#firefly graphics divider

[pearlypairings]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PEARLY!!! 🎉🎊🎂 the world is a better place because you’re in it.

Birthday prompt:

For the pairing - Jonathan and Chrissy 😜

Scene - baking a surprise birthday cake… but the two of them together, baking it for Joyce (instead of one surprising the other)

Dialogue - "put the icing DOWN."

jonathan x chrissy || fluff, comfort, group hugs || 704 words

A/N: losty! you're always so creative, thinking out of the box and it gave me one of my favorite photocheer hcs now🥰 hope you like this one! JOYCE BYERS, our beloved<3

yesterday's prompt

Chrissy’s face had three different colors of icing smeared from her cheeks up to her ears like a clown who couldn’t decide on a blush color and went with all of them. She’d been crouched at eye-level with the cake, three piping bags, and four icing spatulas for far too long. A bead of sweat threatened to blend the white, blue and purple icings together. Enough was enough, she was becoming obsessed. “Babe, babe.” Jonathan patted her shoulder gently. “Put the icing DOWN.” “One more minute, one-more-minute. I’m almost done with these peaks on the edge—they have to be perfect.” She pushed aside her frizzy bangs with her forearm, lowering the piping tip back to the top of the cake to finish the third decorative row. He helped her get those pesky hairs out of her vision, making sure to tuck the longer pieces behind her ears and smiling at how cute her forehead looked when she was focusing. Ever since she’d come up with the idea of surprising his mom with homemade birthday cake, Chrissy hadn’t stopped planning. Besides listing out ingredients and supplies to gather, there were at least half a dozen sketches she designed for the decorative top of the round cake. “She’s gonna love it no matter what, because we made it. No need to get stressed out over icing, that’s all. She wouldn’t want you losing your mind over something we’re all gonna be chewing up tonight.” Chrissy set down her tools finally and whirled around to look at him, exasperated. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip while she stretched, straightening her spine from the hunched position she worked under.  “No, I know your mom is so good. Good to you, good to Will…” she trailed off to look at the sink full of bowls and utensils stacked high. “And she’s been so good to me, even though I’m not even family.” Jonathan sighed quietly, bringing her hand to his lips to kiss the sugar-coated, tired knuckles with a certain tenderness. “So that’s what this is about? You think you need to give her something perfect to deserve her affection?” “Well, I don’t know, no—maybe, ugh. I don’t know. I just want her to know I appreciate her and love her too.” Chrissy moved toward him, shaking her head and chewing the inside of her cheek like gum. “I’m being silly, aren’t I?” “Maybe,” he said, taking her hand to pull her in close and wrap his arms over her shoulders and down her back. “Or, maybe, part of you still worries that you have to earn things in our family. But the best thing about the Byers is that once you’re in, you’re in. There’s no escaping us once we care about you, we’re like.... a bottomless pit of endless concern and questions and surprise gifts of your favorite gum from the checkout counter. No strings—or perfectly detailed icing—attached.” “God, how did I get so lucky?” Her chin pressed hard against his chest as she embraced him. He didn’t even care that her flour-ey, sugary apron would wreak havoc all over his Smiths' shirt. He could stay like this forever if she wanted. “How did we get so lucky?” His mom walked into the kitchen from her shift, hearing Chrissy’s last question and answering the same exact way Jonathan would have responded. She shrugged off her dark maroon coat, dropping the bag she brought back and forth to work, and hurried over to squeeze them both, planting loud kisses on the tops of their heads. A sudden grasp nearly pinched his shoulder right off when his mom peeked at the counter from around their group hug. “Don’t even tell me that beautiful cake is for me!” Her voice poured out fast and soaked in joy. “You guys are too cute, baking together and making something so sweet for this grateful, old mom.” “Oh, we have candles for when Will gets home later,” Chrissy gushed, slipping her fingers between Jonathan’s. “And extra sprinkles if you wanted more of those and—” And Jonathan couldn’t hear the rest. He just kept thinking about how amazing the two women in his life were. He was the only lucky one here.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

james potter x reader who gets asked out by james with the help of the boys and..... minnie?

