#also “chiding softly�� really surprises me

[dodorimo]

I finally finally made these lines work, so here's Raphael acknowledging that you broke into his house but didn't steal the hammer (both variations depending on whether you made a deal or not)

(Those lines are currently impossible to get in the game because setting off the alarm in his house will automatically trigger his boss fight).

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 SNEAKIN' A PIC (ATTEMPT: FAILED)!

FEATURING: fyodor dostoevsky

SUMMARY: you never get to see him like this. is it really so awful that you want to capture the moment eternally? evidently to him, it is. (wordcount: 1.4k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i'll never not make fun of that one panel of him sitting at his computers with his greasy ass hair even if he does look like a pretty princess in every other panel he has. my obsession with naps is being translated into my fics, i already posted a nikolai one posted and also have a dazai one in the drafts HAHA

When you wake up, you feel a weight on your bicep. Your brows furrow a bit in confusion, glancing to your right to where your arm is extended across the bed, but then your eyes fall upon Fyodor, fast asleep and using your arm as a pillow, and you can barely stop the small smile that rises to your lips.

Your arm is numb, but you don’t dare move in fear of waking him up—the clock on your nightstand reads nearly eight am, and you wonder when he finally came to bed last night. You know that he’s been pushing himself day and night to finalize the last parts of his plans, denying himself both sleep and food as he sits at his computers dealing with meetings and preparations 24/7. 

He hadn’t even changed into a pair of pajamas before falling into bed with you, nor had he bothered to get beneath the covers. a part of you wonders if he even meant to sleep, or if he’d just pushed his body too far and only barely made it to the bed before it gave out on him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You bite back a sigh as your gaze traces over the stubborn man—he always looks delicate in his sleep, in a way that he never does when he’s awake with his eyes shut and his long, dark lashes brushing his cheeks. His expression is the picture of serenity rather than the cold and unapproachable face he wears when he’s awake. 

You think that he’s pretty all the time, but there’s something special about being able to witness Fyodor Dostoevsky in his most vulnerable moments, knowing that you’re the only one he allows to be with him in them. 

You’re half-tempted to reach over to your nightstand with your free hand to try to grab your phone and snap a picture of him. You look over, wondering if you can reach it without jostling your other arm around, but before you can even consider your chances, you hear: “Do not.”

Fyodor’s voice is still thick with sleep. you glance over at him, surprised, but his eyes are still shut, and he hasn’t budged an inch. You wonder if you imagined it, but then his eyes crack open, thin slivers of purple glaring at you.

“Just one for me?” you ask quietly. “No one else will see.”

“No.”

You pout softly but roll back to look at him. He still looks exhausted, the bags beneath his eyes are dark and heavy, and he can barely even hold his eyes open. You reach out, cupping his cheek gently and watching as his eyes slide back shut, a soft exhale spilling from his lips as he lets the side of his face sink back into your arm, dozing back off.

You smile lightly, shifting forward a bit to press your lips to his forehead, stroking his cheek lightly with your thumb.

“I need to get up,” he murmurs, but his eyes are still shut and his voice is thick with sleep. “I need to finish-“

“You will not finish anything adequately in this state,” you chide gently. “If you get proper sleep, you’ll be much more efficient and effective.”

Fyodor looks as if he wants to argue, brows furrowing at your words even with his eyes shut. You only jostle him a bit closer, watching as he shoots you an irate look, but then settles down when he realizes you’re only dragging him closer so that he can rest his head on your chest—a place far more comfortable than your arm.

“Wake me up in an hour,” he finally orders, and you agree absently, knowing that you absolutely will not.

You think, as Fyodor lets himself doze off on your chest, that it’s hard to remember he’s quite literally one of the most dangerous men on this planet. That if he so pleased, he could activate his ability and kill you without a moment’s warning. That he’s a man who is so terrifyingly intelligent that it sometimes comes across as prophetic, and you can’t help but wonder if he speaks the truth when he claims to be led by the Hand of God. 

Your hand smoothes across his back in steady circles, tilting your face down to press your lips to the top of his head. His hair is a bit oily, as he usually lets it get when he deprives himself of basic necessities while he works. You’ll have to convince him to take a bath with you when he wakes up, but you figure it’ll be a battle because you already convinced him to sleep in a little longer, he’ll not want to waste any more time. 

You almost want to pinch him, wondering why everything with him has to be a war when it comes to taking proper care of himself. He rarely even remembers to take his iron supplements on the daily without your prompting, and he knows if he doesn’t take them, he’ll be prone to dizziness and fatigue. For all of his intelligence, you feel like sometimes that you’re a mother dealing with a stubborn child, not your lover. 

“Stop that,” Fyodor sighs, shifting a bit to get comfortable. “Dim your thoughts, dusha moya. I can feel you getting yourself wound up.”

You scowl. “You know, Fedya, maybe you should just drop the whole terrorist plot and become one of those preachers on the radio who pretend to be prophets. Build yourself a cult, make some money. You already seem to know everything, wouldn't be too hard."

Fyodor tilts his head up to look at you, expression so deadpan and unamused that it nearly makes you snort, but you only dip your head down to kiss between his eyes.

"Sleep,” you say, voice softer. “You need it.”

Fyodor doesn’t respond, and when you tilt your head to the side to look at him again, you find that he already dozed back off again, shoulders rising and falling steadily underneath the arm you have wrapped around him. 

You smile lightly and you tighten your arms a bit as Fyodor lets out a puff of air in his sleep, turning his head to lay the side of his face on your chest. In this position, you can see the way his eyes flit beneath his eyelids rapidly, his brain still running rampant even in sleep.

You bring your fingers to his hair to card them through the dark locks, slow and soothing in the way you know he likes, watching as his eye movements slow and his body relaxes into yours. 

Your smile widens a bit before it abruptly falls, laying your head back against the pillow as you finally begin your next challenge: drawing out a battle plan for convincing Fyodor to take a bath with you when he wakes up. 

You sigh to yourself heavily, knowing well that you're about to be facing the most difficult argument of your life with the most stubborn man alive. You can already feel the headache, and you think that you deserve a new picture for your lock screen from how much trouble Fyodor gives you on the daily, but as you side eye your nightstand again and try to calculate whether or not you can reach your phone without waking him up, you feel fingers wrap around your free hand.

You gape in disbelief as you look down to see Fyodor grab your hand in his sleep, as if he knew what you were planning even when not conscious.

Unbelievable, you think bitterly, plan entirely thwarted, but your gaze softens at the sight of him fast asleep on your chest, clutching your hand with one of his.

Maybe you don't need a picture, you realize, because you think there's no way you'd ever allow this image to fade away from your mind.

Still, you think he should severely reconsider his line of work.

Even more so now, in fact, because there is something entirely abnormal about his seemingly perfect foresight, evidently flawless even in his sleep too.

[cera-writes]

Pretty pleeeease some nightcrawler smut with a more sub!nightcrawler?😭 Or just reader spoiling him and calling him a pretty boy, praising him, etc

A/N: say no more... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Pairing: Kurt Wagner x gn!Reader Tags: nsfw, oral sex (giving), praise, and just pure smut

Nothing but Praise

It was late into the night at the X-Mansion, the usual sounds of mutant powers and training sessions replaced by a serene silence. You were in the library, a book open on your lap, but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts kept drifting to Kurt, the enigmatic Nightcrawler, whose presence had become a constant in your daydreams.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Kurt appeared in a puff of smoke and brimstone right beside you. His sudden arrival startled you, causing you to drop your book with a soft thud.

"Kurt! You really need to stop doing that," you chided gently, though there was no real heat in your words.

He offered a sheepish grin, his blue fur shimmering slightly under the library's soft lighting. "Sorry, mein Freund. I forget sometimes how my teleportation can startle."

You shook your head, smiling as you picked up your book. "It's okay. What brings you here so late?"

Kurt hesitated, his tail flicking nervously behind him. "I... I could not sleep. Thought maybe I could find a book to help pass the time."

You noticed the slight tremor in his voice, the vulnerability hidden beneath his playful exterior. "Come here," you said softly, patting the seat next to you.

Kurt sat down, his proximity sending a thrill through you. You could see the fatigue around his eyes, the weight of recent battles and missions taking their toll.

"You know, Kurt," you began, turning to face him, "you don't have to be strong all the time. It's okay to let someone take care of you."

His yellow eyes met yours, a mix of surprise and something deeper, something yearning. "I... I do not know how to be anything else," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached out, gently touching his cheek. "Let me show you," you whispered back, your thumb brushing against his fur.

Kurt's breath hitched, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. When he opened them again, they were filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. "Ich verstehe nicht, was du willst," he murmured, his German accent thickening with emotion.

"I want to spoil you, Kurt," you explained, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. "I want to tell you how amazing you are, how beautiful."

His tail wrapped around your wrist, a silent plea for reassurance. "Really?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

"Really," you confirmed, leaning closer. "You deserve to be praised, to be taken care of. Let me be the one to do that for you."

Kurt's eyes searched yours, looking for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, a slow smile spread across his face. "Then show me, bitte," he whispered, his voice husky with anticipation.

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "With pleasure, pretty boy," you murmured against his skin, feeling him shiver at the term of endearment.

As you pulled back, you saw the trust and desire in his eyes, a promise of what was to come. Tonight, you would show Kurt just how much he meant to you, in ways neither of you would ever forget.

You led Kurt to a more secluded corner of the library, where plush armchairs and a soft rug promised comfort. The dim light cast shadows that danced around you, creating an intimate atmosphere. None of the other students were permitted in the library this late, so it was just the two of you.

"Kurt, you're not just strong or brave," you began, your voice low and soothing as you sat down, pulling him gently onto your lap. His body was surprisingly light, his tail coiling around your leg in a silent affirmation of trust. "You're also incredibly gentle and kind. It's one of the many things I adore about you."

He looked at you, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and pleasure. "Danke, mein Freund," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Ich... ich weiß nicht, wie ich soll..."

"Shh," you whispered, placing a finger on his lips. "Let me do the talking for now. You just enjoy being taken care of."

You ran your hands through his fur, feeling the softness under your fingers. Kurt leaned into your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Encouraged by his response, you continued, your hands moving down to massage his shoulders. He tensed briefly before relaxing under your ministrations, his head falling back slightly.

"You're so beautiful, Kurt," you said, your voice husky with desire. "Every part of you is perfect."

His cheeks darkened under his fur, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Du bist zu gut zu mir," he whispered, his eyes half-closed in pleasure.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss. He responded eagerly, his tongue darting out to meet yours. The kiss deepened, filled with a passion that had been simmering between you both for too long. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless.

"I want to make you feel good, Kurt," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me what you like."

Kurt hesitated, then spoke softly, his German accent making each word sound like a melody. "Ich mag es, wenn du mich streichelst, und deine Zunge auf meiner Haut... you-your tongue, Liebling. Just... anywhere on me."

You nodded, understanding his desires. You began by trailing kisses down his neck, each one eliciting a shiver from him. Your hands roamed over his chest, tweaking his nipples gently, causing him to gasp.

"Ah, ja... genau so," Kurt moaned, his voice a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Encouraged, you moved lower, unzipping his jumpsuit slowly. His chest heaved with anticipation as you exposed more of his blue skin. You kissed every inch of newly revealed flesh, your hands caressing his sides.

"You're doing so well, pretty boy," you praised, watching as his eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping him.

You reached his erection, already hard and straining against his suit. With a gentle tug, you freed it, admiring its size and shape. Kurt whimpered, his hands clenching in the fabric of the armchair.

"Suck me, bitte," he pleaded, his voice shaky with need.

Without hesitation, you moved in front of him, letting him take the chair as you wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly. Then, you leaned in, taking him into your mouth. Kurt cried out, his hips bucking slightly as you took him deeper.

"Mein Gott, du bist so gut," he gasped, his hands tangling in your hair.

You bobbed your head, swirling your tongue around him, enjoying the taste and feel of him. Each moan and plea only spurred you on, eager to bring him closer to the edge.

As Kurt's moans grew louder, his body tensing with the impending climax, you knew this was just the beginning of a night filled with exploration and pleasure.

You continued to lavish attention on Kurt, your mouth working diligently around his shaft as you felt his body tense with each passing moment. His hands gripped your hair, guiding you gently but firmly, a silent command for more intensity. You complied, increasing the pace of your movements, your tongue swirling and flicking in ways that made him gasp and moan.

"Ah, mein Gott... du bist wirklich gut dabei," Kurt panted, his voice thick with desire and a hint of awe. His tail tightened around your leg, a physical sign of his growing pleasure.

You pulled back slightly, teasing the tip of his erection with the flat of your tongue, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. "You like that, pretty boy?" you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes.

Kurt nodded, his eyes half-lidded and filled with lust. "Ja, bitte, mehr," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

Satisfied, you engulfed him again, this time taking him deeper than before. Your hand moved to cup his balls, gently rolling them between your fingers as you sucked. Kurt's hips bucked involuntarily, caught in the throes of pleasure you were expertly weaving around him.

"Du... du bringst mich um," he gasped, his body trembling as he neared his peak.

You hummed around him, the vibrations adding another layer to his building climax. With one final, deep suck, you pulled back, letting him slip from your lips with an audible pop. Kurt's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"Not yet, Kurt," you whispered, your voice a sultry tease. "I want to feel you come undone completely."

