after patient, case after case. It’s almost too much, but he knows he can handle it. With you by his side, he’s sure he can handle anything. Fatigued eyes search all over the table but his thoughts wander to you again. Like they always do when he’s stressed out. Are you hunched over a desk like he is? Huddled up in your shop researching old tomes? He wonders if you think about him too. He wonders if you miss his company as much as he misses yours. He can’t imagine those talking books to be good company. 

[ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @/fairytopea]

[cammyyyydekarios]

Wasteland Baby,

I’m in Love with You

A Gale x f!Dark Urge fanfiction

Warning: 18+ readers only. Full tags on AO3

‼️spoilers for act 2 dark urge path‼️

Summary: Gale has a confession and Lilith is struggling with many complicated feelings.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

It was a cheerful night at the Last Light Inn - or, rather, as cheerful as the night could be in the shadowlands. The path to Moonrise Towers was grueling and dread still lingers on the edges of minds, especially Lilith’s.

The half-drow, half lost to her thoughts is nestled in the corner of the bar, drink in hand. Her urges have been harder to control - especially after seeing Isobel, her supposed ‘target’. After the initial shock and fear and murderous rage crossed her mind she had to defend the Selune cleric fiercely and suddenly. How the urges begged her to rip her throat out, to watch the blood gush from her wound while the life left her eyes. Instead, she settled for stabbing Fist Marcus until her wrist cramped, covered in his sticky blood and only half satisfied.

She disgusted herself. Worse, she terrified herself. She hated herself. She convinced herself the world would be better if she didn’t exist - that it would be easier if she was dead, and her urges along with her. But she lives - and knows she is needed in the fight against the Absolute. She needed to save her friends from becoming mindflayers. It was the least she could do, to right her ever growing list of wrongs.

So yes, tonight she broods in the corner of the bar, getting drunk on cheap wine and watching everyone around her celebrate. Seemed a fitting end of the night for her.

Her companions were all drinking and making merry. Perhaps too much merry, as Shadowheart looked as if she had too much to drink grasping onto Lae’zel’s shoulder for support. The gith scolds her and leads the cleric to the bedrooms of the inn. Wyll, Karlach and even Astarion are taking delight in watching Volo perform.

Lilith sighs and decides she’s had enough of the festivities for tonight. She begrudgingly lifts her hips from the stool and the frayed hem of her trousers catch on the chair, sending her stumbling forward. She braces herself for a fall, but is surprised by the feeling of strong hands on her hips holding her in place.

Her head tilts up, making eye contact with her mystery savior. A bratty quip about ‘keeping your hands to yourself’ dies on her lips when she meets warm brown eyes.

“Gale.” She breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

The wizard silences her with a smile. “It’s quite alright, Lilith. I was actually hoping to catch you before you retired to bed tonight.”

His hands were removed from her hips now. The heat of his touch lingered, rousing something deep in her gut.

She swallows nervously. “Here, or…?”

“I was actually wondering if you’d care to join me outside?” Gale asks, his tone giving way to his anxiety.

It would be better for her to keep her distance from the wizard - she knows she is dangerous. Anyone who gets close to her is in grave danger. She didn’t know consequences were in store for her now that she refused to kill Isobel after her butler’s order.

But Gale is Gale - kind, smart, handsome. Deserving of happiness. And for whatever reason, he desires her.

He’d expressed as much just mere hours earlier.

Then, her hair was wild, bloodied. The white strands were haphazardly pulled up and stained red. Her body shook with adrenaline from the battle with the shadow creatures. She was wiping blood from her face when Gale had approached her. She smiled as he appeared in front of her, but stood stock still when she saw the expression burning in his eyes. They were dilated, heavy lidded, wanting, even. He’d approached her, pressing his palm hard against her hip, making her gasp. The filthy words he whispered in her ear made her melt into his grasp like putty. He’d said she never more beautiful than in the heat of battle. He’d admitted his own desire and she could feel his growing arousal as he pressed himself against her.

As quickly as it happened, he’d pulled himself away, but not before his eyes lingered on her lips. The memory of their shared scene in the weave with his lips on hers played back in her head and she wanted nothing more than to kiss him in that moment. Until Astarion had approached with a mirthful grin, dangling an enchanted necklace to show off to her.

“Of course.” She responds after a moment, taking herself out of the loop of doubt wracking her system. “Lead the way.”

The night is dark as Gale leads her to an uninhabited clearing outside the inn. Cold air pricks her skin, sending a soft shiver throughout her body.

Darkness cloaked the land, usually - something Lilith was familiar with. The little memories she did have were of early childhood - and growing up in the underdark she found comfort in the way it draped over the land night and day.

Tonight, there is no cloaking darkness. Lilith’s eyes widen as she takes in the awe-inspiring sky before her. Colors swirled where the darkness should be. An aurora borealis.

“Wow,” she breathes out. She moves to seat herself on the cold ground but Gale reacts quickly, muttering a quick conjuration spell. A soft bedroll appears under her and she can’t fight the smile that plays on her lips. “Is this all your doing, Gale?”

The wizard seats himself next to her, his thigh brushing against hers lightly. “It is, indeed.” He answers her, his eyes set on the sky in front of him. He turns his gaze towards her, swallowing hard.

Lilith reaches out and brushes her hand against his. He responds by twining his fingers through hers. His thumb caresses her knuckles tenderly.

“Are you alright?” She asks him. Her heart races in her chest. She wonders for a moment if Gale is as nervous as she is. She wonders if she rests her hand over the orb in his chest if she would feel the wild thumping of his heart. Of course she would - a bittersweet reminder of how alive he is, so alive and so different from anyone her fractured brain can recall. All she remembers is death; by her hand, by others, it didn’t matter. Sickening images taunted her night and day with no repentance.

Well, almost no repentance. When she is with Gale…everything is different. She feels almost soft, almost pliant. She smiles. She can’t say the other companions bring that side out of her - most of them thought her ruthless and kept a careful distance. Not Gale, though. He was always quick to remind her that the urges were not her, that she was not a monster. He brought out her human side; the side of her she always thought was weak. Yes, she had all the makings of a drow; pale, moonlit skin, pointed ears, misty purple eyes. With human blood coursing through her veins. She was conditioned to believe humans were weak, fragile…but she’s come to find that Gale is none of those things. He is strong, intelligent and open minded; whilst also being tender, soft and sweet.

She recalls loving a human before losing her memories, in her own revolting way. She cannot recall his face, the visions of him merely shadows in her mutilated brain. She cannot recall anything about him. But being close to Gale often brought back snippets of memories - feelings, mostly. The soft brush of another’s hand, a lock of hair pushed behind her ear. The soft, caring touch of someone tending to her wounds.

Sometimes, when she lies awake at night, she wonders if she is truly capable of loving someone else. In her mind, there is no doubt she is undeserving of it - loving someone, and being loved - all together. To her, it is almost crueler that she feels so much. It would be easier to not feel at all than address the ache in her chest when he comes near.

“I love this time of night.” She finally hears Gale breathe out. His eyes are glassy as he continues caressing her knuckles with his thumb. His voice wavers, giving way to his nerves. “There’s almost a reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you’d almost believe the dawn would never break…the cradle of eternity.”

Lilith’s mouth quirks in an attempted smile as she continues to listen to him. She is quite used to the endless words akin to poetry that seemed to be instinctual to the wizard, but something about his tone tonight is different.

“The timelessness of lovers…” he drolls out, turning his head to look upon Lilith. Her breath hitches as their eyes make contact. Gale expression is so vulnerable…so open. A hand presses against her cheek. The touch is brief, but the heat of him lingers. “The most beautiful of fantasies.”

Her face warms at his praise. It isn’t unlike him to flatter - but that remark feels different. He feels different. Lilith cant deny the effect his words have on her, but she knows that’s exactly what she is. A fantasy. A pretty face to look at, a warm body to indulge in. A tool to be used and thrown away. Nothing more.

She swallows, hard. “Why did you summon me here?”

Gale releases her hand now, leaving it cold at her side. “This may be my last night alive. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty, and wonder.” He tells her as he looks upon the stars. His gaze shifts to her again and she stiffens. “And with company to match.”

“I thought this place might bring me peace. I thought it might make the weight of what I must do feel a little lighter. But I am not so sure.” He finally confesses.

“Gale,” she starts, her eyebrows furrowing. “I refuse to believe this is the end. We will find another way, I promise.” She tries to hold back the rising panic in her voice, not wanting to divulge how much she feels she needs him.

The wizard’s smile is guarded. “Thank you. But even if we do find another way, perhaps this is the right way. The end fate wishes for me.”

“No. No.” Lilith breathes. “I cannot accept that. I cannot allow you to throw away your life for her-“

“It’s not for Mystra, Lilith! It’s the whole godsdamned world in the balance and I have a way to fix it-“

“I won’t let you. You can’t-“

“But why?” Gale asks. His usually warm brown eyes are wide, pleading.

Lilith’s gaze drops to the ground. A rising panic floods her body.

“Please, tell me.” He urges her, taking her cheek in his hand. His hand brushes her cheek and her eyes meet his. “You’re….crying.”

It’s an observation. One that shocks even her. She blinks, confused. Streams of hot, salty tears flood from her eyes. She can’t remember the last time she cried. Hells, she could barely remember anything, but she knew she didn’t cry. At least, she thought she didn’t.

Gale wipes her tears, and there is something so foreign, so cloying about his thumb brushing them away. Has she ever been touched so gently?

“I do not know who I am, not wholly,” she confesses. “But I know you. You’re good, you’re kind. You’re an incredible wizard and you have family and friends who love you, Gale.”

The wizard is silent, for once. She continues. “I wish I could take your place. I would take the orb from you in an instant, destroy the absolute and finally pay for everything I’ve done.”

Gale’s hand cups her jaw, willing her to look at him. “Lilith.”

“I’m not good, not like you. I have nothing, no one and it’s more than I deserve-“

“Lilith, look at me.”

It’s a command, and she follows it. She darts her eyes up at him, and gods his dark eyes are so soft as they look at her. The sincerity of it makes her feel naked. Powerless, even, as this human man cradles her heart in his hands and he doesn’t even know he has it.

“You must know you are very special to me.” Gale says, his voice merely a choked whisper. She trembles, and he covers her hands with his. “If things were different, if we were home…I’d have taken the time to do things properly. To say it all better. But time is short.”

Lilith knows what’s coming before it leaves his mouth. She’s pulling away, ready to retreat. “Gale-“

“I’m in love with you.”

