#drawing and looking at this makes me want to gnaw on my arm gOD.

[flowerakatsuka]

おかえりなさい…

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Makeover

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot, if you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

You sat cross-legged on Max's couch, rolling your eyes as he argued over the fit of his latest pair of skinny jeans. The conversation had veered from his undying loyalty to his closet staples to your mounting frustration with his predictable wardrobe.

“Max, I’m serious,” you said, leaning forward and poking his arm for emphasis. “I love you, but if I see those jeans one more time, I’m going to burn them.”

Max’s eyes widened with mock horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Try me.”

A dramatic sigh escaped him, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I’ll do it—but only because it’ll make you happy.”

The next day, you dragged Max into every fashion store Monaco had to offer. The montage that followed was a whirlwind of laughter and exasperation. Max tried on everything from sleek tailored trousers to bomber jackets in bold colors. You snapped pictures as he struck over-the-top model poses, nearly tipping over a rack of shirts in the process. When he emerged from the dressing room in a sharp suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, you couldn’t help but stare.

“Well?” he asked, giving a half-smile as he adjusted the collar. The deep blue of the jacket brought out his eyes in a way his Red Bull gear never had.

You grinned. “Perfect. You’re officially a fashion icon now.”

Max rolled his eyes, but his cheeks flushed a little. “I’m still not giving up my T-shirts,” he warned.

“We’ll see about that,” you teased.

Race day arrived, and the paddock buzzed with anticipation. Max stepped out of the car looking nothing like his usual self. Gone were the skinny jeans and snug team shirts. In their place was a confident figure in perfectly tailored clothing, drawing glances from fans and drivers alike.

“Wow, Verstappen, look at you!” Charles said, clapping him on the back.

“You’re making the rest of us look like slobs,” Lando added with a laugh.

Max smiled politely, but you noticed the way his shoulders tensed, the glint of unease in his eyes. He played along, accepting compliments with a nod and an awkward smile. Something gnawed at you as you watched him move through the crowd with a different air—confident, yes, but not quite... him.

As the day wore on, the realization hit you: this wasn’t your Maxie, the one who rolled out of bed with messy hair and a scowl until his first cup of coffee. The guy standing there was polished, put-together, and fit in seamlessly with the elite crowd, but he was missing something—the spark of authenticity that made him Max.

That evening, you found him sitting on the edge of the track, legs dangling and gaze lost in the distance.

“Hey,” you called softly, sitting beside him.

He glanced at you, the corners of his mouth lifting, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did I do okay today?”

“You were great,” you admitted. “But… I miss your skinny jeans.”

Max let out a chuckle, the sound filling the quiet space. “You?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder. “They’re you. And I miss my Maxie.”

He turned to look at you, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his face. “You know, I only wore all this to make you happy.”

Your heart tightened, and you reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “Max, you should never change who you are for anyone—not even me.”

“Thank God,” he said with a playful sigh of relief. “Because I was already planning on going back to my old clothes tomorrow.”

You laughed, the tension melting away, and before you knew it, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. It was soft, familiar, and full of all the things unsaid.

When he pulled back, he whispered, “Guess we’re stuck with the skinny jeans, huh?”

You smiled, eyes shining. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And in that moment, everything felt right again.

[mattluvr]

⋆·˚ ༘ * a pure smut chris sturniolo oneshot !

( soft!dom!chris, oral — f!receiving, teasing, praise, pet names )

chris loves your tattoos.

he may not have any of his own, the prospect of something so permanent hanging onto the end of a needle one that makes his skin crawl, but he whole heartedly believes that he’s not missing out.

your smattering of ink is enough for him. from the delicately drawn flowers on the backs of your arms, to the tiny heart resting on your hip bone, chris loves nothing more than running his fingers across your supple skin, fascinated by the lines that decorate you.

so often, when you push his head down to nestle between your thighs, need gnawing at your insides, chris likes to come back up for air every now and again to press a soft kiss to each individual tattoo.

which is what he’s doing right now; your legs are open before him, desire dripping onto the bedsheets beneath you, chris’ mouth peppering love everywhere but your heat. you can’t take the teasing; you’re desperate, shuffling your body closer to him, y’know, to give him a hint.

“gimme a sec.” he mumbles, fingers tracing the outline of the cat you got tattooed on your inner thigh long before you met him. he’s mesmerised by the intricacy of the drawing, but is also fully aware how much this is turning you on.

a few more minutes of foreplay can’t hurt.

but you’re so impatient, whining aloud and grinding your lower half into chris, who chuckles in response.

“jesus, baby, alright.”

and he repositions his head, sticking his tongue out and beginning the torturous process of eating you out. he’s made the decision to elongate the licks, suckling on your clit slowly, which is turning into a puddle. exactly like he wants.

you tangle your fingers in chris’ hair, arching your back. “fuck, go faster.”

he ignores you, pressing the dangerous kisses all around yet again and you groan, both from pleasure and annoyance. chris’ act is boring you already; you need to cum so badly.

“chris.” you moan, forcing his head back to your clit. “did you hear me? go faster.”

“nah. not with that attitude.” he lifts away and you scoff, grabbing him by his shirt collar, pulling him into you.

you push your lips to his in a messy kiss, and when you pull away your eyebrows are still furrowed. “i won’t let you pick out my next tattoo if you don��t eat me out.”

“fuck, okay.” chris has been looking forward to telling you to get ‘eat me’ tattooed on your lower back. he ultimately decides to give up his stubbornness; he wants nothing more than to see that tattoo reverberating when he hits it from behind.

so he crawls back between your legs and becomes instantly harsher with his ministrations. you smile, the warmth of his mouth against your pulsing clit a welcoming feeling, and then your head falls back, his tongue probing your folds an unfamiliar one.

“shit, that’s good.” you hum in approval, back arching as chris’ thumb replaces where his tongue had been, rubbing your bundle of nerves achingly slow. “oh, yeah that’s good. so fucking good, chris.”

“yeah? you like this?”

“mhm.” you whimper, hand flying back down to his hair, relishing in the way he responds to the strands being pulled, the low groans flying from his mouth like music to your ears.

“what about… this.”

and suddenly, chris has removed his boxers and is lining himself up with your entrance, fingers still pressed against your clit, and you gasp, pulling his hair with more force. “oh my fucking god.”

with each thrust, you swear chris brushes your cervix, the softness almost painful; you can already feel the pressure in your lower stomach, and you need to cum, but chris is still doing his teasing act, body hovering over yours, lips brushing across the smattering of stars you have tattooed along your collarbone.

he’s not gonna last long, you can already tell by the slight tremor in his legs, but you’re not too bothered on this occasion; you’re not far off either, the magic he’d worked with his tongue having made you sensitive.

“fuck, ma.” chris hisses when you clench around him. your head is spinning, and you can only begin to imagine how chris is feeling. “just like that, oh yeaaaah. i’m gonna cum.”

“m-me too.” you manage to muster, your bottom lip clamped between your teeth as your vision goes foggy. maybe soft and slow isn’t all that bad.

and, with one last push, one last reach for the coveted g spot, buried deep within you, chris is unravelling inside you, painting you white; you’re not long after him, twitching and moaning as you coat his dick with your juices.

you both sigh contentedly, and chris slips out of you, groaning as his member makes contact with the crisp air again, flopping down onto the bed beside you. when he turns to face you, his hand trails round to graze your lower back, smirking.

“i want you to get ‘eat me’ tattooed right here, baby.”

you chuckle, but shrug. a promise is a promise, no matter how incoherent your thoughts, so you hold out your hand and shake on it. “deal, sturniolo.”

maybe that’s why chris loves your tattoos; not because of the intricacies… because they make you look hot when he’s fucking you.

taglist. . .

( @mattslolita @aelinslegend @chrissturniolossidehoe @mattbrainrot @conspiracy-ash ) is open!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 37

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Steve’s glare follows you out the door. You don’t look back as you flit out with your roll of pencils and sketchbook. Peter stands casually at the bottom of the steps, his camera hanging around his neck. He smiles and you show your teeth. Your cheeks are tight. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asks as he walks behind you. 

“Fine,” you like. 

He reaches around you to open the gate and you lead him out. You turn down the pavement and he comes up next to you as the latch clanks shut behind him. You shrink down as his arms brushes yours. Your steps are wide and stiff as your clothing rubs against your pelvis. 

“You looked sad when you drove by so I thought maybe you’d like to see the frogs again.” He says. 

“Oh?” You peek over at him. 

“Uh, not that you don’t look nice. I like your hair.” He grins. 

“Uh, yeah, Steve... Steve took me to the salon.” 

“That’s really nice of him. Weird, he seemed a bit grumpy.” He remarks as he checks out his camera, walking casually without a glance ahead. 

“Mm, yeah. He was.” 

“But he still took you out for all that?” 

“Yeah...” you drone. “Thanks for stopping by. I... don’t go out much.” 

“Gets kinda lonely by myself. The frog doesn’t always show up, then it’s even lonelier.” He chuckles and you try to. You feel heavy. 

When you get to the bridge, he goes to the railing and works at adjusting his lenses. You perch yourself in the grass, just at the apex of the rise that leads down to the river. You open your sketchbook to new page but don’t bother with your pencils. You don’t feel like drawing. Usually, it’s what helps you calm down but now you can’t even focus. 

Peter snaps photos and points out the tadpoles rippling across the surface. You stare through the water, minnows speckling shadows onto the silt. It’s beautiful and peaceful. It’s a stark contrast to what you know awaits you at home. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Peter asks as he leans on the railing and looks at you. 

You nod and shrug. You can’t lie anymore. You bend your legs and toss your sketchbook beside you. You hang your head and cross your arms over your knees. The bridge creaks as Peter comes around. He lowers himself next to you. 

“Hey, you know, it’s been a while and all but you can talk to me.” He says. “Is it your mom? She bad?” 

“She... she has a nurse now. They take care of her.” 

He exhales softly. “Mm,” he hums thoughtfully. The water babbles gently as he fiddles with his camera. “Is it Steve?” 

You’re silent. Deathly so. Tellingly. You shift and grimace at the burn along your thighs. 

“You uncomfortable or something?” He asks. “You’re fidgeting a lot.” 

It's gnawing at you from the inside. You can't hold it in any longer. You're terrified.

“Peter,” you squeak. “I don’t... I don’t want you to judge me.” 

“Judge you?” He chuckles. “For what?” 

