#all i could think about when i got this prompt though was some kind of wedding scenario

[isaacathom]

actually uyeah im bored im gonna run it down. what specific Thing does naielle have with (pretty much) every member of her family that has her fucking wracke with guilt or smth

At a very basic level, a context - naielle comes from an elf napoleonic france, with some specific details that the usual max lifespan is closer to 500, and that the emperor has no heir and is like. 450. i wrote it down somewhere. doesn't matter. So naielle, being exiled from elf france, very early on made the assumption that she could Wait Out the collapse of it. That the emperor would die in, yknow, 50 years, the power vacuum would be contested by every general and cousin and random former nobleman, and the country would be ripped apart, nullifying her exile by technicality. this established,

Saroel - Naielle's grandmother, 495.

Naielle loves her grandmother. She's this wise and cunning lady, who survived the turmoil of Bonaparte's rise to power by making deals and using the family's noble fortune to buy favour. Her husband died in the post-rise period, and Saroel didn't. She bought the life of her and her children when her husband was accused of treason. She's clever.

Naielle has her engagement ring, a gold band designed to snugly fit under a wedding ring, a piece of jewellery older than the empire itself. Naielle used it as a blueprint to craft a pair to it, and matching wedding rings, with which to propose to her girlfriend Xistina.

If Naielle waits out the empire's demise, she'll never see her grandmother again. Never be able to tell her she was right when she told Naielle to be careful about her historical research, or show her the now complete wedding ring. She'll never get to hug her one last time and be enveloped in a stiff embrace that smells of old pines and old times, like the oils of the paintings and brass of the sculptures that make up the universities museums, of the motar that keeps its bricks together.

Laucian - Naielle's father, 333

Naielle is a daddy's girl. She's her father's son, without question or ambiguity. She's got his square chin, his broad nose, his golden eyes, his curly hair (albeit lighter than his - her mother got lucky with that). She's got his passion for history and all that came before, for the nebulous space of was and may have been.

For Naielle's 100th birthday, Laucian gave her a red ribbon. He's not from a noble background, rising from the peasantry with a father in the military and a mother a nursemaid. He has no heirlooms to grant. But the red ribbon, Naielle thinks, is just as meaningful as the engagement ring, because it's a connection to that paternal grandmother, Shana. She was a hard worker, stern with her charges and utterly doting on her own children, sneaking small things from the noble houses she served to give them. She wore her hair in intricate braids, which she taught Laucian and his brother how to do, and she tied them, always, with red ribbon. It was her favourite colour, she'd say.

Shana died when Laucian was only 24. A child, in elf terms. He's worn a red ribbon ever since, 300 years, for longer than Shana was even alive, in her memory. And he hands this down to his daughter, who takes after him so strongly, and in whose smile he can undoubtedly see his mother's.

Naielle adores her father. She fears, down to the bone, that she has disappointed him. That in her exile she has perverted the passion they share for history, turned it into a reminder of the crushing weight of the empire. That she's ruined something.

She still wears the ribbon in honour of a woman she never met. She never learnt her braids.

Oriphira - Naielle's mother, 321

She didn't inherit any particular gift from her mother - Saroel's engagement ring was a joint gift, a blessing for such an item to skip a generation to find itself on Naielle's finger.

They haven't always been close. Oriphira inherited her own mother's preservative streak, an understanding that the family exists at a knife edge between imperial eradication and flourishing, and a single wrong move could damn them. She grew up in that tumultuous era. She would have watched her father die, or march to die, dragged from their home by imperial troops. She would have seen the pathetic graves for him and his brother, her beloved uncle, and known they should not lie there. That a family mauseleum lay open and expecting, and would recieve naught. That they were disgraced. That it was only Saroel's cunning which saved the life of her and her younger sibling.

Oriphira has seen her family's birthright, such that nobility can claim it, ripped from their grasping hands. She's clawed for every inch back. She's fought for the university Saroel used to buy their freedom. She's fought for the healers and medical practicioners to return to her town in the post-revolutionary period, as she watched her own child die of a preventable childhood infection, watched her sibling die of a stomach left to fester and rot without aid. She's seen the gods abandon that town, and she's filled that void.

She's a tough woman, and she is tough to love. Naielle does all the same. She may not have understood it then, the depths of the sacrifices her mother had made for them all, the agony she must have gone through with every child thereafter. The ingrained fear of heights, inherited in most of her children, after another fell from the roof.

But Naielle gets it now. Now that she fights in a war in a different land for its very existence, she finds that common ground. The two fight a war for their continued existence.

And Naielle imperilled it, didn't she? By raising imperial ire, a century after they last turned their baleful gaze Odelia-ward. By reminding that families like theirs, descendant from noble excess, can still be a threat.

She doesn't know what lengths her mother went to in order to keep them all safe after she left. She supposes the military service of her siblings may have shielded the family. But she knows her mother calculated the loss, and weighs that debt on Naielle's soul.

She wishes she could tell her she gets it, or thinks she does. That she understands the responsibility her mother is unjustly laden with. The blood on both their hands.

Aedelie - Naielle's older sister, 201

Naielle and Aedelie have almost a century in age between them, and its a very different dynamic than to any of their other siblings. Aedelie has to carry that torch, borne by Saroel and Oriphira, of being the responsible one. Being measured, and careful, and keeping everyone safe.

And Naielle always felt very safe. Her older sister was gentle and kind, a bulwark against anything that might hurt her. No monster under the bed would dare lay a finger on her when they knew Aedelie was never far, and even when Aedelie enlisted in the army she left her strength with them.

Aedelie's married, you know. She married a human man around 5 years ago, a fellow soldier in her cavalry unit. They have a little elf daughter, cherubic and giggly, just 2 years old with a wide toothy grin. Or so Naielle's been told.

If she waits out the collapse, she might never even meet her brother-in-law, a kind and soft-spoken man with a reflexes of an acrobat and hair like beach sand. She might never meet the man who makes her stern sister smile softly, with eyes that sparkle. A man whose duty, such that it is, is to protect Aedelie's life with his own.

Naielle is terrified for them both. War wages, and the Empire swings the proverbial club high overhead and demands blood, and her sister and brother-in-law must provide. None of them might see the two of them again. Forget the mortality of a human, anyone is mortal in the line of fire. And Naielle happens to know of a weapon, currently travelling by sea towards that firing line, and she fears what will happen when it goes off.

Quenaris - Naielle's older twin brother, 122

What can you say about a twin that isn't obvious? Peas in a pod, identical up until their mid 30s when he shot up like a stalk and left her a few inches shorter. The two know each other better than anyone else, Naielle is certain. She knew his adult name long before he told anyone, and he hers. She is him, and he is her, and they're two halves of a great whole.

Quenaris knew something was wrong, didn't he? That Naielle was lying when she said she had everything under control. That Naielle was hiding something, sparking like a fire in a cave, desperately being smothered. He saw the glitter in her eyes and knew it wasn't emotion that shone through, even if he couldn't identify the source.

She told him everything was fine. She didn't apologise for lying when it became clear it wasn't. That the situation had spiralled out of her control, that her warlock pact - a grave illegality as it stood - had shown her things she shouldn't see, and sent a beacon to the empire to observe.

He knew she lied. And she couldn't apologise, because to stay and do so would have seen her treason identified and laid bare before the Empire's vast apparatus. It would see her killed. She had to flee.

It ate her alive, it truly did. She didn't know how much he knew, how much he held against her.

She was lucky enough to see him, for only a few minutes. To hold him tight, as though by a hug they might be one and whole, and to cry, and tell him she was sorry. That he accepted her hug, and shed tears of his own, is enough for her.

It would still hurt if she never saw him again. Less, maybe, now that she knows he misses her too. Or more, to have given him a glimmer of hope that things might be normal in the future. She's scared of facing his ghost centuries from now.

Mariela - Naielle's younger sister, 110

Where do you even start?

These sisters have never been close. Each claims the other is irresponsible, too easily distracted, too something. There's always something wrong. Naielle isn't patriotic enough, Mariela is too patriotic. Naielle is too wrapped up in her books and shit that happened centuries ago, and Mariela is too concerned with her magic and the things that will happened soon, months and years in the future.

They're similar, and very different.

Naielle had no particular feeling towards her sister when she was forced to flee. To never see her again would hurt, but not as much as with others, a feeling tempered by the knowledge that Mariela would have some snide remark or another on her return. She lied to Mariela, but Mariela wouldn't care, would she? Naielle can't fathom the idea that Mariela cared either way, beyond that Naielle had embarrassed them.

Then Naielle came back, briefly, briefly, just to marry her fiance, and got roped into capturing Mariela.

What's Mariela been doing? Well, she'd taken what remained of Naielle's notes, on old histories and the magic so thusly entwined, and turned it into a weapon. A different weapon entirely, one worse than most others, and which Mariela saw simply as a tool. Naielle was a fool, she said, to focus on the historical implications of her research, and not to use its practical benefits. Look what lies in our grasp - the power to unravel reality!

Naielle was furious. She took Mariela as a prisoner of war.

And then her patron took her as a warlock.

It was not willing - Mariela made no deal, was offered no bargain she could stomach. Her will was superseded, Naielle's consent to the idea assumed, and her body made to channel magic it rejected.

Naielle did this. She did not know it would happen, had not even considered the possibility, wanted none of it. Mariela will probably never believe her.

It doesn't matter what Naielle thinks of Mariela's original ideas, her plans to turn utter destruction into a military tactic. It doesn't matter the differences of their personalities, that the two don't get along. Naielle did this. She forced this on her sister, intentionally or not, and she intends to make it right.

She expects she'll never right her initial mistake, the pact that brought her into exile in the first place. She fears she'll not right this. But it's in her power to do so, and whether Mariela wants her there or not, Naielle will fix it. Naielle would betray almost anyone to fix what she's done, burn most any bridge, because it almost isn't about Mariela anymore. It's a proxy for every mistake she's ever made, every harm she's brought, a way to try and make up for the life she ruined for herself by ever doing this.

If all goes well, Mariela will go home. Naielle can only hope she understands how much that means.

Yivien - Naielle's younger brother, 104

Probably the person for whom Naielle has the least consideration, a fact that would invariably infuriate the poor boy. The two have somewhat less in common than Naielle to Mariela, but do have one key thing - their academic focus. While Naielle is a historian, Yivien is an architect, and spent much of his youth fighting for their father's attention, to little success. Naielle was his daughter, following in his footsteps - Yivien's achievements weren't as important.