She sits still, in shock after his confession before shaking her head. “I am undeserving of your love, I’m a murderer, Gale-“

“I’m in love with you, Lilith.” He repeats himself, sterner this time. “And I think you love me too.” He grips her hands like they are his life source, his eyes pleading with her and Lilith is tired. She’s tired of holding back. She’s tired of pretending she doesn’t love him. So, she takes his jaw in hand and slots her lips against his, and she’s finally kissing him. Hesitant and clumsy at first; her lips touch his, barely pressing. He reaches up to cup her cheek, groaning as he tastes her lips. She realizes very suddenly Gale isn’t shy with his mouth - his tongue slides against her lower lip, seeking entrance. Lilith lets out a choked little noise and parts her lips. He tastes like sweet red wine and magic as he lazes his tongue in her mouth. She could feel the weight of his body, incessant, pressing her against the bedroll.

They kiss for a long while. Long enough that Lilith forgets her earlier hesitations.

“I think I’m in love with you too.” She whispers against his chest when they finally part. “I don't - I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. But…I know I want to be with you.”

Gale smiles, he truly smiles for the first time since Mystra charged him with detonating the orb. “That’s a relief. It would be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.”

“Gale!” She swats at his shoulder playfully, sending him rolling on his back. He laughs, freely, a light sound. She rests her body on top of his, her thighs on either side of his. His thumping heart beats quickly against her breast. “I’ve made a mess of you.” She tells him with a sigh, thumbing away her signature raven black lipstick from his irritatingly kissable lips.

With a hushed command and small gesture of his fingers, the lipstick disappears. She feels a light tingling on her skin. Gale takes off the rest of her makeup too with another hushed prestidigitation cantrip and he looks at her. His big brown eyes are admiring her, full of adoration. “You are beautiful.”

It’s the first time he’s seen her without makeup. The face that’s usually so severe, setting fear in the hearts of so many looks so soft as she gazes down at Gale. Her skin pale like marble, her eyes a soft lavender. Her lips deliciously pink and kissable. The same could be said about her cheeks, all hot and flushed just for him. And on the plane of her nose and on her cheeks are a soft smattering of freckles. With a light touch, he traces the scar that starts at her forehead and runs diagonally through her full brows to end at her cheek. His eyes are questioning, but he doesn’t voice his curiosity.

“I think I was young,” she starts, letting her mind sift through her broken memories. “I don’t remember anything other than that.”

Gale hums for a moment, staring up at her with an almost tangible warmth. “I could pick up a pen write poetry about your beauty…alas, there are truly no words that compare to the vision in front of me.”

“Hmm. I admit, I’m not well versed in poetry. Though I do enjoy a good raunchy ballad.” Lilith teases him, sliding her hands along his plush velvet tunic.

He grins wickedly. “Ah! A splendid idea! It would be quite the story to hear in a tavern, wouldn’t it? Two unlikely companions becoming close through hardships and grave dangers, finding love with the prospect of death looming on the horizon…”

“If I’d known you felt this strongly about ballads I would have asked Alfira to write one about us instead of my ravishing body.” She accentuates this point by taking the wizards hands in hers, guiding them up her frame. She places them on her waist before letting go. Gale’s fingers dance along the fabric of her tunic before settling on the soft curve of her waist, squeezing gently. “Or perhaps an erotic novel featuring a noble wizard and his drow maiden would be more to your taste?”

Gale’s mouth parts in surprise for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. There was no denying the impact her words had on him. In fact, his growing excitement was evident between her legs now.

The wizard clears his throat, sliding his hands lower to claim her hips with his touch. “A novel written by you would be a dream come true, my darling. In fact, I could try my hand at it. It should be easy, given even a mere glance from you inspires me to no end. In more ways than just one.”

A hitch in Lilith’s breath emboldens him, evidence of her reaction to his words. His gaze trails from her face, flicking down to her chest lingering just long enough to be respectful, (he is a gentleman after all) eventually landing on her thighs spread on their side of his, then back up to her eyes. “Of course, I would very much enjoy writing of this ‘ravishing half-drow maiden’,” - he is quick to correct her and she rolls her eyes, muttering “semantics!” - “but I’m not quite sure any flowery words could accurately describe just how lovely she truly is.”

“Then you must recount just how ravishing I am. In extra detail.” Lilith demands, leaning in just enough their noses touch.

“Oh yes, my dearest Lilith,” Gale starts, his thumbs dipping just under her tunic. He traces shapes into her bare skin and Lilith has to remind herself to breathe. “I shall write of every little thing that makes you so. Starting with those spellbinding lavender eyes that give way to your every emotion. Your gorgeous lips, your delicate curves, your fascinating mind. I’ll write of your strength, too. The feeling of your skin under my hands, as well, though I may need to do more…research, so to speak, on that specific topic.”

“Are you saying you want to touch me, Gale?”

“If I could be so lucky - I want it more than anything.”

“Then why write when you could feel? Experience?” Lilith guides one of his hands to her chest, over her hammering heart. He feels it beat under his touch for only a moment until she slides the hand down, placing it on her breast. He takes it in hand, her plushness filling his palm. “I’m quite real, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” He smirks shamelessly, his hand kneading at her. “But consider this, love: in the future…when death welcomes me to her door, my words will remain. Our love immortalized on paper forevermore. I shall write of you until I can no longer hold a pen, when the ink runs dry and I fill the final page, until there are no more words to say.”

Even as he palms her breasts eagerly now, his voice stays perfectly even. Godsdamned wizards and their impeccable concentration! He speaks in a relaxed, even cadence saying the sweetest words and touching her - though now, Lilith could see his pulse jumping under his skin. Small victories.

“You are such a romantic.” She murmurs affectionately, pulling her lower lip in her mouth as his thumb brushes lightly against one of her nipples. “Tell me, Gale, how is it possible such a lovely man has no wife awaiting him at home in Waterdeep?”

“Perhaps it is the same reason why a beautiful unmarried maiden such as yourself is perched so prettily in my lap. Gods, I feel so privileged to touch you like this.” The wizard was losing it now, his thoughts spiraling all in the same direction. He needed her close, to worship her with his touch. He needed to show her just how special she is to him.

Lilith toys with the hem of her tunic, a bright flush decorating her pale gray skin. “You may touch me however you wish, Gale. I grant you that privilege.”

Gale swallows hard, understanding quickly dawning on him. He releases her breasts to drag her tunic up over her head. She raises her arms and the garment is quickly discarded. His breath hitches in his throat as he takes in the view of her; the tops of her breasts spilling through her bra. It digs into her skin uncomfortably and the wizard furrows his brows. “That looks painful. May I?” His fingers trail up her back to the clasp holding the constricting fabric together. She nods and he doesn’t hesitate; the bra falls to the ground a second later, discarded and forgotten.

Lilith sighs in relief as her chest is bared to the cool night air. She watches Gale’s expression turn as he observes her, his eyes dragging down her form appreciatively, memorizing every inch of her milky skin. She resists the urge to cover herself. A part of her feels shameful when he looks upon her. Of course she knows her body is littered in scars. Gale, however, didn’t know the extent of just how scarred she is. So many wounds, some healed and barely visible, some fresher and pink. And he has yet to say a word! Not knowing what he is thinking is akin to torture for her.

“You practically glow in the moonlight.

Goddess.” He finally says. His voice is finally shaky, breathy even, like he can scarcely keep himself together. “I often wondered what you would look like, bared for me. My imagination pales in comparison to this.”

Lilith is throbbing between her legs now as he touches her properly for the first time, lithe fingers dancing along her skin before circling her sensitive nipples. Her thighs clench, squeezing his hips. She bites back the meek moan threatening to leave her.

“You haven’t seen me bared yet.” she teases, rubbing the crux of her thighs along his length.

Gale practically groans as she rocks her hips on him, grabbing at hers to still her. “I haven’t, have I? Allow me to amend that.”

Lilith slides off his lap so his fingers can work at her laces. Warm, practiced hands slide the fabric down her legs before throwing it to the ground. Those same hands caress her hips and thighs in earnest now. Her eyes lift to meet Gale’s, only to discover how utterly enamored he is with her body. Gods, how intense those kind eyes could be. How much heat could lie inside them - lurking just beneath the surface. She presses her thighs together, her core barely concealed by a small pair of black panties.

“Ah, ah.” Gale tuts, prying her legs apart, first admiring the way the fabric sticks to her flesh. He dips his thumbs under the waistband of her underwear, stealing a breath from her. “Would you allow me the privilege…?”

She nods, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Please, Gale.”

With no hesitation, he slides them down her legs and bundles them up, placing them in the pocket of his trousers. “…for safekeeping.” He assured her with a wink.

A nervous laugh bubbles in Lilith’s chest as she rests back on her elbows. She anticipated he would jump on her at first opportunity; but he pulls back, choosing instead to admire her under the soft glow of the sky he conjured just for her. “Lost your nerve, wizard?” She asks him. Her legs drape open and she’s finally bare beneath him. His eyes lock on to the small thatch of silver hair between her thighs before they traveled lower, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“How inviting you are. Just beautiful.” He murmurs appreciatively and she has to fight the visceral reaction her body has to his words. She clenches around nothing and pulls her lip between her teeth, biting hard.

Gale’s steady hands cup her jaw, pulling her into him and kissing her fiercely. He pulls away - breathless, before asking: ”May I touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-“

“Gods, please Gale!”

“Desperation is a good look on you, dearest.” he admits before kneeling in front of her and lowering himself until she could feel his breath on her. “Such a delicate flower.” He whispers, finally dragging a single finger down her folds. Dexterous fingers tease her flesh, circling once around her opening to gather her slick before pressing against her already swollen clit. His eyes lift briefly to admire her debauched expression as he slowly sinks one finger inside her, immediately followed by another. “Does that feel good?” He questions, but the knowing smirk on his lips tells her he already knows the answer.

Lilith pouts and sighs dramatically, causing him to stop the movement of his fingers inside her. He looks up, a furrow in his brow. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, something is gravely wrong. You see, a certain talented wizard of great renown once told me he had a practiced tongue…” She smirks, scooting her hips closer to his face. He presses a soft kiss right under her navel, leaving her shuddering. “The problem is, I’ve scarcely been able to think of anything else but that beautiful man and his tongue-“

Gale swiftly cuts her off with a long drag of his tongue up the expanse of her. She whines as he reaches her clit and threads her fingers through his soft brown curls.

“Oh.” she breathes as he parts her folds and focuses on her tiny bundle of nerves. Gods, was this man eager to please. She bucks hard against his face and he presses a hand hard against her thigh, holding her leg up to rest on his shoulder. “I - I apologize,” She stammers out, her whole body quivering. “It’s been a while, can’t even remember the last time-“

The hot lave of his tongue between her legs abruptly stopped, replaced by Gale’s thumb, his other fingers still stroking inside her at a languid pace. “What exactly are you apologizing for, love?” He asks and his hot breath makes her squirm.