Your eyes glisten and you sniff, leaning your head back. You look at him slowly. “At the salon...” you quick avert your gaze and hunch down again. “They waxed me.” 

“Oh? Yeah, your brows look pretty good.” 

“No, my... my privates.” 

He makes a strange noise, “really? Uh, I think yeah, a lot of girls get that done.” 

“I didn’t-- I didn’t want it. Steve he... he made me.” 

He sighs and sniffs. “Why would he do that?” 

You raise your head and your tears spill out. His brown eyes are warm. You feel fuzzy. 

“He touches me. Says things. Does things.” 

“What?” He hisses. “Oh, god, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I asked for it. I... deserve it but... my mom needs help and he can give it to her.” You sniffle and wipe your nose. 

“You don’t have to stay there. Oh god, you should come back with me. To my Aunt May’s. She remembers you.” He insists. 

You shake your head, “I belong with my mom.” 

He huffs, “you don’t belong there. Not with that. With him.” 

“Please. Please. I can’t leave her. But...” you quaver at the thought in the back of your mind. “I’m scared.” 

“Yeah, well, who wouldn’t be--” 

“Please, just let me talk. And I’m sorry because it’s going to be really strange.” You shake your head and chew your lip. You think of last night and the car ride and all the things Steve promised. You want to hurt him too and you don’t know how else to do so. “Will you do it with me first?” 

He garbles and winces. His breath turns shallow and he looks around, “do what?” 

“Peter.” You touch his arm. “I don’t want it to hurt and I know you’ll be nice.” 

“But... we... it’s a lot.” 

“Oh,” you cover your face. “I told you it’s weird. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just... I can’t stop him.” 

“Just come with me,” he pleas. 

“I told you, my mom!” You snap. “It’s okay. I’ll... I’ll just... hold my breath.” 

He wallows beside you. A tense silence rises between you, around you, consuming you. You’re embarrassed and you think he is too. You can hear him swallow. 

“I’m... I’ve never done it before either so... I... I’m nervous.” He confesses. You slowly turn to him. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I just never got to it, I guess but maybe it’s not so bad knowing that neither of us... have?” His brows squiggle and he pushes his shoulders up. 

You nod, “is that... are you going to do it?” 

He bites his lips and his brown eyes scan around the grass and water. 

“My aunt’s at home right now, we can’t really sneak in so...” 

“It’s okay. We’ll do it here.” 

“Here?” He gurgles. 

“Yeah,” you reach for his hand and stand up slowly, “come on.” 

He blinks widely and gets up. He wiggles his hand free and lifts his camera straps from around his neck. He follows you with his head down. You carefully walk down the incline to the river and dip under the bridge. There’s just enough dirt to stand on. 

“How--?” He asks as he sets the camera on the wooden plank that braces the bridge. 

“It doesn’t have to be romantic.” You unbutton your shorts as you turn your back to him. “I just wanna get it over with.” 

“Hey, woah,” he draws your hand away from the denim and pulls you back towards him. “I don’t want it like that. Let’s take it slow, okay?” 

You look at him pout. “Okay, slow.” 

“Can I... can I kiss you?” He asks. 

“Sure,” you smile without thinking. It doesn’t feel so scary. Not with him. 

He guides you closer and puts your hands on his shoulders. He wraps his arms around you and brushes his nose down yours. His breath tickles you and he presses his lips to yours lightly. He’s shy at first. His tongue darts out then away, then out again. He grows bolder and you let him inside. He groans in surprise and delight. 

You sigh into him and your body relaxes. You slide your arms around his shoulders and cling to him. He kind and warm and nice. You like the taste of him. You like that you can feel his heart racing. You like that his touch makes you tingle that way. 

You can do this. That way when you have to face Steve, you don’t have to be there. Not in your head. No, you’ll just think of Peter and the river and the smell of pollen. 

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

I Won't Lose You

I've been told by all my friends who have played bg3 that durge runs should not be the first run of the game but here I am, doing just that. In my defense, I want to go around as a fictional dragonborn trying to kill most things and save scumming on dialogue choices for approval ratings.

Summary: The dark urge takes over when Astarion gets injured in battle. In the aftermath, you flee, afraid of what the others think of you now but Astarion goes after you to bring you back to camp and reassure you that nothing has changed.

When the arrow pierces through his shoulder, all you can see is red. Blood roars in your ears, a scream tears itself from your throat and you change. You become a different person, your legs move of their own accord, the dagger in your hand twirls and you stab downwards. Over and over again you stab, blood splattering all over you but you don’t care. You’re not thinking, everything is a blur except the one word that rings in your head.

Kill.

And so you kill, your dagger tearing into flesh and drawing blood with each sickening squelch. The metallic taste floods your tongue and you grin. You feel alive, powerful, invincible. No one can stop you, no one can take anything away from you ever again. Laughter bubbles within your chest, bursting forth as you stand there, head thrown back. Blood drips from your clothes onto the floor but you barely notice it. Euphoria thrums through your veins, you’ve killed the being who tried to take the only thing you have left from you. It feels wonderful.

You feel as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders and raise your arms towards the sky, laughing all the while.

“Try it! Try and take him away from me!” You yell. “I’ll kill you all!”

Adrenaline rushes through your veins as the goblins flee in terror from the figure covered in blood. Your legs begin to move, feet pushing off the floor as you hunt them down, a wild gleeful look in your eyes. Your dagger slices through their skin, ripping open arteries, tearing off limbs and you only laugh harder at their screams of pain.

You slam your dagger into the neck of the goblin leader, crouching on its back as the body falls to the floor with a loud thud.

“No one can take him away from me,” you growl. “Not even the gods.”

You look up to see your companions’ various reactions, but the only one you really care about is Astarion’s. As you take a step towards him, reaching out with a bloody hand, he takes a step back, ruby eyes wide with horror. For a moment, all he can see is Cazador, drenched in blood with a grin so wide it stretches his face, and then he blinks and you’re standing in front of him, a look of hurt in your eyes.

Before your name can fall from his lips, you’re gone, running into the nearby forest. Everyone turns to look at him, the same question in their minds: what did he do?

Back in camp, Astarion tries to ignore the gnawing feeling in his chest as Shadowheart heals his injury. He can’t shake the look you gave him before running away, the fear that filled your gaze. He recognised the look, after all, it was the same as the one he wore as Cazador’s spawn – the look of despair.

“I’m going out for a walk,” he says and leaves the camp before anyone can say anything. In all honesty, he has no idea how to find you, all he knows is that he has to. He can’t leave you alone to fend for yourself, especially not in that condition of yours. Letting out a sigh, he makes his way back to the battle site. He can try starting from there, track the scent of your blood and hopefully find you before anything else does.

When he reaches the site, he notices a lone figure sitting by the bloodstained rubble, their knees hugged against their chest.

“Y/N,” he calls out. You look up, and then quickly look back down, curled even more into yourself. Astarion feels his undead heart ache at the sight of your current state. You’ve always been the life of the party – cheerful, upbeat, optimistic. He’s the one who is broody, sitting in the corner and staring at everyone else and yet here you are, sitting all alone in the cold night with no fire to keep you warm.

“May I inquire as to why you have stolen my role as the broody rogue?” He seats himself next to you whilst maintaining some distance. You keep silent, staring into the distance.

“Come now, darling. Let’s head back to camp, the others miss you dearly, not as much as they miss me of course but –”

“Leave.” Your voice wavers. When he doesn’t move, you repeat your words a little louder. “I said leave.”

“But why, darling? You’re clearly cold and hungry, the camp has both fire and food. Don’t tell me you plan on freezing to death while starving? It’s not a very comfortable way to go,” he tuts. “You should choose a better way of dying.”

“I deserve it,” you mutter. “After what I did.”

“After what you did? You killed the goblins and protected the weak, I don’t believe any of that is deserving of such a slow death.” Astarion attempts to lighten the mood but your face remains sullen.

“You know what I’m talking about. I saw it, the way you looked at me. You don’t want me anymore, you shouldn’t. I’m a monster.” Your voice cracks, tears sliding down your cheeks.

“That’s not the worst thing I’ve seen,” his voice drops to a whisper. “And my feelings for you haven’t changed in the slightest. I still want whatever it is that we have, this weird relationship of ours. Nothing will ever change my mind about it. Your appearance simply…reminded me of something I’d rather forget in that moment, but the situations couldn’t be more vastly different.”

Astarion reaches out with a hand, simply holding an upturned palm towards you. A simple gesture, but one filled with so much meaning between the two of you. You stare at it, a hand slowly reaching out before pulling back again when you see how bloodstained your hand is.

Seeing as you are still in no mood to talk, he continues. “Whenever Cazador was covered in blood, it tended to be my blood. Usually it was after he had finished torturing me for whatever sick reason he had and he would smile at me, asking if I would be his good pet. You were covered in goblin blood, vowing to kill anyone even the gods if they tried to harm me. You were protecting me, not harming me, and I am forever grateful for that.”

Astarion takes your bloodstained hand and presses it against his cheek, leaning into the warm feeling, “I need you, Y/N.”

You feel a fresh wave of tears prick at the corners of your eyes, biting your bottom lip to stop the cascade. He shifts closer to you and leans in, ready to pull away should you flinch but you remain still, looking him in the eye and so he wraps himself around you, holding you tightly.

The dam bursts open and you weep, clutching at his tunic. Ugly tears dampen his sleeve, ruining his perfect appearance but Astarion doesn’t care. He’d do anything for you, just like how you’d do anything for him. The vampire spawn rests a reassuring hand on the back of your head while the other rubs circles on your back as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Right now, only you matter, and if you needed a shoulder to cry on, he would be that shoulder.

“I can’t lose you,” you sob through the tears. “I’ve lost everything else already, I can’t lose you too. WIthout you, I…I don’t know what to do. You’re the only one who keeps me going.”

Astarion presses his lips to your head, closing his eyes as he takes in your sweet scent, “I can’t lose you either, Y/N, and I promise, we will remain by each other’s side forever.”

His words make you cry harder and you bury yourself into his chest, crying until you have nothing left to give and lie there panting, cries reduced to sniffles. Astarion kisses away the tears that remain on your cheek, lips lingering longer than necessary with each kiss before pressing his forehead against yours.

“All these years, I’ve always wondered if anyone would ever care about me to the point where they would do anything to protect me, and now I’ve found my answer in you,” he murmurs. “I couldn’t be happier knowing that you would choose me over everything else.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back. “Thank you, for accepting me after seeing what I really am.”