If Naielle was honest, and looked critically at herself, she would concede that Yivien is the smarter sibling. His grades are better, his grasp of abstract fundamentals stronger, he's quicker on the draw. It isn't fair, she reckons, that she was given that attention. The boy earned it, or ought have done.

She would struggle to tell him that. She doesn't think its pride - she never said she was the smartest sibling. What she struggles with is the idea that she needs to correct it, when surely, that burden lies with her parents for not acknowledging him better when she was around. Did she hog their attention? She isn't sure.

But as days grow darker, and doom grows nearer, she wonders if she should have said it anyway. Care or not, guilty or otherwise, he deserved their attention, and it was denied him. And she's responsible, in some capacity. Shouldn't she have tried to fix it? To say she was sorry?

The longer it goes, the more she thinks maybe she means it sincerely this time.

Xistina - Naielle's wife, 135

God, what could she say to her that she hasn't said already? Her most dearly beloved, a part of her soul, the keeper of her heart in turmoil. They've known each other nearly a century, and Naielle can only hope for centuries more.

Xistina wasn't in the country when Naielle went into exile. She was on business, sailing the sea, plying wares and doing trade under the gleaming sun. She would not hear news for months, till she landed in a bustling port and spotted no beaming face amidst the crowd, no-one all but ready to leap aboard before a gangplank was ever lowered. Naielle didn't know what she'd heard. She wished, dearly, that Xistina could have heard it from her.

She doesn't know what Xistina knew. She doesn't know if her fiancee saw the stars in her eyes and saw the meaning behind them. She spent years in dread. At least her siblings, her family, heard of the matter directly, that she'd had a feeble chance to defend herself in the hours before she fled. Xistina knew naught, and could learn less, and Naielle could not reach out for fear of potential consequence. Her fiance could not be party to treason. Her distance would keep her safe.

Her fiancee knew more than she thought, had an ear to the ground and the sea, and loved her still. She wore Saroel's ring proudly as a token of their love, and kept it in care over the decades.

Xistina knows it all, now. Naielle travelled across the planes to see her, to know her truly, all secrets bared on both sides. Pirate and Warlock, Traitor and Traitor. Let the empire declare their treason in love if they wish, for she has it.

And it scares her to think she might let it go. That, having come so close, having even successfully married her after decades apart, that they might lose it all. And that it will be Naielle's fault in totality. Her fault for her treason, her fault for leaving for the distant lands, and her fault for not staying when she had the chance. Who better could have ferried a wanter criminal than a rebel corsair? Where else could Naielle find that kind of safety? And yet she left, for she felt a duty to a war that still wages, and she knows there's a chance she will never return. That she will have given her wife - her wife! - false hope of a future together, of merry centuries in a free Sylvian land, or aboard a ship in the glittering sky, where no mortal government dared tread.

She fears she's given her wife a lie, and did not know it when she spoke.

[uravichii]

"best friends who kiss?"

character/s: bakugo katsuki

summary: recently, your best friend has been kissing you at random times. you have no idea why because he refuses to talk about it. either way, you're not about to let this to ruin your precious friendship.

genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo

a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D

the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.

"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"

"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.

you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.

you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."

then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.

you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.

"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"

"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"

you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.

"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"

"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."

he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.

"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"

and he's out of the door.

was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.

at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.

after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.

"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.

there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.

he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.

"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"

you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"

"s-sure."

when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?

he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.

"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.

"t's okay."

"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.

"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"

"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.

"son of a bitch."

the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.

you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.

now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.

he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'

"i'm okay���" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.

your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.

you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.

bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.

you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.

you kick him in the shin.

"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"i was going toー"

"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"

"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.

"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"

he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.

"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."

silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.

"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.

you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."

"i'm not confused. i like you."

"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."

"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"

"stop saying that. you don't."

"i do, and you like me tooー"

"what?!" you laugh incredulously.

'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?

you do what is necessary again.

"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.

"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."

you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.

"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"

"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."

you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.

"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"

"we're not going to break it off."

"how do you know that?"

"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"

"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."

"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."

"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."

he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."

"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.

"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."

if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.

"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."

in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.

"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"

he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.

"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."

he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.

"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."

after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.

he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.

when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.

"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."

"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."

"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."

you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.

"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"

he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."

"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."

"fuck off!"

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

[rainydayathogwarts]

From now on - James Potter

Summary: James Potter gives head for the first time, and it quickly becomes an obsession. Warnings: SMUT (with like no plot), oral (both r), shy!virgin!james bc the entire fandom knows he is a god at giving head, but what about the first time he gave it mhm? 1.3k+ wc

Sucking on the tip of James's cock, you looked up at the boy through long lashes, batting them softly at him. Your hand stroked the rest of his dick, the other one fondling his balls gently. You knew he liked it, he always did, being so kind to moan words of praise at you "Oh god, you're so good." He'd say between pants, hands gripping the bedsheets to stop himself from coming so quickly. He'd only lose control, hips bucking up into your mouth when you'd decide to take him all in, running your tongue on the underside of his dick as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking softly.

Warm spurts of cum shot into your mouth and you immediately swallowed them before pulling yourself off James, rubbing your hands up and down his thighs to help soothe him. Despite having been together for quite some time, James had always been rather shy when it came to sex, so you stuck to what made him comfortable which were handjobs and blowjobs. He'd always take his time to catch his breath afterwards, thanking you deeply and even returning the favour, his fingers working charms on you. What you noticed though, is that his face never got too close to your pussy, either kissing you deeply while thrusting his fingers inside you or just staring at the motion of his fingers with a slacked jaw, completely in awe.

When James finally caught his breath, he sat up, pulling you in for a slow kiss. "Want to return the favour." He mumbled against your lips, making you smile. You let the boy flip you over, not wasting any time to hook his fingers through the band of your skirt and underwear, pulling them both down your legs at the same time. James wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face and you gasped, eyes widening slightly when realisation hit you. When James didn't move, you ran a hand through his hair, prompting him to look up at you. "Want to return the favour." You nodded at the repetition of his previous words, eyebrows furrowing. "I just, I've never-" You mouth fell into a silent 'Oh', looking down at your boyfriend, so worried about making you feel nice.

"James, you don't have to." You insisted, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at him. "I want to!" He exclaimed, staring directly into your pussy determinedly. "Want to make you feel good." James said again, with a quieter voice this time. You took a deep breath, running a hand through his soft curls again. "Okay, well how about you do what you think feels right and I can tell you what I like or don't like while you're at it." James nodded vigorously, arms unravelling around your thighs so he could push himself high enough to lean in for another kiss.

You gasped at his robustness, hands cupping his jaw to return the kiss with the same passion. "Okay, okay." He finally mumbled, pulling away from you slowly, before laying down in front of you again. There was a moment of hesitation where he only stared at your cunt before finally diving in to lick a bold strip up your pussy. You gasped, back arching suddenly at his unexpected movement. James moaned, muscular arms abruptly tightening around your thighs to pull you closer to his face so it was flush against your pussy and you lay flat on your back. Then, he wasted no time, getting to kissing and licking you up and down your pussy. You whined loudly, grip on his hair tightening as he dug his head deeper in you, a hand leaving your thigh to separate your lips so he could lick deeper into you.

When he was finally getting comfortable, lost in his own pleasure, his nose bumped your clit, causing you to jerk upwards with a loud cry. Instantly, James's head was pulling away from you, and he was apologising profusely "I'm so- I don't- did I hurt you?" All the while you were shaking your head, trying to push his face closer to you again. "No, James! You were right there!" James's eyebrows furrowed when he saw you throw your head onto the pillow in frustration. He pressed slow kisses on your inner thighs, mumbling "Talk to me, baby. I wanna be good for you."

"James you're being so good for me. I just, it was a good reaction." James's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He made your body have such a reaction? "Fuck, give me your hand." You added, reaching down for him. James obeyed, watching closely as you led his hand onto your pussy again before pressing straight down on your clit, the pads of his fingers buried between your lips. He felt the sensitive nub underneath his fingers before he started rubbing quick circles on it, watching as your hips bucked up again, a short gasp escaping you. "Yeah, right there Jamie." You moaned loudly, causing the boy to whine at the praise.

Remembering his earlier movements, he dove his head between your thighs, his mouth taking over on your clit. He pressed soft kisses on it before running his tongue over it. "Yeah now suck on it Jamie." He took your instruction, wrapping his lips around it and sucking hard. The reaction was immediate, and had James quickly regaining his confidence. Your back arched, hand pushing his head impossibly deeper into you as your thighs squeezed around his head. "Fuck!" Your cry had James rutting into the mattress, sucking harder on your clit while bringing his hand up to tease your hole. James eased two fingers into your entrance, moaning loudly alongside you at how tight you were around him. In that moment, he imagined what you'd feel like around his dick.

James moaned again, the vibrations from his mouth causing you to buck your hips up again. James's second arm unwrapped from around your thigh, and he threw it across your hips, holding you down so he could continue his attack on your cunt. "'M so close Jamie." You whined, hips grinding into his hand the best they could. When James finally sped up the pace of his fingers, the coil in your pelvis snapped and you were overtaken with pleasure, moaning his name loudly as you came all over his fingers.

You breathed heavily, sitting up slightly to see your boyfriend putting his fingers in his mouth and sucking off your juices. "James!" you gasped, watching his eyes shut in pleasure as he moaned, before immediately diving between your legs again. "Oh god!" James's mouth was back on you before you knew it, his tongue lapping at your leaking juices between your legs, trying to catch every bit of liquid in his mouth. When he was finally done, he licked another stripe up your pussy before climbing over you and dropping his weight on you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lips planting themselves on yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Moaning at the taste of your own cum on his tongue, you squeezed your legs around your boyfriend's body, face flush with embarrassment. "James." You whispered against his lips. "That was good, yeah?" He asked quietly, his insecurities coming through. You nodded your head furiously, arms wrapping around his torso. "Good, good, because we're going to be doing that every day from now on."