You clutched the small, crumpled piece of parchment in your hand, staring at the words written in James Potter’s unmistakable scrawl:

“Common Room. After dinner. Don’t tell anyone. Trust me, love. It’ll be worth it.”

Now, trusting James Potter was a gamble at best, but curiosity—and your soft spot for him—led you to climb through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.

The space was eerily empty, the usual chatter replaced by an ominous silence.

“James?” you called out, your voice echoing slightly.

Before you could take another step, an explosion of sound and red smoke erupted from seemingly nowhere. You coughed, waving your hands in front of your face as crimson mist swirled around you. Instinctively, you drew your wand.

“Ventus!” you muttered, sending a gust of air through the room. The smoke cleared, revealing a massive, glittery banner suspended near the ceiling.

“DATE…?” it read in obnoxiously large, bold letters.

You gawked at the banner, completely dumbfounded. Before you could process the situation, a spotlight flickered on. There, standing on a table with a guitar slung around his neck, was none other than Sirius Black.

“Hit it, Wormy!” Sirius bellowed.

And then...he strummed the guitar.

The sound was horrendous. You weren’t sure what was more offensive: Sirius’s attempt at music or Peter Pettigrew leaping out from behind an armchair, singing in a voice that could shatter glass.

“GO OUT WITH HIM, GO OUT WITH HIM, HE’S THE BEST BOY THERE IS! HE’S THE CHASER WHO’LL CHASE YOUR HEART—”

“Merlin, no!” you yelped, covering your ears.

“—SO DON’T LET THIS CHANCE FAAAAART—”

“Wormtail!”

Peter stopped mid-warble as Sirius smacked the back of his head. “It’s fall apart, you dolt!”

“Stop! STOP!” Remus Lupin’s voice rang out from the shadows, mortified. He looked like he was actively praying for the floor to swallow him whole. In his hands, he held a small, handwritten sign: Go out with James.

Remus looked anywhere but at you, his cheeks tinged with pink as he awkwardly raised the sign higher.

“Merlin’s beard…” you whispered, half amused, half overwhelmed.

Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness.

“Oh, come on,” you muttered.

Another spotlight flickered on, illuminating the man of the hour: James Potter. He was perched—on top of a chair? The mantle? You couldn’t tell because your brain was short-circuiting. His lopsided grin was in full effect, his hazel eyes sparkling as he looked directly at you.

“Will you go out with me, love?” he asked, his voice warm and soft, despite the ridiculousness surrounding him.

You opened your mouth to respond, but—

“AHEM.”

James froze, his smile dropping as he turned toward the source of the noise.

“Not now, Pads,” he hissed.

Another cough.

“I said not now, Pads. Don't you want a brother to settle dow—” James whipped around, his expression shifting from annoyance to sheer panic when he saw who was standing there.

Professor McGonagall.

She was staring at James through her glasses, one brow arched so high it was practically touching her hairline.

“Care to explain what is going on here, Mr. Potter?” she asked in a tone that sent shivers down your spine and, evidently, James’s too.

“I, uh—”

Peter piped up, “We’re just, uh, rehearsing for the school talent show!”

“There is no school talent show,” McGonagall said flatly.

“Then we’ll start one!” James said brightly.

“Mr. Potter, the Fat Lady came screaming through the portraits about ‘horrible singing and red smoke.’ I should have known it was your group of troublemakers,” McGonagall said, her tone icy.

Peter piped up: “You know, Min—er, Professor, the Fat Lady really overreacts. I don't really believe I- the person who was singing was 'horrible'. I think we should fire the Fat Lady.”

Professor McGonagall gave him a look.

“On second thought,” Peter stammered, “she’s doing a great job. Wonderful lady. Terrific lungs.”

Sirius jumped in, abandoning the guitar and his shame. “Minnie, might I just say you’re looking particularly radiant this evening?”

“And regal!” James added hastily, straightening his glasses.

“Charming!” Peter squeaked.

“Delightful!” Sirius chimed again but McGonagall only gave them the look.

“Minnie, come on! Give us a break,” Sirius pleaded, dramatically throwing an arm over James’s shoulders. “Do you want James to grow old and alone?”

“You will grow old in detention if you keep this up, Black.” She turned her gaze to you, her stern expression softening slightly. “Five points from Gryffindor for…whatever this is. And Potter…”

“Yes, Professor?” James asked, his voice squeaky.