“Gonna come fast, Gale please-” she practically begs him now, her hand in his hair pushing down his head, desperate to have his mouth again.

Gale seals his lips around her clit and her whole body contracts, her legs only spreading wider for him. He greedily laps up her release as he pets at her inner walls, stroking deeper and deeper as they contract around his fingers.

“Gale…” she whines, practically tearing at his tunic to pull him closer. His fingers slip out of her as he falls into her embrace, their lips meeting desperately.

Lilith didn’t know she could feel this way. To feel more like a woman than a monster. But in this moment, pliant in Gale’s arms, she feels like a woman. Hells, she feels like a goddess after he worshipped her with his tongue.

The same tongue that was now sliding across her own. Her hands grab at the hem of his tunic, shoving it over his head. The wizard chuckles before assisting her, slipping it the rest of the way off. Her palms slide over his bare chest, finally feeling his skin under her hands. His trousers are next to go, haphazardly thrown to the side and when Lilith opens her eyes Gale is looming over her in only his underwear. Her hands find the waistband quickly with all intentions of dipping her fingers inside and taking him in hand, but she hesitates. Instead, she looks up at him, and finds him staring down at her. Their eyes meet - his, dark and stormy, full of lust and love. It steals the breath from her lungs and she kisses him them, pressing her forehead to his. “You’ll stay with me?” she asks him now, her voice softer than he’s ever heard before. Her teary lavender eyes are begging, pleading him. Please, she wants to say. She wants to have him, to keep him. She wants to be enough. Enough for him to stay.

”I’m here,” he tells her, his voice strangled. His own dark eyes are glassy. “I would never even dream of leaving you, Lilith. I love you.”

Their lips meet again and she takes him in her hand, earning a groan from her wizard. His skin is hot in her palm but she needs more. She pulls away from him, settling back on the bedroll and opening her legs. “Please.”

Gale exhales heavily at the sight of her, so open and ready for him. He crawls over to her, his body hovering over hers. ”Gods, you’re a vision - what do you need, my love?”

Lilith cannot help it; her eyes flit straight down his body to stare between his legs. He looks achingly hard; a bead of wetness at the head that she desperately wants to lap up. However, in this moment - her need for him to be inside her was far greater.

“I need your cock.” She finally tells him, pleading, her arms reaching out to pull him on top of her.

“Eloquently put, dearest.” Gale murmurs teasingly before holding her close, kissing her slowly, languidly. His hardness presses against her stomach and she reaches down, angling him against her center. A whine escapes her as the tip of him brushes her still-sensitive clit. She is so wet, her slick so abundant he slides right down through her folds and enters her with no resistance. He groans as he does - his control waning for every torturous second he lets her walls adjust around his girth.

Lilith gasps as he thrusts inside her for the first time, her hands flying up around his neck. “Gale,” she moans, placing a wet kiss over his pulse point. “You make me forget this god-forsaken world, you elate me, excite me, intoxicate me - fuck!”

A brutal thrust causes her to lose her train of thought. She moans with reckless abandon, clenching around his length that’s buried so deep inside her. “By the gods, I feel the same way, Lilith.” Gale manages to say, his breath hot against her neck.

”You know me like no other,” she proclaims, winding her legs around his waist. She digs her heels into his backside, a desperate moan spilling from her lips as the angle forces him even deeper. “Gale, I - I love you. Come inside me, please, make me yours. I want to be yours.”

Gale wastes no time in dipping his head down and licking into her mouth, her jaw cradled in his hand. His cock throbs against her fluttering walls as he fucks her at a maddening pace and she knows he is close. Still, his hand slides between their bodies, his fingers gathering her slick and circling her clit. She whines in his mouth and clenches around him, so close to the edge already.

“I feel it,” he practically growls against her lips. “The way you tighten around me - gods, come for me again my love.”

She does - she comes around him like a storm, mewling into his mouth, squeezing his cock with reckless abandon. It sends Gale to the edge; his hips stutter against hers and he spills inside her.

The moment feels precious. Cathartic. His lips slide against hers and for once she is grateful to not be able to remember anything before the tadpole. For this; being in his arms - is perfect. He is what she wants to remember. No one else.

“Will you?” She asks him. “Stay with me?”

Gale presses a sweet kiss to her head. “Of course I will, my darling.”

And for now whilst Lilith is nestled safely in his embrace, she stares up at the sky. Her lips curl in a smile as the colors of the Aurora Borealis comes into view. She marvels at how incredible the stars could look. An almost indescribable feeling rushes over her sweat slick skin, a sense of security she’s never experienced before. Her eyes move to Gale, who’s eyes are closed, his breaths coming even and deep. She waits for the urge to call on her, tainting the moment. But it’s quiet, seemingly dormant.

For now, everything is perfect.

[playdatecollectorau]

Jingle J. and Polaris First 'Playdate'

A few employees bring a spindly, eight foot tall jester animatronic into a living room like area, equipped with a long couch, a chair, and a table. The many bells on the animatronic, attached to them on their skirt, their wrists, the tops of their feet, and extending from their hat, make loud jingling noises while they move.

She wears a mask reminiscent of older 'puppet' models or staff bots, with closed eyes and a wide smile. Her gait is long and energetic, arms swishing at her sides. She's mostly unbothered by the annoyance of the employees.

"Play nice," one of the employees says, then closes the door, leaving the robot alone only for a moment.

Not long after another animatronic is brought into the room. Shorter then the first at seven and a half feet with his heeled shoes.

He looks like a more aesthetically pleasing sun model, with bright colors and less uncanny face.

He frequently skirts around the employees attempts to touch him as they usher him in. He gives them a customer service quality smile, thanking them pleasantly for escorting him.

Upon the metal door closing and locking the two in the new room, he grimaces looking to the other in room.

His grimace is quick to change back into a broad, albeit strained smile.

"Ahem....Hello there....new friend. My name is Polaris, and you are?" He emphasizes his name, false cheer to the words.

The puppetoid leaps forward towards their new companion with boundless energy and enthusiasm, the chimes of countless bells still ringing in the air as they offer a three fingered hand.

"Jingle J. Jester, friend! It's very, very nice to meet you!" Their voice matches the energy of their movement, and even while they speak they cannot seem to stay still, swaying back and forth on their heels. "You're from another location, aren't'cha? Another daycare attendant model? Not like me, no, no, I'm not fit for the daycare, I just know some fellows from my location's daycare! I wasn't actually allowed in during open hours. Or anywhere near the general public. But Strudel and Kuiper spent time with me after closing!"

The fellow rambles quicker than lightning striking the ground, hard for any normal human to decipher. Their excitement is obvious, but it seems possible that's just how they are.

Polaris watches, keeping his strained smile and blinking slowly.

Uncertain.

Something about the others mannerism read as like that of a child...while he could be wrong and they may not truly be a child in mindset...hard to tell with fellow animatronics over humans.

His smile becomes a bit less broad, still smiling but less strained then before as he listens.

Nodding along quietly.

Watching the other's constant movement, Polaris subconsciously starts to sway slowly. Just enough to make the skirt like ruffles on his waist give a slight swish.

A habit from working with children.

"...Yes, yes I am. I'm not sure which its referred to as though." He tilts his head. "Are...Strudel and Kuiper your....friends Mx. Jingle?" He asks politely, not wanting to outright imply they could be the others...guardians.

"Oh, yes! They got me out of that wretched box - I don't like cramped spaces, no siree, much too small for a fellow like me! I owe them everything, and they're so nice to me!" She takes her hand away, deciding he doesn't seem interested in shaking it. That is just fine, she's quite happy simply to meet another person. After all, Strudel and Kuiper are her only friends that stuck around. She hasn't seen any of the kids from before she was banned from interacting with them.

"Are your friends in the other room with you too? You're kept in a room, aren't'cha? Or is it different for you?" So, so many questions, very similar to how a child would behave. "Miss Strudel and Mx. Kuiper are still there, I think. I don't think they wanted me to go, they didn't look very happy... But when I go back I can tell them all about you, nice m... oh. gender? Er, pronouns?"

At the mention of them being in a box Polaris gives a concerned frown. "You were...trapped in a box before?"

He gives another polite smile, wary but softer. He can't help it around children, no matter how miserable he truly is, they bring out the best in him.

"I'm glad they helped you, they sound like...good friends." He's grateful when they dropped their hand, not wanting to be...rude but not keen on the contact.

Polaris blinks pausing and giving a strained smile when asked about his....'friend'.

"My....company counterpart...er 'friend' is still in the room yes. I share a room with it. I assume anyone here share's with others from their location." He tells the fellow animatronic, trying to force some cheer he doesn't feel into his words.

He clasps his hands behind his back, metal squeaking at his tight but hidden grip, hiding his discomfort with the last two questions.

"I'm....Male, I'm male, He/him." Polaris tells then, words coming out a bit more stilted, lacking the practice ease his speech usually has.

"Mhm. The charging box. I don't like it very much, but it's the only thing compatible for my model to charge." Their movements grow slower, more uneasy. They have no facial expression, only the ever-smiling mask, so body language is the only tell of how they dislike the topic of conversation. The box isn't nice, not at all. So small. So dark. So cramped.

She's very glad that the conversation is changing subjects, and returns to her previous, energetic state as Polaris brings up his 'friend'. Any sense of discomfort or tenseness is completely lost on her, and she claps her hands together.

"That's wonderful! Friends should be able to stick together. I can't imagine what it would be like without my companions. Oh, and thank you, Mr. Polaris! It's very nice to meet you, very nice indeed! You're so kind!"

They giggle and twirl, the pieces to their skirt flaring out like a tornado. They had been bored out of their mind only a few moments previous, when they were in their 'residential space', so they are very glad to have someone new to talk to with new options for things to do.

"Could you tell me about yourself, Mr. Polaris? You seem very interesting!"

"The rooms here are...decent at least, baren but decent in size and clean. Better then your box, I'm sure." Polaris tries to tell them cheerily, wanting to cheer them up.

"Er....yes, friends are certainly wonderful things to have. It's been nice to meet you as well little light." He feels awkward, agreeing but...not truly having friends himself, the little lights he watches over being the closest to that.

He realized what he said and is quick to backtrack. "Sorry, so sorry, Mx. Jingles, I didn't mean to call you....little light, habit of calling the children that." He smiles politely.

Polaris gives his rays a spin, trying to mirror the others energy.

"I'm sure you are much more interesting then me, but...at my location I work with the children, playing with them, making crafts and ensuring they stay safe. Sometimes they try to rope me into joining them for crafts or 'grand adventures' and stories. My...counterpart watches over them as they sleep."