And he kept that promise, or at least most of it. More often than not, James was dragging you up to his dorm and pushing you down on the bed so he could dig his head between your thighs, and when you'd offer to return the favour, he'd often shake his head, having finished while getting you off. At least, that was until he overheard some boys in the Quidditch changing rooms talk about their girlfriends sitting on their faces. From then on, he begged relentlessly until you let him try it out.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Wolfstar Christmas Notes (Sirius to Remus)

1st Year Hi Remus Happy Christmas! Hope this hat keeps you warm, you always look dead on your feet. Sirius

2nd Year Dear Moony, Happy Christmas! I hope you enjoy the gift! The brown in the jumper made me think of you. Grab some dungbombs in Diagon if you think of it when your family goes, we can plant them in Pete’s bed! Love, Sirius

3rd Year Moonbeam! How goes home? Probably a hell of a lot better than here, that’s for sure. I miss y I wish you were Hope things go well next week. I wish I could help somehow.  Reg’s been teaching me to play chess when he’s not being a prick. We should play when we get back! Also James says he doesn’t have my favorite quill, do you have it? Love, Sirius

4th Year Oh Honourable Moonshine, Christmas with the Potters is a million times better than Christmas in Hell with my family. Who would have guessed? I still miss you though. You make me happy. Also I got a leather jacket for Christmas. I look damn good in it, according to James. But maybe you’ll have to see for yourself. I think the girls will like it, don’t you think? I hope you like all the sweets!  Love, Sirius

5th year

My dearest and always favorite (Prongs is not my favorite make sure to let him know) Moony, I am forever lost without you during this Yule. However will I survive with merely James by my side? He’s so boring and annoying, Moony! I’m dying- dying, I tell you! But Siriusly, I miss you.  You always make things b   You make me la   I think you’re ama  It’s weird but you kind of make my stomach Things aren’t as fun with only two people. You and Wormy should come over, yeah? I’d really like that. James too. Love,  Sirius

6th year Hi, Moony I can’t believe it’s only a week into break. I think about you a l I really want to just sit with y I miss when you play with my hair Do you remember that time when I was sad and you let me sleep next I just feel safe with Do you feel like things with us are dif Sometimes I feel like I I had a dream that You looked really good when I miss you.  I thought a lot about your gift. I wanted to get you something you’d like. I hope you like this. Anyway,  Love Love, Sirius

7th year My Moonbeam, You should wake up because seven hours without you is far too long. Honestly, the fact that you choose to go to sleep and ignore me while you do is horrible boyfriend behavior. I love you. Wake up soon so we can celebrate together, yeah? Love always, Your Sirius

(for the prompt 'dear' for December 17th from @taylorswiftmicrofic, 474 words)

[gremlingottoosilly]

Horsin' around (Centaurus!Konig x fem!Reader)

Konig is exiled from his people. You are exiled from yours. Together, you make about 6 legs and a perfect pair. Tags and CW: Size kink (duh), Centaurus!Konig(horse cocks), Konig is awkward, slight dub-con, power imbalance, belly bulge, praise kink, monster fucking. Thanks @kneelingshadowsalome for the prompt! AO3| Word count: 3016

Centaurus are not wild animals. You keep repeating it to yourself as you come deeper and deeper into the forest. You keep mumbling it to yourself as you feel the eyes watching you. judging you. Centaurus are not wild animals even if sometimes they behave like one. Not like you’re any different, any better – you’re a human, invading the sacred forests. You’re a human who is dumb enough to go foraging into the depths of their territory. Centaurus are not wild animals, but you don’t feel that repeating the same sentence over and over makes it sound any more convincing. You feel the danger in the air – with each step you take, with each fallen tree you’re stepping over. With every attempt to simply run ending up not working, you know you got lost. Long abandoned the basket you came with – you don’t recognize a single berry that grows here, not a mushroom or even some edible plant pieces to be found. This place is devoid of animals, of flowers – like something just snatched it all away. Ate it all, maybe. You don’t want to think what kind of creature could cause a migration like this. You don’t need to think though. Because the creature finds you first. 

You yelp in a mix of surprise and horror when the arrow flies right in front of you, the skill of the archer is high enough to make the arrow cut down a few bits of hair in front of your eyes. If you were a mere millimeter closer, you’d be dead. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead. This much is obvious. You freeze in place, not daring to move an inch when you hear it. Loud, not even bothering to conceal the sound of it – the creature was confident enough that the prey wouldn’t run. Not the creature, you correct yourself immediately. Centaurs are not animals, they are closer to humans than a lot of other monster types – with their strength and warrior culture, you’d say that they are even more humans than citizens of the village who forced you out. 

The centaur doesn’t even bother to hide himself from you, concealing the sounds of heavy hooves on the ground or evading the branches that crunched against his body. This is exactly what made you surprised when you understood that instead of a rough, but mostly handsome face that most centaurus tend to have, you’re met with a black hood which only spared two holes for the icy-blue eyes staring back at you. 

Is he a grim reaper? An executioner for other centaurus? Would that mean you don’t have to worry unless your lower part resembles a horse? 

You take a quick look at your bottom half. Not a horse. 

Centaur reapers the gesture, looking at his bottom half too. Definitely a horse. 

You decide to speak first, hoping to find words that would work just fine to be your last. 

— I am really sorry for intru…

— This is not the sacrifice season yet. 

Ah, well. 

The people from your village believe the centaurs to be sacred – despite them being monsters they knew a lot about, they were still given sacrifices. Food, some farm animals, especially fatty pieces of meat, and fancy jewels along with some weapons. Centaurus kept the worst predators at bay, herding the wolves to be their pets and sometimes driving deer and rabbits away to the village. They kept you protected from werewolves and orcs – with a meager payment of never touching the sacred grounds. 

You just stepped into the deepest, most protected part of the forest. You wonder if you would deserve a peaceful death. 

— It’s not. I…I made a mistake. 

No, you wanted to be here. When the village decided to drive you out, you thought that foraging in the part of the forest, untouched by humans, would be the most profitable thing. Centaurus won’t take berries anyway, right? But they might just take your life. 

— A mistake? 

He tilts his hooded head to the side. It’s such a boyish expression, that you almost let go of a nervous giggle. Perhaps, you were going crazy…but the centaur seemed a bit nervous. As seasoned as he looked – with battle scars covering his body and a bit of silver mixed with his ginger fur on the horse part – he seemed almost awkward standing here. Tapping one of his hooved legs like a nervous child. Squeezing the bow in his hands with vigor that made you scared he will just snap it in half. 

— I just wanted to take some food. 

— Is there a hunger? 

— No. 

— Humans aren’t allowed in these parts. Why would you go if not out of despair? 

You gulp. 

— I…am not allowed back. 

— Why? 

Because you’re a forest witch who will doom them all, according to the village of a horse people worshippers. Because you’re a monster in disguise who keeps straling babies, according to the village that uses the best pieces of food to feed the horse people who can take of themselves just fine, instead of feeding it to the orphaned children. Because you’re a whore who refuses to accept the new type of sacrifices – the virgins of the village as a breeding material for the Centaurus, according to the village filled with people who would gladly push a poor virgin out in the forest once she turned of age, so she could be mauled by horse people. 

— We had…mutual disagreement. 

You stare at the mighty body of the centaur. You fight the urge to get your hands down his torso, play with its short hairs, and…you were always a bit of a horse girl. Wondering if he is strong enough to lift you up and get you somewhere safe, somewhere far far away from here. 

Centaur has this weird, almost boyish tone. Deep and yet, sounds just a bit deranged. Unhinged. Like he is going to maul you any second – and judging by the bow and arrow still in his hands, he might not be wrong. You lick your lips. He stares at them – or at least you think he is. Hood only reveals his eyes and you can already get lost in them. Cold, like the northern sea, Like the snow outside. You thought all mythical creatures were supposed to be warm-blooded. 

— You’re exiled then. 

He isn’t asking. Centaurus are omnipotent and wise, they should know about human affairs more than humans themselves. You made them into sort of gods – you shouldn’t be surprised that this guy knows way more than he should. Somehow, you still feel safer around him than other humans – and maybe, it’s more of a you problem. Maybe, you ended up eating some of the weird berries and it’s just your hallucinations before you die. 

— I am. 

He takes a step back. He is big – all of them are, you suppose, but, somehow, he is bigger than he should be. Giant, muscular torso on top of an already muscular and big horse part – he can pick you up, throw you, and break you with one finger, probably. No, definitely. You don’t want to give him a reason to, so you just stay in place. Hoping he wouldn’t deem your trespassing as a matter worthy of a torturous death. 

— My name is König, human. Repeat, ja? 

The name feels weird on your tongue. Rude, sharp. You don’t want to call him wrong and receive his wrath, so you try your best to repeat this. 

— Ko-nig. Ja? 

You tilt your head to the side, a curious little bird. Centaur – König, König, König – squints his eyes like he is smiling. You made the god smile. The horse god. The horseman. Just…man. If you don’t look down, where you already see something giant and heavy standing between his horse legs, you could forget that he isn’t a man at all. 

Suddenly, you feel light. Suddenly, you feel your legs dangling in the air as you were picked up and bumped into the broad chest. Suddenly, you feel hands everywhere. On your ass, under it, touching your chest, your stomach, trying to get to the best position so you would stop moving constantly and trying to get out. You don’t want to fight him because you’re already in the air and falling right now could result in a broken neck – but you don’t want to be suspended in the air either. You whimper, pathetic sound escaping your lips as you feel calloused hands pressing on your mound. Traveling down your stomach and touching, squeezing, petting your delicate parts. 

You spend so much time without a gentle hand or a soft touch, you can feel yourself dripping on the fingers of a centaur. Embarrassing, yes – but you know that if he were to proceed, you wouldn’t really resist. 

And oh, he proceeds. 

— They finally send us proper sacrifices. 

He mumbles it into your hair, taking in your smell. You’re nice for a human – not scared of him too much, not trying to ran away or fight. Humans are usually just annoying insects under his hooves, but König can feel your face growing on him. Your body, too. Too weird for other Centaurus, never being able to find a proper mate who could take his lack of social awareness, he found himself mounting a human. His tribe would call him pathetic. His tribe would laugh. 

Then again, he is the first to get such a delicate little gift. Who is laughing now? 

You aren’t crying in his hands, and he is a bit surprised. You smell like a proper mate, like a good bitch in heat just for him – yet, you’re not falling on your knees to present your dripping cunt. You’re just trying to whimper to ask him to be gentler, and he is happy to oblige. Calm enough to listen to you. Ripping your pants apart because this is such a useless piece of clothing – concealing your rich smell from him. 