“Any time, dearest.” He continues to cradle you in his arms, gently swaying from side to side. As your eyelids begin to flutter shut, he decides that tonight, it can’t just be you who is vulnerable. You trust him enough to drop your guard to this extent around him, he wants to repay the favour.

“I had a nightmare about you, just the other night.” He gently pushes your hair out of your face, tracing your jawline. He’s been wanting to keep this a secret, afraid of scaring you but since you had challenged the gods themselves, perhaps a vampire wasn’t that scary in comparison.

“Did I look hot in it?”

Astarion blinks in surprise. Maybe he was rubbing off on you too much. Amusement colours his face as he gives your cheek a poke and pouts. “First you steal my role as the broody rogue in the party and now you try to take my place as the residential flirt?”

“It’s all your fault,” you huff good naturedly, folding your arms across your chest. “You’ve been a terrible influence on me.”

He smiles softly, giving you a peck on the lips, “I suppose I have. Although I must say, you have a long way to go before you can ever reach my level.”

“I can’t possibly put you out of a job, can I? Whatever will I do to keep my vampire lover around then?”

“You simply need to exist, darling. That is all.”

Your gaze softens and you press your lips against his, kissing him deeply.

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” You ask once you reluctantly break away from the kiss to breathe. He nods, swallowing hard.

“Cazador had you. He threatened to kill you unless I returned to him, threatened to turn you into one of his spawn just like me and make you suffer for an eternity while I watched. You swore and cursed at me, saying all this was my fault, that it was all because of me that you were now on the cusp of being turned into a vampire spawn, and I –” His fingers tremble. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Star –”

“I hesitated! I thought about putting myself before you, and I –”

“I want you to do that.”

His eyes widen, “darling, you can’t possibly –”

“Star, you’ve spent far too long putting everyone before yourself. You need to start putting yourself before others from time to time, to stand up for yourself. I want you to live your own life, not someone else’s. And if Cazador ever comes for us, well I won’t let him separate us. We’ll have each other’s backs as we always do, and he won’t stand a chance.”

You say it with such certainty that Astarion almost believes you, but a nagging voice in the back of his head reminds him of how strong Cazador is. Yet, looking deep into your eyes and seeing your resolve, a small part of him dares to hope again. Maybe, he really could stand up against his master with you by his side. Maybe one day, he really could be free, but for now, he’s more than content to simply hold you in his arms, feeling your warm embrace and his undead heart soaring.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

what wasnt being said in the poly poolverine storyline??? youve got me so hooked on this one

Enjoy a smut

"So, Angel baby," Wade demanded when you settled on the couch, "make with the details. What'd they say?"

You take a drink and a deep breath and Logan trades looks with Wade behind your head as they take seats on either side of you. "Well. My brain is still there, so that's good news."

"But," Logan prompted, feeling his stomach sink unpleasantly.

"But," you sigh, "they're going to try some new meds and if that doesn't work surgery IF I'm even a candidate for it. But IF they do that the recovery time is a beast and so is the therapy and-"

"We'll figure it out," Wade said.

You shake your head, "I don't expect you to-"

"Shut up," Logan said without any real heat, dropping an arm around your shoulders.

"And," you sigh, "there's still the risk that it could leave me worse off than I am now."

"We'll figure it all out," Wade said, kissing the side of your head.

"I still understand if-"

"Shut up," they tell you in unison.

Wade grabbed your chin and licked into your mouth, cutting off anything else you could say as he kissed you. His usual gentleness replaced with something like desperation. Days of pent up anxieties that had been gnawing at him bubbling up. And on your other side, Logan isn't about to be left out. Taking advantage of the exposed, tender skin on your neck to make his own feelings about it known. Scraping the flesh with his teeth. Making you whimper

"Aw hell no," Althea muttered, "Not this shit again."

You try to pull away from Wade to stammer an apology but Wade keeps hold of your hair and nips at your lip possessively, grinning when you close your eyes and shiver. "Poor neglected angel baby," he cooed, "Look at her, Peanut-"

The Apartment door slammed with Althea's exit and Logan's only response was to carefully shred your shirt. Leaving you in a bralette and your jeans on the couch. Exposing left over bits of adhesive and the bruises on your arms from blood draws and IVs. And he growls possessively. Burrying his face in your breasts and nuzzling briefly before he knelt in front of you and pushed your knees apart. Kissing the bruises on your arms.

"Good girl," Wade said, pulling off his shirt, "Just relax. Think you can take us today, huh?"

"Want to," you whine, letting your head loll back. "Missed my boys."

"You can do it, Princess," Logan growled, unbuttoning your jeans and trailing soft kisses down your stomach.

"He's so soft for you, baby," Wade purred. "Got us both so owned we're stupid. Not goin' anywhere, 'kay?"

"I just don't want you to have to take care of me," you protest, going tense.

Logan grumbled and pulled your jeans and panties down, leaving you exposed you him, and sank his teeth into your thigh. Sharply enough that you cried out, and he licked tenderly at the bite to soothe it. "Ours," he grunted.

"God that's fuckin' hot-"

"Wade," you whine. It's hard to focus. It's hard to think. It's hard to do anything except WANT when they're touching you like this. And when Logan smirks up at you, teasing your folds with just the pad of his index finger, almost lazily- you can only whimper.

"Angel baby," Wade crooned, "what's the matter, huh? You wanna play too?" He shimmied out of his pants and let his cock spring free, "Come to papa. Let's give you something to do, huh?"

And you do, licking at his tip to tease him. Satisfied when you feel his hands in your hair to stroke it. "That's it, Sweetie. Feels better, hu- Fuuuck. Yes. You know what I- Shit."

"Good girl," Logan growled. Giving you a little more now that you're starting to relax some. Losing yourself like you need to- to not think so much. To not worry so much. And your answering muffled mewl is like music to his ears. "That's it, kid. Gonna put two inside you, kay?" Better Music to his ears s that Wade is helpless in your capable hands. All he can do is sing your praises and try not to fuck your face.

Logan could sympathize- You had some super fucking human blowjob skills and he was willing to bet if Wade so much as twitched he was gonna lose it. But- there were rules. And when you were with them, they'd both agreed "Ladies First" was the first rule. It wasn't going to be fair if you hurt yourself and had to tap out before you got to come. They learned that the hard way.

He kept working you and kept at it, slow and steady. Enjoying the steady cresendo of your release. And when you did come, moaning incoherently around Wade's cock, his breathless little scream made Logan grin as he watched his other lover spatter come down your chest- careful not to get it on your face or in your hair.

"Christ," he panted, "What is this Prom night?"

Logan smirked and kissed you before he kissed Wade, "What's the matter, bub, she get the best of ya?"

"It's the fucking tongue thing. Every time- succubus." He pouted and leaned down to kiss you, wiping come off you with his discarded shirt, "Did you have a gay boyfriend or something? Fuck."

You snort, "If you learn to suck dick, suddenly boys don't care as much if you don't really want to fuck."

"Only because they don't know how to fuck," Logan growled, rubbing your hips.

"Such a DILF thing to say," Wade said, leaning over to kiss Logan, "as soon as I can feel my legs again-"

"As soon as you can feel your fucking legs, you pussy," he said, smirking, "you're sucking my dick while she sits on my face."

"So bossy," Wade pouted, "Guess I gotta get my kisses in now huh? Since Logi-bear decided he wants to be Daddy today."

[shuadotcom]

Irresistible | KMG (M)

Summary: You love Mingyu's hands and arms, especially when he holds you and touches you in the most sinful way.

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Afab!Reader

Genres & AUs: Smut, pwp, established relationship au

Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

Warnings: Fingering, a little dirty talk, body worship? (mc is in love with Mingyu’s hands and arms), public sex, outdoor sex (they’re in the woods 0/10 would recommend), pet names (sweetheart, baby)

Words: 1.2k

Note: A little drabble thingy I wrote in a few hours for Mingyu’s birthday! It’s not beta’d so please don’t tell me about the typos bc I’ll probably find them in like 6 months when I decide to randomly reread it lol. It’s also my first time writing a fic completely on mobile and posting on the app (very annoying btw 😒). I also have a different Gyu fic that I finished that I want to get beta’d before I post - hopefully in the next day or so! It’s a little fluff moment though and not like whatever this horny shit is lol.

Net tag: @kflixnet

Mingyu’s hands are one of your favorite things about him (and yes it’s a very extensive list). His hands are so pretty and always so warm. The pads of his fingers are calloused in the best way but also always so soft.

He’s an expert at holding your hands and loves linking his fingers through yours and rubbing circles into your skin. You love watching him use his hands. Whether it’s when he cooks and you admire the skilled way he handles knives and chopsticks, or when he’s typing on his computer or phone and you watch how his nimble fingers glide over the keyboard and screen.

You love when he’s gripping something, especially something heavy, and you get to see the veins under the skin of his hands bulge, muscles stretching and flexing, reminiscent of pathways on a map; a map that trails all the way up his forearms to his biceps. His bulky, sculpted, wonderful biceps.

Those are a favorite of yours too.

You know he truly puts in the work to make them as big and defined as they are and you appreciate the hell out of him for it. You appreciate how safe and sound you always feel when he traps you in those arms in a hug, holding you like the most precious piece of glass. The limbs are so sturdy, so easy to naturally grab onto when you’re out in the world, relishing in the jealous looks people give you because you’re the one clinging to him, digging your nails lightly into the arms of the Greek god you get to call your boyfriend. If it was up to you, Mingyu would wear nothing but sleeveless shirts and tank tops.

Just like the sleeveless shirt he’s wearing today. It’s black and soft between your fingers as you cling to it like a lifeline. His hands you obsess over so much are doing another thing you love - grabbing at your sweaty, bare skin.

His right-hand grips the leg you’ve thrown around his waist, helping to keep you upright and keep you balanced. His left hand is covered in your sticky wetness as he drags his index finger in and out of your eager cunt.

The bark of the oak tree you’re pressed against digs into your back through your shirt and your jeans are dangerously close to falling off the leg that dangles in his hold, but you barely register it as Mingyu’s finger brushes your g-spot.

“Fuck! Gyu…”

“Feel good, sweetheart?”

Your bottom lip, already red and raw from how hard he kissed you earlier and how much you’ve been gnawing at it, is between your teeth again and you nod in response.

You’ve lost count of how long he’s been teasing you and drawing out this pleasure. It’s been at least fifteen minutes maybe. Definitely too long to be doing this behind a cluster of trees in the park in the middle of the day while your friends wait for you a few feet away.