Standing up, you guided him to lie down on the soft rug, his body compliant under yours. You straddled him, your hands roaming over his chest, tweaking and pinching his nipples until he moaned beneath you.

"Please, I need... I need to feel you," Kurt begged, his hands reaching up to pull you down for a kiss.

You obliged, kissing him deeply as your hands moved lower, teasing the sensitive skin around his erection. You stroked him slowly, watching as his face contorted with pleasure, his mouth forming silent words of encouragement and praise.

"Tell me what you want, Kurt," you whispered against his lips, your hand stilling.

"I need you, I need to feel you," he breathed out, his eyes locked onto yours, pleading.

Understanding his desire, you positioned yourself above him, gripping his shaft to line it inside of you. His precum coated your fingers and it was enough to coat yourself for him before letting him enter you.

"Ready, pretty boy?" you asked, your voice husky with anticipation.

Kurt nodded, his hands gripping your hips. "Ja, bitte, tu es," he urged.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you rolled your hips, feeling him deep inside of you. Kurt's breath hitched, his eyes fluttering closed as he tilted his head back in pure ecstasy. You gasped, your own breath shallow with the effort of holding back.

Once Kurt nodded, you began to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed as he moaned and encouraged you. Each thrust brought him deeper into you, the friction building deliciously between you.

"Mein Gott, du fühlst so gut," Kurt cried out, his hands moving to your back, urging you closer.

You leaned down, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss, your movements becoming more urgent. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, mingling with Kurt's increasingly desperate cries.

As you felt your own climax approaching, you bit back another moan, biting your lips as the sight of Kurt panting and nearly crying from pleasure nearly sent you over the edge.

"Cum for me, Kurt," you commanded, your voice rough with desire.

Kurt cried out, his body arching off the ground as he came, his release spurting between you as he pulled out. The sight of him losing control sent you over the edge, and you stroked yourself a few more times just before climaxing, your own cry echoing his.

Collapsing beside him, you pulled him close, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat and other fluids. Kurt nuzzled into your neck, murmuring soft thanks and praises in German, his voice content and sated.

"Anytime, pretty boy," you whispered back, kissing the top of his head. "Anytime."

[wordsinhaled]

it was really only a matter of time until edwardian payneland happened and what if i channeled maurice about it. just a little

-

Charles is the son of the groundskeeper at St. Hilarion's School for Boys while Edwin is a pupil there. And he can't help but notice Edwin—how he’s nearly always alone, or else being harangued by the cruel older boys who call themselves his peers.

Charles privately thinks they hardly seem equal to him in poise or grace or manner. They are boisterous, brash, crass, violent, all overlaid with a veneer of false propriety, but Charles can see the cracks in it. He knows that sort by how they are inside, and they cannot be like Edwin at all. No, Edwin Paine's got a sad, drawn sort of look about him that Charles can't help recognizing. This lonely boy who feels somehow kindred in a way he can't put a finger on, but is pulled to him all the same, though by rights he'd do better to keep his distance.

Edwin often sits by the lake by himself, to read, or to do his assignments in the shade of the trees. Picturesque as a painting, he is. One day Charles dares to approach him, though he knows the risk in it—prepared to be rebuffed, rebuked for his untoward attention to someone he is meant to ignore; but the boy does not turn him away.

And so they become friends. Tentative, and then less and less so.

Together they explore the school's sprawling grounds, all of whose surprising hiding-places Charles Rowland knows by heart, having wandered them himself for years and made them his own refuge. The woods become theirs; the shore by the lake theirs; the shade of the trees theirs. The attic, where no one comes to look for them in the dead of night, also theirs.

And then one day Charles notices a group of boys surrounding Edwin. The usual cadre, and they're posturing, their voices loud in the autumn air. They’ve ripped Edwin's penny magazine from his grip and are tearing pages out of it, scattering them to be plucked up by the wind. Charles can do nothing else but step in. He shouts at them to back off, puts himself between them and Edwin, and gets himself thrashed for his trouble—but they, at least, finally leave Edwin alone.

Edwin, for his part, cannot believe Charles would be so reckless for his sake. Charles has not yet mentioned to him that he is used to this sort of treatment, and sees worse at home. They sit together in the boathouse by the lake, cross-legged, close enough for Edwin to dab carefully at Charles’ split lip and bleeding knuckles.

“You should not have done that for me,” he chides, though it carries no heat. “What will happen now?” He thinks word is sure to get back to the school, and there will be a scandal. Those boys, who so vocally despise Edwin, will hardly be quiet in their outrage, their humiliation. Charles’ father might be relieved of his post, and then Charles’ family will have to leave St. Hilarion’s. That is how these things go.

And what was it all for? For Edwin? How could it have been worth it?

“Doesn’t matter, does it?" Charles is saying, when Edwin surfaces from his troubled thoughts. "Couldn’t let them treat you like that. They had you five to one. And that, just ‘cause you’re different. I know how it is.” Charles’ eyelashes are very long, and the light turns his eyes a warm, deep amber as he talks fiercely, insistently, in defense of Edwin.

It’s terribly forward, Edwin thinks. And, despite every misgiving, he welcomes it. No one has ever fought for Edwin before. No one has ever spoken about him with such conviction.

Then Charles seems to lapse into pensiveness. “You didn’t have to…” he says softly. "All this." He gestures, with the free hand Edwin isn’t busy wrapping up, at the little bottle of antiseptic, the scissors, the roll of bandages and the cloths, all spread out on the floorboards between them.

“Of course I did,” Edwin says.

Really, he had not given it much consideration. He had had only the presence of mind to memorize the sight of Charles kneeling in the dew-damp grass, angry gaze still spitting fire at the backs of Edwin’s retreating bullies. He’d had blood in his bared teeth, and the briefest flash of desire had seared through Edwin—to kiss him. Merely in thanks, perhaps, but still, to kiss him.

He would know the warmth of Charles’ mouth. Fleeting, forbidden, it would sear itself into his mind for ever.

Of course, he had done no such thing; for he could not. Instead, he’d done the only thing he could do—bent low towards Charles, and squeezed his shoulder once, as if to say, Wait here for me. I will come back to you.

And as he'd turned on his heel and gone off in the direction of the infirmary, leaving Charles there with dusk encroaching, Edwin had hoped Charles understood his gesture for the indelible promise it was.

[heian-era-housewife]

I read ur shiu/toji x reader omegaverse fanfic and let me just say THAT SHIT WAS A BANGER!!! I was writing this to see if u could write a gojo and geto x reader omegaverse fanfic, plz!! (Love the writing very sigma)

Thank you so much!!! 💕

That was my first time dipping into the (sometimes very confusing/intricate) but equally fun and interesting omegaverse. I know everyone has their own interpretations, and I'm probably playing a bit fast and loose with the "rules" of the genre, but I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Thanks also for your request! Apologies for the wait. Things have been a bit hectic lately, but I hope I've done the dynamic duo justice.

Synopsis | When Gojo makes an unexpected discovery, he turns to you for advice. Luckily, you know just the person who can help. How will things "heat up" when your mate Geto enters the scene?

Content | mdni 18+, f!reader x gojo x geto, omegaverse, threesome, oral (f receiving), sex (mm/fm), swearing, biting/marking, mention of blood.

A/N | This fic takes place in the dorms of Juju Tech during their latter student days. All characters are 18+

Word Count | 2.7k

When a knock came on your dormroom door in the middle of the night, the last person you expected to see was a sweating, panting Satoru Gojo.

Top of your class and possibly the strongest sorcerer the world had ever known, Gojo was every bit the alpha everyone knew him to be. Though his reputation preceded him, you knew him best as just plain Satoru. Lover of sweets and showing off. Best friend and perfect foil to your boyfriend, Suguru Geto, not to mention the only one who could rival him in both looks and talent. There was only one explanation as to why he'd be here, at your door, a flushed and pitiful mess.

"I told you not to overdo it." You chided, ushering him in. "You know you can't keep up with those guys."

It wasn't the first time you'd seen him sloppy drunk, but you were surprised he'd come to you rather than stay with the rest of the group. Where everyone else had gone out for drinks and karaoke, you had opted for a quiet night at home.

Grabbing a damp cloth, you blotted his sweat-stained brow as he threw himself on your shabby dormroom couch.

"You know, for an alpha you're quite the lightweight." You teased.

"I'm...not." He panted, eyes downcast.

"Okay. Deny it all you want, but I've seen you drink."

"No...I..."

"It's a little sad, really" you chuckled to yourself.

"No!" He snapped, startling you from your ramblings."I'm...I'm not an alpha..." he finished.

You blinked, the cloth you were holding now hovering just above him where you froze in place. A drip landing squarely on his forehead the only movement as you stared, stark still and speechless. He pushed your hand away.

"I'm not an alpha and I'm not drunk." He said matter-of-factly. "I think I'm in heat."

"Satoru, I-"

"That's why I'm here." He continued. "I wanted to know what you do. How you usually deal with it."

"Oh..." You paused awkwardly, hand drifting to the mark on your neck. "Well, Geto and I usually..."

"Before that, I mean. Before you and Geto got together, what did you do?" He urged, frustration building.

"I was lucky." You said softly. "Geto was there for my first heat. I never had to go it alone."

"I see..."

Words eluded you as you stared at your friend. Satoru Gojo, the Satoru Gojo...an omega?

"Who else knows-"

"No one." He cut you off before you could finish. "Not a soul. I didn’t even know for sure until...well until tonight."

You'd heard of these kinds of things happening. A presumed omega presenting later in life as an alpha when they hit their first rut. A supposed alpha suddenly ripe with sweet smelling pheromones and an urge to nest. Though rare, these things did happen. Just not to people you knew. And certainly not to someone like Satoru Gojo. If your head was spinning, you could only imagine how he felt. His ice blue eyes met yours with a pleading look. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you thought.

It's true you had always been spoiled. While others were forced to slump through their partnerless heats, you had Geto from the very start. At the first sign, he would help you with your nests, staying over in your dorm and skipping classes as needed. He had both the empathy and tenderness to talk you through the worst of your discomfort, as well as the strength and stamina to bed you down any which way and as many times as you needed. A proverbial beauty and beast in one perfect package.

And then there was Gojo. Now that you were thinking on it, Gojo had his own way of being there for you too, whether or not he even realized. Always coming by with snacks and movies. His sweatshirts accidentally making their way into your nests whenever he and Geto swapped by mistake. His voice often the last you'd hear before drifting to sleep as the two friends laughed late into the night in the room beside you.

In a way, dating Geto was sort of like having two partners. They came as a package deal. Gojo was a constant presence within your relationship, at times making you wonder if you were the third wheel, not the other way around. And though his swaggering overconfidence and crude humor were in stark contrast to Geto's quiet assurance and even-temper, there was something so alluring, almost necessary, about the opposing qualities that made you yearn for both.

You couldn't believe what you were about to say. Couldn't stop the words from coming, nor the shameful excitement from welling in your chest. Here was something you never thought possible- something you'd only dared to imagine in your silkiest daydreams, unfolding right before you. A chance to make those dreams a reality. A chance to have your cake and eat it too.

"You know...this might sound crazy," you began tentatively, articulating each word as carefully as if it might detonate upon delivery. "We could ask Suguru if he might be willing to-"

"Ask Suguru what now?" Just then the door swung open causing both you and Gojo to jump. Your wide and guilty looking eyes met those of your boyfriend as he strode into the dorm, his look of worry turning to relief then quickly back to worry. "I've been looking all over for you," he tutted at Gojo. "The way you ran off earlier I thought-"

Geto's words hitched in his throat. He was struck by something hauntingly familiar, causing his mind to race and skin to prickle. The intoxicating scent of heat and slick flooded his senses, goading him as if by some invisible force. He looked at you, confusion written across his face. You weren't due for another heat yet. And even if you were, why was Gojo here in the middle of the night instead of him? In fact, why was Gojo here at all? A hailstorm of emotion rained down in dizzying waves as Geto reached desperately for answers through the haze of sickly sweet pheromones.

He looked to his friend, gaze settling over his brilliant hair and porcelain skin, momentarily adrift in the vast sea of those crystal blue eyes. Suddenly feeling inexplicably shy, he glanced downward noticing the gentle part in his lips, the subtle curve of his neck, the supple skin he wished he could just...bite...

"You..." he breathed, realization dawning. "It's you."

Gojo nodded slowly.

More silence. The would-be lovers bound by the chains of forced friendship and repressed feelings.

You cleared your throat. "Suguru, I was just saying maybe-"

"Yes!" He cut you off, connecting the words unspoken. "Yes. Sorry. I mean if...if that's..."

You couldn't help the smile that crept across your face, or the way your hand clasped eagerly around Gojo's, heart racing as he squeezed back.

Geto knelt by the couch, face serious as the next several minutes were spent in earnest discussion.

Fondness and pheromones aside, he wasn't about to jeopardize his relationship with his mate, nor his best friend. As the three of you spoke, mutual attraction, the façade of friendship, and years' worth of unrequitted feelings unveiled themselves between blushing cheeks and downcast eyes. Only after everyone's intentions and desires were made clear, did he allow the fog of infatuation to take its hold.