König doesn’t waste any time when he dips his finger across your swollen folds. Playing with the slick running down his wrist, smiling as you are closing your eyes and pressing your head in his chest. He is strong enough to keep you suspended in the air without a care in the world. Weak human, he would have to spend so much time preparing you for him – taking his cock would be a task no sacrifice ever competed before. 

König stares at your dripping pussy that is already clenching around nothing just because his fingers are pressing on the hood of your little clit, and he knows you’d be the perfect wife for him. Taking him properly as his mate, moaning as his cum fills you up. he can’t wait – knows that he should, preparing you properly. His hooves are beating the ground in impatience as his fingers slide in and out of your pussy. You spread your legs, moaning louder. Such a filthy whore for him. 

— Relax, human. Be a good mate. 

— This isn’t what I wa…

— Quiet. Such a good…good girl, Schatz. Will bring me strong children. 

— We can’t have sex. It’s im…impossible.

You whimper, trying to squeeze your legs, to shut his hand. You only moan louder, knowing that you would accept everything he gives you, and ask for more. 

You don’t want to imagine his cock entering you over and over, forcing its way past your walls and making you round and soft with his children. It’s a foreign concept – centaurus shouldn’t mate with humans, it should be physically impossible. Yet, you almost want to try. A breeding mare, made for one and only. 

König gets you on…something. It isn’t exactly a natural thing – a pile of stones and trees, perfect height for you to lay your back on, with some soft leaves and animal skins to rest comfortably. His hands support you on the perfect height and you immediately know what he construction is. A mating stand. Probably for other centaurus – but you feel almost fine laying on it too. Almost normal. Your muscles sting as you try to rest your legs and then spread them wide enough for König to stay between them. He is a big guy, after all. He turns you around, on your tummy. Ass in the air, you don’t like not seeing him. The heavy musk fills your nostrils, making you suddenly aware of what is about to happen – you’re wet, spread enough on his fingers, calloused fingertips scrubbing your gummy walls from the inside. He is fingering you with ease, but it doesn’t feel like a man with experience – he is touching and probing like he doesn’t know what he is doing and, honestly, you kinda like it. He is exploring your body with his and you moan, not caring that you sound like a whore. Humans have already abandoned you as part of society – you might as well just take it. — I will prepare you. 

— It won’t fit… — It will, Schatzen. You’ll get used to it. — What if I break? 

— I will be careful. Trust me, ja?

Even his fingers are a bit much when he enters your body with a third digit. One, two, three – you are about to burst when he is massaging your G-spot, when he is smiling in your hair and gets you so aroused just on it alone. You’re about to cum when he slowly extracts his fingers, deeming your sloppy cunt as explored enough. Your walls are clenching around nothing, a beautiful display of desire – maybe, it was the right call that humanity abandoned you. König looks at the perfect centraius whore on display and he can’t wait to claim you. To make you his. 

He is exiled from other centaurus. 

You are exiled from humans. 

What a beautiful fucking pair. 

He enters your body slowly deliberately. Regrets it immediately – you are wonderful. Too perfect to be this slow, being soft with you is torture. Your walls accept him with a stretch, like a warm glove around his cock. Slowly shifting, softening, straddling his cock with each inch he buries in the depth of your warm, weeping cunt. He can’t touch you, as unfortunate as this is – dumb horse body is making it impossible, even looking at you is hard enough on his neck. He wants to mount you properly, but you’re simply too fucking small. Wants to touch your hair, to whisper some encouragement that human women would probably love to hear – but he can only breath heavily and enter you, one painful centimeter after the other. 

— T…too much, too much, please, I can’t, it’s… You whimper, you cry, it breaks his damned heart because you don’t deserve this. You need to be treated with care, with softness and yet, he can’t give you that. He wants so much to just put you in his arms and hug you, but that would be impossible. König will give you all the coddling in the world after you’re done. After he is sure that you received all the possible breeding and seed he could gave you. 

— Quiet, human. It would be nice soon. 

— It’s not…

— Touch yourself, please, bitte. I can’t…can’t touch you. But you will feel better. 

Your hand goes between your legs, playing with yourself. Spreading your folds around his cock even more, fingers sliding past your clit. Touching the little button and hoping it would be enough to make you aroused – and it is. Your cunt is a mess of your own juices mixed with König’s pre cum, and you already know that you won’t be walking the next couple days. 

König bottoms with a deep sigh, and you feel him in your stomach. Bulging with his giant cockhead, making the outline of his cock visible – you touch it with shock, not understanding how your organs are even in place. 

He starts moving and you finally feel it – the burning pleasure setting fire in the pit of your stomach. the excess liquid pouring from your damp cunt, moans spreading from your lips. You never felt this way with a human before – then again, no human cock would ever be able to compete with König. He can reach the parts of your body that you never knew existed, and the mix of pheromones and musk is making you dizzy. Light-headed. You don’t even need to touch yourself more to feel the height of your orgasm, building in as rapidly as König’s thrusts. 

In, forcing its way to hit your cervix gently, massaging the sore spots of your tight pussy. 

Out, grazing over your inner walls, touching all the buttons. 

In again, filling you up with his pre-cum. Moaning loud enough for the whole forest to hear. 

Out, dragging you back with him, as you’re still impaled on his cock. 

— S…so perfect for me. Scheisse, so pretty… He can’t touch you and it breaks his heart. König goes to praise you instead – words feel awkward on his tongue, but he knows you need to heart it. He wants you to hear it, wants you to fee wanted, entitled. Soft. He smiles when you whimper and moan, milking him for his orgasm. Your cunt is made for him and he wants to spend every waking moment buried inside of it. Gods, you are a perfect sacrifice. 

He is coming embarrassingly fast, pumping his giant cock even deeper into your pussy. Filling you up with hot cum that can’t even stay inside of your cunt. Leaking everywhere, you two are making a mess – you breath heavily, not understanding what is right and wrong anymore. Only knowing, remembering the shape of his cock. Pushing in and out, forcing its way in. God, you feel full. And ridiculous. And so, so perfect with his cock slowly starting to pump you again. And again. Konig came embarrassingly fast, but only because this is just the first orgasm in a row. Forcing its way inside, you are overstimulated already – but you will take him, of course, obviously. You have to.

König is going to enjoy breeding a new clan out of you. 

[bunny-jpeg]

Hi bunny! I’m so sorry I didn’t know the request were closed, I think I sent this before 😣 but if they’re open now, can I order a spicy upside down cake with some eclairs and tea with Toto (with Horner reader) pls pls

the menu!

want to submit your own? hit up the menu! i'd love to accept your order! thank you for this lovely prompt anon! i love the inclusion of horner's daughter. wow! always a good trope! i hope i served you well!

spicy upside down cake ("let's play a game: don't get caught.") + eclairs ("the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut.") + tea (semi-public/public sex) served by toto wolff (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, semi-public sex, power dynamic, desk/office sex, clothed sex, slight daddy kink, getting caught

"how do i say this as nicely as possible." george said as he brought kimi around the mercedes paddock. his hands in his jean pockets as he looked around to see if anyone is in earshot, "every rumor from formula one is basically untrue. or partially untrue.., except for one."

the young driver's interest was piqued. was he finally getting all the gossip from the grid? he leaned in a little forward and waited for what his new teammate had to say.

"toto wolff has a secret girlfriend... and she's horner's daughter. basically everyone knows, but no one will admit it. especially not to horner himself. just be careful, she's quite the looker." then slapped the young driver on the back as they continued.

you could have had any man you desired. you had the looks, the money, there was a kindness to you that pulled people in. you weren't some spoiled princess, you had a heart of gold in a sea of people out for metaphorical blood. you drew people in, like the likes of toto wolff.

a gentleman old enough to be your father, but still made love to you like he was in his twenties. the scandal on the paddock, but with little reliable evidence your father often turned a blind eye to it. even though he noticed as you got older and hung around the paddock, the skirts you wore got shorter and shorter.

your poor father didn't want to be thinking about you with a man double your age and the unsavory things he had done to you. so for horner's sanity, his head was in the sand.

so it wouldn't be a bad thing if you ended up in toto's office for the weekend. with the older man picking you up and placing you on top of the sturdy desk. your thighs spread open for your lover.

"you look beautiful, schatzi." his voice was low and his broad hands pushed up your skirt. it was a flirty little number that turned a lot of heads. you didn't mind the attention because you only had eyes for toto, "so good for daddy."

you wrapped your arms around his neck and giggled, "which one?"

he made a face, "you are a dirty girl. if horner knew what you did to me almost every night, he'd be dead on the spot. his precious daughter fucking an older man."

you held onto his shoulders and beamed at him, "gotta fix my daddy issues somehow." then lifted your hips a little to let toto get your pretty purple panties off. they soon hung limp around your left ankle.

he pressed his nose against your neck and took in your scent. you were wearing the perfume that he bought for you. he knew prior to his relationship with you, you got a few eyes on you. but most knew in the paddock now, especially when toto and your father lingered like a shadow. a cute cub with the much bigger, much scarier polar bear behind her. you were soft smiles and thick thighs that squished together. but you wore the horner last name on paper and the wolff last name on a little anklet chain.