“I can’t help it, you look so fucking good,” he grumbled into your ear as he crowded you against a tree.

“I’m wearing such a normal outfit!” You giggled, but it was short-lived when he attached his lips to your neck and began sucking on the skin.

“That’s how much you drive me crazy. You’re fucking irresistible.”

“B-but we’re supposed to be getting th-the drinks from the car.” You could barely get the sentence out as Mingyu’s wide hand reached up, grabbing a handful of one of your breasts through your shirt.

“The drinks can wait. Wanna make you cum first.”

He had said that what seems like forever ago, and he’s been doing the exact opposite. Mingyu alternates between lazily rubbing at your clit with his thumb and fucking you with one finger, bringing you so close but not giving you enough to tip you over the edge.

“Gyu, please,” you breathe out, holding in a moan that wants so badly to tumble out. Your ears pick up the sounds all around you - the sound of voices, the rustling of the trees, a dog barking in the distance, and the obscene squelching of your juices as Mingyu shoves a second thick finger into you.

“Hmm, I suppose I should let you cum. People may come looking for us.” He’s almost noncommittal with his words, still only fingering you with minimal effort.

“Please, please, please,” you babble as your fingers grab at his shirt so hard that you’re sure it’ll be wrinkled once you’re done.

“Please what, baby?”

“Please, let me cum, Gyu, please!” You’re desperate and punctuate your whimpers with open mouth kisses on his chiseled jaw.

Your boyfriend gives you a devious smirk and you can nearly hear the gears in his head turning, deciding if he wants to keep teasing you or not. Mingyu seems to take pity on you though as he readjusts your leg around him, hiking it higher. Your eyes rake over the prominent veins in his biceps, the skin looking as smooth and tan as always.

Then he’s drawing his other arm back and starts thrusting his fingers into you so quickly it takes your breath away. Your hands fly to his shoulders, grasping onto him for dear life as Mingyu pistons his fingers in and out, curling the tips perfectly.

“Ohhh fuck, like that, fuck!” The words leave your mouth in between more moans of his name, fire erupting in the pit of your stomach.

“Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Gonna let go for me right here with all these people around?”

A mix of words that you can’t understand comes out of you. He adds a third finger at some point, making your eyes roll back at the delicious burn of the stretch. Mingyu’s thumb rubs against your clit roughly, the pressure being exactly what you need.

He knows you so well and always knows when you’re about to release, so Mingyu brings his mouth to yours, capturing your lips and sticking his tongue into your mouth as you reach your peak. He swallows up your cries of his name as your body shakes in his hold, the tree bark scratching against your exposed skin where your shirt has risen up your back.

Your lips stay locked as you messily make out with him, his digits slowing down to let you ride out the rest of your orgasm.

Eventually, he pulls away and you let out puffs of air that turn into whines of protest when the stimulation from his fingers becomes too much.

Mingyu eases his fingers out of you and holds your gaze as he pops them into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean and groans.

“So sweet. My favorite flavor.” If your skin wasn’t already ablaze, you know you’d be burning up due to his little show.

Mingyu gently lowers your leg and leans down to help you steady your weak body. He gingerly lifts your leg to put it back through your underwear and jeans, even wiggling the denim up your legs and fastening the button for you.

He brings his right hand up, brushing some of your sweaty hair back and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Now, let’s go get those drinks!” He flashes you his signature wide, puppy smile before lacing his perfect fingers with yours and carrying on with your original goal as if he hadn’t just had those same fingers knuckle-deep in your pussy.

Not that you’re mad about it of course.

[erin-writes-ghost-fluff]

Post confession shenanigans- one shot

A/N: Whoops. My fingers slipped. Minors be gone. My fluff is not for you. If you like my content, leave a like, reblog, or even a follow! I don't write often but when I do... It's something lol.

Summary: Omega gets up to shenanigans after Terzo holds confession.

Warnings: None. Fluff and tickles. Sappy. Old men in love.

Note: Anrath is what I and my bf use for Omega's demonic name.

~ ~ ~

Well, that had taken longer than Terzo expected. Confession was usually an hour, but there were more siblings of sin that attended this time. Therefore, it was close to two hours before everything was finished. Internally, he was fretting.

He was supposed to have lunch with Omega and his duties cut into their time together. Terzo sighed, removing his mitre from his head, running his fingers through his hair. He hoped his beloved would understand. Of course Omega would, but worry still gnawed away in the back of his mind.

Just as he began to descend the pulpit steps, Omega was just suddenly there, giving the smaller man a fright. His ghoul was good for just creeping into rooms, not announcing his presence. It never failed to cause one to jump.

"Amore!" Terzo gasped, followed by a breathless chuckle, placing a hand over his now pounding heart.

"I was about to come find you!"

The demon crossed his arms with a snort, a puff of smoke exhaling from his nostrils. He wasn't genuinely annoyed with his lover, Terzo could see that. But he was still going to give the anti-pope some playful shit. And yeah, it was an excuse for Omega to get his hands on him and make him laugh, but Terzo didn't need to know about that part.

Though he suspected that was known already. After all, the recent discovery of Terzo being ticklish had been absolutely delicious. Omega had rarely heard him laugh like that before and like a high, he wanted to hear it more. He practically chased after it. It was no secret he could hardly keep his claws off of Terzo.

The mortal gave Omega an apologetic look, fidgeting with his hands.

"I'm sorry, caro. There were more than I initially realized. Let's go have our meal now, yes?"

Omega smirked, his scorpion tail swaying eagerly behind him. His fingers twitched with need.

"We don't have to leave. You look more appetizing, so I'll just eat you instead."

Terzo went to make a sexual quip of sorts, but it was quickly forgotten and dropped, when he felt Omega's face against his neck, huffing, and lightly nibbling the sensitive flesh. In an instant, the poor man found himself giggling helplessly.

"Oh, God damn it!" He snickered, now trying to hold back his laughter. "Again?!"

"Yes." Omega grinned against his neck, using his claws to softly draw circles into Terzo's ribs.

Terzo jolted, laughter beginning to grow just a little louder much to his annoyance. He hated the sound of it. He hated how much it sounded like Nihil's despite Omega's insistence that it did not. If anything, it was more similar to Copia's- not that Terzo thought it was much better.

"Amore, please!" His voice higher than it normally was, his words being broken up more and more, by his giggles.

His knees began to give out, causing Omega to guide him to sit on the altar railing. The ghoul's tail hadn't stopped wagging since his favorite sound had started. Omega's pupils were round and large, indicating his playful mood, as well as his adoration towards his papa.

"Oh come on! You've been so stressed! Let me take care of you, before we eat!"

Terzo felt those devious claws, scribbling at his stomach through his papal robes. A peal of high pitched laughter rang through the sanctuary like a bell. It was here, the couple seemingly shared a thought, locking eyes with the other, though Terzo's gaze was more flustered.

They had both heard the way the mortal's laughter bounced and echoed off of the walls, repeating and reverberating Terzo's mirth. And Omega now planned to milk this little situation for all it was worth. His claws worked faster now, causing giggles to quickly turn into those witch cackles that the ghoul loved so much.

Terzo tried to push the larger being away but it was in vain. At most, this just caused Omega to simply chuckle before nuzzling back into the crook of his mate's neck, purring as he spread kisses along the length.

The pope star's face which was previously a light pink color, now flushed a deep red as his cackles began to sound squeaky.

"Anraaath!" Terzo whined in between giggles, now trying to preserve what dignity he had left, attempting to cover his face.

Omega felt another surge of both euphoria and a term the ghouls coined, known as 'cuteness aggression.'

"Stop being so fucking cute!" He growled playfully, claws suddenly attaching themselves to Terzo's hips.

He knew from prior experience that his beloved, dramatic human couldn't handle being tickled for very long. So, he always ended with a finale of going for Terzo's hips and making the poor man completely lose his shit.

"Wait- DON'T!" Terzo practically squealed as Omega rapidly- though with the utmost gentleness- squeezed and kneaded his hips.

The ensuing hysteria, complete with cackles, snorts, and squeaks was music to the guitarist's ears. He was completely enamored by his beloved's laughter, drinking in every second of it and Terzo's smile.

Terzo kicked his legs, his hands holding Omega's wrists but not pushing them away. Now this was curious... Could he not push them away, due to his depleting strength? Or did he not want to push them away? The new observation was mentally noted, and Omega would figure it out eventually.

For now, the claws ceased their attack, finally taking mercy on the anti pope. The ghoul admired Terzo's now messy hair, and red cheeks. His tail did not stop wagging. He purred, nosing and nuzzling the man's cheek.

"Forgive me, my love?" Omega chuckled.

Terzo sighed after his final chortles fizzled out, glaring up at Omega with faux anger.

"That wasn't necessary, Anrath!" He pretended to pout, unsteadily getting to his feet.

Omega pulled him against his side, bringing Terzo's knuckles to his lips to kiss them.

"Hearing you laugh is always a necessity. I got my fill... For now. Come on, let's go eat. I'll even make dessert to make it up to you!"

Terzo crinkled his nose playfully at the ghoul. "Humph! You'd better!"

Oh, he intended to. Only the best chocolate and sweets for his tesoro.

"You're such a drama queen," Omega chuckled. "But I adore you."

The front man smiled bashfully, interlacing his fingers with his husband's.

"I love you too," he muttered.

For the third time that day, Terzo felt his heart flutter.

[hannahssimblr]

“Is someone sitting here?”

“What?”

“I said, is someone sitting here?”

Evan plucks out one of his earbuds and gestures broadly to the empty seat at his table, “No, take it.”

“Thanks,” I sit down and begin unpacking my school bag. I look up a moment later to meet his confused expression. 

“Are you not going to take the seat?” He says, “I mean, take it, as in, go bring it to another table?”

“Nah, I want to sit here.”

“...With us?” He exchanges a look with Michelle, who shrugs. They let a long silence stretch on, but I won’t be intimidated. I’m here now. We will be sitting together for this class and there’s nothing they can do about it. 

He clears his throat, “Well… usually you sit up next to Jill. She’ll probably think it’s a bit weird if you just switch seats.”

“I don’t care about that. Do you care about that?”

He hesitates, “Well, no.”

I shrug, “Okay then,” I rummage through my pencil case and yank out a fresh 4B pencil, “Do you need this? Yours is looking a bit gnawed on.”