"Let's get you comfortable, shall we?" Geto said, scooping Gojo's lanky form with ease as he carried him toward the bedroom. You had to stifle a laugh at Gojo's unconvincing protests, pampered grin betraying his utter delight at being carried despite his string of objections. Geto tossed him playfully onto the plush mattress where you were collecting items for a nest that held just as much of your essence as it did Geto's.

Gojo nuzzled in to the scent-laden fabric, the harsh edge of discomfort starting to melt away from his handsome features, but there was still only one thing that could ease the bristling affliction of a standing heat.

You gave Gojo a devious grin, eager to show him something even his six eyes would find awe-inspiring. Slowly you began to help Geto undress.

Gojo moaned, brows knit together as he leaned into Geto's sultry kisses. He'd been stripped down and sat on the edge of the bed, your arms and legs wrapping around from behind him. Reaching around, you gently stroked his pretty two-toned cock while the two men explored each other's trembling lips. His blushing pink tip leaked silky pearls into your hand while you ran your palm over his generous length.

When Gojo's moans turned to pleading whines and his hips began rutting hungrily into your fist, Geto leaned forward, pressing his wet lips to yours over Gojo's shoulder, before he scooped his friend once more, pulling him gently from your grip and helping him wrap his long legs around his cinched waist. Gojo threw his head back, rubbing his length in languid strokes over Geto's rigid abs. The raven-haired sorcerer burried his face in the crook of Gojo's moonlit neck, breathing him in. Together, they rocked, arms wrapped tightly around one another before a drawn-out whimper from Gojo sent his friend into a tantric storm of thrusting that pushed Gojo's back against the room's wooden panelling, one of Geto's hands planted firmly on Gojo's ass, the other plastered flat against the wall beside his head. Twisting kisses drawing gasping breaths from his pounding chest, every thrust sinking Geto's aching cock to the hilt.

Watching your boyfriend fuck the life out of Gojo against your dormroom wall was sending you into a dizzying heat of your own. Slick stained the sheets beneath you as you rubbed your throbbing clit to the beat of their movements. You couldn't help but lose yourself in the beautifully fucked out expression of Gojo who appeared to be reaching his limits.

"Fuckk" he rasped, pausing long enough to pull his hair from his elastic, black tresses falling over sculpted shoulders in a way that made you crave him even more.

"Suguru..." you pleaded, no longer satisfied just being a spectator.

Gojo's feet hit the floor before Geto spun him in place, using a firm hand on the back of his neck to bend him over onto the matress before plunging his greedy cock back into his sweet-smelling slick.

"I'm getting -fuck- I'm getting closer," Geto panted. "He's so fucking tight. Maybe you can t-talk him through it for me."

Snowy bangs, now doused in sweat clung to Gojo's feverish brow. Brushing them gently away, you pressed a cool kiss to his forehead, praising the sorcerer. With his hands in yours, soft words of encouragement fell from your lips, faces low to the dormroom matress, his rocking in time to powerful thrusts.

"You're doing so good, just a little longer." You cooed. Gojo nodded in reply, pink tongue hanging from his open mouth, drawing ragged breaths.

He arched his back into Geto's sharp thrusts, hips lifting from the matress, his leaky tip drawing dewy lines over the bedding as his heavy cock bounced in perfect rythm to the movement.

"I-I need it," he breathed. "This is torture, I need it." Gojo looked desperate- starved.

"I know, baby. He's almost there," you assured him.

"No, hahhh," he moaned, a wild look darkening his radiant gaze. "I need you," he urged. "Want t'taste you."

His words caught you by complete surprise, stunned he could even think straight the way Geto was railing him into your mattress- thrilled that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

"Oh fuuu-" he rutted his ass back into a gasping Geto, flashing that feral smile as he dragged you toward him, firm grip on your hips. Geto's eyes widened as he watched Gojo spread your plush thighs, licking his way to the source of your slick.

With each rock forward, Gojo thrust his tongue deeper into your slit, drinking you in. Your squirms fueled his hunger, soft tongue dipping into you over and over, but it wasn't enough. He needed more.

Geto couldn't look away. He stared, hips slowing their movements as he watched Gojo plunge not two, but three long fingers into your sopping cunt- the one Geto would usually be servicing himself. He stopped moving entirely, mouth going dry. In turn, Gojo stopped too, craning his neck to look at the man behind him.

For a moment, Gojo froze, thinking he'd gone too far, fearing his friend may be having second thoughts about sharing his beloved mate. Then, Geto found his voice, heavy thrusts picking up as he spoke.

"Get under him." It was more of an order than a suggestion.

"What?" You said, struck again by the unexpected.

"Get under him. Please." His eyes met yours in desperate yearning. "I need to watch you fuck each other." His eyes rolled back at the thought, while he pumped his cock into the very man he wanted to see you under.

You and Gojo exchanged a look. Hungry. Excited. Aching for one another. You didn't need to be asked again.

You mewled as Gojo stretched you on his impressive length, deep veins dragging deliciously against your gummy walls. You sucked him in eagerly, shameless squelches sounding from the slick that now coated your inner thighs.

How was this happening? How did you get here?

Not long ago you were spending a peaceful evening alone. Now you found yourself staring up at the two most beautiful men you knew, both inside and out, from where you lay underneath their swaying bodies.

Geto stood beside the bed, fingers tight on Gojo's hips, gorgeous bangs falling softly over his flushed face. Each breath from his open mouth sent them fluttering forward before coming to rest again on his inviting lips.

What a sight to behold.

Gojo leaned down to whisper in your ear, cheek resting against yours, a wry smile twisting his lips as he spoke your own words back to you.

"You're doing so good, just a little longer."

"Ngh...I-"

"Shhh..." he hushed your words with an empassioned kiss causing you to clench on his length."Let's -hahh- show Suguru how good we can c-cum for him."

A final smack from his heavy balls was all it took to set you off. Slick poured from your core as you doused him in your pleasure. A thirsty groan was pulled from his chest at the rush of your walls closing in on his girth. Without thinking, Gojo leaned in to the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth savagely over Geto's mark. Heavy loads of hot cum filled you as his groans of pleasure vibrated against your broken skin.

Geto picked up speed. A familiar, wild look in his eyes, blown pupils turning them to lustful pools of inky black.

"Fuckkk!" He growled, hands coming down on either side of your head as he laid his body across Gojo's broad back. You knew what was coming next.

"S-Satoru." You said, stroking his frosted locks. He groaned a reply, still firmly attached to the spot on your neck. "Take my hand."

Your fingers intertwined just in time to see Geto throw himself over Gojo's shoulder, biting down hard on the base of his neck. The two men moaned their rapture as Gojo squeezed the life from your hand. His glossy lips, now tinged with blood, trembled delicately as he whimpered. You knew too well, Geto's knot was substantial.

"That's it, 'Toru." You cooed.

You felt his body tense from the stretch, felt him pulse with each spurt as Geto unloaded. Little pearls of hot seed dripped onto your quivering thighs below. You could only imagine how full poor Gojo must be if there was enough to slide past that soul-splitting knot.

The two collapsed in a shared exhale, your soft praises offering sweet comfort to the weary man between you.

Gojo peered up at you from where his head rested on your chest. "Now what?" He asked, relying on your seasoned know-how.

You parted his flattened hair and smoothed his brow with another assuring kiss. "Now we wait." Geto gave you a knowing smile from over Gojo's shoulder, chin resting on folded hands, nothing but love in his tired eyes.

"Now we wait."

[supermarketbae]

ok so *cracks knuckles* im really obsessed with subby sleepy billy lately. It’s winter night, you both are wrapped under the covers,his face nuzzled into your neck, his mouth wide open looking like an angel, his big muscular body ontop of yours using your entire body as a pillow. you are just ruffling his hair enjoying his presence, kissing his face. You hear him mumbling something, and he gently grinds his bulge against you, but he’s still asleep so doesn’t realise fully what he’s doing and stops after a few movements. my cute baby boy. You give his painfully hard dick some comfort by giving him a handjob, hes so sensitive- waking up sleepily moaning just in so much pleasure just mumbling so much about how good it feels❤️

AHEM- just-just- yk what-

We're making it out of the mental asylum with this one 🔥🔥🔥

Warnings: smutttt (we're back folks), praise, sub! billy, somnophilia maybe sorta slightly, reader has fem anatomy, overstim, uhhmm yea that's it y'all, oh no formatting but you guys should just expect that by now.

The howl of the wind against the house is what shook you from your sleep. It never surprised you how quickly the weather could drastically change. Shifting a little, you stifle a giggle as you feel your boyfriends arms tighten around your waist. Now, of course, Billy Hargrove would never admit it, but he was just a big teddy bear when it came to you. "Emphasis on big" you thought to yourself as his body, currently on top of yours dwarfs you. Simpering lightly you smile wide running a hand through Billy's golden curls, some of the long strands tickling your neck. At this, Billy shifts against you. Not something uncommon, except for the small whine that bubbled up out of him as his hips dragged over yours. His hips shudder into that slow, lazy circle again, you muffle a moan when his hardening dick presses oh so deliciously into your clothed cunt. Billy lets out a soft moan again, and you smirk.

"My poor baby" you whisper into the darkness. As you press yourself upward, Billy ruts against you with a pathetic whimper. Then, pushing his shoulder lightly, he rolls off of you onto his back. You don't miss the furrowing of his brows at the loss of heat. You also certainly don't miss the large wet spot as well as the significant bulge in his boxers. You clench your thighs at the lewd sight. Grinning sultrily, you trail a hand softly over it, mouth watering as Billy's dick twitches from the light stimulation. Fingers tracing gently over the waistband of his boxers, you move them down.

Your eyes widen. His cock is flushed red and angry, precum leaking so miserably. You chuckle sadistically as you bring your hand so teasingly up his length. As Billy's whines increase in volume you smile pressing kisses to his flushed cheeks. As your thumb circles the head of his dick, Billy's eye's flutter open. He looks at you mouth trembling in pleasure. "I-oh-oh fuck feels so good" he groans as his eyes roll. You bit your lip at his words your arousal spiking at his high pitched sounds. "Does it baby?" you coo hotly in his ear. "I think I would know since you were rutting against me in your sleep." You choose this moment to nibble at his ear.

Billy whines letting out an intelligible drawl. "I'm sorry 'm sorry so horny for you so-ohh god- ohgod~" he mewls as you jerk him off faster. "So good for me honey" you say as you bite, suckling at his neck. Billy's face contorts in pleasure as you continue stroking his throbbing dick. "Oh-I- nghhhhh- i- right there-right there god-pleassee" Billy shudders against you as the head of his cock continues to leak. "My pretty precious boy" you laugh smugly as he bucks up into your hand. "So needy darling..." you chide as Billy writhes beneath your grasp. "i- oh- ah- so it's so- good- I- wanna cum please baby" Billy mewls. "Ohh," you chuckle condescendingly "Is my good boy gonna cum?" you ask sickeningly sweet. "Yes-yea please wanna cum mmph-please" Billy cries breath fluttering as he whines. "Then cum for me hon, did so good." you whisper in his ear. Billy's eyes widen as his abs tighten and he cums moaning your name sounding wreaked and hazy.

His breath is coming out in small hiccups as he mutters a small "thank you that was-" His eyes widen as your hand continues to pump him lazily. Billy whimpers as you look down at him, climbing on top.

"I never said I was done love." you smile as he looks up at you and his whimpers start to increase in volume.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: it physically pained me not to add a mommy kink to this shhhhhh

[tinandabin]

Guys. S4 EP1 Kny. Let's insert reader there because YESSSSSSSS!!!!!! im SO EXCITED TO BE WIRITNG FOR KNY AGAINN!!!!!!!

updated a/n: y'all, it's me, tina except now kny has s4 ep8. wow I forgot about this draft lemme continue it.

Yandere Muzan x Reader ( I hope this is yandere )

__________

You were summoned in the infinity castle, well not really summoned, just teleported to a different area since you quite literally live in the infinity castle. All because of stupid Muzan being love-sick over you. Like bro, find a new obsession or something. Stop being a creep.

"[Name], come here. Stand beside me." Muzan said without looking at you, sensing your presence as soon as you were here. He was mixing some chemicals, since when did bro know chemistry?

You obeyed nonetheless, it would be futile to resist. So you got up and stood beside him, like a dutiful pet. You couldn't help but look at all the different chemicals Muzan was mixing, like bro, tell me the atomic mass of barium!!! You had this sudden urge to poke the chemicals, so you did. "Darling, don't do that." He chided you softly, as if you were some child. Did you listen to him? No.

Soon, all of the uppermoons were summoned and Muzan went on and on like some boring professor lecture. You almost fell asleep, almost.

"Ne ne, Muzan-sama, who's the new guest?" Douma, sitting in a criss-cross position, pointed a finger at you, staring at you menacingly. You stared back, more menacingly. Soon, it turned into a staring contest between the two of you before you decided to jump down the platform where Muzan is also standing, because why not? You have free will!!

Muzan glanced at you before sighing, irritated. "Don't do it." He warned. You looked back at him, smirking. "What if I did?" You replied in a snarky tone. Muzan looked fed up with your bullshit while Douma only merrily laughed in the background, finding it amusing that someone was able to challenge the demon king. A mere human, at that.

"Don't," Muzan said, not bothering to look at you again. "What's the magic word?" You wiggled your eyebrows at him. Really, all of the uppermoons were just waiting for you to get your skull burst open because who in their sane mind tells the demon king to say the magic word? Psh, as if he will- "Please don't." I kid you not, the uppermoons let out collective gasps. "Are you a witch?" Daki muttered, looking very surprised.