"oh you have daddy issues?" he mocked, "i would have never guessed. the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut." his lips found your neck and he trailed kisses onto it. during the break in the season he'll sink his teeth in. but for now, he'd have to be good and not mark up horner's daughter. (as much as it killed him).

regardless he was hard in his slacks and with your slick pussy on display for him. he wondered if you'd get his last name tattoos on your hip for only his eyes. but that seemed less permanent than just simply marrying you and changing your last name.

he ran a finger across your cheek before he said, "let's play a game: don't get caught." in reference to you not being so loud. poor thing had a habit of being loud even when you were in public.

you squirmed a little on the desk, your bare ass against it. you leaned back a little on your hands and said, "but how will everyone know you're fucking me so good?"

he chuckled a little, "they don't need to know." he kissed at your neck once more before he started to undo his belt, "i'd hate to gag you, my love."

you giggled but quickly covered your mouth with your hand as you tried to keep quiet. toto was in your space once more, your legs wrapped around his waist and he rubbed his cock up against your pussy before he sank in to the root.

he held onto your hips and pulled you closer to him. you took all over him as he started to move against you. your panties almost hit the floor as he took your hand away from your mouth and sealed your mouth with a kiss. the kisses were the loudest part between the two of you as the two of you moved together on the desk.

while toto usually liked to undress you piece by piece like a finely wrapped present. to him, being with you was like christmas every day. especially when he was fucking you. but at that moment, the two of you had to be quick.

he moved against you and kept his lips against yours. his thrusts were heavy as he battered against your sweet sex. you two had to be as quiet as you could get. his hands gripped onto your hips as he pressed his cock up against you.

he lips trailed down your neck as he fucked you, his breathing was heavy and his face slightly flushed. he could feel the thump of pleasure in the back of his head. oh, you felt amazing to him.

he understood why horner made sure to keep you out of the paddock once you became an adult. he held onto you tighter, his voice low as he said, "so beautiful. and all for me." he smiled at you as he moved against you. feeling your sweet cunt tighten around him.

his teeth carefully grazed your pulse and your back arched a little more. your pretty clothed breasts up against him. a sight to behold. even while clothed your body called to him.

the two of you were lost in the euphoria of your fucking, that you didn't hear the knock at the office door followed by the opening of said door.

"mister wolff, i-" kimi stopped in in his tracks and found his head principal and horner's daugther having sex on top of the desk. his eyes went wide. george was right, the rumours were true. he stepped back before he was out the door with it closed behind him.

toto wolff and planted both of his strong hands on either side of you, "i'm going to have to talk to him." his voice was heavy, but he had yet to take his cock out of you. if anything it felt like it had grown harder.

you took your lover by the face and kissed him, "not before you make me cum first." as you clenched your thighs around his waist.

he chuckled before he took your face and pulled you in for a kiss, "of course, schatzi." <3

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

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Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.

[signedeclipse]

Ooh, i found your page, and i saw your prompt post about the Multiple/All hashira have feelings for the reader who is the best swordsmith and all want their swords done by her, I think it be funny to also add Hotaru Haganezuka to the mix and him also being like "im not sharing my fellow Smith back off!" :D

I think all would be funny with all hashira, but anyone underage it's like I admire you and you are now my older sibling/parent now.

Giyuu | Gyomei | Mitsuri | Muichiro | Obanai | Sanemi | Shinobu [X Reader]

In which you are the best swordsmith, and the hashira you're assigned to adore you.

Giyuu

He never deserved any kind of special blade, special treatment, or anything above what the average person got

At least, thats how Giyuu thought about things

Recently, his swordsmith had retired, and while he had stated he didn't care who got the job, there was still pressure for him to pick since it was considered some kind of honour

During his visit to the village, he met you at an izakaya, where you were talking with the owner about your proposal for the 'hashira in town'

He felt bad for walking in, knowing you didn't intend for him to hear anything, so he immediately tried to hide in the corner and finish his food sooner

Unfortunately, the owner immediately pointed him out, and asked him to come over to talk to you

Both of you were red with embarrassment, and Giyuu had to insist you stop apologizing

You were nervous about talking about the design, but eventually he caught the gist that you wanted to repurpose another sword into his since older steel was more valuable

You'd clearly done your research because you knew of him and Sabito, and you offered to use Sabito's left-over ore to add to his for some more sentimental value

Giyuu was really keen about the idea, and before the choosing ceremony could occur, he presented himself to Lord Tecchin to request you become his permanent swordsmith

Gyomei

Nichirin blades were the most common weapon used by demon slayers

Gyomei had started with one, but he quickly found his attacks were focused on the impact, and less on the perfect point of precision

He needed something different, but he wasn't sure what

Being a bother was something he hated doing, but he took it upon himself to visit the swordsmith village so he could meet with Lord Tecchin

Even Tecchin was unsure, until one of his guards spoke about you, a budding swordsmith with a less traditional outlook on weapons

Gyomei was willing to try, and he was glad he did

You were a natural creative, he could hear your charcoal sketching along parchment even as it was hidden below melancholic humming

You were interested in his assessment of his inability to use nichirin to its best potential, and after considering several forms of weapons, you both landed on something that could act at various ranges

The flail was a deadly weapon on a stick, but you proposed keeping it on a chain would help him control it, since he could vary how much length he gave the flail to move

"It'll be heavy, though, and hard to know where it's going. How much can you lift?"

"Several thousand kilograms."

"Ah."

You were at a loss for words, but you took him seriously and began working

Gyomei actually had a hand in helping make them, because you could barely carry the flail moulds, let alone the finished product

You instructed his hands on how to feel the weapon, gave him suggestions on use, and described its appearance so he could adjust the colours as he liked

Your patience was appreciated, and Gyomei took it upon himself to make sure you were treated extremely well after the week of gruelling work

Mitsuri

Mitsuri had a very special blade

It needed to be thin enough to bend, but thick enough to remain still when not moving

The only person who had ever managed this perfect precision was Lord Tecchin, but as he grew older, the task became harder

So, there was a contest for a replacement; anyone who wanted to could join

You were intrigued by the idea, but you'd had trouble in the past with your experimental blades, so much so that some friends of yours suggested you leave yourself out

But you wanted to give it a try, besides, you'd heard great things about the love Hashira, and you were sure she wouldn't be mean about it if it didn't meet her standards

Your best idea was to use something other than the scarlet ore to give it further reinforcement, so you created an alluminium-steel alloy that could be coated in scarlet ore by melting the scarlet crimson Iron Sand, which was more flexible than the ore

It resulted in a long, thin, and sturdy blade that could handle nearly triple the force of its original, though it wasn't as flexible as before

On the day of the contest, Mitsuri was extremely interested in your process, and you got to see your creation in its moving form for the first time

Mitsuri was extremely talented, and she had no problem bending the sword with her whipped movements

As it turns out, she had to be careful with her previous swords because she had gotten too strong for them and they got too loose

You easily won, and Mitsuri was beyond joyed to know her swordsmith was not only talented, but also extremely pretty!

She's always sketching herself with her sword on the letters she sends to you and often inviting you out to eat

Expect a lot of recipes sent your way, and a lot of sweet messages detailing how excited she is to see you again

Muichiro

Swords were the least of his concerns when it came to slaying demons

They should always be perfect, always kill without getting in his way; he shouldn't have to ever think about it

But after his run-in with Tanjiro and his previous swordsmith passing away, the concerns bubbled up

He didn't have time to spend waiting on some smith to make something comparable to what he wielded, he needed something just as good, if not better

So the search began, and of course, your name popped up a lot when he'd ask who was 'the best'

You were young, close to his age, and you were hard at work when he found you

Muichiro ignores every craftsman sword hung upon your wall, disregards every talent, and demands you take him on

But stubborn meets stubborn, and when you say no, hes taken back

What do you mean 'no'? Do you have any idea how much of a speck you are compared to him?

The challenge you present nags at him, and he decides youre not worth it; he can always ask someone else

But the idea of anything less than perfect, the annoyance of you denying him, it manages to peer through the mind fog several times to the point of annoyance

Fine, he'll say please and apologize, because your craftsmanship is worth it

When he does get his sword, he's even more irked that it never so much as scratches, and works extremely hard to try and break it just so he can tell everyone you aren't as good as they say

It never happens

Obanai

No one could get his concept right

A lot of people thought he wanted what Mitsuri had, which he thought was extremely well crafted, but it wasn't exactly what he needed

Mitsuri had the arm strength to handle a weapon that long and precise, but he needed something smaller, more sturdy, but with 'joints' of weakness

His concept was rejected by many, and his frustration was beginning to boil

When you came up to him, requesting to make it, he had already given up and mentioned he was leaving soon, and not to bother him

Even after leaving the village and resigning into using the typical blade, he was surprised when you found your way all the way out to his mission point just to deliver him a weapon he never asked for

He didn't like that someone had intruded on his mission, but when you were both attacked and he had a chance to use it, he had a hard time being mad

The weak points of the weapon started far apart and got closer together near the top, giving the blade a wave-like appearance that certainly looked odd

But when moved with enough force and velocity, the joints could be bent further to reach around corners in odd ways, following his movements with a latency that let him fit it through impossible holes and bends

It was everything he was looking for and more, considering he only proposed two joints and you'd delivered nearly twenty in a blade as short as seventy centimetres

Hes impressed, but hes still mad you made this journey and put yourself in danger, so of course he is going to take you all the way back to the village

Personally

With no one else

And listen to you talk the whole time

Yea

Sanemi

Sure, swords were important, but he didn't give them much thought

He was always getting new ones because his always chipped, snapped, and scratched with all the force he was putting on them

The blades were built for flesh, but he didn't care, he practiced cutting rocks and throwing the blade like it was some kind of toy

Eventually, his destructive tendancy drove his swordsmith to quitting, as many others had, and he was once again called into the village to find another

The choosing ceremony was skipped with him, since it often ended up with him insulting everyone and picking the person who cried the least

So now he just went from workshop to workshop, looking at what people could offer

Your workshop looked the newest, with freshly varnished wood and some construction materials still left on the side of the den you worked out of

It was just you in the workshop, with new bulletin boards already covered in sketches and schematics, and a shelf of ores labelled by size, strength, and purity

Sanemi figured since you were new, you'd take longer to break and give up, so he resigned to Lord Tecchin whom he had picked and challenged you to have it done by the next day

It was an impossible challenge, but that was the point

Even so, the next day you were at his door by the crack of dawn, not one, but two identicle blades ready for him to retrieve

They were perfect, left matte instead of shining, and sharp enough to cut a perfect lien through the most delicate and loose fabric

Sanemi hated to admit it, but he appreciated that you'd at least already prepared him a replacement

When he tried them out for the first time, he finds they last a lot longer, and it takes him several months for a chip to occur in it

Even then, he has a second one, so for the first time in years, he's been away from the village for more than six months

You're not perfect, but you're certainly good, and he's thrilled to see what more you can do with a few more years of practice

Shinobu

When Shinobu first started toying with the idea of wisteria poison as an effective killing method, the hardest part was figuring out how to apply it to a blade

Injection was most effective, but needles were chunky and harder to get into demons campared to something broad like a nichirin blade

So she was reffered to you, and you drafted up several ideas that you felt she might enjoy

Other swordmen felt it was an insult to the dark, to remove the central half of the blade, but it was the easiest way for her to have something light without shortening the blade or thinning it out and risking it snapping

The planning resulted in a very unique blade but an even more unique sheath

Shinobu hadn't asked, but you lined it with a spongy fabric so that she could fill it with the poison and automatically apply itself along the blade

It had a drain, anti-microbial and anti-rusting additions, and a beautiful handpainted pattern along its outside.