“You have one minute to clean this up. Good night.” She turned to leave, but not before casting you a knowing smile over her shoulder. “Good luck,” she murmured, loud enough for only you to hear, before walking out.

The moment she disappeared, James collapsed into a nearby armchair, dramatically wiping his forehead. “Merlin, that was close.”

“Close?!” you echoed, finally finding your voice. “You almost got us all detention for this?” You gestured vaguely to the chaos.

James grinned sheepishly. “So…will you?”

“Hmm,” you teased, tapping your chin. “I’m not sure. I mean, the sign was a bit much. And Peter’s singing…”

“Oi!” Peter said indignantly.

“And Sirius…”

“What about me?!” Sirius demanded, looking offended.

“…was Sirius.”

James groaned, flopping onto his knees in front of you. “Please, love. Don’t let all this effort go to waste.”

You chuckled, letting him squirm for a moment before leaning in. “Yes, James. I’ll go out with you.”

Before he could react, Sirius clapped his hands loudly. “WELL? What are you waiting for? Snog already!”

“Padfoot!”

“I mean it, Prongs! Show her why you’re the best!”

You laughed so hard you nearly cried, but James ignored Sirius, leaning in close enough to whisper, “Don’t worry. I’ll save that for our first date.”

You blushed, but before you could reply, Sirius shouted, “I’M TAKING CREDIT FOR THIS!”

[mabeaute]

⤹ - - FIREFLY layouts ꒰ 🪐 req by anon

icons ++ banners . interact && / or credit to use

[bardic-inspo]

Dhampir Dreams

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)

Part 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection

Summary:

Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like. Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her. Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.

A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.

Click here to read on AO3 instead

Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.

In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?

More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.

Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended. 

As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.

Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.

So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude. 

Until the illithids did.

Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.

He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.

Tav.

Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.

Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.

The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.

He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.

Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.

His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.

He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.

Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.

Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.

I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs. 

Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.

Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.

He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.

She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…

He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to? 

His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen? 

Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.

And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too. 

He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.

Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.

Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.

He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient. 

And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading. 

“Star, please.”

She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night. 

Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.

Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast. 

“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.

“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”

Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.

“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”

Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.

And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.

“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”

Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.

The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own. 

He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”

It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.

She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.

Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”

“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”

“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles. 

“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"

Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.

“I-I said I want-- that I want--”

“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”

Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.

“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”

Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her. 

All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.

Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue. 

Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.

He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.

There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”

Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.

Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips. 

He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.

“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”

He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.

Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.

“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again. 

“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.

“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”

She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her. 

Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes. 

It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.

Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.

Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry. 

“Star?”

Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard. 

Just a dream, then. For now, at least. 

He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.

“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”

“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.” 

Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time. 

Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.

His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces. 

Just one touch alone could do it.

“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”

A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜

If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀

EDIT: This is now officially a part one of two 😉

If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!

& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜

Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Overstimulation with Loki

A/N: Errr. I may switch up the way I’m doing Kinktober bc I’m having ✨motivation issues✨ But fourth fic of Kinktober, yay! Let me know if I missed any warnings

Written with a male!Reader in mind

Link to masterlist here

CW: overstimulation, condescension, degradation, Reader is likened to an animal in heat, Loki restrains the Reader’s hands, Reader is called pet and darling and slut, multiple orgasms, licking up cum, ass play, rimming, Reader is mentioned to be a bit of a masochist, mentioned multiple rounds, aftercare, does this count as dubcon?

437 words

All you can do is whimper.

Your brain is fuzzy. Your thoughts slow and sluggish. All you can do is mindlessly move, squirming to get away and arching up for more.

It hurts. So deliciously.

You want to moan, scream, wail, sob for mercy. But all you can do is whimper.

“Look at you,” Loki’s voice is a low purr. A sadistic croon. “Fucking my hand so mindlessly. Like a base animal needing to mate.”

You whine, tugging weakly at the hand gripping your wrists. They’re pinned above your head, keeping you in place.

“Oh, no, my beloved pet,” he chuckles, swiping his thumb over your tip in a way that has your eyes rolling back. “You don’t get to escape so easily.”