He scowls and slides his tooth marked pencil under his sketchbook where I can’t see it and I chuckle, “I was joking, I only have one 4B pencil, actually, you can’t have it.” And I swear that I can hear Jen’s voice in my head. That’s not the way to make friends with someone, she points out. Try again.

I quickly look for something else to talk about and spot a scrawl of lyrics on the inside of his sketchbook cover. 'Smile like you mean it' next to a scratchy drawing of an upside down grin, “Hey, you like The Killers?”

“Uh, yeah I guess.”

“I love The Killers, actually, I just got Day and Age for Christmas and-”

“Jude, shush,” Michelle hisses, “the teacher is talking.”

I glance quickly over my shoulder at Miss O’Reilly who is as usual saying something grandiose about art using broad, sweeping hand gestures. I listen for three seconds before I determine that it is not important.

“Michelle Tengu,” I turn back to her with a smirk, “are you a teacher’s pet?”

“No, I’m just trying to listen.”

“To what? Draw a cross in the middle of an oval and put the nose there and the eyes there and bla bla bla, which, by the way isn’t even accurate. You’re going to have to unlearn it all when you go to art college.”

“Who said I’m going to art college?”

“You changed your mind?” 

“Okay shut up, she’s coming over.”

Miss O’Reilly rests a hand on my arm, and I’m certain I’m about to get into trouble again, but she just says “...and Jude and Michelle, you can be the next pair.”

“For what?” I mouth to Michelle, and she shakes her head and mouths back, “I don’t know, you were talking over her, eejit.” 

“And that leaves Evan, who can go up to the top and work with Jill.”

“Aw what?” He protests, “this is my seat, Miss.”

“Well today you are sitting with Jill.”

“That’s Jude’s seat,” He stabs an aggressive finger in my direction, “He moved today for no reason.”

“Miss,” I pipe up, “I’ll go with Evan, it’s fine.”

“No, I want boy-girl-boy-girl. Evan, just go and sit with Jill please.”

I turn around and mesh gazes with Jill who is glaring at me with confusion and disgust. “Evan?” She mouths, “Why are you down there? I don’t want to draw Evan. Ew!”

I ignore her and turn back to Michelle as Evan packs up his things and makes a big show of stalking away, “So I’m drawing you and you’re drawing me, yeah?” 

A weary sigh, “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Nice to have a challenge.”

“What do you mean?”

“As in, really ridiculously good looking people are the hardest to draw.”

“For God’s sake.”

I smirk, “C’mon, it’s funny.”

“Excuse me, I can’t draw your mouth when it’s moving, so keep it shut.”

I snicker into my sketchbook and begin marking out the shape of her face, “You’re funny, Michelle. Did you know that?”

The corner of her mouth ticks up, “Yeah, and you’re a pain in the arse.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[electrosair]

Comforting you after a nightmare

english isn’t my first language, sorry for mistakes

characters: albedo + zhongli + xiao (separate)

word count: 1k (more than 300 per each one)

Albedo

If you tell him you had a nightmare there will only be three options for him: 1 You tell him what happened. 2 He offers to make you a weird anti-bad-dream-potion. 3 Simply fondles you until you fall asleep again.

There's nothing wrong with that, but he would be able to stay up all night if the nightmare is very recurrent. Being there for you when you wake up in a lousy state is his priority.

Need water? You got it. More blankets? Four boxes of sleeping pills? Take it for granted.

In case you tell him what the dream is about, he'll do his best to find out if it has some deeper meaning, and if it's about some past trauma, insecurity or anything like that, he'll personally make sure you understand that everything will be okay in his arms.

The air hitting one of the windows woke me up, and honestly, I was more than grateful to the anemo archon for that. My heart was beating fast and every time I thought about it, the more it increased, the nervousness gnawing at me from head to toe. And just when I thought my breathing was calming down again, to make me forget that nightmare and go back to lying peacefully under the warm blankets, the door handle slowly moved. For a few seconds time stood still, but when Albedo's blond head appeared behind the door it returned to normal. His mere presence calmed me and, clutching a sheet, tears began to roll down my cheeks. "Oh, what are you doing awake?" through the darkness of the room he walked over to the bed, his new look of concern on me causing him to stop in his tracks. "Did something happen?" I shook my head and moved my left arm to wipe the moisture from my face. "Are you sure?" "Yeah…. Just a bad dream" "Do you want to talk about it? Maybe we can come to some conclusion" He pulled me into his arms and lay on his back, resting my head on his chest. "Maybe tomorrow, now I just want to sleep" "Rest well, if you wake up again and I'm asleep, wake me up, okay?" He left a kiss on my scalp and I closed my eyes.

Zhongli

He would know perfectly well that you just had a nightmare, what can we say, he is a god, at least something out of the ordinary he will notice in you.

First he will try to calm you down if it was really bad, caressing your skin and saying nice words to calm you down.

Then he will ask you about it, and even if he already knows everything, he will listen attentively to you unburden yourself if that's what you want.

If after the incident you don't want to sleep anymore or you find it hard he will insist on reading to you, any book would be fine, he would use the sweetest voice to make you recover the lost sleep.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to forget the images that kept replaying over and over in my mind after the nightmare. As I was about to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, at least to wash my face, I felt a hand grab my wrist softly. "Is everything okay, darling?" his calm voice broke me from my thoughts for a few moments and I threw myself into his arms. He stroked my head gently, tangling his fingers through my hair. "Sure you don't want to talk about it?" I just shook my head, hugging him tighter and burying my head even more into his chest. He sighed and moved his hand from my hair to my cheek, moving his thumb over it, his other hand on my waist, holding me against his torso. "Then go back to sleep, it's still night." I shook my head simply. "Oh, don't you want to?" "I can't…" He sighed again and kissed my scalp. "Close your eyes, relax, do you want me to read you something?" Even if I refused, I knew he was going to do it anyway, so I let him pick out a book and he started with the reading, still caressing my skin and drawing patterns on it. All I knew was that the next morning there was the book on the pillow and the sun's rays illuminating his face.

Xiao

It was like some kind of weird instinct that alerted him that you had had a bad dream.

If he is not in bed with you at the time, he will simply run to where you are to protect you from yourself and your thoughts.

I doubt Xiao would know what to say in situations like this where you need a little comfort, so I think he would cradle you in his arms and not separate from you for a single second.

He would definitely look for some kind of ancient amulet or charm to make sure you wouldn't have any more nightmares like that again. And, in case you had one, at least that would make you feel more protected and closer to him.

Small tears splashed down my cheeks as I jerked up out of bed, sitting still and trying to breathe more calmly. Suddenly, the windows opened wide and the sound of something metallic echoed in the room, strong arms wrapped around me and pressed my head against his chest, so I could hear his heartbeat. "I'm here now." His whisper echoed in my ears and I hugged his body too. He held me there until I calmed down, making sure there was no more crying left, cupped my face in his hands and pressed a single kiss to my cheek. "Is it okay if we go outside?" he continued to whisper and pinned his gaze on my pupils, dilated so I could appreciate him in the dark of the night. Without waiting for much of a response from me, he took me in his arms bridal style and somehow, in a way I didn't quite grasp due to exhaustion, carried us up to the roof. He sat down calmly, leaning us on the tiles, and hugged me as he covered my body as best he could, trying to keep my warmth in. It wasn't the most comfortable position to sleep in, but the nightmares didn't return after that.

[3sgritty]

Whatever doodle of my OC and Joshua Graham. Like… really whatever. I am not gnawing at the bars of my enclosure or anything. This is just casual and whimsical fun. It does not occupy my days or whatever. Like it’s just a little irrelevant hobby to me. Swear to God.

Anyway. OC and plot info below, God willing, I will flesh this fanfic out into something sufficiently consumable for other people.

There’s no way in hell he survived his execution AND made it far from the wreckage without being found by either the NCR or Legionaries who wanted to check whatever had become of their Legate—and I feel like they really would look for him, being the hand that executed the son of Mars’ will, their comrade in battle, their commander, their mentor. More so than Caesar would have bothered.

Enter an ex-Enclave scientist who finds him and—and this is her grave mistake—gives a shot at using her knowledge for giving and caring. No longer taking and twisting. Done out of some fucked up sense of bereavement for a cause she gave her whole being to and very horribly become disenchanted with. She bears his sulking, irritability, his refusal to speak to her for so so very long, his general… self. She believes it absolves her guilt for some time until it makes her feel sick because, God, this is literally the fucking ex-Legatus!

The good ending is them learning to trust the other and stop holding their pasts and prejudices against everyone, especially themselves and one-another. All fine and dandy? No. The influence of the Legion takes her down along with New Canaan. By the time the Courier meets Joshua in Zion he’d become so embedded with the desperation to make things right that he’d beaten himself back into the man who met Edward Sallow, man who cannot douse the flames that had to raze the earth before he could decide it was enough, he’d tasted enough control.

Maybe a cunning Courier Six would be able to get something in the effect of “that belonged to my wife, Courier,” or “something my wife told me,” in passing and he just. Doesn’t elaborate. It directly translates to “I fucking miss my wife Courier get the hell out of my sight.” And that, kids, is why the canine teeth of the “reformed, religious, repentant man” veil latches onto him so deeply. Or whatever. This is all casual headcanon, ‘nuff said.

The bad ending drawing is playing with the idea of Caesar wanting Josh back and finding him in Utah, moved on and settling down all happily ever after. This angers Caesar, of course. Dare I say Jealous, even. Caesar does not destroy Joshua’s family in this life. Rather reminds him where he belongs, the Legion, where his wife certainly does not. And this protest is evident in the way her hair is cut. She has a fuck ass bob by the time they settle down with the New Canaanites, you see, and Caesar gets his Praetorian guards to relieve her of it after an attempt in dissuading Joshua from returning to the Legion. Threatens to enslave her and shit, definitely sparks an argument. But Caesar is power and this fact precedes every decision in Joshua’s life now apparently.

The whole thing disgusts her but she can’t leave her husband. He might return one day in the form of frumentarii delivering a grim message, and like, she escaped one evil faction into the arms of another one but at the end of the day she still married the man. And and ending where she leaves would be just too convenient for Caesar.

The whole thing is the last thing he would have planned but he really cannot help himself, I guess. He is addicted (carnally) with the conquest and all that. He keeps her in a safe civilian territory in fuck-knows-where Arizona? Keeps her far from Caesar and the military but near enough so that he can come home to her every now and then and try to be a Good Husband. But he can’t really return to her much even if he were free to visit his wife because he makes her feel sick, and sometimes when he looks at her for too long he starts wondering if she’s ever thought she should’ve left him to die in the canyons.