"Oh, yes, very nice. Much more space in the room than in the box! Strudel and Kuiper both have beds, those are very soft and cozy." The beds aren't the highest quality, but they're better than no bed at all, which is what Jingle is used to. She doesn't have a bed of her own, but Kuiper and Strudel don't mind sharing with her, so it was fine.

"It's no problem, Mr. Polaris! I thought it was nice," Jingle hums with delight. They're more than used to being assigned little nicknames, Strudel and Kuiper do it quite frequently. They're rather fond of it, in fact.

"That sounds a lot like what Strudel does! And your counterpart is like Kuiper, then! Day and night, night and day!" Somehow, the comparison seems to make Jingle more excited than they already were, like they were winning a game of connect the dots. "Of course there'd be similarities, you're all daycare attendant models, but... Still!"

Polaris forces out a chuckle.

"Right....right, same base model, but we each have have things to make us different as well..." Polaris watches them for a moment, tentative.

"Mx. Jingles...what about you, is there anything you enjoy to do or talk about? There...isn't much to do in here but we could play a game of some kind or talk about something you like or....even a story if you'd prefer?"

Polaris can feel his caretaker protocols itching for him to engage like he's supposed to with a child, despite the other being....far bigger then himself, they read as a child nonetheless.

"Hmm... I do like stories a lot, Kuiper tells me those sometimes! In general, I like to do crafts too, Strudel usually helps me with that, but we don't have stuff here right now. And I love games! Games are so much fun, all sorts of games! I like a lot of things, I guess." Their words are followed immediately by an amused giggle, and they do yet another twirl.

They aren't very fond of staying still. They like to make use of all the open space they have while they have it, just in case they get trapped again. That's a thought they don't like.

"Mmmmm, nope..." she mutters to herself, then focuses on Polaris once more, "what would you like to do, Mr. Polaris? I don't mind any of them!"

Seeing their love of moving about, Polaris gets an idea.

"...I could teach you one of the dances I teach the little lights, it's not often I get a chance to, we may not have music but I could hum or sing, I'm...probably out of practice. Just an idea." Polaris spins his rays, smiling to hide his uncertainty at suggesting this.

"Oh! Oh I'd love that! That sounds very fun!" Jingle grabs pieces of their skirt and swishes them about, quite giddy. They love the idea of dancing, though they can't recall if they've ever actually done any real dances before. Probably not, they conclude, but they aren't opposed to trying.

The door to the room opens.

"Wrap it up, you two, you're out of time," one of the employees from earlier says.

Polaris tries to hide how he tenses up, giving the employee a polite smile.

"Of course. Maybe next time Mx. Jingle...?" He looks to Jingle with a smile.

It was...strange to see someone else but...as awkward as it was, he did enjoy his time with...the childlike animatronic.

"Next time, Mr. Polaris! Hopefully it'll be real soon!" Jingle Jester waves with the same overenthusiasm they'd been giving this entire time. They're slightly hesitant to leave, not wanting to abandon their new friend just yet, but follow when the employee beckons them over.

"Goodbye~!"

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - Tailored Hijinks

For: @thejustdancerodent @mymadmedleyw @lexosaurus @q-gorgeous

Even just simply amusing his friend by playing dress-up doll can’t go normally.

Danny stretches out his fingers a little, flexing them to get the slight cramping out. This stupid gash in literally the bottom of his foot was being a bitch to stitch up, and was surely going to be even more of a bitch to have to walk around on. And then, lucky him, his phone goes off.

“Danny? Goddamn finally, could kinda use your help…", and she trails off a  little.

Danny sits up stiffly before realising that she doesn't exactly sound very urgent; and after all not even ‘I need your help’ call needed to be urgent, all his friendships would be pretty fucked if that was the case. Sagging a little and sticking the phone between his ear and shoulder, continuing to work on his stupid foot. He knows that by the time he gets to wherever she is, his foot will still be sore as fuck, but at least it won't be a giant, bone deep hole. "Where are you? What’s happening? It better not be goddamn Boxy”.

"That little shallow bitch and her groupies are here, I so don’t want to deal with this, so care to join me at the mall?".

She says it in a way that Danny honestly can't refuse in good consciousness. Sighing slightly as he finishes up the stitching, giving his foot a little pat, "…Fine."

"Oh thank fuck, get your ass down here already", and she hangs up on him, making him roll his eyes. Whelp, there's no backing out of this shit now.

Normally finding one lone person in a mall, even in a small town, would be a bitch to do but Sam was a goth. So massive crowd or no, why the fuck is there so many people?, he finds her at the food court very easily, her rocking her combat boots, purple Trenchcoat, grey/black plaid skirt, purple fishnets, and some underground punk band tee; at least this meant he wouldn’t have to spend potentially hours chasing her scent through a million stores or something…

Waltzing over to her with ease before gently tapping her on the shoulder, her eyes snapping up to him before a large grin stretches across her face. She jabs him with a finger, "finally! I got us food, salad lettuce wraps, don’t you dare complain".

Danny shrugs, snatching up his wrap, he’s down to eat and get off his currently throbbing foot; absently rubbing it slightly with a wince.

She glares at him, “you better not be injured, Danny”; she wanted a shopping buddy/popular girl shield, but not that badly.

“Skulker was being an ass again, but I’m fine”. That was a lie, on both counts. Danny stepped on a grenade with no clue where said grenade came from; and said foot was not actually fine but it would be in time.

Sam hums a bit disbelievingly but unwraps her food and chomps down, giving him a pointed look the entire time.

Danny coughs, biting into his own food, “so-”, swallowing a bite or two, “-what kind of shopping are you dragging me into here?”.

She swallows the last bite of her sandwich with a grin, standing up immediately, “Glad you asked. I was thinking about hitting the new higher-end alt store in hopes of finding these huge platform shoes that I saw online. And I can also get you a new wardrobe too”, and smirks meanly.

Ah. Once again, Danny’s the dress up toy. His body ready to be used and abused for whatever she wanted to do with it. Thankfully, he’s not that picky about his clothes and doesn’t really mind people dressing him up for fun; whether it's in a dress, a skirt, heels, a leather jacket or eyeliner. But his own fashion will always be one part lazy and one part durable/able to hide blood stains. So he shrugs, “I mean, I guess? I won’t consistently wear any of it, you know”. And then glares murderously in the distance at Paulina who had eyes Sam a little; little Miss Popular scampers off.

Sam rolls her eyes, “we’ll see about that one”, grabbing his wrist and dragging him off; barely giving him a chance to throw out the garbage… only, like, a third of the thrown garbage managed to actually make into the trash.

-

With in minutes Danny’s stuck sitting near a dressing room twiddling his fingers and vaguely playing with his phone; looks like ol’ Boxy had taken his daughter out to the playground, the pictures are legit adorable. There's a large pile of clothes sitting next to him, it was a little absurd honestly, some of it was frilly? He didn’t really do frilly, way too easy to get snagged on or by something.

Sam makes shooing motions at him towards the dressing rooms, “well, dummy. Try it”.

Danny rolls his eyes but obliges, making a damn point of trying on the most horrifically mismatched shit he could; it was also freakishly oversized. A particular sad banana dress shirt, green polka-dot cargo pants with an absolute ton of straps, a bright orange chest harness that is surprisingly thick, and a hot pink choker. As soon as he stepped out she chucked practically twelve shirts at him, “that is horrific! My poor eyes”.

Danny snickers and slips back into the dressing room, next he’s totally wearing one of the sweaters from the women's section that he could absolutely rock if it wasn't several sizes too small and if he hadn’t paired it with a silly pumpkin spice themed scarf and newsboy hat.

She actually assesses this one, “if that sweater came in bigger sizes…”.

Danny grins a little, “tell me about it”, flexing in a bit of a ridiculous pose, sweater absolutely ridding up over both his stomach and arms, “I mean really? This is not giving it”.

She nods with a cringe, pointing at him, “and if you ever wear a skinny scarf again, I’ll smack you”. Then getting up herself and going in.

… She comes out in a neon blue clear cyber skirt, one of those ones made out of plastic, paired with shiny red shorts, and a long sleeved paint splattered black sweater, “too bright?”.

Danny covers his eyes comically, “ah! I’m being blinded! The light! The LIGHT!”, and starts laughing when she smacks him a bunch. Him wheezing after a bit, “okay okay, I’m serious now”. She huffs at him, as he continues, “but really, if the light hits the shiny shorts right the clear skirt will reflect it back and you might actually blind a bitch”.

“So the shininess is the problem”.

Danny nods curtly. Danny did actually know his shit with clothing, his high dressers have stuffed him into a million things that he had to get used to wearing; when you get used to dressing like a mother fucking royal you also learn how to dress that way.

She nods right back before shoving another set of clothes into his hands, "I demand more, dance for me, my mannequin”.

Danny gives a slightly nervous, “okay”, but sticks his tongue out while he heads into the dressing room again. Honestly? dealing with dressing rooms and shit was half the reason why he just repeat bought the same shit over and over again. He obliterated his clothing so damn often, so he was always having to replace his clothing. Heck, just the sheer amount of shoes he went through? Fuck he went through a pair every month at minimum.

Some of the shit Sam had grabbed was shit he blatantly would never wear, like, ever; which she damn well definitely knew. A masculine crop top. A fishnet over top. Another fishnet top. A third fishnet top. Ancients. A shirt with a v-neck lined with spikes that was so low it wasn’t really a shirt… more like a unfinished jacket. The corset was a massive fuck no. Why did she even put an Emo version of a lion king themed varsity jacket in here? The shiny red pants would have been a maybe if they didn’t look like they’d take ten minutes just to get on. But there is some okay things. A nice maroon t-shirt with a tiny devil decal in the bottom left corner. A soft black vest over top with filigree detailing. Black trousers with a subtle houndstooth design and a nice leather belt. There was at least eleven different collars, most with either spikes or oversized crosses. The amount of times he got choked seriously put him off from having anything that tight around his neck; the thick dog chain wasn’t bad though. At least she didn’t hand him any Tripp pants, he’s rejected those things so many times, they were just way too hard to run in and the noise of the chains smacking around was annoying.

He’s picking that dog chain, the houndstooth pants, and a shirt that says ‘I eat babies in my spare time’. Strutting out and trying to exude ‘I own the world’ with every step, “this is mildly tolerable”.

Sam rolls her eyes at his antics, “oh I’ll take it”.

“Now are you going to let me get away with only getting one outfit?”.

She gives him a mean look, “absolutely not, suffer”, and chucks some more stuff at him.