You cum for what feels like the thousandth time. Weak spurts of cum spilling over Loki’s knuckles and fist. He lets go for just a moment to lick his hand clean and you gasp with relief.

Your body thrums with aftershocks, painful little jolts of pleasure that feel like electricity.

His hand smooths over your stomach and you whimper again, squirming away from his touch. “No, it’s too much!”

His voice is a low coo, even as he moves to turn you over. “Then I won’t touch your pretty dick anymore. There are other ways to make you cum, darling. I know you have a few more in you. I want them all.”

You shudder as his fingers slide over your asshole, gently pressing. It feels so good, and yet it makes your stomach clench and your dick throb.

“Please…!” You whimper out.

But Loki just chuckles. “Oh, darling. I know you have it in you. You’re just a dirty little slut under that big man facade. You turn drunk at the slightest press of my cock.”

You moan, pressing your face into the sheets. He’s not wrong, and it only makes it worse. The heavy throbbing of your dick gets twice as bad when he dips down to lick at your asshole. Lapping his tongue against you and purring at the taste.

“You’re delicious, darling. I’m going to enjoy this thoroughly.”

All you can do is whimper. Whimper and squirm against his hold. It’s no use. He’ll get what he wants in the end, and you’re not resolved enough to not want it. It feels so painfully good. And you’ve always been a bit of a masochist.

You give him two more rounds before you pass out. When you wake, you’re all cleaned up, wrapped in his arms. And with the pleasurable way your body aches, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

[comatosebunny09]

you're good at this—playing all coy and social as if you aren't a clump of nerves ready to burst.

like your legs aren't bouncing beneath the table, and you haven't knocked your knees against its underside a few times, almost spilling your wine.

like you haven't bitten your lips to hell, and your teeth aren't stained with the pretty rouge of your lipstick because of it.

no one's the wiser to your plight. to the quiet war waging in your head and the anxiety spilling like lava into your extremities.

you'll never get used to this things, no matter how many you attend—these parties, these galas, these socialites, this acting.

none of it is you.

not the form-fitting gowns, the kohl clumped to your lashes, the facsimile of a smile you've worn all evening until your cheeks ached.

but through the chaos, one thing remains a constant: him.

him and the hand he has clasped around your thigh to tether you. anchor you back to earth. all big and warm and reassuring, and he's angling himself a little closer until your nostrils fill with the scent of cured leather and peeled mandarin. and, fuck all, he’s warm even from this proximity. so hot, you feel the pressure of his body slowly seeping into your own.

his eyes gleam like the sunset in your peripheral. silently, they ask if you're alright beneath a slightly raised brow, above a customary smirk—a mask he dons during these gatherings if only to make the time fly by. not meant to tease you, he promises. he reserves something genuine for you.

he knows you're not alright, which is why he rubs all gently at the notch of your knee—an attempt to bring you back when you feel your mind slowly disconnecting from your body.

- at an event with sylus. you're clearly nervous. you always are. so the pair of you bid an irish goodbye, and he'll murder anyone who has the gall to stop you.

- watching him sneer at the partygoers blocking your exit is low-key a turn on.

- the night concludes with you both settled on your couch in your living room.

- and, of course, kissing ensues. because why wouldn't it?

- and he's a little handsy, so deft fingers creep up the expanse of your thigh because, of course, the slit of your dress would beckon such actions.

- and sure, yeah. you're into it as he gently pushes you back against the sofa. slots himself between your split legs as your fingers rake through the riot of his hair.

- and he hums all nice and low into your mouth, very much enjoying the sticky grind of your lips together.

- this is sylus. he's always gentle. always takes care of you, treating you like aged porcelain preserved in a museum.

- so why the fuck are you so nervous?

- you’ve made out a thousand times before.

- sex, however.

- well, fuck.

[nappingmoon]

I think the way to higuruma’s heart is through acts of service.

wc: 1.3k

the first time you wake up in higuruma's bed is the day after you meet him. he's still sound asleep, and he looks like he needs it, so you let him rest while you get up. when confronted with the choice of slipping out the door or staying, you don't think twice. you make your way into his kitchen, and it's clean-- simple in a way that is just so him. you grab two mugs and get started on a pot of coffee.

you’re not too familiar with him yet; unsure of how he takes it, so you make a simple batch of black coffee and decide to wait to ask him, finding you like the idea of learning along the way.

when higuruma walks into the kitchen, still groggy and hair tussled, it takes him a moment to digest what he’s seeing. he blinks slowly, eyes adjusting to the light pouring in from the window. you’ve got a cup in your hands, full and still steaming, while another sits empty to the side.