The amount of thought you put into it really astonished her, and while she never had issues with the design, Shinobu made sure to have a bi-annual trip to visit you

Along with the many letters she would send with news and treats from the butterfly mansion

Being able to share her experiences with you with other hashira or corps members gives her a sense of pride, especially when she gets to show off something she used to view as a sign of weakness

Authors Note - I have wanted to write this prompt for SO LONG!! Its a lot of characters, so I apologize but I left out Uzio, Kyojuro, and Haganezuka to focus on those I had the most ideas for!

Thank you for requesting, anon!

[starwrighter]

1/?? Halloween prompt

I’ve got brain rot for creepy Deadserious content but only when it’s only seen as creepy by outsiders. (I know I’m writing a fic with a similar plot but it’s different I swear! Also my grammar is shit because I’m getting dental work done tomorrow and I’m nervous) Tw for stalker behavior

So Damian has a crush on Danny and immediately goes about acting on these feelings much to onlookers horror. Danny is swooning because someone made the effort to do a background check on him. Danny thinks Damian doing this is really smart because, he could be a serial killer for ancients sake why would you risk that? Others say this is a horrible invasion of privacy.

Damian not realizing he's being creepy (being liminal and being an ex assassin, turned vigilante wasn't doing him any favors) Plus Danny also not realizing it's creepy unless you relay Damian behavior towards him with different names.

Damian's just being a textbook stalker, breaking into his house and shit and Danny's all like "awwww he likes me" because this is just normal ghostly courting rituals! His dormroom isn't his lair so Damian breaking in doesn't feel like he's violating any sort of boundary. To him it's like a friend showing up at the coffee shop you work at to say hi.

Danny's had stalkers before, he's very cautious of his behavior to insure he never stalked anyone. Being stalked back in Amity was a horrific experience for him. From cameras in the locker rooms at school (wes) to cameras in his bathroom and bedroom at home (Vlad)! He couldn't feel safe anywhere! To Danny Damian's not a stalker, he's his protector. Nobody seems to understand when he tries to explain this though they just look at him like he's lost his mind.

Damian’s not subtle at all and Danny’s kicking his feet like a lovesick school girl who found out her crush likes her back. Overall it’s super cute from their points of view Damian’s planning an official confession to ask him on a date while Danny’s trying to figure out if Damian actually likes him or is just being nice. They’re just doing normal couple things but people just jump and attack Damian’s character while painting Danny as some kind of brainwashed victim.

The thing is… Danny’s become very good at appearing normal while Damian refuses to pretend to be a bumbling idiot like the rest of his family. He also refuses to dull down his personality for anything other than secret identity reasons. For these reasons since their relationship had become public, Damian had been painted by the media as a creepy possessive boyfriend who threatened Danny into a relationship. This infuriates Danny, the only one doing any kind of possession is him god damn it!

They want to be around each other all the time and that’s normal behavior for ghost/liminal couples! They live much longer than regular humans do they’re like elves, their perceptions of time are messed up. They still spend time apart they still have hobbies and an independent life, people just get hung up on the amount of time they do spend together. It’s normal behavior for them to know mountains of information about each others interests to the point they almost know more than each other. It’s normal to know each other’s schedules and background check the people they associate with. (The realms are very dangerous with shapeshifters and manipulators like spectra and Desiree who can ruin your afterlife in a matter of minutes) Their relationship is creepy to those who haven’t gone to extremes to survive.

Damian has taken to ignoring the reputation press has given him. He’s dealt with paparazzi and tabloids before it’s just frustrating to deal with. It’s when people start accusing him of hurting his beloved that really pisses him off.

(Bonus if Danny’s the one frothing at the mouth to maul a reporter while they try to paint him as a poor innocent victim)

I’mma end the prompt with this so everyone understands why Damian specifically being targeted by press. The more liminal you are the more creepy/uncanny you appear to other people and the more effort you have to put in to hide it. It’s why the bats are more believed to be Eldritch creatures than actual humans in suits. Surprisingly becoming a Halfa completely changes this effect to do the complete opposite. It’s easier for the human brain to look at a halfa and think “Innocent or normal,” Vlad and Danny were morons when it came to actually hiding their identity’s it was only their statuses as halfa’s that prevented people from comprehending them being anything other than normal.

In short Damian’s too dead to be perceived as normal while Danny’s too alive to be perceived as anything other than normal.

[pressureplus]

Could I ask for the prompt of you being a former friend/lover of Sebastian's from the surface when he was still human, becoming an EXR-P and meeting him again for the first time? I think it could be either super wholesome or super angsty lmao,,

-⭕️

Oh, you know I just love angst, thank you for the prompt! May have run a bit wild with it, apologies for that!

Hiraeth

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Angst, Romance

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟ ◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

How many times had you run through these halls, desperately searching for a safe place to rest? The echo of water droplets hitting the ground from your soaked suit. You'd heard whispers, muffled between EXR-P’s like yourself. A few little tales of a shopkeeper all the way down here. A man by the name of Sebastian, some kind of experiment gone feral. A part of you was admittedly a little frightened by the idea of him, but from the moment you heard his voice over the intercom, you knew you had to find him. You knew only one man with a voice like that, that little chuckle that you'd heard a thousand times over. It played in your head on repeat and it hasn't stopped in years. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but you could dream, couldn't you?

The man you’d been in love with had been sentenced to death so many years ago now, the case details are blurry. You'd tried to be in court that day and you had. You vouched for his innocence, for his protection. He’d been with you that night. Honestly? It didn't seem to matter. They didn't care what you had to say under oath or not. Who cared if the love of your life was sentenced to death? Surely not the lawyers, the judges, the jury, or the onlookers... All of them would be able to carry on with their lives as though nothing had happened, but you? You wouldn't. You couldn't. You’d screamed that day when they took him in cuffs, when your pleas for his safety had been ignored. He didn't seem to resist, nor did he fight back. He’d only smiled at you. A little one that was a bit more solemn than the others you'd received. Much duller than the one you'd fallen in love with. Who were they to dull his light? Who were they to take him from you?

When he was killed, put down like some kind of animal, it was like the sun had fallen from the sky. For a while you'd wandered aimlessly, grieving the loss of your love, and no one had seemed to care. Those that reached out did so half-heartedly. The amount of reprimanding you got for grieving a man they claimed to be a murderer broke you down. It changed you. Something about watching the world around you turn their backs to your grief, rejecting the idea of his innocence even in death. It drove you nearly crazy. Now, after all this time, you're here. Here, in the Hadal Blacksight under Urbanshades care, you had a chance of seeing him. Maybe it wasn't a particularly good chance, but a chance nonetheless.

As you finally looked around the inside of his shop, out of breath from having crawled through an already open vent, you were greeted with items. A document on the counter, batteries, a radio and keycard. All sorts of spare items on shelves and an empty black doorway. There was no shopkeeper here, and it only left you confused. That was until you heard shifting in the backroom. Was he storing things? Replenishing his supply? Did it matter? Now was the time and god the way your heart raced in your chest left you almost shaking. Was it going to be him? You shouldn't get your hopes up, right? After a few more moments of silence, you gathered your courage to speak, stepping a little closer to the dark doorway.

“Hello?” You attempted to call out for him, or more so anyone in that back room. You were greeted with a softer, smoother voice.

“What are you doing here?” You freeze immediately, little tears in your eyes. The voice you were so attached to for so long, the one you'd missed, the one you'd fallen in love with. Of course his voice was a bit deeper than you'd last heard it, but oh so familiar.

“Sebastian? Is that really you? You're alive- tell me you're alive and that I've not finally lost my mind.”

“I'm alive. Barely.”

“Sebastian, I've missed you so much. I thought I'd lost you forever- I am so, so sorry that I couldn't do more. I-” You attempt to step closer towards the door, only to be met with aggression. A loud almost barking noise as his voice picks up in volume.

“Don't- Don't come any closer.”

“Its been nearly a decade since I've last seen you, come on-”

“You don't want to see me.”

“What? Sebastian, of course I want to see you.”

“No, no you don't. You don't want to see me now, its better if you think of me as dead. I'm warning you.”

“It can't be that bad-”

“Back up.” He huffs as you take another step forward, almost at the doorframe now.

“No, no I'm not backing up. I have waited to see you for years and no amount of being nervous is going to stop me.”

“Back. Up.” His voice drops even lower, more like a hiss than words as you finally get to the doorway.

“Sebastian, I'm not backing up. I-”

“I said BACK UP!” The voice you're greeted with hold power unlike anything you've heard from a human before. A snarl and a growl, echoing oddly in his throat as his face comes out of the darkness. A monster and not a man. Something entirely unrecognizable as your lover apart from his voice, something that looks closer to the anglers here than anything else. His glistening teeth bared as though he was going to snap and rip into you at any moment. His eyes filled with anger unrivaled.

“Wh…What are you?” Those words seemed to sink in deep, hitting him in all his most sensitive places. An attack directly on his heart. You watch the rage turn into hurt, melting into regret before he dipped back inside the dark room. A bit of shuffling heard.

“Are you happy now? You've seen enough. I didn't want it to come to this, okay? Please just…go away. I can't bear to look at you like this. Your expression is too much for me.”

“Wait- wait I'm sorry I just- you shocked me is all. Sebastian please-” You try to soften your approach as the shock and fear fade away.

“Don't say my name so sweetly, like you didn't just get scared of my face. And what about the rest of me? What will you think of what they made me? If my face scares you that much you won't want to see the rest.”

“Sebastian, please. I have loved you for years, since way before all of this. Even after you died I never stopped loving you. I was a little scared, yes, but its you, isn't it? It's still my Sebastian in that body. No matter what you look like now.” He hesitated for a moment. A long beat of silence, heartbeat rapid in your panic to not let him leave you again. All at once a massive clawed hand juts out of the darkness and pulls you in. You're tugged up into a set of arms, a third coming up under your thighs to function like a chain. The glow of his eyes on the darkness is unsettling for only a moment as he dips down to muzzle into your neck.