You only laughed and decided to not jump off the platform. Maybe another day. It was comical seeing the oh-so-feared demon king listen to the demands of a tiny human. That, my dear, was a normal day with the feared demon king. Just some uppermoon meetings, where you got Muzan to do something polite, effectively shocking the uppermoons to their core so much that they might just go into a coma. They all have concluded that you must be some type of goddess to be able to get Muzan to say, 'please'.

_______

"Moo-zan." You poked Muzan's cheek as he read some boring ass book about flowers. He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, humming.

"I'm bored."

"And? That is not of my concern."

"I'm bored."

"I still don't understand how is that my concern."

"I'll eat your books."

"Would you like to go to dinner, tonight?" Muzan felt threatened. He knows you won't be beyond eating his books.

Silly little threats always work, guys. Try it out! Sponsored by [Name].

Masterlist

[romanoffsbish]

Roles Reversed

Natasha Romanoff (amab) x GN!R (afab)

Request

A/N: I have never really been interested in the concept of anal for my writing, but the request was sweet enough that I thought I’d give it a go. I did my research, and I hope it worked. This is meant to be soft!top Natasha (being pegged by R’s strap)

Smut: Hand Job / BJ | Anal — Butt Plug -> Strap | A 🤏��� of Degradation | Overstimulation |

Natasha had been waiting on you to come home for hours now, she was desperate for you after the interrupted blowjob of this morning.

——

What made matters this drastic was how you had sensually kissed her goodbye, hands still fondling with her member while your tongue caressed hers. Then you pulled away with a sad smile, and soft eyes meant to crush her hopes.

"It'll only be a couple hours Natty, I have to handle this stupid paperwork mishap, feel free to relieve yourself, but if you wait I have a surprise that'll be worth your while."

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully, normally she was the one to make the calls, but she saw a glint of sinful delight in your eyes that made her want to see what you had in store. So she spent the entire morning in bed, with a hard on that never fell because she couldn't get her mind off of you. Everything about you enticed her, so she was left to breathe through the pain.

So, it was no shock that when the sound of keys jingling in the door could be heard she was off the mattress and racing right into your arms.

"Kiss me, please." You chuckled lowly, it was very rare for you to get her this desperate. "ls that all you want baby, is for me to kiss you?"

Natasha's face warmed under your intense gaze, you watched as she struggled to speak and you wondered if that's how you looked whenever she topped. If so, then it finally made sense to you why she was always so eager.

Natasha cleared her throat, but it was clearly of no use as she softly stuttered, "N-no, I also want you to fuck me senseless, but a kiss sounded far more romantic."

Then she regained a bit of her senses as she pulled you in by the collar of your shirt, her lips slammed into yours but the confidence as well as the kiss were short lived as she gasped, and you smirked, effectively ending the kiss.

"A-Are you packing detka?" You gripped her by the hips and spun her around, pushing her into the door so you could press her into it further with your body to give a silent answer. Your lips pressed to the nape of her neck while you reached around to stroke her throbbing cock. "Thought I could finally peg you, I mean, how else would I even fuck you senseless baby?"

"Oh hush," she chided, her ass pressed back into you and you bit back an aroused moan at the pressure of the harness pushing into you. "Put your money where you mouth is detka."

Natasha's knees nearly gave out as you began to pump her cock in a way that muddled her mind, and briefly distracted her from the finger you trailed down her spine. Your nail teasingly trailed over the swell of her ass before you raised the hand to guide her face to yours.

Natasha smiled, but it was more like a grimace as the pleasure she felt with your hand alone was unbelievable. "Are you sure Natty?" The redhead nearly came right there, the way you cared for her always made her weak. "Yes."

While you continued to stroke her, pace picking up ever so slightly you'd also leaned in to kiss her rather sloppily. The redhead was panting into you as her climax neared, her body was tense, and mind distracted as you seamlessly used your free hand to reach into your purse to collect a mini shopping bag.

Natasha whined when your hand left her cock, she felt a wave of embarrassment over it, but she was grateful you didn't taunt her. You normally would, in a playful way, but you wanted her to feel nothing short of safe.

While your hands met on her backside you continued to kiss her, when she felt you part her cheeks with a firm hand her entire body tensed. "Relax baby, or it won't feel good."

Natasha nodded, then she pulled away to lean her forehead against the cold wood of the front door to calm her breathing some. You began to kiss over the heated skin of her neck to help. Once you felt her shoulders sag you pulled a bottle from your bag, and layered some lube over her puckered hole, as well as over the cooled metal of the iridescent butt plug.

Natasha gasped when you began to spread the liquid around, what was once cold and foreign, became warmed and welcome by your finger. With the opposite hand to before you were once again stroking her cock, trying to make her body relax further as you experimented.

It wasn't unexpected, but Natasha felt her mind go hazy as you broke that barrier, and just as soon as she regained her grip on reality you pulled out and replaced your finger with the tip of the prepped plug. A grin overtook your face when she pushed back, her body begging you to take the plunge, so you did and watched in awe as her tight hole swallowed it.

Natasha felt the coil in her lower belly snap, she moaned brokenly as she abruptly came. Her load was unending as her body reacted to the pleasurable stretching of her canal. She was overcome by the sensation, her hips rutted into your hand to prolong the feeling as she actually felt as her walls morphed around the intrusion. Your hand kneading her ball sack didn't help to staunch the flow, but it was clearly beneficial.

"I did it Nat," your teasing tone pulled her from the haze slightly, she croaked, "Did what?"

"I finally painted over the chips in the door."

Natasha burst into a fit of laughter, her head fell back against your shoulder as she let the humor of the moment pass over. Then after she'd calmed down some she wordlessly turned around and gently kissed your lips as her hand slipped into yours so she could move the party to your shared bedroom, and away from Liho.

Who'd been longingly staring out the window at the elderly woman across the street...

Once you made it to your bedroom it was a blur of limbs as Natasha hastily pulled your work clothes back off. Her blackened eyes, overcome by lust roamed over your physique hungrily, and her hand fell between your legs to survey the forest green strap. It was thin, and short.

"Detka, how about you finish what you started before you left." The words came off as if she was asking, but you knew better. Natasha was ecstatic when you fell to your knees, and took her already erect again penis into your hands. Cum coated your palms as you gave her a few teasing strokes, she cast you a warning glare, and then your lips wrapped around her tip.

Natasha allowed you a moment to adjust to her size before she took over, she placed a hand on your head, her fingers tightly gripped at your hair to hold you in place so she could fuck your throat until her load shot down it. Her pace was torturous, tears now streamed down your face as she was truly relentless with how deep she would thrust. "God I love your fucking mouth Y/N." You hummed at her praise, then you started to continuously hollow out your cheeks and that's when she finally lost control.

Once she'd come down, noticing your face with dribbles of her seed on your chin she smiled and eagerly pulled you back up onto your shaky legs, and directly into a kiss. Her arms wrapped around your waist, tongue slipping into your mouth so that she could taste herself as she effortlessly guided your body over to the bed.

"I'm ready to ride you detka," Natasha purred against the skin of your neck, her teeth sunk into your skin as desire controlled her wholly. Her hands gently shoved you back, your knees hit the side of the bed-frame causing you to tumble backwards, then look to her confused. "Lean against the headboard for me please."

Natasha grabbed the bottle of lube from your bag, then returned to you with fast hands as she prepped your strap before you could even process a thought. Then next thing you knew she was straddling your thighs, her cock already back to standing at attention.

"Pull it out detka," Natasha instructed as her lips found purchase against your throat. You were cautious as you brought your hands around her body to knead her cheeks in a moment of calm preparation, after a few seconds you parted her cheeks, and she began to kiss and nip at your skin nervously.

Then you felt her kisses become more insistent so you pressed a finger against the flat end of the plug causing it to momentarily press in deeper, Natasha sunk her teeth into your skin as a moan was ripped from her unexpectedly.

All at once you removed the sensationalizing piece of metal, and Natasha moved her lips up to yours in a feverish manner. There'd never been a moment where she lacked that feeling of desperation for you, but this was much more intense then any other time. This was a first for the both of you, and she was wildly turned on by the fact that you'd be the one to stretch her.

As the kiss got even sloppier, her tongue now exploring every inch of your mouth, her hands clumsily fell atop of your shoulders so that she could brace herself for the next step. Her mind was hazy with only speculation for what's to come, her labored breaths told you as much.

"Hold the strap steady for me detka," she hotly panted the soft command into your mouth once she could focus on the deeper, carnal need over the aching throb in her flushed cock.

The redhead took in a deep breath, then on the exaggerated exhale she sunk onto the silicone. "Holy shit," she shrieked, it was only the tip but it was painful nonetheless. You felt the way she tensed, so with your free hand you trailed your finger up her spine slowly, trying to distract her. Then you cupped her right breast while your tongue swirled around the nipple of her left and she sunk further as her head flew back.

Her entire body quivered when she had the entirety of your strap sheathed between the walls of her canal, a flash of something she could only describe as pure need coursed through her as the tip nudged her g-spot.

It was actually so intense she was shocked that only a spurt of cum left the tip of her cock, she was sure she should've busted all over you. It was all she wanted to do, and now that she'd been bottomed out for a few minutes she's felt her body leaning into the pleasure over the pain of the stretch. Which is why she began to rock her hips experimentally, her nails dug into the exposed skin of your shoulder as she felt the urge to move faster, making you groan out in mutual pleasure. It was a sinful echoing.

The pace the redhead set was docile in nature, but as the pit in her stomach began to tighten she felt the urge to pick it up. To give into the carnality of the moment, and chase down what was meant to be the best orgasm of her life.

It wasn't much shock to her that she'd ended up doing most of the work. You were clueless. Natasha smirked at the sight of your dilated pupils, you were incredibly dumbfounded by just how hot she looked riding your strap, it was amusing, but it was also not helping. "Detka." You instantly met her gaze, obedient and desperate to please her as always. "Stroke my cock, go on, be useful and do your part."

When your hand had barely wrapped around her shaft she knew it wouldn't be long at all. Your fingernail barely scraped over one of her thick, throbbing veins and she burst instantly, drenching your abdomen with her seed as she spewed like a damaged park water fountain.

Natasha cried against your shoulder as her high overwhelmed her entirely. The euphoria that she felt was next level, and she knew now that this was not the end of experimenting. It could only get better from here, but for now she needed to stop you from thrusting up.

Fortunately for her you came second's later, hips stilling as your own orgasm ran its course and offered her the oh so necessary reprieve.

"You did good moya lyubov'," she rasped, hand inching up to behind your neck so she could pull you into a deep kiss that broke off fast as your lungs burned with an incessant need for oxygen. "Careful detka," she winced as your hips moved the strap against her sensitive walls, as you had just moved to lean back.

You froze, a frown forming when you realized she was definitely overstimulated. "I'm sorry." Natasha shook her head, a wide grin covering the momentary grimace. "It's okay, I know you would never hurt me detka, don't freak out."

Natasha guided you both slowly onto your sides, your faces now parallel as she worked her way into shimmying off of your strap. It took a few repetitive, deep breaths, mixed with the feel of your soft lips marking up her chest for her to feel comfortable removing herself.

"How do you feel?" Natasha smiled genuinely, her hand reached down to find yours so she could pull it to her lips for a tender kiss. "I have never felt so good in my life, and I'm so happy to have embarked on this journey with you."

"What do you need most right now Natty?" You leaned forward to softly kiss the tip of her nose, resulting in a huff when you skipped her pout. "For you to come back here with those lips."

You released a humored sigh before allowing her to pull you back in for a sweet moment. It was full of soft touches, and calmed hearts. Neither of you felt a need for more, there was a contentment in leaving the carnality behind.

"Shall I run you a bath my love?" Natasha quickly shook her head from side to side. "In a few minutes, for now, please let me hold you."

You easily complied, rolling over, and pressing your ass back into her limp cock, and eliciting no reaction from the hibernating appendage. The redhead wrapped her arm around your waist and held your back flush to her chest. She smiled, feeling nothing but comforted with you in her arms, where you belonged. It was silent until you began to hum a Russian lullaby to further soothe her— she then melted entirely.

——

2,498 Words

❤️ K 😮‍💨

[tragedybunny]

hiya! for the Very Secret Santa =) would love anything fluffy and sweet with just Astarion or Astarion/Tav enjoying a starry night outside. Thank you in advance!

Hope you enjoy this gift! Very special thank you to @satanicspinosaurus for the lovely beta work.

All the Wonders Of the Night - Astarion x GN!Tav

It was the middle of the night, and you were trekking outside of Baldur’s Gate like someone who either didn’t know or didn’t care about the possible dangers outside the walls. Being outside those walls was an important part of your plans though 

You’d spent the night in Rivington, and now you left the last road, and plodded south through the open fields. 

“Where in the hells are you dragging me,” your companion fussed behind you, causing you to smile. Astarion had made strides in the last couple of weeks, but he was still somewhat the irritable vampire you had met on the beach that day. It also seemed that he wasn’t exactly fond of surprises, but this would be worth it, and he must have trusted in that to agree to come with. 

“Not too much further my Love,” you called back behind you, as you navigated your way forward.