Unfortunately, one of the things she threw definitely had a spike on it and said spike goes right into his eye with a wet swick. Danny just stands there, all the clothing falling to the ground except the vest that’s currently more or less attached to his eye socket. She goes wide-eyed and just stares at him, so he kind of just slowly grabs the vest and yanks out the spike. Holding the vest at arms length, “whelp, now I have to buy this”.

“It… it will look good on you”.

Danny smirks at that, “I always look good covered in my own blood”, and blinks the gored eye socket; this is probably the first time he’s ever messed up his clothing before he even bought it, goddamn. He hands it off to her and drags the rest of the stuff into the dressing room, shouting at her, “I’m just going to sit in here till I have an eye again!”.

Sam shakes her head with a slight apologetic wince before moving to clean off the vest she just bloodied with his face.

It doesn’t take too long for his eye to not be a mangled mess, and for it to be possible for him to pull the tattered sweater with the grim reader drinking a martini on over his head without smearing it with blood/ectoplasm. The fall themed harem pants are something that he absolutely will not ever wear though, he can just feel how easily they will get caught and snagged on things; he likes baggy pants but this was a little ridiculous. He’ll still let her see it though, meaning he walks back out, she immediately throws the spiked vest at him again… at least it doesn’t impale him anywhere again. And when he slips it on it does actually go pretty well with the sweater, Danny looking down, “I look like a beat up hippie”.

He can hear the cringe in Sam’s voice, “yeah harem pants are definitely meant for someone skinnier than you. Anyway, last things”.

Danny looks up at her and sighs, grabbing the last bit of clothing she’s holding out. He gets that she has money but this all feels kinda like a waste to him, “you know this is all gonna get destroyed right?”.

She huffs at him and makes shooing motions, “just ‘cause you put clothing through hell doesn’t mean you should dress like you crawled out of a dumpster”.

“Hey I like my dumpster-chic”. She glares, he goes back into the changing room.

It’s one of those black sweaters with a hole in the chest that is absolutely skin tight… Tucker would make comments about her trying to turn Danny into eye candy. The black pocket covered pants though? Are fucking Kevlar which might actually be super good for him. Honestly he was a bit more used to the stores she’d occasionally drag him to to try and goth/punk him up only having cheaper or basic grade clothing. The ghost necklace is pretty cute too, dainty and will be destroyed in a week at best, but cute. He adds on the leather belt from earlier and goes back out. Quirking an eyebrow at her and gesturing a bit ridiculously at the shit, “happy?”.

She snaps a photo immediately with a smirk, “very much so, yes”, pointing a finger down to the pants, “think those might survive a while?”.

“I’m honestly surprised you found Kevlar anything, worth a shot. So yes, definitely buying”.

She cheers a little and motions him over. Spreading some of the clothing out on the bench. “Okay so I know I’m getting these for sure”. From the looks of it she’s got a black sweater with a bunch of glitching teeth all over it, two more plaid skirts, a pair of tights that give the illusion of doll legs, a pack of black socks, the neon blue clear cyber skirt, a sweater with a bunch of stiff fabric cut outs of knives dangling off it, and a Lurking Class ‘trust no suits’ shirt. “And you’re definitely getting these, and the pants you’re wearing”. There’s the vest that stabbed him, the maroon shirt with the devil on it, the houndstooth trousers, leather belt, dog chain, dainty ghost necklace, the sad banana dress shirt (which yes, is because it will piss Vlad off the next time he drags Danny to a gala), and the ‘I eat babies in my spare time’ shirt. Sam nods at the spread and then smirks at Danny, “you’re getting that sweater too”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “absolutely not, I’m not this kind of whore”. She doesn’t drop the smirk and Danny finds out why when he goes back into the dressing room to get back into his normal clothing… she put fucking glue all over it and it was now stuck on him and he can’t actually change back into his actual clothing; he couldn’t even phase it off meaning it was ghost grade glue, because of fucking course. That mother fucker. “SAM!”. She starts laughing menacingly at him immediately before her arm snakes under the door and snags his jacket… meaning he can’t cover this up either. Goddamnit. At least the fucking pants come off.

As soon as he gets his actual pants on he’s out and basically chasing after Sam, who managed to not only pay but also leave the store in record time. Danny shouting, “I’M WITH THE GOTH!”, as he leaves himself.

“She already paid for what you’re wearing! Please don’t throw money at me!”.

Danny gives a thumbs up behind him as he goes, he is mildly annoyed he can’t just fly at her as he follows after her all the way back to the food court. Which then turns into a game of ‘hide around the tables’ with her running around and behind tables, bobbing and weaving, with him trying to snag her. She ducks under a table and pantses him… Danny just stops and blinks at her, pants around his ankles, “really?”. She smirks and books it; fleeing the food court.

And then Dash of all people turns away from the New York Fries stand and blinks at Sam running away, then at Danny, “what did she do to you?”, blinking again and walking over some, “and I knew you had muscle these days but damn”, and offers him the fries.

Danny flips him off, but does take a fry while staring after Sam a bit murderously.

“Are you going to pull your pants up, or…”.

Danny gives him a flat look, “are you going to do it for me?”. Dash immediately smacks him in the head, which turns into a mild slap flight; the fucking fries get destroyed and some wind up in both of their hair.

Sam’s just watching from a distance with her hands sticking out to the sides disbelievingly and a ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me’ look on her face. She facepalms when Vlad comes around a corner, stops dead in his tracks, at mutters, “Daniel, what the fuck”.

Which instantly resulted in both boys instantly stopping and turning to look at the mayor well know for only swearing with food stuff. Danny squeaks, “did you just swear?”.

Vlad blinks before going a little wide-eyed, turning on his heel and speed walking away. Danny sputtering, moving to go after the man, “oh no you don’t! You get back her-”, and his fucking ankle pants catches on a chair resulting in him flipping over the courtyard railing and flinging the chair with him which flies through the air and nearly brains someone. Danny gives up and lays on the ground; he’s pretty sure he ripped his pants even.

Sam walks back over and looks down at him, “how are you this stupid”.

“Hey! You’re the one who glued a shirt to me”.

Dash blinks, “she glued that on you?”. Sam glares at the jock murderously, so he takes a step back and grumbles, “I’m going to get more goddamn fries, you freaks are menaces”.

After a few seconds Danny speaks back up, “you are forgiven, Vlad said fuck”.

Sam goes wide-eyed and then digs in his pants pocket, doesn’t bother pulling them up for him though, and grins at the device; when she shows the screen to him he can’t help smiling too. Somehow, some way, he accidentally had the voice recorder on; he had audio proof of Vlad swearing like a proper mother fucker. He texts it to Vlad immediately.

Vlad sent back: 👁️👁️. Which was absolutely a death threat. Followed by ‘put your pants on, Daniel’, Danny takes them off fully and throws them in the trash, walking home in underwear, a glued on titty hole sweater, and fries in his hair. All with promises of Sam-focused revenge.

End

Prompts: Sam tried getting Danny into the ‘goth stuff’ she likes and What did she do with his body? and Well, shit. He can’t change back! and "Danny stopped at once, his mind pausing for a second. Did he... did he hear it well? Did Vlad just curse like... like a normal human being?" A.k.a. the one time Vlad had a legitimate reason to drop his sweet-related swears and surprisingly over a mundane situation.

[misc-obeyme]

to the 🪿 anon - your oc Pandora sounds really cool!! i also want more thirteen content 😭 I'd love to see her interact with others more. I can only think of the Battle for the Bread memory card and then that other one with her and Mammon (Panic something?)

I just end up daydreaming about scenarios between characters (and then never writing them down) BUT I'LL GET THERE... EVENTUALLY

I had an idea I wanted to talk about and I've totally forgotten. Anyway, LEVI BIRTHDAY CARD NEVER CAME HOME AND I'M SO SAD 💔 I SPENT SO MANY VOUCHERS, and unlocked so many spaces in devil tree (OG you got 75 devil points after unlocking 400)

WAIT I REMEMBERED MY IDEA, OKAY, UM, HOW DO YOU THINK DEMONS COMPARE TO HUMANS IN TERMS OF- I can't think of the word. Not durability. Endurance? Hm..

Because I'm thinking about Luci and Dia always having tons and tons of paperwork, and wondering if their hand ever cramps. Can demons develop arthritis?? (I ALWAYS COME UP WITH THE SILLIEST QUESTIONS/IDEAS I'M SORRY)

This came up in my mind because we finally got approved to get product in (brand new empty store), and we've been stocking nonstop. On Fri/Sat, me and another manager were in charge of floral AND breaking down everyone's boxes and throwing them out (15+ people who were instructed to throw their cardboard at the end of the aisle to work product faster)

So like, 9 hour shift both days, and my hand is curled around this tiny box cutter for a majority of it. I was switching between opening boxes in floral, and then doing laps around the store every hour to break down and collect everyone's trash. And understandably, it hurt to move my fingers on Sunday lol. I admit I also have a tendency to push myself because I want to get things DONE and move on.

Today I was stocking jewelry so no breaking boxes, just unwrapping beads. My fingers are doing a lot better AND THE AISLE LOOKS SO PRETTY.

Anyway, I wonder if they do get hand pain, and if Barbatos has a cream or pain relieving tea. I need him to teach me his ways.

- ✨ anon

My anons communicating through the ask box 🥹

Anyway, I did not get the Levi bday card, either. But I don't usually try too hard for the bday cards in general. I usually pull once or twice and that's about it. (Obvious exceptions are Barbatos and Solomon. They're the only ones I'm allowed to be weird about when it comes to bday nightmares. Yes I have rules for myself lol.)

Okay, so I've actually considered whether or not I think demons get things like carpal tunnel and like arthritis is a similar situation. And personally, I don't think they do. Because imagine Barbatos, if you will. Certainly a repetitive motion such as whisking or stirring ingredients could give one carpal tunnel if done enough. And that guy is constantly baking. Can you imagine Barbatos ever getting carpal tunnel?

I just think that demons live for so long, they would have to at the very least not get such issues as quickly. They live too long, you know?

BUT. I do love the idea of Barbatos having a little cream that he rubs into his wrists and hands as prevention. And I don't doubt that he knows of such things, too. Hang on why am I remembering a chat about this?

Yeah, I got a daily chat where Barbatos was like "Ciaran there's something weird in the fridge what do you think it is?" And it turned out to be some hand lotion that Diavolo had made for him, but he thought it was some freaky food substance.

I was so touched because awwww Diavolo looking after his old hardworking butler! But it doesn't really say if it's meant to like... relieve hand pain, it's just like yeah some kinda cream lol!

Anyway, I think demons likely either don't get such issues at all or they get them, but it takes a lot longer due to their lifespan situation. Either way, I also think that Barbatos is the one to ask about pain relief... I don't doubt he knows about all the perfect tea blends and likely the perfect types of creams and such, too.