“Don't…Don't say things like that unless you mean them.”

“Sebastian.” You say it softly, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I still love you…its okay. All of you, even if its new and different. Its just gonna take a little getting used to. You can be patient for me, can't you?” He nods against your neck, holding you desperately. Enough for those claws to sink into your skin and draw blood, but neither of you seem to care. Here, even if its only for a moment, Sebastian has a piece of home again.

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

What Comes After

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018 3244

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I literally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them! Edited: 10/6/24 Fixed some spelling mistakes and grammar, added a lil more flavor and tried to make it all present tense lol also this has a title on ao3 now it does here too

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in his eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walked away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed to reach him that day, but your actions didn’t. You severed the connection of your tadpoles, kept Astarion from seeing his scars. You would not be the one to allow such evils to be birthed, would not allow him to kill 7000 souls. You did not allow Astarion to become the vampire ascendant.

Astarion, hurt, broken, and lost, then choose to walk away from you and everything the two of you had built together over this adventure.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, to be precise. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hells, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

It must be night now. Your candles are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment. You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. One who could save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. He seems to reconsider what he was going to say, sighing and shaking his head before speaking again. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding. What does he see, in this room that shows the layers of your sorrow?

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.” You look to where he keeps his eyes trained. All you see is a monument of your regrets.

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. To your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him. Its bracing, in an entirely disgusting way. After all-- he was the one that did this to you. “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with everything sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours before quickly looking away once again. You realize, with much sadness, that even now as he tries to burrow into your familiar warmth, he hesitates to reach out and touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized maybe this was for the better. The thought hadn’t even occurred to you that he might consider that. That he might actually miss you too.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands. It hurts just as much as when you watched him sob after killing Cazador.

Some how, you summon new tears to cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment, settling into one anothers missed company before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand before he can get too far.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. The last time he left you, he didn’t come back… He can forgive your sudden clingyness, then, but not how you’ve let yourself go in his absence.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, choosing to trust Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, attempting to take the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you in a way you’ve needed since his departure.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair, darling.” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let him work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely through your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion lets you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watches, helpless, as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. In the bright morning light that pours in with her, all he can do is look at her with wide eyes as her mouth begins to open. Acting fast, Astarion speaks before she does.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turns from Karlach, brushing some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shadowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkably polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

[blushk1tten]

Ok, imagine you're a guest on Chuckle Sandwich, and the topic of Ted going to every MargaritaVille and the Rainforest Cafe comes up. Then, it turns to how you and Schlatt should go to every (whatever restaurant) in the country as a challenge. At first it was a joke, but then it slowly became something you and Schlatt started planning on. And during the trip, you guys starting getting closer and closer, knowing each other more and more. Where at the point you guys are flirting, touching, kissing, and even to the point you guys have sex.

I can even imagine that during one of the hotel rooms you guys were staying at, you accidentally see Schlatt full body naked. And seeing Schlatt absolutely embarrassed about it, you show Schlatt your naked body to make things even between you two.

i’m sorry this took so long but this prompt had me frothing at the mouth. i hope you enjoy <3

"no, because i loved when you went to every margaritaville and rainforest cafe," you explained to ted as you sat sandwiched between him and schlatt on their podcast. "i've had a similar idea for a while. i want to go to at least one cat cafe in every continental state, and along the way promote some shelters for people to adopt at."

ted raised his eyebrows curiously. "really? that sounds pretty cool. maybe you should take schlatt with you, since he's a lonely cat man and all."

"ignoring the fact that having two cats does not make me a lonely cat man," schlatt shot back at ted. "that sounds like a cool idea. i know there's plenty of cats like jambo and the other guy who need adopted."

you couldn't help but laugh a bit. "maybe ted's right. you sound pretty passionate about it for a totally not lonely cat man. you could come with me, and not be so lonely."

"fine!"

with that final word from schlatt, you had accidentally and officially locked yourself into the trip with him. he began to help you research cat cafes and shelters in every state, and helped you to plan the road trip map as well. that was only the start of the two of you getting closer. on the trip, it was a whole different thing.

"let's play twenty-one questions!" you suggested after leaving the cat cafe in austin, heading for your hotel and the next one in louisiana. after all, you had a roughly eight hour drive ahead of you.

schlatt scoffed, looking over at you. "isn't that a game for teenagers tryin' t' date someone?"

"no," you protested back. "it's for people to get to know each other better! i'll go first if you're going to be a dick. what's your favorite animal other than cats?"

he paused for a minute, then admitted his answer in a gruff voice. "bearded dragons. i used t’ have one when i was younger. he was a chill dude."

"see, that's nice, and i learned something new about you," you gave him a small smile. "now you ask me a question."

"are you a virgin?"

"schlatt! i'm not answering that."

the game continued to go similarly, with you asking genuine questions to get to know schlatt, while he asked raunchier questions to poke fun at you and get under your skin. about halfway through your journey though, you gave in, and began to answer him.

"what's your biggest turn on?"

"any kind of intimate touch."

he raised his eyebrows, surprised that he finally got an answer. "intimate touch? what does that mean?"

you could feel your face grow hot as you tried to explain. "any touch from a partner of mine, even if it's casual."

"even if they, like, shake your hand?"

that eased the tension, and you burst out into laughter as you shook your head. "okay, maybe not any touch."

with each leg of the trip, the two of you learned more about each other and grew closer. about halfway through the trip though, was when things began to heat up between the two of you. it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to flirt or use pet names with the other.

“hey, toots,” he called to you, keeping his voice quiet so he didn’t startle the cats. “look at this one. i think it likes me.”

you couldn’t but giggle from your spot on the floor, where a gaggle of cats and kittens had been swarming you for affection. throughout your trip, you had come to find that most of the cats preferred you to schlatt. some found his large stature imposing, while others just didn’t like men, so it was a special moment whenever any cats would come up to him. this time, it was an old, graying tabby, purring loudly from its spot on schlatt’s lap.

“the first time you’ve ever gotten pussy in your life, big guy?” you teased, standing up and moving to sit beside him.

“oh, fuck you,” he scoffed softly, though he looked at you with a smile. “he just knows i’m the better person out of us. look, he’s not interested in you at all.”

it was true. the cat was completely content with schlatt and paying no attention to you. meanwhile, you couldn’t help but pay attention to schlatt. with a soft smile on his face as he scratched the cat’s chin and back, he looked endearing. dare you say it, he looked handsome. you couldn’t help it when you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

schlatt stopped petting the cat instantly, looking at you with surprise in his brown eyes. then, after a moment, he spoke up. “you missed.”

this time, you could feel the surprise on your face as he leaned in again and kissed you on your lips, soft and tender. it wasn’t until the cat on schlatt’s lap meowed in displeasure at the lack of pets that you broke apart.

“i’ll— i’ll edit that out.” you stammered, glancing at the various cameras you had set up while schlatt resumed petting the cat.

“yeah,” he nodded, a light blush on his cheeks. “that sounds good.”

from that point on, flirting and pet names came with the addition of kisses. sometimes they happened on camera in the cat cafes, while other times one of you would invite the other over to their hotel room for a heated makeout session. soon enough though, the trip was coming to an end. you only had a few more cat cafes left before the road trip was over. that would mean an end to the flirting, the pet names, and the kisses that managed to steal your breath each time.

you were thinking about it forlornly as you headed to schlatt’s hotel room, hoping for a nice makeout session to cheer you up. he had actually given you the extra key, so you didn’t think twice as you swiped the card and opened his door. however, you didn’t even make it a step in before you noticed schlatt, completely nude with his bath towel in hand.

“oh my god!” you exclaimed, catching his attention as well.

the last thing you saw before turning on your heel and slamming the door was a glimpse of something massive between his thighs, heat filling your face as you ran back to your own room. you had no idea how you would address that incident, nor did you know if you wanted to. the flirting, pet names, and kissing was one thing, but seeing him naked and anything beyond that was something else.

eventually, you heard the buzz of a keycard opening up your room, though you kept your gaze firmly on the floor as you sat at the end of your bed.

“doll,” schlatt spoke up after a moment. “i’m not mad at you or anything. i gave you a keycard t’ my room so you could come whenever you wanted. i should’ve changed in the bathroom or said somethin’ when i heard the door.”

you shook your head, hoping that any embarrassment on your face was gone as you looked up. “no, jay, it’s my fault. i should’ve knocked before coming in.”

he sat down next to you on the bed. “we both could’ve done stuff differently, but hey, shit happens.”

you nodded, the wheels in your brain turning. you wanted to make it up to him somehow. then, it hit you. the best— or possibly the worst— idea that you had ever had. “i could get naked and let you see to make up for it.”

schlatt went silent for a moment, staring at you as if you had just spoken another language. “what?”

“i’m serious,” you told him. “i got to see you, so you should get to see me. then, we’ll be even.”

his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then, he nodded. “well, toots, better get to it.”

with that, you stood up and began to strip, first pulling off your top, then tugging your shorts down. the whole time, you could feel your heart pounding. you’d gotten naked in the past for others, but something about doing it for schlatt, the same schlatt you’d been growing feelings for, felt different. still, you continued, taking off your bra and underwear as well until you were finally naked in front of him. schlatt’s first words were the same as yours.

“oh my god, doll,” he took a sharp breath as he looked you over, his eyes beginning to smolder with lust. “you look perfect. like everything i’ve imagined and more.”

you couldn’t help but blush, though you were a bit surprised as well. “what do you mean everything you’ve imagined?”

schlatt blinked, his lust fading in confusion. “doll, you have t’ know how much i want ya by now, i just— i didn’t want t’ make you uncomfortable, so i took what i could get.”

“what do you mean when you say you want me?”

“platonically, sexually, romantically. whatever i can get.”

it felt like a weight came off your shoulders when schlatt said that, and you couldn’t help but smile as you walked forward to sit on his lap. “what about all of the above?”

he nodded, then like so many other times, he leaned in to kiss you. this time though, it was different, full of a special kind of passion that came with knowing your feelings were reciprocated. of course, there was also the fact that you were completely naked in schlatt’s lap, his hands running over every inch of skin he could reach.

“jay,” you whined between kisses. “wanna fuck you.”