“You’re lucky I adore you,” he returned, sounding a bit more chipper. Perhaps he was aware he had come off a little hostile a moment ago. You tried not to correct or police him too much, but there were times it was hurtful and you couldn’t help but say something. 

“I offered to carry the pack,” you remind him teasingly. 

“And let you claim you did all the work?” You must have slowed a bit because he’d closed the distance to wrap his arms around you. “You’d like that wouldn’t you,” he asked, nuzzling into your neck. 

“I could never think to steal your glory.” You answer, grasping his hand to pull him along beside you. 

A few more minutes and you’ve reached your destination, a moderate hill rising out of the grassy plain surrounding it. It’s not much elevation, but it is higher than where you stand. “Up we go,” you say brightly and hear a sigh beside you, which may or may not be sincere. 

The top of the hill offers a calm view, the Chionthar, a dark ribbon on the horizon, and Baldur’s Gate, a collection of lights. Around you, a sea of grass ripples in the gentle night breeze. Not a single stray cloud disrupts the gleaming sky above. A night as perfect as you could ever ask for. 

“This is it,” you announce brightly. 

Astarion looks around skeptically and begins to shed the pack he was carrying. “I’m going to trust you on this one, darling.” 

Taking the pack from him, you kiss his cheek softly, pretending not to notice how he still flushes at small, affectionate gestures. “You won't be disappointed.” 

The heavens are moving though and you'll have to make haste to be ready in time. The supplies in the pack really just amount to a couple bed rolls, some extra blankets, a bottle of wine, and a bit of food for yourself. You’re not so worried about Astarion getting hungry as you’re used to finding yourself the snack when he’s peckish. Quickly, you arrange everything into a comfortable little spot to lay back and look at the sky. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” you say, inviting him to join you as you settle onto the bedrolls, wrapping a blanket over your legs. 

“If you insist,” he says with a grin that you know means mischief. 

In a moment, Astarion is sprawled across your blankets, head in your lap. “You’re like an ill-behaved cat,” you chide and run your hands through his curls. 

“You wouldn’t want me any other way.” A kiss is blown your way, and you just sigh, because you know he’s right. Instead, you fumble your way around him to open up the bottle of wine, without moving him from your lap. “Not to be impatient darling, but I am a little curious why we’re out here.”

You let the first sip of wine wash over your tongue before you answer. It’s white, sweet, melodic, and fruity - the kind of wine Astarion claims to hate. The truth, you know, is that he can’t taste the same as he did before his current state of being. Even the darkest, deepest reds taste cheap to him. You give him every happiness that’s at your disposal, maybe in time you’ll be able to give this too. But for now, tonight will have to do. 

 Taking a glance at the heavens, you gauge the time. “You’ll see soon en-'' Your words are cut off by the first falling star, streaking across the sky. Apparently you were off by a few minutes in your calculations. 

“Oh…” Had you managed to render Astarion speechless? Even with your slight error in timing, his crimson eyes are locked on the sky in enchantment. 

The first falling star was accompanied by another soon after and you poured Astarion a glass of wine even if he’d fuss about the taste. He took it without complaint, head still nestled in your lap, as even more bursts of light filled the night sky above you. 

The rain of stars began to rhythmically fall from the heavens, a dazzling display of lights. The two of you were uncharacteristically silent, attention rapt to the phenomena above you. You let your hand continue to run through Astarion’s hair, every once in a while caressing an ear or skimming your fingers along his forehead. In response, he snatched your hand, alternating between gentle kisses and playful nibbles each time. 

When the pace slowed a bit Astarion finally shifted, pulling you down so that you were lying next to him for a proper cuddle. “So,” you asked nervously, wondering what he’d made of the surprise. 

“That was quite lovely my sweet. And you went to all the work to drag me out here to see it.” He nuzzled against your cheek, leaving soft kisses. 

“Does that mean you enjoyed it?” Face buried in his curls, you inhaled. 

“I..,” his voice catches a little, “I did. You can’t see much of these things from the places I was spending my nights in and obviously Cazador wasn’t going to let us wander off to go star gazing.” You give him a light squeeze, a quiet acknowledgement of that small piece of everything he endured, not even the autonomy to look up at the stars. “But I do have to ask why you decided on this particular outing?”

“You see, it is beautiful, but it’s something beautiful you can only see at night. The night holds a lot of wonders that one can’t experience in the day, you included.” 

“Oh, stop,” his voice trembles.

“I brought you out here to show you, the night is vibrant, alive, and full of wonderful, beautiful things. And I’ll have no regrets about living my life in it, if I get to share it with you. I know you’ve been worried about that.”

Astarion sniffles and buries his face in your neck. “I suppose this means there’s no changing your mind.” 

Your arms tighten around him, holding him close. “You’re stuck with me. I love you, and I want this life with you more than anything.”

Above you, stray stars still fall as you kiss Astarion softly. Relaxing into your touch, you feel his hand on your waist, gripping as though he never wants to see this moment end. But tonight is just the first of many to come, nights as numerous as the stars still standing firm in the heavens.  

@micropoe10 @writingmysanity

Tag list:

@mxxny-lupin @azu21 @tallymonster @dependsonthedream

@sunfire-ancunin  @bambamwolf87 

@fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress

@bhaalbaaby

[idyllic-affections]

the coldest of nights.

summary. bubu pharmacy is a safe space.

trigger & content warnings. implied family issues, crying, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort. baizhu & teen!reader. 0.3k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.

authors thoughts. i think baizhu would give good hugs. look at him. huggable. STILL DON'T LIKE WRITING FANFIC IN THIS FORMAT RRAAAHGHG 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 but it's okay for little posts like this.....

baizhu's arms are tender when he holds you.

he knows when something is wrong or has gone wrong in your life, especially when you show up at bubu pharmacy late into the night even during winter when liyue's temperatures can drop below freezing solely because you know he'll still be awake. his instinctive response is to ask if you're suffering some kind of medical emergency that couldn't wait until a more suitable time (moreso for you than for him), but he knows better. the answer is always no.

(he hopes the answer will never be yes, but he does have the means to heal you if it were ever needed. he just... hopes he doesn't ever have to, that you don't ever have to suffer some kind of serious injury or condition.)

he knows that it probably isn't medically motivated when you come in late at night sniffling, rubbing your eyes a bit too hard in an attempt to rid them of the tears, chest heaving as if you'd been yelling or running a marathon—hell, maybe you had done both. yelled and then ran from one side of liyue to the other just to seek out his comfort, that is. it would not surprise him.

and he sighs. it isn't because of you in any way; it's moreso the tragedy of your circumstance that he often finds himself lamenting over.

...and, well. he also can't help but sigh because he knows it really isn't safe for you to be out alone at night. there are vicious people—humans, to be precise; not creatures of the abyss or other entities of the like (those threats are always handled by that elusive yaksha)—who would surely take advantage of the vulnerability of a weeping teenager making their way through liyue when most others are asleep. he'll lecture you about that later, though. the last thing you need from him in such a vulnerable moment is to be chided.

his fingertips are particularly gentle against your face as he pats your tears dry, softly inquiring about what led you here this time and listening closely to whatever you choose to share with him. he opens his arms in a wordless invite and is certain to hold you for as long as you need when—if—you do accept his offer.

bubu pharmacy is, and always will be, a safe space. baizhu will always do his best to ensure that you know that.

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[snowbellewells]

HAPPY (One Day Late) BIRTHDAY KRYSTAL!!!

(I really wanted to get this posted on @kmomof4's actual birthday - I've only been trying to get this going since I promised it LAST YEAR! But you have been very patient, Krystal, and here at last is the story I'm working on for your birthday gift. Seeing as you wrote a beautiful CS AU of the Bridgerton book which is a bit of a Cinderella story, and since I've been mulling a bit of a Killian-as-the-Cinderella-character fic for some time, I've mashed that idea together with several of your mentioned fave tropes and characters/relationships from OuaT. I'm not going to list it all here. Hopefully, it will lead to more pleasantly melty surprises as we go. ;p I'll try not to keep you waiting too long between updates - and I have no idea how many chapters there will end up being. I first thought a really long one shot, then a two shot, but Killian and his fairy godmother (and Liam!) were excessively chatty, and it just kept getting longer and longer! I realize Emma isn't in it much yet, but we'll start with her next time.)

I hope you enjoy, Krystal!! I'm so glad we are friends!!!

Also available on AO3 if that is your preference...

"Dreams That You Wish Will Come True"

by: @snowbellewells

Chapter One

“But Liam,” a breathless young Killian Jones argued stubbornly, “why are you dragging me to the galley? You know all I have to get done before the Captain returns…” Swiping the shaggy dark hair back from where it hung in his eyes, long past needing a trim, the young man cringed at the sound of his own wheedling tone. Gritting his teeth and flexing his hands in frustration, Killian chided himself for questioning his elder brother’s direction and sounding like the bloody nuisance he knew he must be to Liam - strong and wise and nearly grown now. At barely seventeen, and with little experience beyond that of an indentured deckhand on a ramshackle pirate ship, what right or knowledge did he have to be so stubborn, especially not with Liam, who had only ever looked out for his best interests?

Sure enough, exasperated, Liam shook his head before responding with a huff, “Can you not just do what I say, Little Brother? For once? You’ll see in a moment.”

By this time, they had traversed the length of the ship below deck, and they stood outside the galley. They paused briefly, with Killian biting down on his tongue to prevent asking again if Liam was sure about what they were doing. To his wide-eyed astonishment, Liam raised a hand to rap his knuckles in a specific rhythm on the door that separated Cook’s domain from the dimly-lit hall. His brother gave him a bit of a wink, more mischief in it than his serious elder sibling, burdened with far too much responsibility for his years, usually showed. Curious now, Killian waited wordlessly with him until footsteps could be heard drawing nearer on the other side.

When the door was opened to them, Killian was perplexed over again as he and Liam were beckoned inward and the door closed behind them once more. Within the room, illuminated softly by a hanging lantern and a few candles scattered throughout, he saw that, not only Cook, but several of the crewmen of the Merry Rogue, had gathered in the small, already overwarm, and easily crowded room in which they took their meals. Killian was usually on his feet serving. Silver would allow nothing less from his “kitchen maid” as he often tauntingly dubbed Killian, hoping to stoke the fiery temper the young lad tried to check so he could then see him lashed for insubordination. It was only well after the others had cleared off that he and Cook could sit and take their own repast. However, those gathered now had secretive smiles and anxiously pleased looks on their faces. Killian noted easily that none of the more hateful crew members were present; neither those who ordered him about loftily, mocking him and sending him scurrying back and forth for items they didn’t really need throughout the meal, nor the cruel bosun who would stick a foot out to trip him, then cuff him for spilling and wasting food. Instead, gathered before him were the softer hearted men - perhaps misfits on the ship themselves at some earlier time before he and Liam were indentured to the vessel - who had often shown him bits of kindness and understanding when they could manage.

In spite of his earlier misgivings, he was intrigued and couldn’t help asking Cook this time, though Liam was still nearby. “What is going on here?”

The older man merely smiled kindly, motioning Killian further into the room, until he stood near its center. “You’ll soon see, lad,” Cook coaxed gently, turning to riffle through a burlap sack laid out on the galley table before offering his prize to Killian. “We’ve something to give you for the evening’s festivities.”

“Wh- what are you on about?” Killian’s brow puckered in confusion as he looked at what appeared to be a pile of folded cloth in his older friend’s hands, and at the eagerly expectant faces gathered around to watch. “Festivities? Me? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about…”

He was shaking his head as words failed him, not sure how to deal with the puzzle before him, when he sensed Liam at his back, solid and strong. His elder brother placed a comforting hand on Killian’s shoulder and leaned in to murmur quietly in his ear. “Come now, Killy, you have to have seen the banners posted all over port for the gala at the castle, in honor of the Princess Emma’s birthday. It’s tonight.”

Killian sputtered indignantly as Liam nudged him in the side and nodded toward the stack of fine material Cook was still holding out to him. “Aye, of course I have, but - but what does that have to do with me?”

Liam responded with an even more brilliant smile, bowling Killian over with his quip, “Simple, Little Brother! If you would get a move on, we mean for you to attend that ball!”

Those words did not truly make the situation much clearer to Killian’s mind, but at Liam’s urging - knowing his sibling would never encourage something that would do him harm - he took the bundle from Cook and moved forward to lay the offering on the long, wooden table for a better view. He could see now that it was a fine coat, made of soft, midnight blue, expertly tailored and brand new, certainly the finest piece of clothing he’d ever held in his own two hands. There was also a dress shirt, a mere shade lighter, clearly meant to be worn beneath the jacket, and breeches of a soft, dove gray - all quite the ensemble and much finer than any mere deckhand or cabin boy would ever have use for. Despite that, all three items seemed to be in his particular size, and the pleased smiles on the small circle of weathered faces around him clearly meant for him to have the articles.

“This is very kind,” Killian began, trying a different tack since protesting that they must be mistaken had done no good. “These clothes are the most handsome I’ve seen, but surely no sailor, and one barely part of the crew at that, would be invited to such an event. Mayhap someone else could…”

“Perhaps I can explain,” an airy, musical voice spoke up, floating on the air like a tinkling of chimes as sparkles of light and swirls of colorful breeze seemed to catch the eyes of all those gathered in the small ship’s kitchen. Gliding gently toward him from above, a small creature - a miniature woman, a fairy!, he realized -  came to to hover before him, a sweetly bemused smile on her delicate face.