Crack Edit: In both timelines Vulpes Inculta finds them and Joshua Graham’s first instinct is to blow his head smoove off but it doesn’t happen because the missus finds him a delightful chat. Welcomes him into their home and offers him tea and all that. He adores her! Of course he then proceeds to tell Caesar—but hey! It was gonna happen either way.

I definitely need to name her, but I also like the idea of her name being lost to time, a secret that is only his to keep, only his to remember and to grieve. Maybe a persistent Courier can wring it out of him somehow, who knows?

The bad ending gives her the name Livia. Something Caesar thought sounded pleb enough and unsweet, to her irritation. Not that she wasn’t. Like Caesar actually ate with that.

[marco-newgate]

Marco X CisFem Reader

3

Ace almost always entered your room without permission.

Drawing your name out into a long irritating whine he threw himself on top of you. Your eyes snapped open in annoyance while you flailed under the comforter and your idiot best friend.

"God damnit Ace if it's earlier than 10AM I'm fucking kicking your ass." You grumbled.

"It's 9:32 yoi." Marco's voice called muffled by the door.

"Get uuuuup." Ace whimpered completely ignoring your threat and going limp so it'd be harder to fight his dead weight.

"Why are you awake right now? It's Saturday." You twisted yourself around to your back spreading your arms out.

Quickly you wrapped your arms (with the blanket) around the freckled idiot flipping him onto the mattress sitting on his chest victorious.

"What the hell F/N?!" He wiggled beneath you.

"You were warned. Now you must face - "

"N-no don't! I'm sorry!" He shouted.

"- the tickle monster!" You finished digging your fingers into his ribs and arm pits through the blanket.

"I- ah- h-hate yah-you!" He giggled and kicked eventually finding the strength to push you over.

"We're too old for you to just come in here whenever you want. I need privacy sometimes ya know?" You flopped down next to him taking your blanket back.

"Gross." He muttered, "I just wanted you to come out with us. You've been moping around for almost a month."

"So, let me mope. I just had my whole future turned upside down." You pulled the blankets over your face.

It had been three weeks since you beat Sanji up and you'd had zero contact. He still hadn't returned any of the belongings you had left at his apartment, some of which you really wanted but there was no way you were going back there anytime soon. Facing people was annoying; people who knew what happened gave you pitiful glances and clichéd advice while those who didn't know asked how he was sending your heart into a depressing spiral.

Now you were living out of boxes in the room you'd grown up in. Barely sleeping and having your obnoxious best friend invade your space without permission... just like high school. But you loved it here. It was home. And though you'd never admit to them you loved living with these loud idiots.

There was a light tap on the door.

"Hey F/N...you should probably come out front." Sabo said softly.

Ace had quickly passed out next to you.

So much for waking me up ass.

"Will no one in this house let me sleep?" You groaned.

"Uh.. Well Sanji is here." He added. 

A gut clenching wave of nausea rolled over you as you sat up.

"Ace wake up dumbass." You swatted at his freckled cheeks.

"Wha - when did-"

"Shut up... Sanji is here." You choked on his name.

Ace shot to his feet while you rushed to make yourself look presentable. Dabbing concealer under your dark puffy eyes, you couldn't let him see how sleep deprived you were. Somehow it felt like he'd win if he saw what a mess he made you.

After braiding your hair and changing clothes you made your way to the front of the house. Ace taking confident purposeful strides at your side as you reached the screen door that lead to the porch. Marco and Thatch had already stationed themselves on the deck arms crossed and stone faced. Sabo stood nearby not quite as protective as the others. Ace pushed through the screen his balmy hand engulfing your wrist.

Your stomach fell again catching sight of the blue sedan. Marco glanced down at you offering a crooked smile.

" Seems he's too scared to get out yoi."

"I wonder why." You breathed palming his elbow.

The car's engine cut off drawing your attention back as Sanji stepped out cigarette hanging from his lips. That was a sight you hadn't witnessed since you'd become official. You didn't even have to nag him about it. He gave up smoking almost immediately. It was a rough couple of months and he substituted with constantly gnawing on a toothpick but you gladly accepted the trade.

Before you could will yourself to go down the porch steps Luffy came barreling out the door throwing himself over the rail that framed the deck.

"Saaaannnnjjjjiiiiiii!" He launched himself onto the blond causing the two eldest brothers to facepalm.

Seriously Luffy? He's the enemy.

You couldn't really stay mad at the youngest, though watching him cling to Sanji made you cringe. He is one of his best friends and Luffy is capable of existing passed the limbo of your differences and loving both of you.

"Oi Luffy - you disrespectful little -"

"It's fine." You hushed Thatch.

You took a deep breath before descending the small stair case.

"Finally bringing my things?" You asked breaking up the reunion.

Luffy stepped back grinning, "I'll help you carry your stuff F/N."

"Thanks honey, but I think I got it." You managed to smile at the raven.

"Uh yeah... Hey." Sanji muttered rubbing his neck, "I wasn't really looking forward to facing a firing squad."

"Yeah well you brought that on yourself." You shrugged, "Let's get this over with."

"Sure." He sighed opening the back door and pulling out a medium sized box.

You took it placing it on the hood of the car to rummage through and make sure he got everything. Some scarves, your favorite hoodie, flat iron, DVDs and books. Tucked into the very bottom corner were a pair of red lacy panties. Not only were they not your style they weren't even your size.

"These aren't mine." You stuffed them into the breast pocket of his pinstriped vest earning a chuckle from Ace, "There's a box in my room marked for this guy can someone get it for me?"

Without a word Marco dipped back into the house returning with a moving box labeled "Liar". He approached slowly, expression unreadable as he just dropped the box at Sanji's feet and turned to you.

"We've got to leave soon and you need to eat." He smiled picking up your box and heading back toward his brothers.

You stood awkwardly for a few moments trying to keep calm.

"Well if that's it." You turned away from the chef.

He caught your wrist, Marco and Ace bristled.

"I just really want to apologize. You didn't deserve that." He said softly smashing the cigarette with his boot.

"Well, I'm not much for forgiving right now so you'll just have to feel guilty for a bit longer if at all." You jerked out of his grasp, "You should go...these guys are pretty over it."

He sighed and slid back into the front seat as you climbed the steps trying to keep the tears at bay. Why did you still have to cry over this guy? You just wanted to be over it already. Ace held his arms out only to have them filled with your box of junk. Marco wrapped his arm around your shoulders and lead you back into the house. Ace shot Thatch an inquisitive look only to have the eldest shake his head and follow you inside.

"You really need to eat yoi. You're wasting away." Marco sat you down at the table with a plate of eggs and bacon.

"When did you worry so much over me?" You rubbed the mist from your eyes.

"Just eat."

"Can I promise to do it later?" You whined.

He slouched down in the chair beside you and leaned over just inches away from your face unamused.

"Ugh. Fine." You nibbled at the food suddenly feeling nervous under his lazy gaze, "Where are you guys going today anyway?"

"The beach!" Luffy cheered.

"Not really beach weather. Taking pops fishing?" You guessed.

"No he's over at Linlin's place on the lake this week." Thatch replied, "We just thought it'd be a good day trip, Luffy has been begging to go for a while."

You watched the youngest bounce around with bacon hanging from his lips.

"I think I'm gonna take a raincheck."

Ace let out a deflated sigh, "We want you to have some fun though."

"I know, and thank you, but I'm no fun right now. I don't even wanna hang out with me." You let out a dark chuckle.

"She can stay home if she wants." Marco defended making you shift beside him, "I'll just stay here with her. Koala is going so there's plenty of people to make sure the babies don't drown."

He was referring to Ace and Luffy who had never learned to swim but were drawn to water. It never made sense to you. You'd even offered to teach them – both just sank like rocks.

"You're one to talk." Ace scoffed.

"Yeah hypocrite pineapple." You chuckled, "You just wanted me there to lifeguard."

"Shut up yoi." He nudged you, "Don't fucking call me that."

You offered your best pouty face.

"Well whoever is coming get your shit together." Thatch called, "I'm leaving in 10 minutes with or without you."

After everyone left you sat on the sofa wrapped in your blanket channel surfing before landing on a movie you'd seen a few times. As you let yourself get lost in your thoughts Marco plopped down next to you.

"Are ya gonna stick to me all day?" You yawned.

"There's nothing else to do." He chuckled.

"Then make yourself useful." You nestled into his shoulder closing your eyes.

Marco crossed his arms settling into the sofa. A few moments later you were snoring lightly against him. You really hadn't gotten sleep it took almost no time for you to be completely unresponsive. Shifting a little he pulled you into his chest so that both of you were more comfortable.

"Sweet dreams." He murmured giving your scalp a soft kiss before drifting off himself.

A/N : Happy Birthday Pineapple! <3 

[thiefbird]

"tell me what's on your mind" in an angsty way for bridglar? (only if you want!)

oooooooh yes this is excellent!

Title from Henry Purcell's Cold Song

Far unfit to bear (on AO3)

What power art thou, who from below Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow From beds of everlasting, everlasting snow See'st thou not how stiff, how stiff and wondrous old Far unfit to bear the bitter cold I can scarcely move or draw my breath I can scarcely move or draw my breath Let me, let me freeze again Let me, let me freeze again to death Let me, let me freeze again to death

He and Henry had grown incautious, out on the ice and now on the sliding rocks. They weren't the only ones; there was no God here, no Articles to desecrate. Men clung to each other at night, taking comfort where they could. Hands clutched between two men hauling, leaning against each other while gnawing at hard — too hard for teeth loosened by scurvy — biscuit. A kiss, unafraid of eyes upon them.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he asked in that strange Arctic twilight of near-summer, their heads bent together — Captain Crozier was in with Captain Fitzjames, now, and he could do no more tonight.

Henry smiled, pressed his temple more firmly into John's shoulder, sighing as John's arm came up around him. "You'll think me silly."

"Perhaps I already think you silly, for thinking I might object to your humour." It was a poor attempt, and they both knew it, but Henry huffed out a laugh anyways.

"I shall miss this, when we make it back to England." They all said when still, though John doubted any among them believed it now. Not with men dropping like flies. Not with Hickey's mutineers. Not with that great demon of a bear chasing them.

"Sleeping on rocks and hauling sledges? I am certain we can find you something suitably sharp, even in London. Coal, perhaps." Henry's laugh was a little less halfhearted, a little less like he was indulging John in giving it, and John chuckled with him.