“fuck, hold on, doll. lemme get my clothes off and get you prepped.”

he didn't take long in stripping, allowing you to finally get a good look at his body. that included his long, thick cock, hanging heavy between his thighs and curving slightly to the left.

"how is that supposed to fit?" you mumbled quietly to yourself, though schlatt chuckled as he heard.

"don't worry, doll," he promised, moving down and pressing a kiss to your clit. "i'll make sure you're nice and wet f' me."

you couldn't help but gasp as he dived in, your fingers tangling in his hair as he ate your pussy like it was his last meal. his own fingers were busy playing with your clit, as he drank up the slick coming from your cunt. "jay!"

schlatt moved and pressed a kiss to your clit before pulling back with a grin, switching to sliding two fingers in your pussy. "c'mon, doll. we're just getting started,"

a high-pitched whine left your mouth, and your back arched as he began to search for the spot that would make you fall apart. it didn't take long either, his grin growing as you called out for him again. "there it is. that's my pretty girl, soakin' my fuckin' fingers. are you gonna cum, baby?"

you nodded, crying out as he began to suck your clit as well. it was your undoing, and you quickly reached your orgasm as he continued to pump his fingers. "i'm cumming, jay! i'm cumming!"

he pulled off and gently pulled his fingers out, face shining slightly with your slick. "good girl. did that feel okay?"

once again, you nodded, panting for breath. "felt amazing."

schlatt leaned in to kiss you, a string of slick connecting your lips as he pulled back. you both laughed, and he pulled back further to break it. "so, are you ready for the rest?"

"yes please," you murmured, him carefully getting into position over you. "just be gentle."

"i promise." he replied, leaning in again to give you a quick kiss before he pushed in.

despite how wet and open you felt, schlatt was big enough that it was a stretch. your nails dug into his back, and you couldn't stop the whimper that escaped you. "oh my god, oh my god—"

he stopped for a minute, looking down at you in concern. still, you could see how hard he was working to keep still. "you okay, doll?"

"just give me a minute. your dick is fucking massive."

the two of you stayed in silence, each trying not to move until you finally gave the go ahead. this time, as schlatt finished pushing in and began to move, you could feel pleasure starting to run up your spine.

"feeling better?" he grinned, his smug attitude beginning to return as the pleasure was clear on your face.

"mhm," you agreed, beginning to roll your hips in time with his thrusts. "feeling a lot better— fuck!"

he adjusted your position into a mating press, making it so you could hear the wet sounds of your pussy as he thrust in, and let out a groan. "fuck, doll. your pussy's so wet f' me. gonna pump you full of cum, get ya even more slick,"

you couldn't help but whimper, clenching around his cock at that statement and making him chuckle a bit. "you like that idea? me fillin' you up with all my cum, gettin' your tummy all round?"

"please," you begged with a sob, making him pick up his pace with another groan. "please breed me, jay!"

"shit, doll, is that it? you want me to make you a mama?"

you nodded, drunk with pleasure. "mhm, please, jay. need your cum so bad."

"you'll get it doll," he grunted, moving his hand down to your clit as well. "just give me a minute. want you to cum too."

sure enough, it didn't take much longer for schlatt's thrusts to grow sloppy and his breathing to grow ragged. "you ready, baby?"

"yes, jay," you moaned, back arching once again as you felt your orgasm building. "gonna cum!"

"then cum, doll. need you to cum so i can give you a baby." he grunted, fingers continuing to dexterously play with your clit.

that was all it took for you to peak, tumbling over the edge with a cry. you could feel yourself milking schlatt as you came, causing him to cum shortly after. you couldn't help but feel tears prick at your eyes from the full feeling. it was everything you could have dreamt of with schlatt and more.

he helped you clean up afterwards, gentle and caring, before snuggling with you in bed.

"so," he eventually murmured, playing with your hair. "we're going to keep this up for the rest of the trip, and even after, right?"

you smiled softly, cuddling closer to him and giving him a kiss. "i think we'll be doing this for a long time to come."

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

[mcflymemes]

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD PROMPTS PT 1 *  assorted dialogue from the first hour of the video game

somebody's gotta stop him... and that's where you come in.

so... where were we?

our story begins where all great stories begin: with the seediest bar in town and a missing contact.

let's try this again.

you think you can come into my bar and make demands?

i'm not leaving until i know where she is.

be ready to talk by the time i get to you.

darling... you're adorable.

for the record, there was probably an easier way to do that than fighting an entire bar.

what'd i have to worry about? you were there watching my back.

break's over.

something must have gotten them riled up.

should we be in more of a hurry to get out of here?

i have to talk him down.

are they after us?

we don't have time to get arrested.

you're safe now. get inside and bar the doors.

there are a lot of scared people out here.

what about you two? are you okay?

have you got my gear?

can you get us there, [name]?

this is nowhere near my neighborhood.

eyes up! we've got company!

used to fight these assholes every day.

i'm back on the job.

isn't that a coincidence?

you said you had a lead?

that's where your man is hiding.

you told me he was working alone.

i'll take it from here.

take care of the team for me.

hope i'm not interrupting.

let's buy him some time.

i have taken precautions to minimize the damage.

people are dying right now.

you need to listen. please.

people are always dying. it is what they do.

shit. we need a better plan.

what if we disrupt the ritual?

the storm could tear you apart.

you came a long way and made a valiant effort.

this story does not end in my downfall.

you have no idea what you have done.

i know what i did.

i was not destroying the world.

why am i here?

had i the power to control you, i would have already used it.

get out of my head!

i do not want to be here any more than you do.

what are you talking about?

thanks to you, though, i am now trapped.

you were innocently doing nothing when we came along.

[name] always said you'd have a big explanation for why none of this was your fault.

i am certain you will be fine.

you don't get to sit back and look smug!

what else could i possibly do?

you will soon see what i was trying to prevent.

this is your responsibility now.

look who's still with us!

trust me. i've had worse. gonna take more than a flesh wound to stop me.

turns out, you were right.

the plan did go a little wrong.

i should have come up with a better plan.

you worked with what you had. and you succeeded, by the way.

[name]. you've got this. i've seen your work.

there's a reason i dragged you into this whole mess.

you're clever. adaptable. and you don't know when to quit.

sorry, i didn't mean to barge in.

i really need to look around.

we should talk about things.

i'll work with it. you know me.

maybe our paths haven't crossed, but i know our work has.

we've just got to start somewhere.

this is a dangerous job. everyone knew that signing on.

you don't slow down for much, do you?

let's stop worrying about me and go do that.

come get me when you're ready to go.

you're sure that wasn't just a dream?

i'm not certain of anything.

we're not out of danger.

we need to get out there and stop them.

we can't just sit here and do nothing.

we need to investigate. figure out what we're dealing with before we rush in and make things worse.

this time, if we see a shot, we take it.

you sure you're up for this?

it's not working! i can't contain it!

you all were supposed to stop him.

it didn't go as cleanly as we hoped.

things just got a whole lot worse.

let's just say they weren't known for their kindness.

you're in no condition to fight.

[pomefioredove]

Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:

Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.

Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).

So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.

Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.

Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.

Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).

you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.

summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.

Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.

"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"

"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"

"It's well made. What's the purpose?"

You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.

Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.

"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."

He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.

"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"

Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.

And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.

By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.

The first incident happens not even a day after.

The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.

Jamil is not all that impressed.

Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.

Damn these stairs.

Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.

His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.

Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.

Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...

For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.

And then he slips.

The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.

Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.

He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.

What a turn of luck.

The next happens at dinner.

Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.

"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.

He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?

Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.

The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.

Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.

His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"

Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...

"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.

Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...

The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.

it only gets stranger from there.

What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-

a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.

The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.

A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.

He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.

By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.

It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.

Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.

"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"

"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.

Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.

[penny00dreadful]

STWG Prompt: "Hey, that's mine!"

"Are you flirting with Steve?"

Eddie jumped, the beer he'd been getting out of the refrigerator nearly flew out of his hand. Dustin seemed to have manifested behind the open door as he closed it.

"Jesus H. Christ, Henderson." He clapped a hand to his chest. "Wear a fucking bell or something."

"Are you?"

“Am I what?” Eddie asked, raiding the still capped beer to his mouth.

“Flirting with St- DON’T DO THAT!” Dustin shrieked as Eddie uncapped the bottle with his teeth. “Appreciate what you have, don’t abuse your fucking teeth if you have them man, come on!”

“It’s fine.” Eddie dropped the cap from his mouth into the bin.

“What was I saying?”

All Dustin got in response was a shrug and Eddie started to walk back out towards Steve’s sitting room.

“Wait, wait!” Dustin grabbed the back of Eddie’s shirt and pulled him back before he could leave the kitchen. Steve was out there and he couldn’t very well get the answers he was looking for when he was within earshot.

“Don’t manhandle me, you little shit.” Eddie placed the heel of his hand on Dustin’s forehead and pushed. 

Dustin slapped him away. “Stop distracting me! Are you or are you not flirting with Steve?”

Eddie only looked vaguely amused. “Why are you asking?”

“You did the move.”

“What the hell is the move?”

“Y’know, like the-” Dustin dragged his hand back through his hair with some kind of ridiculous pout on his face.

“Don’t insult me like that, man. Any moves I have are better than that.”

“But it’s what you did. Because you were flirting.”

“You really think jocks are my type?”

“Steve is everyone’s type.”

“Incorrect. Buckley’s been quite vocal about how she’s not into him.”

“She’s stubborn.”

“Sure, that’s it.”

“I know what I saw.”

“Well then you must have seen wrong.” Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. Why don’t you worry about your own love life?” 

The next second he’d disappeared around out of the room.

Dustin huffed, but followed.

“My love life is fine, thank you very much. We talk all the time.”

“Mhm.” Eddie hummed, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. Steve had heaved himself up from his seat, bent over and with one hand on the coffee table and the other attempting to snatch the remote out of Robin’s grip.

Eddie sat down slowly, watching, until his eyes drifted down.

“Hey.” He said, plucking his bandana out of Steve’s back right pocket. “That’s mine.”

Steve gave up, throwing himself back onto the couch and practically into Eddie’s side. “Well maybe if you didn’t leave it lying around-”

“Last I remember it wasn’t lying around.” Eddie said, leaning in a little further as though he was telling a secret. “Maybe a little tied up, but-”

Robin slapped her hand down on the coffee table. “I’m pressing play.”