More questions flooded Killian’s brain than had already lingered; however, he was now too overwhelmed and in awe to speak any of them aloud. A fairy? Here? Where pirates cooked and swabbed the deck and ate their grub? That he would ever see such a mystical being had never entered his mind, much less the idea that he would encounter one aboard a ship which had seen much more glorious days many years ago. He was sailor enough - a superstitious lot, one and all - to believe that magic existed, fairies among the more familiar imagery of sirens and selkies, but a vague belief in theory was much different from seeing one shimmering before his own eyes, gazing on him with a benevolent smile upon her face.

Seeing that the beguiling young man before her was currently incapable of answering, the silvery-winged fairy’s laughter tinkled on the air like the pleasant ringing of tiny bells, the riotous pile of ringleted brown curls interespersed with morning glory blossoms shook with her gentle mirth before she spoke again, hastening to explain and hopefully to dispel the poor youth’s doubt and confusion. “You are Killian Jones, yes?” she queried, already certain, but awaiting his confirmation nonetheless.

Killian did manage an affirmative nod, and his lips formed a soft “aye”, though it sounded as barely more than a whisper.

“Well then, Killian Jones, it is a pleasure to meet you at long last. I have watched you from afar all your life, after all. I am Nova, your fairy godmother.”

The handsome young man’s bright blue eyes popped wide open at her pronouncement, stunning in their crystal clarity and nearly making Nova’s sweet soul cry at the hope laid bare in his expression, hope which he tried equally to rein in, clearly having already learned such lovely things were not meant for him and waiting to hear the catch. She was the most tender-hearted of all her sisters, and it had been painful for her to look on and do nothing as this mischievous, brilliant little boy had been forced into manhood far too soon. His mother’s death, his father’s abandonment, the privation and shame of unwilling servitude, the cruelty of mistreatment, and the harsh life at sea had all changed the bonny child who had boarded this ship with his father and brother years ago into the solemn young man before her, who had never truly been allowed to leave. She had chafed over and over again at being held back and kept from doing something to help her appointed charge - anything to better his lot, even slightly. Their fairy laws were fickle, and yet exacting; even as Nova honored and revered their ways and her elders, she could not claim to understand why it had taken so long to finally be deemed “the right time”.

She could tell by the furrow of his dark brow that young Killian Jones must be pondering at least some of those same questions. Where had she been these last years of backbreaking toil, pilfered rations, and vicious taunts about a father so desperate to be rid of him he had sold him away? Where had she been the first time the lash had scored his back and left bloodied stripes in its wake? She had been right there beside him, unseen, constrained from taking any action, but he had no way of knowing that.

“I - I have a fairy godmother?” he finally sputtered in stark disbelief.

Nova nodded kindly, having the good grace to look more than a little abashed. “Of course you do! Everyone does. It breaks my heart to think you’ve felt so forgotten.” She squared her shoulders and blinked rapidly, trying not to become emotional as she attempted to explain. “Unfortunately, we fairies follow a very strict code. We are forbidden to make ourselves known before the appointed time. And I kept being told it was not yet that moment…”

Killian’s mind whirled with all the new information - and with a bit of indignance at the idea that all he and Liam had been through since being abandoned and left in Silver’s dubious oversight had not been considered serious enough to merit aid. His mouth opened, and even he himself was not sure if it was a question or a retort on the tip of his tongue - but his immediate awe was finally overcome - when his diminutive magical guest clearly sensed she needed to finish her explanation, and fast. 

“My superior, the Blue Fairy, or Blue as she’s often called, is stricter about maintaining our distance and secrecy than most.” Nova shrugged her shoulders in obvious contrition as she waved her hands and a wand appeared within her grasp. “I’ve never really understood why, but that’s neither here nor there. It is finally time to grant your heart’s wish… to do something to make you life better, just as I’ve been waiting to do!”

Killian’s mouth snapped shut again at that, puzzled by her words and disarmed at the excitement bursting from her tiny frame. He had never met this Nova before, but he could hardly doubt her eager sincerity. “My wish?” he repeated uncertainly, feeling that he was trailing considerably further behind in the conversation that he ought to be. “I can’t honestly remember even making one.”

Even as he spoke those words, however, Killian knew in his heart they were not entirely true. It might not have been the focused drive of a wish upon a star, or anything that direct, but he had often thought on where he would go if he were free, what he and Liam could do if they were their own men, left to their own devices, able to seek an adventure of their choosing, honor and glory for the name of Jones which their father had sullied. Had those hopes and dreams been heard all this time, when he had felt so forgotten and ignored? It must be true, though it was hard to reconcile with his previous experiences.

Almost as if she could read his thoughts broadcast across his face, Nova nodded enthusiastically, affirming his realization. “That’s right,” she pronounced clearly, gesturing to the clothing his brother and shipmates had procured for him. The fairy -his fairy godmother! - then effortlessly waved her wand once more, causing one of the flyers ever-present about this kingdom to appear before him from out of thin air. “This ball is only the beginning for you. You have big dreams, Killian Jones, and a calling to fulfill, but you are also the only one who can see them come true. I may be giving you a bit of a boost, but you are more than enough for the task. Your heart is strong, and I have no doubt it will see you through. You only need a little belief.”

“And what exactly does a fancy royal ball have to do with anything?” he questioned. His shock was wearing off as he grew more comfortable speaking to Nova, but he wasn’t seeing why he would be needed at a princess’ birthday celebration. All the same, he scooped all the formal wear up in his arms to go and change - whether it made sense to him or not.

Nova’s entire small fae being practically twinkled at him with the playful wink she gave before answering, “Not all things are as simple as they might first appear, young sir.” With that, she lightly tapped the end of her wand on the top of his head, causing a pleasantly warm tingling to spread through Killian’s body, all the way out to his fingers and toes.

A mere moment later, amid astonished exclamations from Liam, Cook, and the others, he realized that his arms were empty; the new clothes he had been holding already magicked onto his lanky frame, along with shining new shoes upon his feet and a smart queue tied off with ribbon matching his fine shirt and a fresh, neat trim to his dark hair too. It was indeed enough to make him feel a whole new person - one who might not stand out horribly, even at the palace of Misthaven.

“There now,” Nova approved with gentle tone, a fond smile gracing her lips as she took in the full effect upon her charge. “You look quite the young gentleman.”

“Aye, you do at that!” Cook echoed with his rough but friendly voice as he clapped Killian on the shoulder heartily. “Even in our heyday, Cap’n Silver himself rarely looked so sharp!”

“I’d not let him hear you say so,” the old shipwright Ned called over jovially.

“Too right!” Cook chuckled.

The other crew members present laughed as well and began to talk amongst themselves, drifting away now that the excitement was past. Soon, only Liam stood beside him, the two brothers both looking to their benefactress where she hovered before them. Even Cook headed off for his cabin, saying his old bones were ready for his bunk, even if the night was still young.

“You look just like a fine young lieutenant,” Liam affirmed, eyes wide as he took in his younger sibling and needlessly brushed some nonexistent speck from the shoulder of Killian’s jacket. Then, bracing both of his larger hands on Killian’s upper arms, he held him out to gaze into his face seriously before offering in a choked voice, “This sort of adventure should have always been your lot.” Liam pulled Killian in abruptly and hugged him tight for several seconds, startling Killian before he held onto his brother with equal fervency.

“Thank you,” Killian finally managed when Liam released him. “I don’t know how you managed all this,” he gestured around the room, “but I am sure it began with you.”

Liam flushed slightly, looking down with a sheepish smile. “My idea, aye, but I had lots of help. And it wouldn’t have turned out nearly so well if your honest-to-goodness fairy godmother hadn’t turned up!”

Nova’s ringing laughter once again tickled their ears, her eyes crinkling up prettily as well with her good humor. “It really was my pleasure,” she rejoined. But then she added more seriously, “This is your night, Killian. There is much for you to see and to do, and I bid you enjoy every moment to its fullest. I’ve readied a carriage which will take you to the palace, and Liam can ride along with you as far as the gates. Just remember - the ride and the clothes, the gifts you’ve been granted, will vanish at midnight. It’s simply how the magic works. Make sure you are headed back by then.”

Killian nodded, promising he would do as she said; it was far longer than he could imagine needing, if the truth were told. He wasn’t at all sure what he would do there in any case. And though he wished Liam could venture inside with him, he would gladly take the ride to gather more advice and draw strength from his sibling’s company.

After that, it seemed very little time passed before - head still spinning at the sheer impossibility of it all - Killian was disembarking from a fine horsedrawn carriage at the palace gates. Looking back to grin crookedly at Liam, his brother urged once more “Have fun!” and reassured him that all would be well. Turning, Killian bravely put first one foot, and then the other, forward, until he stepped into the castle of Misthaven, a guest at a royal ball. 

He slipped his hand into his pocket to run his fingers over the ring on an old chain which had once belonged to their mother (Liam had bid him carry it this once for luck) and pulled in a deep, steadying breath as he gained his bearings. He was already dazzled beyond belief, but determined to make a good showing and bring “honor to the Jones brothers” as he murmured under his breath. Whatever he was meant to find, he would do his best.

At that, he raised his eyes, catching sight of the magnificent winding staircase trailing down from the upper floors into the main hall. Halfway down the steps, paused with one foot poised in descent, was a stunningly beautiful, golden-haired vision in sky blue and silver. Killian could scarcely take in the tiara resting upon her head or the clear resemblance she bore to her likeness on all the recent announcements for her birthday. Laying eyes on her in life had struck him motionless, frozen in place. ‘Bloody hell,’  his mind fumbled inelegantly, ‘It’s Princess Emma herself.’

So completely entranced was he, in fact, that Killian failed to realize the princess was just as stunned - equally taken in and unable to move. Their eyes met and held across the distance between them, and one more shining burst of magic was ignited then and there.

Tagging a few others who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi

@anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @xarandomdreamx @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight

@stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @eastwesthomeisbest @bluewildcatfanatic @jonesfandomfanatic

@belovedcreation @goforlaunchcee @laianely @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

@myfearless-love @undercaffinatednightmare @caught-in-the-filter @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm

@gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @resident-of-storybrooke

@teamhook @revanmeetra87 @jennjenn615 @grimmswan @ultraluckycatnd

[bengiyo]

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yara ka Ep 5 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Sakae rejected Kazuyo properly, and she coped with her disappointment by joining team Sakae and Soga. She helped Sakae prepare a series of surprises for Soga's birthday. Unfortunately, her boss derailed those plans, and Kazuyo got mad at Soga for not recognizing Sakae's feelings. Thanks to the added support from Kazuyo, Sakae took a step forward and told Soga about his feelings. Soga was a bit surprised, so Sakae told him to think about it. We left on Soga's ex-wife calling him and Sakae's ex showing up at his house.

Mizuki is pretty. I hope he isn't revealed to be a demon twink.

Episode 5: He's returned. What now?

Oh, I don't like Mizuki. You can't put relationships on a shelf like a toy you're bored with and just come back to it.

I love Kazuyo so much. She got Soga to admit he has more than feelings of friendship for Sakae, and then immediately called Kaname when something suspicious was going on.

Mizuki listening in at the sauna is a great gay joke. This sauna is a place only for men, so straight men could talk about their psrtners here without worry. But because Sakae and Mizuki are men, he can chase them out of the space.

I really love the squad reacting quickly to this development. Sakae may intend to be done with Mizuki and can say that without lying, but whatever emotion brought Mizuki back must be faced to get him to move on.

Ah, he got kicked out for cheating and is now hoping to land softly with Sakae, who he knows is a pushover and a sap.

I don't like Mizuki. He bailed on Sakae and is now just gonna be back and chatting with customers. Everyone knows!

Even if it's just Soga's worries, I like that this show is willing to show Sakae being intimate with another man.

Come through, Kazuyo! She is a great character for accelerating the romantic pace of this show. She reminded Soga that he could lose to a determined ex, and also chided Soga for not telling Sakae he plans to move back to Tokyo. The devil works hard, but Kanda-san works harder.

Spies and thieves! I knew he was a liar who lies with his face!

"Is he better than me?" "Yes." NOW GET OUT!

Soga, can you not walk in at the most dramatic moment???

Okay, he got jealous, Sakae pushed that he isn't a fickle person, and we learned that Soga and his ex-wife are working on having a productive relationship even if it's no longer romantic. We also got a multi-angle stationary kiss.

Another problem character next week!

This show continues to be excellent. Japanese teams heard that I wanted more adult romance and they are here to deliver. We have issues with exes, because adults have histories. We have an active support network that challenges our leads to face each other properly. Our leads can speak with each other. This is what I have wanted for so long.

[the-pen-pot]

Fangirling for chapter 42

'I'm not the only one staring,' he replied, hoping to derail her. 'Leon's barely taken his eyes off you all evening.'

'You cannot distract me that easily.' Her chiding tone was at odds with the flush that darkened her cheeks, but she wore it well, smiling as some lord or other bowed over her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. 'Leon has good taste.' She looked at him as if debating the wisdom of her next words. 'So do you.'

Oh, I am loving Morgana more and more!😍 Clearly seeing what Arthur doesn't fully want to see yet.

And Arthur being like 'oh, no one is surprised that Merlin is dresses in my colours and I value him as much as my knights;'

Oh, you sweet idiot, even a blind person can see how much Merlin means to you at this point.