As for you, I must recommend hand stretches. I get wanting to get things done, but if you push yourself too much you could accidentally cause yourself real and long lasting damage! Honestly all you'd need to do is put that knife down for like five minutes and roll your wrist around, maybe do that claw pose with your fingers and move 'em around, you know how it is!

But I'm glad you're feeling better now and I hope you get to do some things that don't put such a strain on your hands!

[ethereousdelirious]

Welcome to the sediment layer of "fills I had to write on a 10+ y/o iPhone because I post my real phone in Canada"

It has since been replaced, but. That was a dark time

Sicktember 2023 Day 28

Prompt: "I should have stayed home"

Fandom: Pokémon

Characters: W.allace, St.even

Notes: Emeto emeto emeto

Now, at this very moment, linguists were re-writing the Official Hoennese Dialect Dictionary. Flip to the 'D' section— there, under 'down bad,' a picture of Wallace sweating through his shirt.

Definition: whatever; example sentence: "Wallace is down bad for Steven Stone."

Down so bad that he'd agreed to come to this hours-long lecture on rocks. Down so bad that he hadn't canceled despite waking up with the stomach ache of the century. Despite the near-misses he'd had throughout the day, stifled gags behind closed lips and hoping the challenger of the hour wouldn't notice anything. And thank the Makers that he hadn't actually gotten sick in his Gym, because then some poor janitor would have had to melt the ice and drain the water and that would have been a nightmare.

Wallace's stomach bucked beneath his waistband. Oh, right. He was already in a nightmare. A never ending stream of lectures on rocks and stones and boulders and minerals and whatever else and he was right up front, so when he inevitably left to go puke his guts up in the university bathroom, everyone would notice.

And then, once he'd recovered, he'd have to find his seat again and sweat through some more lectures, because of course Steven was speaking last.

There was just no way Wallace could miss his speech, not after months of late-night phone calls helping Steven workshop subheading names and sentence structures. He'd been so excited that Wallace had agreed to come.

So Wallace was going to sit and swallow back the waves of nausea and shiver in his custom white suit (with the diamond-studded tulle capelet, thank you very much) and be there for his best friend.

All he had to do was wait.

And wait.

And w— and not throw up, do not, do not.

And wait.

The misery came in waves: first a cold sweat on his brow and pressure in his stomach, then more sweat rolling down his back, then a heavy urge to retch sitting in the back of his throat. His breaths came so loud through his nose it interfered with his ability to hear the lectures and surely his neighbors resented the chill of his exhalations on their wrists, but he couldn't control it. Not if he wanted to control his stomach.

Worst of all, the longer he held back, the more his stomach hurt, cramping like Nolan's Pinsir had him in a Vise Grip.

Pressure and pain built up in his belly until he just couldn't ignore it any more. Brackish saliva flooded his mouth and every attempt to swallow it down met increased resistance at the back of his throat.

He stood just as applause filled the auditorium— a stroke of luck. Keeping his head down, he stumbled over his neighbors' legs on his way out of the auditorium. How rude, to leave like this. But still, it was better than vomiting all over the carpet.

Wallace staggered into the atrium with the next speaker's voice booming in his head— "...the significance of Kanto's Mt Moon. How many of you have had the chance to visit—"

Wallace's stomach lurched and all his senses slammed inward with it, frantic focus on self and now and oh no I'm not going to make it.

Giving up on the bathroom, he steered himself toward the nearest trash can and immediately coated its contents with a thin wash of watery stomach acid. The edge of the can rammed into his sore abdomen and he heaved again, this time bringing up nothing but a quiet noise of distress.

Tears flooded his eyes and his knees gave out. He hit the ground hard, further irritating his stomach, which now felt like the Rusturf Tunnel: violently hollowed with rusty digging equipment.

He sat there on the floor for a moment. Just enough to collect himself, calm his breathing. He felt better now, really, a little better. Better enough that he could do the stupid, thirsty thing and stay long enough to listen to Steven's speech. Otherwise, what was it all for?

All he had to do was picture the grateful look on Steven's beautiful face and it would all be okay.

The feeling of tentative stability stayed through the second half of the speech he'd bailed on, even backing off enough to let him enjoy honest butterflies in his stomach when Steven finally took the stage.

Wallace's front row seat gave him a perfect view of the way Steven's silvery-green eyes sparkled in the spotlights. They were especially captivating tonight, probably because of the fever cooking Wallace's brain. Or, no, Steven really was that magical, wasn't he? From the easy way he commanded a room to his effortless presence in battle, he really was divine.

"...Wallace, whom I really cannot thank enough."

Wallace shook himself. Was that a blush on Steven's cheeks?

"Please stand up, Wallace; I really could not have done this without you." Steven gestured into the audience. "Gym Leader Wallace, everyone."

With his own cheeks burning, Wallace stood. He would have waved to Steven if he hadn't immediately come over dizzy. All his focus shifted at once to the monumental task of staying upright; he had to lock his knees and lean back against his chair for the modicum of stability it offered him.

He all but collapsed when the applause died down and Steven's next few sentences faded away to the roar in his ears.

Oh.

He was really sick.

He should have realized it earlier, probably, as though gagging into a trash can and collapsing hadn't been enough of an indicator. He was… too sick to be here and too stubborn to leave.

Even when the roar in his ears died out, silver spots blinked in his eyes and refused to go away no matter how he tried to ignore them. Worse still, the cramping pain in his stomach came back, low and constant.

And still.

He refused to regret his decision to stay. Steven really had blushed and that meant something and damned if Wallace was going to leave before reaping the rest of tonight's rewards. If staying earned him even one more smile, then he would stay.

-

"Wallace! There you are!" Steven beamed, his smile no less dazzling for the muddy yellow lights beaming down from the exterior of the auditorium. "I wondered where you'd gotten off to."

"Smoke break," Wallace said, uncrossing his arms before Steven could notice how desperately he'd been holding his stomach.

It seemed Steven was too caught up to notice anyway, because he didn't even pretend to laugh at Wallace's bad joke. "I'm so glad you came," he said, taking one of Wallace's hands between both of his own. "Really, I can't thank you enough. You look wonderful."

Wallace's stomach did a flip, half nerves and half real nausea. "I wouldn't miss it," he said. Steven had no idea.

"I'm glad you're alone, actually." Steven held tight to Wallace's hand, somehow not noticing the cold sweat on his palm.

Another flip.

Well, less of a flip and more of a triple lutz, triple flip combination that kicked up a dangerous splash of briny saliva in the back of Wallace's throat. He swallowed with difficulty, trying to keep focused on Steven's face when every instinct in his body screamed at him to curl up on his side and get ready to turn his stomach inside-out.

"Wallace, I wanted to ask you to dinner," Steven said, "just the two of us." His eyes shined green and earnest in the yellow light, putting to rest any lingering suspicion that this was just another dinner between friends.

He had left Wallace the perfect opening to say something charming or, better yet, heartfelt. But the only thing behind his lips was a strangled gag. He swallowed it down and managed to squeak out, "A date?" without painting Steven's shoes, but it was a near thing. Oh, he could cry. All he'd wanted, it was all he'd wanted...

"Yes," Steven said slowly, "a date. Wallace, are you—"

Wallace turned and heaved into the bushes, yanking his hand out of Steven's. There really, really wasn't anything left to come up and he coughed on the empty gags crawling up his throat.

"Wallace!" Steven's warm palm found his forehead, the other anchoring on his back.

The leaves tickled Wallace's face. He batted feebly at them, hands shaking, heaved again, and then his knees buckled and Steven had him, Steven had him.

"Wallace, can you look at me?"

Ugh, leave it to Steven to start testing his mental orientation instead of immediately administering mouth to mouth. With tongue.

"M'fine." Not strictly true. "Not having an aneurysm." A shudder ran through him and Wallace stifled a groan into the warmth of Steven's thigh. "My stomach hurts."

Steven's muscles shifted beneath Wallace's cheek and warm fingers began to brush his hair back. "Did you eat anything questionable earlier?"

Wallace shook his head as much as his positioning would allow. Ah, yes, he was mostly on the pavement, wasn't he? He should get up; his suit would get all dirty. "Haven't… felt well all day. Had to close my Gym early."

"Then why—" Steven's hand stilled for a moment. "Not that I'm not grateful, but why did you come if you weren't feeling well?"

Wallace tried to shift so he could look Steven in the eye, but his stomach cramped fiercely, so he stayed still. "I was hoping you'd ask me out on a date."

"Ohhh..." Steven sighed. "Wallace." He took a deep breath and released it, running his hands through his hair. "Can you sit up? Apparently we're having our first date at the ER."

-

The nurses spared Wallace some indignities and let him keep his suit on. Steven had to help him with his jacket and with rolling up his sleeve and even held his hand when it was time for the IV (which was very, very soon after arriving, because Wallace passed out in the lobby like some kind of waifish soap opera star).

"Did you know you have a fever?" Steven asked, reaching over to put a hand on Wallace's forehead.

Wallace closed his eyes, anchoring one hand on the emesis basin in his lap in case he needed it. "No," he said. The fluids had cleared his mind a little, but all he could picture was Steven's spotlight-dazzling smile. "I would've come anyway."

"I—" Steven broke off with a sigh. "You really don't think you should have stayed home?"

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to ask me out on a date?" Wallace countered. "I had a feeling tonight would be the night."

"You could have asked me out if you were so sure," Steven said, strangely subdued. Wallace opened his eyes and found Steven frowning at him, a furrow between his brows.

"I wanted you to ask me."

"But does that mean that you only agreed to help me with my speech because you wanted—"

"Steven Stone." Wallace held up a hand to stop him and winced when he pulled on the tape holding his IV line in place. "I risked throwing up all over your parents tonight because I wanted you to ask me out on a date. I helped you with your speech because I love— Ah." Searing heat flooded Wallace's face and his stomach dropped, though not in a way that indicated a strong need for the emesis basin. He white-knuckled it anyway, drawing it closer. "...rocks," he finished weakly. "Because I love rocks."

Steven, who had yet to let go of Wallace's hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it like he couldn't help himself, like it was something as reflexive as breathing. "You know, Wallace," he said, gazing at him like he was more beautiful than any diamond, "I love rocks, too."

And this time, Wallace and his upset stomach managed to not ruin the moment.

That honor went to the doctor, who interrupted their adorable little mutual confession with questions about Wallace's health and wellbeing, like that mattered when he could have been canoodling in a hospital bed with Steven.

When the doctor was finally satisfied, thankfully clearing Wallace to go home, Steven took his hand again. "Have you at least learned a lesson from all this?"

"Oh, sure." Wallace squeezed his hand and smiled despite his exhaustion. "Steven Stone rewards bad behavior."