"Being so open, I mean. You won't touch me like this in England. You couldn't, not where people might see. It's wicked of me, but…"

John's eyes smarted, and he tipped his chin up to stare into the grey and unending sky lest he should begin to cry again. He would not shed tears for Henry till-

Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to Henry's hair, unheeding the grease that turned his curls limp and sticky. "Not a single sliver of you could I ever think was wicked," he murmured, grateful over all things for the freedoms granted at the ends of the earth. He would not give any amount of peace to be in London if Henry were not there beside him.

"I pray for our rescue," Henry continued, rolling his eyes at John's vehemence, "but I shall miss it, having had it."

If you live, Henry, John vowed, fierce in the privacy of his own heart, and then continued out loud: "I'll kiss you in St James's Park."

That startled a true laugh from Henry, twisting in John's arms to look up into his face. "You wouldn't. God, I don't know if I'd let you," he said, his smile wide enough to break John's heart with bleeding gums.

"I would, and you will. I'll kiss you in front of the Admiralty," if only you will live. He kissed Henry's temple, his cheek, tilted his chin until he could kiss him properly; Henry would not open his mouth into it, kept it chaste so John might not taste the blood. John hated him for it, even as his heart swelled with love for him.

John had cried when his captain collapsed on the rock. He cried for Captain Fitzjames, too frail to keep himself upright, and he cried for his Henry, so close behind. He cried for himself, too, and the loss of a man he considered a friend, and the loss he foresaw in Henry's bruises.

He thought he cried for Captain Crozier, most of all, and the tears he could not shed.

He had the luxury of weeping for his captain, for Henry. No man looked to him for leadership. He had the luxury, too, of touching Henry where men could see, under the open sky. He did not have to maintain his separation from the world the way a captain did, even now.

His Henry still walked, and smiled, and joked with him, and pushed him away for being absurd. He could kiss him on the shale, and under the sky, and — maybe, maybe, if God was merciful — in St James's Park in front of the ducks. He was luckier than he could imagine.

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

18: Sexy Nurse

♪────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

You suppose one of the benefits of being sick is that you have a cheap excuse to be lazy. You get to sit around all day and boondoggle! You bet Sans is jealous of your bitch ass for that, too.

Though, as much as you adore Papyrus (you guess Sans is okay), you cannot trust them to get the right things on your list. It’s a little too late since they left over thirty minutes ago; they left with your list, and almost all of your gold doubloons. You debated watching some TV but they don’t have shows other than Mettaton’s (sometimes), and you don’t feel like watching that sexy robot.

Huh.

Actually, you wonder what Mettaton will look like in person.

You’re not in a rush to find out, though.

You get up from the couch, going to your suitcase to pick out some warmer clothes and a dark blue-gray hoodie. If you were a more confident bitch, you would just get dressed in the living room. But what if Sans suddenly shows up without warning while you’re half naked? Oh God, what if Papyrus shows up?! You don’t want to traumatize him with your nakedness.

You change in the washroom instead, getting your sad twenty gold pieces, and leave the house. You make sure not to lock the door behind yourself, hoping it’ll be just fine since you’re not planning to go far.

Ugh, the cold is so uncomfortable. You shouldn’t be out here, it’s only going to make your sickness worse. You really don’t want to wait for Sans and Papyrus to do this, so you’re getting it over with now.

You stay by the door and look down your right. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of people outside right now. There’s the white bear tending to the Christmas tree (you think, it’s hard to tell from this distance), and the brown bear in front of Grillby’s, presumably talking to the white bear. You guess it’s too early for Monster Kid to be out here. Or maybe he’s at school? No, it can’t be that; it’s a Saturday (the 26th of January) and you would like to have hope that the poor kids don’t have school on the weekends.

You gnaw at your bottom lip in thought. You could safely walk to the shop without drawing too much attention, but you don’t feel good enough to be outside for long. Perhaps you can take the tunnel instead. It should be right next to the house, right-

“ah-[y/n]…!”

You turn to your left with wide eyes, the familiar, meek, and smooth voice breaking you from your thoughts.

“Oh, my gosh! Napstablook, hey!”

The ghost of the hour has a little smile on his face, floating closer to you and rocking those headphones. You lean against the door and cross your arms in a subconscious effort to keep warm.

You ask, “What are you doing out here, man? Do you come to Snowdin Town often?”

He shakes his upper half, “i pass through here to get to the ruins since it’s the shortest path. i was on my way to see you, but…” The ghost glances at the house, wincing very slightly but you notice it, “looks like you moved out of the ruins, huh…?”

“Toriel and I agreed that it would be better for me if I got out of the catacombs. Sans apparently volunteered to take me in,” You shake your head, “But you know what I think? I think it was all part of a set-up.”

You smirk and narrow your eyes at the other, “And I think you helped him with that.”

He widens his eyes and shrinks back. “i… i-i-i-”

“-Sorry, I’m just teasing you,” You tell him honestly, “I mean, I do think you and bone boy set this up for some reason, but I’m not mad at you or anything.”

Napstablook looks down guiltily. He would be kicking his foot to and fro if he had any, but you felt the vibes anyway. Aw, you almost feel bad for confronting him knowing he had the intention of seeing you. However, you can’t just allow people to mess with your life even if they’re your sweet friend. It’s not that you’re ungrateful for this push of leaving the Ruins, but you’d prefer it if it happened under your own volition.

Sighing at Napstablook’s silence, you speak up, “Blooky, I’m not mad. But if you were part of the reason why Toriel decided to kick me out “for my own good,” don’t you think I deserve to know why?”

“…………i just… you were so sad… staying there…” Napstablook mumbles softly, still not looking up at you, “at first, miss toriel asked me to… to hang out with you and protect you… but then we became genuine friends and it started to make me sad seeing you get less and less energetic… you were more and more sad, and it didn’t seem like it was going to get better…”

“so… so that’s why i told miss toriel that it would be a good idea for you to get out of the ruins…….”

You smile softly. You want to reach out and comfort him, but one: you’d phase right through him. And two: you’re sick as balls and you don’t want to risk it knowing sickness is fatal to monsters. It might not even be contagious to monsters (or ghosts), but you’re not fucking risking it.

“Sans still has a part in this, right?” Napstablook nods at your question, “Wanna tell me how?”

‘ah, sorry, sans…’ The timid boy thinks, ‘but i think [y/n]’s friendship might mean a little more to me than yours…..’

“i told him about you… the day before we began to hang out……i guess miss toriel told him to retrieve me, and he asked me why…. i told him then…… and everyday after seeing you, i would tell sans about what you and i did that day….”

“Ah, let me guess,” You raise a hand vaguely just to talk with your hands, “Sans suggested that I’d stay with him, so that when Toriel talked to me about leaving, I’d have somewhere to go?”

He nods.

You sigh.

Whelp, Sans just jumped up in your “Motherfuckers to be Careful of” list. Surprisingly, he and Flowey are fighting for the number one spot.

Still, it seems like Napstablook had genuine intentions for you and your well being. You wouldn’t put it past Sans if his motives were sussy, but you know Napstablook doesn’t carry an ounce of malice in him. You suppose you can forgive him just this once. Not that he needed to earn your forgiveness in the first place.

“Hey, you think you can look at me?”

At your gentle tone, it was a lot easier to do as you asked. Huh, you’re smiling at him.

“I’d give you a hug or a pat, but I have an ill—a normal, non-lethal, human sickness right now, and I don’t want to risk you getting sick, too.” You cross your arms again, “I promise you I’m not mad at you. Next time you’re worried about me, just tell me, okay?”

Your expression turns soft and fond, “Thanks for saving me, Blooky.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Tears comically shoot out of the Napstablook’s eyes like a high-pressure water hose.

“BLOOKY, OH MY GOD!!”

“um… so,” Comically, the tears stop suddenly, “what are you doing out here…? is… does your human sickness need the cold to go away?”

“Oh, dude. If only it were that easy. I’m about to head to that shop over there to buy some things. Sans and Papyrus are out right now to do some shopping, and I wanted to do this without them knowing.” You tell him.

“oh…… but… if being out here isn’t helping, doesn’t that mean it’s only making you feel worse?”

“Uhhhh-”

Napstablook shakes his upper half, “let me go for you. you should go back inside and stay focused on getting better…”

“Oh!” You perk up, “You’d—really? I mean, you don’t have to but I’d really appreciate the help.”

“i want to, it’s not a big deal. i was going to see you anyway,  so… i want to help you…”

You dig into your pockets to get the twenty gold, “Thank you so much. Uh, very specifically, I want two things: a tough glove, and a manly bandana. If the gold isn’t enough, don’t bother with it and come back, okay?”

Actually, just because you said that, Napstablook is going to buy it for you regardless if your gold is enough or not. It’s the very least he can do for you after going behind your back.

“that is specific…”

His eyes seem to glow for a moment then a faint, pale blue light circles around the gold in your hand. Then, just like that, the gold disappears from your hand. That stunt leaves behind a lingering cold feeling of where they once were.

Huh.

Neat trick.

“i’ll be right back…” Napstablook floats around you like the polite little lady he is, “do you want anything else…?”

You shake your hand, already opening the door, “No, just those two things.”

The ghost boy nods, turning around to make his merry way to the shop. You go back into the house and lock the door behind yourself. Napstablook can just phase through it so it should be fine. You change back into your shirt and shorts in the washroom, and sit your punk ass back on the couch.

You contemplated if you should probably wear something warmer, but you just realized!! How much you don’t actually care!!

You get your phone where you hastily left it on the floor. You stare at the black screen for a moment.

Then you turn it on to send a quick message.

──

You: Pspsps

(It takes him two minutes to reply.)

Snasational: sup

You: I may or may not have ran into Napstablook You: TLDR, he knows I’m staying with you and he’s gonna pick something up for me at the shop and he’ll PROBABLY be here still when you two get back

Snasational: wait howd you run into him?

(Ha! He replied instantly there!)

You: I saw his ghosty ass through the window and went out to say hi

(It’s easier to lie over text for you. Do you enjoy it? Absolutely not.)

You: It IS okay if he stays for a bit, right? You: It’s still your house and I can always send him away if you’re uncomfortable with him being around when you or Papyrus aren’t

Snasational: no its fine Snasational: he can make sure you dont perish while we’re gone ig

You: Cool! You: After all You: Napstablook and I have a LOT to talk about You: :)

Snasational: wym by that?

…

Snasational: [y/n]???