'Us,' Merlin corrected him softly. 'You know as well as I do that you'll not let me beyond those gates by myself.'

I adore them.

It was Arthur's turn to shudder, not from the icy breeze that curled around them, but from the faint, flat horror that lingered beneath Merlin's words. He remembered the spell Merlin had mentioned, the Vinthinsor. It never strayed far from his mind, but now it bloomed between them, ghastly and stark, bringing with it the same questions that had haunted Arthur since he had first heard of it.

Oh yes! I also want to know what happened during that! I am so curious but maybe not knowing is better?!

And all through it, Arthur detected the fierce protectiveness Merlin had woven into his magic. His will was its foundation, and it was unshakable. With everything he had and all the strength in his possession, Merlin wanted to keep Camelot and its people safe.

It was enough to take his breath away.

Merlin's magic is wonderful to read about. I can't get enough of it. And Merlin's eyes always shining gold when he does magic is lovely!

And then the hug between them!

They were so owerd that hug, they really were. I'm delighted so glad that you're enjoying it so much adn your curiosity is piqued!

I hope you're continuing to enhoy Hiraeth, lovely. And thanks for these messages; they really brighten my days!

[ishtadawnstar]

Trust

The world exploded into existence as Astarion jolted awake, his senses immediately on high alert. The forest enveloped him with its oppressive darkness, shadows twisting and swirling among the trees like malevolent spirits.

A knot of fear gripped his chest as he struggled to recall why he was here, alone in the cold stillness of the night. The earthy scent of damp leaves and moss permeated the air, mingling with the coppery tang of blood - his own. He tried to sit up, but a firm pressure on his shoulder pushed him back down.

"Ah! No, you don't," a commanding voice echoed in the silence. "Sit back down and let that wound finish healing. If you make it bleed, so help me, I will knock you out again."

The pain radiating from his side brought back memories of the recent events - his encounter with Shadowheart and his desperate escape through the darkness. Groaning, Astarion leaned back against the rough texture of the tree trunk and looked up at the speaker. Ishta perched above him, her expression stern and unwavering. One knee tucked under her chin while the other leg dangled, her foot resting on his shoulder.

Astarion couldn't help feeling unsettled by how composed she seemed in his presence. Her golden eyes, usually filled with lazy charm, now gleamed with determination. It was clear that the truth about his nature was not much of a surprise to Ishta. He was painfully aware that she held all the power in this situation.

"How long have you known?" he asked wearily, his voice strained.

"That you are an idiot? About an hour," Ishta retorted, nonchalantly removing her foot from his shoulder and crossing her legs.

Astarion scowled at her but she paid no attention. "That you are a Vampire... about a week," she shrugged, her tone dismissive.

He couldn't hide his shock at her words and she gave him a wry smile in response. "I happened to be out hunting at night the same time as you. We were both after the same boar... You got there first."

Ishta gracefully slid down from her perch and sat beside him. Astarion couldn't help but admire her boldness, the way she carried herself with a confidence that bordered on recklessness.

She didn't seem to fear him at all, which both intrigued and unnerved him. He also couldn't ignore the small dagger she was twirling around in her hand - a not-so-subtle reminder of her prowess.

Ishta noticed his eyes on her blade and grinned. "Though at first I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why you were trying to hug it to death."

Despite himself, Astarion chuckled softly, the sound laced with bitterness and pain. The movement caused a wave of agony to pulse through him and he winced. Gods... you'd think after enduring 200 years of torture I'd be used to this by now. His body, despite its undead resilience, still had its limits.

Ishta chided him gently, her voice tinged with concern. "Try not to move too much until the spell has had enough time to properly do its job."

He turned slowly, his eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and wariness as they met hers. "Why are you helping me?" he asked cautiously.

Ishta paused her playful twirling of the dagger and regarded him thoughtfully. Her eyes took on a distant look, as if she were searching through memories and emotions to find the right words. A part of him feared what she might say, but he needed to know.

"Because I suffer from a terrible condition," she replied solemnly. "I've been told countless times that it will eventually kill me."

Alarm bells rang in Astarion's head. Shit... she must believe I am a True Vampire who can grant her immortality. Why else would she save my life...

"It's called a bleeding heart."

Her words startled him for a moment, and then a slow smile of comprehension spread across his face. Turning to look at Ishta, his eyes met hers, and he saw the glimmer of amusement in them.

She continued, her tone casual and confiding, "It's a terrible disease, really. I see people in trouble, and I just have this overwhelming urge to help them."

Astarion felt his whole body relax as he finally understood he had never been in any danger from Ishta - she truly didn't care about what he was.

"Sounds awful," he grinned at her, the tension melting away from his features.

—¤—

Ishta watched as a wave of emotion passed over Astarion's face, finally settling into something resembling trust. Observing the stiffness start to leave his posture as he gave her his full attention, she felt it was now safe to relax herself. Astarion had always responded well to humor and banter, so she decided to keep going with her playful 'explanation' to his question.

"It really is," she complained, shaking her head with exaggerated exasperation. "You have no idea how inconvenient it is to have to drop everything and help some poor Wizard out from inside a rock, save a grumpy Githyanki from a Goblin trap, or give up on a decent night's rest to race after some poor sod who's gone and gotten himself stabbed by an irate Cleric."

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Astarion's lips, and Ishta could see the tension draining from his body. He leaned back against the sturdy trunk of a tree, appearing more relaxed and at ease. For a moment, he seemed like his old self as he played along with her rant, nodding understandingly.

"I entirely agree, that does sound like an absolutely debilitating disease," he sympathized with a playful twinkle in his eye.

Feeling encouraged by his lifted spirits, Ishta leaned forward, resting her elbow on one knee and propping up her chin. "By the way, why did you try to take a bite out of Shadowheart?" she asked curiously, tilting her head in his direction.

A hint of tension returned to Astarion's body at the mention of his recent actions. His eyes locked onto hers as he struggled to find the right words. Ishta kept her gaze steady and non-threatening, observing the myriad of emotions crossing Astarion's face - confusion, guilt, fear - before he finally settled on resignation. He sighed and lowered his head, the weight of his actions heavy on his shoulders.

"It's not what you think. I'm not some monster," he muttered, his voice thick with regret. "I usually feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds - whatever I can find. I'm just too slow right now, too weak. I thought if I only had a little blood, I could think clearer, fight better. So I tried to take some from Shadowheart."

A small spark of defiance ignited in Astarion's eyes as he looked up at Ishta, pleading for understanding. "I wasn't going to hurt her, I swear. I just needed blood. But then she woke and attacked me - I had to defend myself, you understand."

Ishta held his gaze for a moment before speaking again, her thoughts racing as she remembered the bruises on Shadowheart's neck. Those marks go beyond self-defense. However, she chose not to voice her observation for now. Instead, she focused on a more pressing matter.

"Bullshit, Astarion."

"I beg your pardon?" he blinked at her, taken aback.

"You heard me. I've seen you with that bow of yours. You could hunt half the beasts in this forest without ever breaking a sweat. So what's the real reason you suddenly decided to change up your menu?" Ishta asked bluntly, her tone cutting through the night air like a blade.

Astarion's expression shifted from shock to defense, and Ishta worried that she may have pushed too far too soon. She could see him starting to retreat, his eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route. Realizing the need to tread carefully now to maintain control over the situation, Ishta softened her tone and reassured him.

"Astarion, please listen to me. I am not angry with you," she said gently. "I understand why you felt the need to keep this secret from us all. I just want to know why you risked exposing yourself and potentially turning us against you by choosing Shadowheart instead of the abundant game within these very woods."

Astarion focused on her again, and Ishta could see his jaw grinding under the weight of whatever decision he was trying to make.

The sounds of the forest at night grew louder in the tense silence between them, filling the air with rustling leaves, chirping insects, and the occasional hoot of an owl. Shafts of moonlight filtered through the thick canopy above, causing Astarion's eyes to glow like two crimson pools.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally broke the silence with a heavy sigh. "I needed to know," he said, his voice laced with frustration.

Ishta waited patiently for him to continue, noticing how uncomfortable he seemed as he shifted around. Whatever he was about to reveal clearly weighed heavily on his mind, but she remained calm and collected, knowing that her patience would be rewarded.

Eventually, Astarion spoke again, his voice carrying a hint of resignation. "I am a Spawn. My... former master, Cazador Szarr, is a Vampire Lord in Baldur's Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power. Not political power or military power - I mean power over people. The power to control them completely. He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his Spawn, and he became my tormentor."

Ishta sat up straighter, wondering if she should share what she already knew of his story, but ultimately decided against it. It was clear that he was finally opening up to her and she didn't want to interrupt or jeopardize that trust.

"So you were his slave?" she asked gently.

Astarion shook his head. "A Vampire's Spawn is less than a slave. They're a puppet. We have no choice but to obey our master's commands. They speak, and our bodies react... it's all part of the deal. Sometimes he'd order us to submit to torture. Sometimes he'd have us torture ourselves. Whatever his weathervane mood settled on," he said bitterly.

As he spoke, Astarion's eyes became distant and withdrawn, clearly reliving the horrors of his past. After what she had witnessed when her mind had linked with his all those nights ago, she couldn't blame him for being hesitant to re-live such traumatic experiences. She knew all too well the feeling of trying to bury painful memories deep within.

Leaning forward, Astarion's voice became more animated. "But ever since I was kidnapped by the Mindflayers and implanted with this worm, I have been living in a strange, twisted kind of freedom. Standing in the sun, wading through rivers, wandering into homes without an invitation - they are all perfectly mundane activities now. More importantly though, I no longer feel the pull of Cazador's hold over me..." Astarion trailed off and leaned back wearily. "At least not until tonight," he admitted quietly.

The hair on the back of Ishta's neck stood up. Now this could be a problem.

Astarion must have noticed her concern because he quickly continued. "I had a... well, a dream - or perhaps it was a vision of him earlier tonight. I could see him as clearly as I see you now. He was reminding me that I still belonged to him and reciting those damn rules."

"Rules?" Ishta raised an eyebrow in question.

Astarion held up his hand and began counting off on his fingers. "First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shalt obey me in all things. Thirdly, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed. Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine forever."

As Ishta listened to Astarion recite the first rule, everything fell into place. Knowing what she did of Vampires, the first rule made perfect sense. A Vampire's power was derived from the strength of their victims - not their physical strength, but the level of intellect and life experience that only sentient beings could provide. Animals and other lesser beasts simply could not offer the same levels of power, and if this Cazador was so obsessed with controlling people, it came as no surprise that he would force his spawn to feed on inferior beings to keep them weak and subservient.

"Thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures..." Ishta repeated slowly, giving Astarion a half-smile. "So that's why you did it."

The look of surprise on his face quickly turned to begrudging admiration, confirming her theory.

Pushing herself forward and standing up, Ishta walked a few steps away, the soft earth crunching under her feet. Spinning around and placing her hands on her hips, she confronted Astarion.

"So let me get this straight," she began sternly, her voice carrying authority. "You attacked one of my team - while she was sleeping, by the way, you jerk - and risked being thrown out into the wilds alone at best," she gestured to the surrounding forest, "and being staked in the heart at worst, all just so you could give the middle finger to your old master?"

A hint of guilt flashed across Astarion's features before he replied hesitantly, "Well... uh... when you put it like that..."

Ishta watched him come to terms with just how much of a risk he had taken and sighed inwardly. If the Illithid parasite doesn't kill him first, his own recklessness will. She could understand his desire to test the limits of his newfound freedom, but his rash actions had almost ended it prematurely. As resourceful and capable as he was, Astarion clearly still needed the protection and guidance of allies. Ishta just hoped she could convince the others waiting for her in camp that he was still worth protecting. Though, if she was being honest with herself, she wasn't entirely sure of that fact either.

Then, like a lightning bolt, an idea sparked in her head. A final test to determine just how far Astarion could still be trusted. It was a dangerous plan, one that filled her with trepidation and dredged up unwelcome memories. But Ishta pushed those thoughts aside, determined to see this through.

Stepping forward and crouching directly in front of him, she extended her arm and turned over her wrist, exposing the veins beneath. "Well, that's something I can get behind," she said with a wry smile.

Yeah... this is why you should never make important decisions while you're hungry.

[realmackross]

PARTIES: @debauchfairy, @realmackross TIMING: After the Elora Breakup & Jade debacle. SUMMARY: Mack goes out for some pity shopping at Covet Couture and to see (not) Fashion Daddy for a little support. CONTENT WARNINGS: None!

Aside from a trip to The Sugar Pot, Mackenzie had remained holed up in her home. But even that was starting to get to her. There had been so many reminders of Elora, and despite an underlying fear that lingered of Jade and the possibility of her trying to kill Mackenzie again, she knew she needed another trip out to be around people. Even zombie’s could go stir crazy. So there was one person she knew could instantly cheer her up. Plus it couldn’t hurt to pity shop either while she was there.

Hearing the bell ring out through the nearly empty store, except for a few people browsing in the back, Mackenzie found herself scanning the entire shop looking for one person. When she finally laid eyes on him, she made her way in his direction, “Yeah, you do realize that shirt you’re wearing is sooooo last season it hurts, right?” A sad smile came over her face as she moved closer towards Kieran waiting for his smartass retort.