[f1-chicane]

┏━━━ what happens in vegas, stays in vegas

characters : yoon venus (referred to as iseul).. jayoon.. etc era : predebut words : 406 tags : loosely inspired by pink in the night by mitski, venus is a dumbass but a sad one, jaeyoon is clueless

Bustling tables, writing orders, placing dishes in the sink. Table One wants a caesar salad without anchovies, six wants the mushrooms taken out of their pasta, Three wants their dessert to go..

Too many substitutions, too many people, too many hours on her feet. With the sound of a baby crying in the background, Iseul loses track. she feels a palm grip her shoulder as she grimaces.

“hey, you alright? I just finished my round around the restaurant if you need anything.”

Jaeyoon. Despite the exhaustion, a small smile gets pulled onto her face.

“I’m good! I’m good, just a little out of it today.” He gives her that sweet, sweet smile she loves. She doesn’t want to leave. She can’t, not him. “C’mon, let’s take a break while everyone else catches up.” he’s pulling her by the wrist before she can even think about rejecting (she wouldn’t have anyways.)

They go outside and sit on a bench at the side of the restaurant. Jaeyoon relaxes and lays back, “This is gonna be the rest of our summer huh? Fuck if luck’s on our side, maybe for the rest of the year. You don’t have a set date yet right?” He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t know, Iseul never told him. She’s leaving by the end of the month. 

Across the world, back home. 

Home, back to living in her cramped home with her family. Jaeyoon has this resting smile, after working the same long hours, he looks at her the same. Iseul can’t tell him. His eyes stay focused on her as he sighs. 

“Seul.. if this is about the whole training process, I’m sorry for bringing it up. But there’s really nothing to be worried about. You were good enough to get sponsored. That’s insane. How many people get their trainee expenses paid straight out?” Jaeyoon moves closer as he continues, “You’ll do just fine. I promise.” 

“I know, I know. You tell me this every time.” Iseul glances at him. “Thank you, Jaeyoon.”

“Don’t use my full name. You’ll make it sound like a goodbye. Besides, if everything goes our way, we’ll meet at the finish line.”

[sinfvlwishs]

( small things about levi being in heat: )

very embarrassed about being on it, will try and hide in his room for the average of 3 days it usually takes for him to get through it. very temperamental towards his brothers but soft as hell with his lover. he might even bring a few empty bottles to his room just in case he's too embarrassed to leave to simply go to the fucking bathroom. his brothers usually know what's up after about a day or so.

of course, as expected, and is typical of all demons, he gets horny as fuck. much needier for sexual contact than usual.

his shy disposition doesn't change much, but he does express much more of a direct interest in particular sexual activities that are brought up. if anything, he's more shy about having to explain the fact that he's in heat much more than he's bothered by any discussion about sex.

he also becomes quite hungry too (general demon heat symptom). he generally eats a tiny bit more than the average serving of food for a demon, mostly thanks to the amounts of video games he plays and the shows he watches, but if he's feeling up to it, during a meal, he might be able to eat up to as much as beel's average serving of food.

speaking of food: WEIRD. CRAVINGS. one second he might want raisin bread toast with cinnamon, the next he'll be craving a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato. prepare the ingredients in the kitchen for this. he'll be making many different requests.

despite being much more needy for sex, his energy level does drop quite a bit (another demon heat symptom). he can sleep for up to twelve hours at night and finds taking longer naps during the day much easier.

might experience some abdominal cramping and feel generally nauseous for the days he's in heat.

VERY. PHYSICALLY. AFFECTIONATE (you guessed it: ANOTHER GENERAL SYMPTOM). he'll be at your side pretty much 24/7, wanting to touch you in any way he can, rubbing his cheeks all over you and marking you with his scent like a cat. demons have scent glands in their necks, wrists, and ankles, so prepare for the other brothers (and other demons in general) to comment that you smell like levi for at least 4-5 days.

more of a general demon heat hc but i imagine that male demons in particular tend to have their heat cycles line up if they spend a lot of time together, and the brothers probably all get it at around the same time. so i bid any mc who has to deal with that the best of luck i can possibly give them xD

[newzealandmozsombi]

Unplanned day in Queenstown

So today turned out differently than planned but was still fun. Was supposed to go to Coronet Peak and ride in the bike park but pretty much just before taking the turn to go up the mountain I decided to check if they’re actually open and as it turned out they just switched from a 7 days a week to a 5 days a week schedule and monday tuesday are the off days..I was a bit pissed cause I was really looking forward to riding those trails, saw a bunch of videos but fortunately there was a plan B option, bit more expensive but what the hell I am partly here to ride bikes so I decided to go to Queenstown (20min away) and ride the bike park in town called Skyline.

Btw way the drive from Wanaka to Queenstown was really pretty and a looooot of turns (in the end there were some seriously tight switchbacks!) but I only took one of course. See below.

Anyway as I was on the outskirts of Queenstown I really started having this feeling that this place just flippin reeks of money..Not sure about its origins but for many years now the town has been the capital of extreme sports and it literally became one of the most expensive cities in New Zealand. The views are also nice of course. Mountain biking, bunjee jumping, skiing (in winter), water sports, sky diving and God knows what else, you can do it here. Long story short this place is packed with tourists. Plus since the town is cramped between mountains and a lake the streets are narrow, steep and cars are parking everywhere so my first attempt to park for free failed and I drove to the parking house next to the lift which is of course super expensive (6 bucks per hour…was planning to stay the whole day..you can imagine)..I put on all my gear, accepted my faith that this is gonna be one hell of an expensive day, rolled to the ticket office where the scottish dude was kind enough to give me some tips on where to park for free nearby, so I put the bike back in the car in a haste, paid my 6 bucks for the “hour” and drove off to the free spot which was only like a 5 min bike ride from the bottom of the gondola. Bike out, dress up, here we go again.

So about prices. Full day bike park entry was 129 NZD which is around 70 EUR. Yeppp. Even Schladming is cheaper in Austria and there you can ride two bike parks..(and shuttle in between by bus). Oh well. Once again. Here to ride bikes!

Bought my ticket and did a first lap on a blue trail which turned out to be super rough and blown out not to mention the 10 cm deep dust in some corners. Oh yeah the trail grading system here is a bit different. In Europe it’s really similar (or the exact same?!) like in skiing, blue-red and black is the most difficult. Not here. There are a few (didn’t count it) shades of blue and then two black ones, diamond and double diamond. So the blue trail I rode was already idk, somewhere in the middle I guess. Or maybe it was only hard cause how ridden out it was..not sure. Anyway for the second lap I teamed up with a pair of swiss guys and a brazilian dude who works at skyline and he showed us some black trails, that were pretty techy but less fast, so while I felt a bit out of comfort due to little riding time, they also felt like home a bit more compared to the faster stuff.

After the 2nd lap I felt like my wrist needs some rest so I went back up but did a bigger loop that included a 30-40 min singletrack-uphill part that’s more scenic and whatnot. Well that was absolutely worth it! Really cool trail in the forest among ferns and bit trees, small streams to cross, and at the end after a short but steep climb gorgeous views with barely any people! Felt more in my element! The downhill trail I took was a blue one but my Lord these would be at least red if not black ones in Austria..this trail linked into a flowy amazing flow/small jump trail that I’ll definitely revisit on my way to the north!

I gotta say there are some really crazy drops and jumps and gaps around here, for those of you who don’t know half of the world cup downhill riders ride here in the winter season and the other half lives here (bit of exeggeration but you get the picture), most of them actually left the last week or so and it’s just obvious that some of the features are built for them..

Had a lunch break and went for three more laps and decided to call it a day as my palms were starting to hurt real bad, the wrist also needed a break especially after two days of riding and I still had to drive 1,5 hours to the next campsite.

Pfuah. Wrote all this on my phone. I’ll reconsider it next time.

Tomorrow i’m meeting Andrea and we do some hikes and walks and stuff around the Fjords in the southwestern part of New Zealand. Should be neat!

Obligatory song recommendation:

The Maine - Girls just wanna have fun

In the morning took the nostalgia train and listened to all the punk goes pop cover albums that I used to love. This one is a really cool rock song, as far as I know the original one is really poppy.

[parkerdoesparkour]

-Sticks and Stones (Heartslabyul Ver.)-

Titania gets injured and gives the boys a heart attack.

Riddle Rosehearts

Titania and Riddle were pruning the roses together, chatting happily about their day and making plans for a coffee date in town. Grim was supposed to be helping but he galavanted off the first chance he got. It didn’t escape Titania’s notice, though, that Riddle let Grim escape, no doubt to get more alone time with her. 

“I should be done with the meeting around two,” Riddle says. “If that time also works for you.”

“As long as Ace and Deuce behave,” Titania laughs. She reaches into one of the rose bushes, slightly distracted by the conversation and not paying enough attention to where her finger was going. There’s a pinprick of pain and she hisses, immediately drawing her hand back. The blood is barely the size of a bead and after the initial pinch, it barely even stung. “Damn,” she sighs and Riddle pauses in his own work to take Titania’s hand. He investigates the injury. “Do you think I’ll need stitches?” she teases and his concerned expression melts away into a smile. 

He places the tip of her finger in his mouth, not thinking much of it since these kinds of injuries were common when tending to the roses. Titania thought differently, flushing pink. With perfect timing, Ace bursts into the scene, and whatever he was about to tell them vanishes when he sees the scene in front of him. 

“Housewarden, my goodness!” he says with a sharp grin. “Seducing Titania in public now, are we?” 

Riddle, as he often does when he gets embarrassed, clenches his teeth together as he tries–and fails–to will himself not to blush. However, unlike the other times, Titania’s finger is in his mouth, so when the inevitable teeth clenching happens, he accidentally bites down on her finger. 

Titania squeals, Riddle swears, and Ace laughs so hard he ends up with stomach cramps. Thankfully, Titania’s injury heals an hour after the whole ordeal but the damage to Riddle’s pride takes a little longer.

Trey Clover

Trey leans against the Heartslabyul kitchen counter, Titania against him, with his arms loosely thrown around her waist. His chin rests on her head and he watches her scroll through Magicam, occasionally making a comment about a post. 

“Oh, look at this,” Titania says. She pauses on one of Cater’s many, many cafe posts, showing Trey mini cherry pies with hearts on the crust. “We could make this for Ace.”

“I don’t know,” Trey chuckles. “I feel like we’d have to time it right, so it’s not like we’re rewarding bad behavior.”

“Then we’d never get to make them,” Titania responds with laughter. Just then, the timer goes off, signaling that the vanilla cupcakes baking in the oven were done. Titania, distracted by the delicious smell, goes immediately to get them out of the oven. 