“I didnt know if liked sugar and milk in your coffee, or I would’ve brought you some in bed, handsome.” you say, lips just hovering over the lip of your cup. you place it down softly on the coaster and stretch for a moment before grabbing his and turning around, filling it with the rest of the brew. you call out over your shoulder, asking for the instructions to his preferred tastes, but are met with silence. you turn.

“h-” he starts, but seems unsure of how to finish. “how did you figure out the coffee machine?” he asks, and you both know it’s not the question that was supposed to come out. why are you doing this? why are you still here? most of his other endeavors have always fled in the morning, the bed cold and the house empty by the time he awakes. he felt the connection between the two of you last night, but normally the people he pursue leave without a trace, and he’s gotten used to it. it’s what he knows. so why are you in his t shirt, sipping from his mug, and acting like this is normal? why does he find himself wishing it was?

“there’s only four buttons on here, and one is for the clock. you don’t think me so simple, do you?” you tease with a smile.

no, he doesn’t. quite the opposite, in fact. he thinks you’re brilliant. you had met at a bar downtown and talked and talked, the tension eased by a few fruity cocktails. taken by your wit and humor immediately, he found himself inviting you over to extend the night a little, maybe have a glass of wine or two. not entirely surprisingly, you ended up in his sheets, all giggles and sloppy kisses and passionate touches. he fell asleep, sated and content with his limbs intertwined in yours.

instead of answering your question, he replies, “just a splash of milk, please.” 

your quirked brow betrays your skepticism. "not even a little sugar?" he seemed to have had the largest sweet tooth last night, if you correctly remember the sweet drinks that were downed absentmindedly between quips, stories, and touches that lingered just long enough to be more than friendly.

he's sheepish when he replies "i shouldn't, right? i have to limit my sugar somewhere or later down the line I am going to have to see my doctor more often and I am trying to avoid that. she's a scary lady."

he's not finished with his sentence before you tip in a small dash of sugar. "you're still in your early thirties. give it another decade or two before you start worrying about your blood sugar." you bring the mug over, bare feet padding softly on his hardwood floor as you approach. "i don't think a little sweetness in your life will kill you."

as he takes the mug from your hands, his fingers brush over yours. he doesn't look away from you eyes as he lifts the mug to his lips, but just before he takes a sip, he murmurs, "it might."

you hum and walk back over to where your mug sits on the counter. leaning against it, you ask, "how'd you sleep?"

"better than I have in ages," he replies, and his tone is oddly sincere. "I wasn't expecting you to still be here."

"should I not have been?" though you try to sound confident and carefree, a light waver in your voice reveals the fear at the idea that you've gravely misunderstood him and embarrassed yourself to no end in the process.

your thoughts don't get to stray far, however, because he's quick to respond. "no, no. it was a pleasant surprise. you have been a truly pleasant surprise."

your cheeks warm and you suddenly find his cabinets fascinating. "you're not supposed to be smooth first thing in the morning, you know." you grumble.

he's closer now, directly in front of you, and he places his mug down, just to you right. as he retracts his hand, it comes up to tilt your chin back towards him.

he's so handsome it's unfair.

"i'm sorry, sweetness, can I make it up to you with some breakfast?" he asks, his voice entrancing and still thick with sleep. the gesture and the question leave you breathless, so you just nod affirmatively. he places a kiss to your temple before turning and digging around his fridge and grabbing the ingredients he needs to get started.