—

Kieran was in the middle of charming an older lady, no supernatural charm required, when a familiar voice distracted the well picked compliments - most of them focused on the clothing more so than the customer, he’d really struggled to find something likable about her that didn’t involve the sharp stabs of lies as punishment. “Go see how you feel about the other color?” he instructed the woman, voice smooth as velvet. That woman would damn well purchase both colors of the shirt with how boring the anecdotes she’d subjected Kieran to had been. “Don’t talk shit unless it’s accurate, Ross,” he then chided in Mackenzie’s direction, his previous smile of ‘customer service’ turning a bit more genuine but faltering slightly when he noticed hers wasn’t. 

Raising an eyebrow, Kieran gestured with his head for her to follow him off to the side, settling against the door to the staff entrance. “Why do you look like you’re wearing something last season, though? And before you answer, just remember that active listening is not one of my many skills.”

—

Mackenzie always admired the way Kieran would turn on a smile for his customers. She had known that feeling all too well with her career, and sometimes it just felt easier, but not today. Today was harder. And so was yesterday and so would be the next day. But one thing she had gotten good at was hiding, so when her friend motioned her over to a potential escape route to the back of the store that was “off limits”, she cherished it, whether or not he intended for her to be there, “You know, that doesn’t surprise me. Sometimes you remind me of Dug from Up! with your squirrel! mentality.” She laughed softly, before it faded.

Standing quietly for a moment, she tried to figure out the best way to word the situation she was in. It was easy. Well, the Elora part was easy. The Jade part, not so much. Not unless Mack wanted to tell Kieran she was a zombie, so without struggling to further think on it, she went with the easiest choice, “My girlfriend broke up with me. It wasn’t because she wanted to, but she needed to leave town, because of some past transgressions, and…here we are.” She hadn’t cried today. Well, okay, maybe once, but she was really trying not to tear up in front of Kieran. Partly, because she didn’t have it in her and also, because she wasn’t sure how the man in front of her would react, “So it looks like I may be trying to steal your man at the cafe.” Humor. Humor would pull her through this little hiccup right?

—

Arms crossing, Kieran tilted his head. “You have to know that didn’t make any sense to me, right?” he asked, fairly well versed in references of all sorts which meant that whatever bundle of words that just left Mack’s mouth was either obscure or utter nonsense. Maybe she was just having a starlet meltdown. Whatever it was, something was obviously bothering her and for some reason, she’d thought to seek him out. In person, during work. Kieran felt a quick text asking to meet up later tonight, where his preferred method for dealing with shit like this (ignore it) could have been put into action, would have sufficed. 

And there it was. Romance. Of course it was romance and heartbreak and Kieran really did try to keep his face neutral but there was no hiding the slight curl of his lips. Why did people put themselves through the trouble? Aside from the nonsense of tying yourself to a single person, relationships came with monotony and arguments and inevitably, heartbreak that should have been perfectly avoidable in the first place. “Huh,” came the first response because he couldn’t honestly say he was sorry for the relationship ending. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here for pity but if you did, wrong call.” He hoped she knew that, Kieran liked to imagine Mack was smarter than just her sharp wit. 

“You can definitely have the walking protein shake. Or you can go find yourself something flattering to wear, try not to look like the world just ended and we find you someone better as soon as I’m done here.”

—

Mackenzie liked that Kieran didn’t let her wallow. Winter was like that, and though it was hard to hear a lot of the time, when all she wanted was to throw herself a proper pity party, it was good to have friends who wouldn’t let her. Even Taylor had been like that within reason. And she did know that the Hollywood Darling did need to wallow in self-pity every now and then, but ever since Mack had moved to Wicked’s Rest, and Taylor had returned to California, Mack had all the time in the world to wallow in the mud of self-doubt. So maybe that’s why she was here today. Pulling herself up by her worn Doc Marten boot-straps, so maybe, just maybe she could resume her undead life.

“No…I didn’t come here for pity, because I know you would make me attend my pity party alone. Just like Winter would. I just needed a friend and some time out of my big, lonely and empty house.” Why had she bought that house again? She loved it, but damn it could be so quiet sometimes. Thankfully she had Jack to keep her company. And as much as she had contemplated bringing Sellama over, she felt Monty’s had been the better option to begin with.

With a sad sigh, Mackenzie rolled her eyes and did as she was told. She knew Kieran had a store to run and not everyone could laze around most of the day until their bartending gig at Dance Macabre. So she set out on the hunt for the perfect new outfit. One that screamed I’m single, hot as fuck, and almost, but not quite ready to mingle after a painful breakup. Covet Couture offered many options, and the less she thought about the sad things, the more she started to see the good things – like a brand new black, biker jacket that she was quickly falling in love with.

—

A relief, Mack wasn’t here for someone to hold her hand, listen to how love hurt and ultimately get advice on how she would find the one eventually. All three of those were way outside of Kieran’s comfort zone, impressive considering it was quite an expansive area, plus he wouldn’t deal with the discomfort of lying to lie about believing in true love. No, Mack was here for some company. Friend was pushing it but if there was ever not a time to correct that title, it was right when the starlet was in the throes of abandonment. Kieran decided that would be his sacrifice for this doomed love story. 

“Alright, then we’re on the same page. Go forth and browse,” he instructed her, glad to see her comply even if it was with a sassy eye roll. Not too different from the norm, actually. Finishing up with the customer Mack had interrupted, Kieran moved on to the next, glancing in the lovelorn girl’s direction every so often. It was lucky that no plans had been made for this evening because it would almost have been too sad if he’d have had to send her packing on her own. Not for him, of course, but definitely a blow for Mackenzie. 

“Pretty sure that’s the one,” Kieran nodded approvingly at the sharp jacket, having just rung up the last customer aside from Mack. “Stylish enough for you to pretend you’re not a total sad sack right now.” Just because she was heartbroken or whatever, didn’t mean he would forego the teasing. He was holding back, resisting the urge to poke fun at her for having actually believed in such a thing as a functional relationship. Maybe once she’d gone through her first rebound. “Come along, Ross. Let’s get you fucked up.”

—

Shopping had come easy to Mackenzie. It was one of her favorite things to do, and when she discovered Covet Couture, the young actress knew her bank account might take a hit. But it was well worth it. Most of the stylish things she had, she had left in California. In fact, she had still been paying payments on a house in Los Angeles that she was pretty sure had been covered in dust three inches thick by now. But if she ever got to go back home, moving would be the first thing on her list, because all the time spent with Brody had littered every room in that house.

“You really think so?” Mack glanced down at the jacket with a sad smile, until Kieran called her a sad sack, “Hey!” With a glare sharp enough to kill, she walked off towards another rack of clothing to continue looking. She wasn’t ready to go get fucked up. Not yet. Not until she had completed her outfit, “I’m going to keep shopping, even after closing time, until you apologize, you stylish douchebag.” Going through a pair of ripped skinny jeans, Mackenzie found her size and then moved on for a shirt that would go with her new jacket and jeans. The shoes could wait, since the Converse she had on worked for the look. Plus, she really wasn’t going to keep Kieran waiting much longer, but she did want an apology, even if it was dripping in Kieran’s sarcasm.

—

So apparently he had not been holding back enough for Mackenzie’s delicate mood. She was stalking off in offense and Kieran’s sigh was dramatic but genuine. Cheering up the actress was all well and good but having to work this hard for it? Her undead-ness was being very bothersome right about now. If he could have helped her forget about the useless moping about her ex by putting her under his spell, this would go a whole lot more smoothly. “Can’t be offended about simple truths,” Kieran called after her before heading in the other direction with a huff. He could busy himself with closing up the register, something he had planned to let lie until later to give Mack the gift of his presence earlier. 

She wanted an apology and those were notoriously difficult for Kieran to procure, seeing as he actually had to be sorry to avoid the physical discomfort of lying, and he so rarely was genuinely sorry. Couldn’t take back his comment either because Mackenzie was a sad sack. Once it looked like she had picked together a complete outfit, Kieran beckoned her over to the counter and pulled the leather jacket aside. “On me,” he explained nonchalantly, picking at the screen in front of him to wrap up the purchase in his name. “Much more expensive than some words.” A gesture with an implied apology, the best he could do to fix her pissy mood. Even if he didn’t technically have to, Mack was far from his only option for company tonight. Maybe he was just the tiniest bit fond of her. “We good or do you need to brood some more?” he pushed, handing back the jacket and ringing up the two other, much less expensive items. 

—

Mackenzie finally made her way back over to the counter upon his request. She could have done this all night honestly, but there had even been a part of her that was longing to just go out and drink her woes away. And she’d look hot in her new…wait…free? He was giving her the jacket for free? Okay, she’d take that apology and run with it. It was dripping in Kieran, but it would work, “No, I think we’re good.” She let her anger slip away as she pulled out some money to pay for the other items, “Keep the change.”

As she pulled the clothes from the counter, Mack walked back towards the dressing rooms to go change. If they were going out, she needed her new outfit on. Messy hair, no big deal. She had gone out lots of times with the grunge look and had caught the attention of People Magazine and even Vogue on several occasions. It was all in how much confidence you presented yourself with, but she had to make sure not to tip the scales.

When she was dressed for success and ready to hit the town, she slipped past the few perfumes that sat on a counter and spritzed one on to take away the smell of new clothing. Ruffled her hair a little bit in the mirror, and went back to the front counter and grabbed a bag to put her other clothes in, “My car or yours?”

Their interaction had been a little rocky, but despite the way she was feeling to start, the rest of the night had been a success dancing the night away, gossiping about boys, and for the briefest of moments, feeling like life was almost normal again.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Delinquent Deuce - Monster AU

Monster: Slime Word Count: ~0.75K Relationships mentioned: Deuce and Delia, (his mom), literally nobody else important. Chapter 1 spoilers for in game. TW: None, really??? He's a slime so a missing chunk of body or two isn't a graphic thing?? but wound/"blood"....and it was inside someone but thats mentioned in passing Also a lot of impromptu worldbuilding if it comes off like I don't know what I'm doing that would be Correct. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ He thought he could avoid his mother's worry, slipping in under the door so as to not cause a ruckus with unlocking the door, and gave himself a light rinse on the cleaner. Anyone with feet may have called a boot cleaner, but for slimes like him and his mom, it simply diluted and made it easier to "push up" any dirt and grime they'd picked up during the day that might leave a trail when they went into the house, but they could rinse out later.

He looked down at his side, thin rivulets of liquid still dripping from the chunk he was missing and silently chided himself. There was no way he would be able to hide it from his mother before he was able to regenerate it on his own, and there was no way he wanted it back, even if he did summon it. It would just remind him of the promise he had broken to his mother....and the fact it had been inside someone else didn't make the thought appealing either. It made it back out but....yeah, he still didn't want it back. He made his way to the kitchen quietly, washing his hands, and then siphoning water through his hand down to the wound to flush it out back into the sink, cleaning the wound. Thankfully it wasn't that part that was too painful. He held his hand against the wound as he started to rummage under the sink for the first aid kit, and more specifically, the powder he could sprinkle onto the wound to congeal the thin internal fluids leaking from him, at least to hold him together til morning when his mom could help. He grumbled a little bit as he squished down lower to try and find the kit, until he felt what he could only assume was the packet, hit his back. He recoiled in surprise, his head hitting the counter and squishing, before he moved out from under the sink properly to stand up, staring like a deer in the headlights at his mom. "I was wondering when you were going to be home. I sent you a couple texts, but I didn't hear anything from you." She glanced down at where his hand clutched his side and sighed softly. "I guess I know why. Is it bad? Move your hand, let me see." She sludged over to him, not letting him protest as she picked the packet out from his back and squished down to see the wound better, before opening the package and sprinkling the contents over the area. Deuce hissed softly in pain. "I-I'm real sorry mom I didn't mean to get into another fight, its just this one kid he really got to me today and....I warned, him, I gave him a fair chance, I swear I did. I tried leaving too, but he kept following me and-" his voice cracked a bit as a few tears welled up in his eyes. "I didn't want to break my promise to you mom....I'm so sorry." He looked away from her as she scooped a safe amount of her own slime out and applied it to his side, holding it in place until it bound with him. Her side was able to regenerate in seconds, being an adult in good health. Her cool hand rested gently against his face as she tried to wipe away a few tears, and kissed his head softly as her son began to melt with his emotions. "You're home safe sweetheart, and that's what matters most. There's some leftover pumpkin pie in the fridge if you want some, but I really think it's time for you to get to bed before you need me to carry you around in a bucket." she chuckled softly, before pulling him into a hug and squeezing him gently. A small sob left Deuce as he snuggled into his mom, thankful, but disappointed in himself. Hopefully after some rest he could feel better. "Thanks mom." "Of course hon." She let him go before ruffling his "hair". "Tomorrow is a new day." She kissed his forehead once more before stretching and creeping towards her bedroom. "I'll see you tomorrow Deuce. Good night. I love you. Don't stay up too late." Deuce looked at the few dishes left in the sink before glancing back at his mom, already planning to wash them before bed. It wasn't much of an apology, but it was the least he could do. He would wait until she was back in bed though. "Love you too mom. I won't." ------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: A/N: Hiya, if you made it here, you might want to check out my other Twstober works here, or if you're looking for some fluff after that fic, you can check out my main masterlist here. Ask box is open if you have any questions! Thanks for reading!