“Wait, you need–!” Trey begins but Titania is already grabbing the handles of the pan without any oven mitts. She recoils, shouting profanities and Trey rushes to her side. He grabs her by the wrist and shoves her hand under cool water. “Honestly, what were you thinking?” he sighs. 

Titania smiles weakly. “I was thinking about the cupcakes. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he replies, letting his shoulders relax. “I’m just… please be more careful.”

“I will, I will,” she says, “but…”

“But?”

“I know you’ll always be there to help me.” Titania gives him a cheeky grin. “You’re my knight in shining armor, after all.”

Trey’s ears go red. “You’re such a handful,” he says, but he’s smiling all the same.

Cater Diamond

“Coming through~!” Cater shouts, zig-zagging through the groups of students as he makes his way through the halls. Close behind is his pursuer, Titania Goodfellow, who shoves students in her way with the strength of a scorned princess. “Outta the way, outta the way!”

“Cater, get back here!” Titania shrieks. There’s no real malice in her voice but still, Cater continues to run as far away from her as possible. He laughs and rounds a corner and Titania follows, though she ends up slipping on the floor as she tries to catch up to Cater’s long strides. Her feet fall out from beneath her and she ends up on her back with a groan. 

Cater appears above her in an instant, offering his hand with a strained smile. “You ok?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Titania says, grasping his hand. He lifts her up back onto her feet. “Just got the wind knocked out of me.”

“Are you sure?” he says. He circles her with concern, looking for bruises. “You’re not hurt?” 

“No, but,” she pauses, slightly guilty at how quickly Cater comes to her side, “I would feel a lot better if you deleted that picture of me.”

Cater laughs, wrapping her up in his arms. “Oh, yeah? Maybe you should kiss me first, and I’ll consider it.”

Titania leans in with a giggle, complying with his request when Trein suddenly bursts from a nearby classroom. “Diamond! Goodfellow! What have we said about PDA in the hallways?”

“Run, Cater!” Titania laughs and he lifts her up bridal style, taking off as Trein continues to shout at them.

Deuce Spade

Deuce had asked Titania to accompany him on his morning job, so she follows close behind him at a steady pace as they pass around the outskirts of the main building. It’s not strenuous and Deuce turns back every now and then for a passing comment or just to check in on her. It’s during one of these minor conversations that Titania, focusing on Deuce rather than where she’s going, snags her foot on a tree root and falls forward. 

She lets out a sharp gasp as her knees hit dirt and Deuce goes pale, falling beside her to investigate her skinned knee. He looks so funny, his face tight with concern and his lip pouting, Titania can’t help but laugh.

“It’s not even bleeding,” she says. Deuce’s pout gets worse and she presses a kiss on his cheek. “Sorry.”

“S’fine,” he mutters. His cheeks are pink as he lifts her up bridal style into his arms. “I’ll carry you back to Ramshackle. We need to get the dirt cleaned off so it doesn’t get infected.”

He looks so earnest that Titania doesn’t bother to mention to him that it won’t get infected because, again, it didn’t even break skin. Instead, she settles into his arms and lets him carry her across the field towards Ramshackle, wrapping herself up in his warmth.

Ace Trappola 

“Shrimpy~!” Floyd shouts, throwing his arms around Titania when she enters the gym. She laughs and pats his head. “Did you come to watch practice again?”

“Hey, get off of her!” Ace marches over, basketball in hand. This was a daily occurrence, Floyd clinging to Titania and Ace getting pissy that someone other than him had themselves wrapped around her. 

Floyd sticks his tongue out, teasing a pissy Ace as he gets closer, while Titania attempts to untangle herself from his long limbs. Ace grits his teeth and throws the basketball in his hand directly towards Floyd. However, the eel proves too slippery, and moves out of the way just in time for the basketball to hit Titania square in the face. 

Tears sting her eyes from the impact and her hand flies up to her nose as she crouches down. Ace rushes to her side, wrapping her into his arms and cradling her against his chest like she had just broken her nose instead of simply just hurting it. She laughs into his arm, looking up at him with a small smile. 

“I’m fine,” she assures him. “Really, I’m fine.”

Ace grumbles something about a ‘damn eel’, pulling her into another tight hug. They remain like that for longer than necessary, Ace quite literally hissing at anyone who came too close or who tried to tell him practice had already started. 

Not that Titania was complaining. 

[ch3rriewine]

Made with love <3.

summary: you crochet remus a sweater after noticing his deminishing collection:)

warnings??: 1.3k words, fluff, fem!reader, crochet stuff, remus being a cutie, no use of y/n, they're in love we get it, young remus, the pace she finishes the sweater is a little unrealistic but eh, first fic bear with me here, ahhhhh idk dude lmk if im missing something

idk like authors note: this is inspired by @lonelyhe4rts imagine:D, go check it out its great! if they say they are uncomfortable with this i will take it down immediately. i just thought i'd make something similar idk also this is super old it's been sitting in my notes for a year. if there's any mistakes or something lmk!

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Currently hard at work with a wooden hook in one hand and a quarter finished woolen square in the other, yarning over and pulling through as quickly as you can.

You are in the middle crocheting your lovely boyfriend a sweater. Sure, it was ambitious to finish a sweater a few days before you planed to give it to him, but you were dead set on making him this — Plus you had already finished the front panel. The yarn is a gorgeous tan shade you thought would suit his personality perfectly. Found it in a small crafts store whilst visiting your muggle relatives and knew you had to buy some. Granted it was impulsive and you had no current projects needing this specific color, but it reminded you of Remus, so it was only right for you to buy it.

A couple hours later, and many breaks from her hand cramping, you finally finished the back panel and was beginning the first sleeve when it struck you — the best idea ever. You had the brilliant idea of putting tiny heart at the end of the sleeve so only he’d be able to see it. Yup you were a genius, you decided. The heart would be a blush color so it would blend in just enough to see it if you looked directly at it while not being too vibrant. Once it was on the inside of the wrist area, he walked in. There he was with his shaggy brown hair that somehow always fell right, his tall lanky stature, and his terrible posture. He smiles wide as soon as he spots you in an old armchair in the corner of the common room. Immediately you hide the work in progress behind your back, wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise now would we?

It was too late unfortunately, he has seen you with yarn and a hook in your hands and was immediately curious as to what you were making. He has always been a fan of the small bags or beanies you managed to weave up, so he wanted to know what this one was and why you hid it behind your back.

Striding over with furrowed eyebrows he asks

“Hey, what were you working on if you don’t mind me asking?” He plops down on the armchair beside yours.

“I do mind you asking actually” you reply with a slightly humored tone.

“Oh come on! I love your projects, please!” he drags out the end “Just let me see” He pleads now leaning over the small end table separating the 2 chairs, grabbing at your arm softly.

“No! I’m not gonna show you until it’s done!” You pull back your arm, crossing them and looking back at him with fake frustration.

“Please” He pleads “I’ll give you my love if you tell me”

“Hard pass” you say blankly, looking away to pretend to read some book left nearby.

Just as he was about to plead again, James, Sirius, and Peter walk in calling his name, looking to drag him into another one of their silly ideas. James spots him and makes his way over quickly. Before he gets another word out, he gets dragged by James excitedly. Finally, some peace in here. As soon as he’s out of sight, you get back to work. After maybe another hour or so, you turn in for the night. With a cramping hand and a bundle of woven scraps in your hand you walk into your dorm, crashing onto your bed. You’re alone for maybe 10 minutes before your boyfriend finds you and takes you into his arms.

“You gonna tell me what you were making now?” He asks playfully.

“Shhh stay quiet pretty boy, I’m tired” you mumble into his chest.

“Alright fine" he tucks your hair aside "But only because you’re tired” he sighs dramatically before burying his head into your hair.

Next morning he invites you to watch Sirius eat some weird candy they found, but you decline to finish the sweater, and you do. With a rested mind and a no longer cramped hand you were back at it again, crocheting peacefully with Remus in mind to motivate you. Doing the last stitch which hides the last yarn end, you hold it up to look at it in whole. A stranger would know it was handmade, but it was still done well enough to think it’d be stocked in a small store that sold that kind of thing. Smiling, you go to wrap it.

You fold the sweater neatly in a box along with a couple of his favorite chocolates. Maybe it was overkill since it wasn’t even Christmas, but who can blame you? You were excited and he deserved it. Wrapping the box in a simple sparkly pink wrapping paper you had lying around and tying a nice white bow on it, you write a nice card to tuck in the bow.

With the gift neatly enough wrapped, you sneak into his dorm to find his bed. There, you set down the box and smile. You hope he likes it, wait no, he better like it. Walking back to your dorm you see, who other than the Marauders walking to back to their dorm. You smile to yourself and speed walk back to your own dorm.

Maybe 5 minutes pass before you get a certain brunette boy knocking at your door. Opening it with a smile you see him holding the opened box with a matching smile on his gorgeous face.

“Was this you?” He asks despite knowing the answer.

“Hmm I dunno, do you know any girls who crochet you things?” You tease lightly.

He matches your grin "Maybe"

“Well who’s this lucky gal?” You try to suppress your smile now, but failing quite miserably.

“Some pretty girl right in front of me” His cheeks tinted pink now.

“Well do you like it?” You drop the bit, now slightly insecure.

“Like? It’s my prize possession now! I mean you made me this? I know why you wouldn’t tell me what you were making now!” He rambles slightly letting himself into your empty dorm.

“If you love it so much try it on!” He hurriedly pulls off his current sweater and pulls yours from the box and pulling it on himself. He adjusts, feeling the material before putting his hands on his hips, posing for you. You giggle, and he swears he’ll do that a million times just to hear it again.

“Fits perfectly” you say walking towards him to examine it on him.

“Of course it does, you made it how could it have any flaws” he flirts. Rolling your eyes you pick up your polaroid camera to snap a shot of him in your, first of many, sweater. He sees this, smiles, fixes his hair till he catches a glimpse of blush yarn and looks at his sleeve again with adoration at the tiny heart. Then there’s a flash in front of him. He turns back to you grinning and pulling out the photo. Waving it a bit to develop faster, you look at the photo. It’s a perfect shot, so genuine. It’s him looking at the small heart with slightly furrowed brows, a small smile on his face, adoration in his eyes, and pink dusting cheeks. He walks over to look at it too.

“You’re so handsome” You say dragging out the last syllable, teasing lightly when he grabs it from you to look at it. Looking at it he smiles fully now and places it down on the closest desk. Pulling you into a hug he mumbles into your hair.

“Thank you so much, dove. I love it, it’s the best thing I’ve ever gotten.” Your cheeks become hot and you bury your head into his chest further.

“I’m just glad you like it.” You smile into his chest.