──

You leave that cuck on Seen and exit the messaging app. You wonder if now is also a good time to call Toriel, but she sounded pretty fucked up last night. You hope she’s doing okay, she sounded really miserable. You physically shake your head as if that’ll help you stop thinking about it.

She’s not your responsibility, and you’re not obligated to protect her feelings.

Anyway, Sans will be fine if he suffers for a short while. Yeah, he has it pretty rough already, but you’re not here to make his life easy. In fact, if you can do a little bit of trolling on the guy, then you’re going to have great entertainment.

Surely this will have no consequences and Sans won’t be seriously affected by your existence.

Surely.

Anyway, he totally deserves it! Why the hell did Sans want you in Snowdin? How dare he use Napstablook, of all babies, to carry out his deeds, too! Napstablook just wanted to help you, and Sans totally took advantage of that.

You’re not naive; you can guess why Sans did it. If Napstablook told him about you, then the skeleton was probably nervous that you weren’t Frisk. Maybe he thought you were some merciless human and that fact that you’re a stronk adult didn’t help. You understand where his concern is, so you’re not taking it personally.

BUT IT DOESN’T PISS YOU OFF ANY LESS!!!

Yeah, life with Toriel was mundane and boring, but you didn’t hate it! Certainly not to the point of wanting to get out of there. You think it’s also because you shared each other’s souls that you feel a LOT closer to her. You didn’t care if you were going to die of sickness or old age in the Ruins, as long as you were with your goat mom, then it would be fine.

How dare that creepy ass skeleton try to control your mortal life!

…

Okay, you’re not THAT mad but still!

You flop down to lay on the couch. Your punk ass better get better by the end of the week. You don’t want to die of boredom in Snowdin already. Luckily for you, just as you’re contemplating howling at the Sun, there’s a knock at the door.

“i’m back, [y/n].”

Aw, that was his attempt at raising his voice, wasn’t it?

“Can’t you phase right through?”

You hear a faint “oh.” You sit up with a wince (augh, your old lady back!), looking at the front door from where you are.

…

…? What’s taking him so long?

“uh, i-i can’t go through… there’s too much concentrated magic on this door…”

UGHHH!!

You scoff in annoyance while throwing the covers off your body dramatically. You only almost stumble when standing up! Small victories! Small victories! You rush to the door and unlock it, opening it up for the ghost with a smile. He doesn’t appear to be holding anything, but then again, it could be a magic thing. You step aside to let him in, locking the door once again when he floats inside.

“i got the bandana and gloves like you said, but…” Said items begin to appear in front of  the ghost, a light, blue hue glowing around them as they hover mid-air, “there was only one glove instead of a pair… i hope that’s okay…”

You carefully take the clothing items, feeling a strange, fleeting coldness on them before they warm up in your hands.

“That’s perfectly fine, I only needed the one, anyway,” You smile, “Thank you so much, Blooky! Uh, how much was it? I can start saving up to pay  you  back.”

“n-no, that’s not, uh…  that’s not necessary.” Napstablook tilts his head, “can i ask why you wanted those things?”

You scrunch up your nose, “Um, maybe another time. It’s a bit of a bummer, if I’m honest.”

“oh…”

“Anyway, I told Sans you were here since this is his house. I plan to talk to him about the whole thing later today when I get the chance. I’m letting you know this because you were involved with Sans’ schemes.” You walk over to the couch to sit down, “But for now, we got some catching up to do. Oh, my gosh–Actually, I have to tell you about my day yesterday.”

Sure, your constant change in tone and topic gave Napstablook whiplash, but when are you ever giving him an easy time? It freaks him out a little that you’re going to talk to Sans about what they did, but he suppose he deserves it even if he had good intentions. It didn’t sound like you were going to throw him under the bus or anything, but still.

…

Is it bad that Napstablook kind of hopes you also make Sans nervous when you inevitably talk to him? Not that he wants the skeleton to suffer or anything, but it would be a little funny.

Just a little.

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

@fluffyart5000

[youandmedead]

ßµrñêÐ Öµ† - Rêñgðkµ x !Gñ! RêåÐêr

Warnings: Angst, burn out, swearing, reader is nicknamed 'my love'

Requested by: No one

Synopsis: Reader is feeling burned out from all of their previous missions so Rengoku tries to comfort them

Notes: Haven’t been feeling the best lately so I decided to come up with this. Sorry its so short.

It was another one of those days where guilt, frustration and exhaustion were ganging up on you and preparing to make your life a living hell. Another mission had been complete yet another innocent soul being ripped away from your limp grasp. With a heavy sigh you took off your gear and laid your exhausted body upon the floor, not even caring that you were not in your bedroom. After a few minutes you tried to get up but it felt as if a huge weight had been placed upon your body. You tried to move your arms in order to rest your head upon them but it was also a useless endeavour, they felt like they had been sowed to your sides. Had a curse been placed upon you? Because that is surely what it felt like. That familiar gnawing feeling that constantly wore down your emotional barrier began to rise and that burning sensation in your throat and chest bubbled up. You so desperately wanted to cry, to scream, to vent any emotion that was coursing through you at this time but it was futile. It was all a one, big, useless attempt.

Suddenly, you heard the front door to your home close and footsteps drawing closer and closer to you.

“Y/n my love what are you doing on the floor? Are you okay?”

You managed to move ever so slightly to face the owner of that familiar voice. You were about to reply with a ‘not really’ but for some reason no sound escaped. Kyojuro kneeled down and placed a warm hand upon your cheek, “One of those days?”

You placed your hand upon his and nodded and let out a quiet, “Yeah”.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“I…I’ve just been having a really rough week. Everything just feel so out of control lately and I feel like such a failure. Another mizunoto had lost their life during a battle and I wish it was me instead of them…they were only 16 for god sakes!”

The tears that were able to escape, finally came pouring out. Kyojuro sat on the floor beside you and pulled you onto his lap and hugged you. The warmth that radiated from him whenever he hugged you was always comforting and it always made you feel loved and reminded you that for once you can actually experience what it is like.

“What happened on that mission was not your fault. Unfortunately, the risk of death is always there, especially for the inexperienced and under trained lower ranks.”

You gripped onto his haori tightly, that burning, clawing sensation in your throat and chest returned again. “Also if you were to die I wouldn’t know what to do…I’m grateful for you being here by my side, you’re the light of my life, I love you. I know that the world keeps trying to beat you down and I know being a hashira adds to all of the excess stress you have but you've helped save thousands of lives...you're doing an outstanding job to try and tackle everything that life throws in your way. You’re an amazing person my love, never forget that."

Kyojuro kissed your forehead and held you for a while as more and more tears cascaded down your cheeks. He then rested his chin upon the top of your head and softly rubbed circles on your back.

"I will be by your side through the good and the bad y/n," he whispered, "I would never leave you."

~

Eventually the tears stopped flowing and only a few sniffles here and there remained. You look up into your partners eyes and say, "Thankyou Kyojuro."

Kyojuro smiles warmly at you, "No need to thank me, love."

He then leaned down and captured your lips in a sweet, soft kiss.

[devoutpriest]

kjollsmithr:

“ hm, SOMETIMES yes, sometimes NO. ” an EMPTY answer, words as AIR (as the BREATH of the trickster, of LOPTR) — floki knows it has not answered the priest’s question, and yet, why SHOULD he? is he BEHOLDEN only because he has drawn close to ragnar? he imagines that ragnar would want them NOT to clash SPARKS off each other, but RAGNAR wants MANY things he cannot have, and floki CARES not for making idle CHATTER with an ÚTLENDR, a foreign one who is NOT of them and whose voice, though he speaks their LANGUAGE passably well now, is still LITTERED with the SHRAPNEL of saxon blood, likening to these saxon soldiers who sneered at their runes, he fighting as a soldier with ragnar to bring peace and prosperity and protection to their village. the utlendr was not a viking warrior, he did not think valholl would think he one, the high one would not think that. for one who is not attuned to THEIR gods — IF YOU ARE LOOKING FOR KINDNESS, PRIEST, he wants to say, the storm of thundering in his tree body, SCATHING and SHARP of tongue and gleaming COLD of ferine eye, "YOU WILL NOT FIND IT HERE." he shouts sudden, as athelstan continues to smile at his girl, and now wears a norse arm ring, he seeing ragnar give it to after their first battle together. The spit flying acrid from his mouth, and anger in his eyes. "BE GONE FROM HERE, I HAVE NO GENTLENESS TO OFFER YOU, I AM NOT A GOOD MAN, I AM A BEAST IN MAN’S SKIN AND THERE IS NO SOFT PLACE TO LAND AMONG MY BONES, LEAVE THIS PLACE, GO BACK TO YOUR MASTER WITH YOUR TAIL BETWEEN YOUR LEGS."

perhaps THAT is his struggle — that ATHELSTAN is KIND, still, and that FLOKI is NOT, and that against ALL sense, to his great and GNAWING chagrin, he can SEE why ragnar LIKES the priest so much, and it draws his spit acrid and VILE into his mouth. "AM I TO CALL YOU BROTHER, PRIEST, BECAUSE RAGNAR CARES FOR YOU? I HAVE BEEN HERE, I HAVE KNOWN RAGNAR, MUCH LONGER THAN YOU, ...AND YOU CANNOT TEAR UP MY ROOTS AND... DISPLACE ME WITH SOFT WORDS AND PRETTY EYES." he and ragnar planted and cultivated their farm in the village, watered the plants when the roots were drying. “ do YOU always ask so many questions, priest? ”

Such an EVASIVE answer, teasing it was, but that was Floki’s nature after all. It was one that Athelstan could not glean much from, to continue this conversation that he was attempting, with Floki.

He notes Floki's expression go darker as they spoke, even with his girl at his side, her blonde hair like flickering golden flames in the lit sconces in the fire brackets placed in the wall.

“Does it depend on his mood?” He held the impression that Floki did not wish to speak as much with him, as–well, with Ragnar and the others.

“I…”

He is momentarily without words, Why–Floki was stubborn, uncensored, to a certain point. He hears a guttural sound at length from the other as his hands tremble, cutting into the palm of his hand. he knows from norse linguistic it meant ; an anger of invasion. Leaning back in shock at the violent words scritching through the walls of the boatbuilder's body. His body was shaking with anger, the other, alluding athelstan to be an animal.

“Not always, no," his voice trembles, as he whispers. "I only wish to seek to get to know you better. Without all this animosity between us. I do not wish to get between you and ragnar."