-

soon after that, you become a constant in his life. he hadn't planned on you as a part of his routine, but you just, fit. in the mornings he finds himself spending less time in the bathroom mirror fixing his suit. now he wakes up eager to get dressed and sit on the edge of his bed with his choice of tie, waiting for you to take your spot between his legs and tie it for him. seeing the furrow in your brow as you adjust it just right, fixing the collar and tugging on the lapels to make sure he's perfect, it all makes him swoon.

before you, his lunch couldn't even be considered a break. he would just pop open whatever prepackaged meal he had bought that day and eat it in between readings of contracts and reviews of cases. now, he leaves his office without fail, never missing the time to eat and listen to you talk about your day.

when his bouts of insomnia get worse, you're there to help him. the house starts to smell like lavender. you've got all kinds of melatonin gummies and you don't let him say no to a massage, first focusing on his temples and scalp, then laying him down to work the knots out of his back. he's snoring by the time you're halfway down.

when he gets really stressed and the pressure starts to get too much, he comes home to a quiet house. he finds you in the bathroom preparing a bath with salts and soaps. you usher him in, insisting on taking care of him- carding water and shampoo through his locks and providing him with a safer space than he's ever had in his life.

higuruma is a lawyer. he deals with people who spin words all day. lies, loopholes, and secrets are all imbedded in his quotidian conversations with clients and colleagues. you, however, don't ripen him up with flattery or kind words. you don't make promises you don't intend to keep and you don't mince and twist your words to use against him. you simply do what you think is right. your actions have captured him far more than any words alone could do. in return, to show you how much he has truly come to love and need you, he looks to what he knows best. contracts.

though, when he's down on one knee, the legalities of it mean nothing to him. all that is important in that moment, and for the rest of his life, his you.

[tinalbion]

'𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞' ||

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: The Ghoul x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Minors, DO NOT interact! Smut with plot, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, murder, canon typical language, attempted kidnapping, radiation poisoning

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 10k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The second part (sort of) to Perfectly Misaligned, someone read it and was curious about the radiation poisoning aspect, so I gave it to them! The Ghoul trusts your judgment after being in his company for about a year now, but after your shared night together, you made what you thought was a simple mistake that almost cost your life not once, but twice. Will the Ghoul be able to save you?

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

If he had just gotten out of his own head, then maybe he would have noticed how ill you’d been feeling, and maybe it wouldn’t have progressed the way it did. Or maybe if he would have just minded his own damn business and kept you at arm’s length like he initially wanted to, neither of you would be in this mess in the first place. 

But even in those two hundred years wandering the wastelands, he was bound to make a mistake, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge it was possible. 

He knew you were smart enough when it came to survival, so he never questioned you or your methods or how you handled your personal affairs. So you both trudged on after the rad storm and only mere days later, you two were on your way, scouting small dives and gathering spots for low lives and scum that would do just about anything for some caps or chems. It had been an awkward time for the both of you after the night you shared, and both of you were too apprehensive to speak of the things you’d done in case the other had disapproved of the conversation. And once again, you knew better than to push it, besides, you both came to an agreement that night: a proposal between you both to release some tension when needed. That was it. 

Maybe it was best not to push it too far in case he changed his mind, so you’d give him time, you were patient. But the Ghoul was the complete opposite. He disguised himself to be the type who could wait out anything, but there was always that itch, much like the one in his trigger finger that kept his decisions impulsive and sporadic. 

So you continued, pushing yourself to venture forth, falling back into old habits with your memory of him in such a compromising way tucked in the back of your mind. You did what you did best and sought information, some of the targets easily let their drunken thoughts slip when a pretty girl sat with them and liquored them up, others were more guarded and kept their eye on you, but nothing a little touch to their inner thigh wouldn't fix, all while the Ghoul watched intently from afar. 

He often watched how you slipped into the part so easily, and the part you played depended on the person you needed the information from. It was rare in the beginning for him to see you like this, and hell, he even fancied seeing just how easily people had been sidetracked by your seductions when he first watched you work. But the more he watched, the more he paid attention to the movements of your hands, the way your body tensed whenever they would touch you, and how you fought the urge to recoil but kept your expressions as neutral as possible. Oh, how he found it to be enjoyable! He had a curious thought as he watched you, he wondered if there was something about him that made you come to him with such a personal offer.

The corner of his mouth would pull into a cocky smile whenever he'd watch, his whiskey eyes stared with interest as he would see your face light up as soon as the information left the man's lips, and your head would turn slightly to meet the Ghoul’s gaze across the room. The slight smirk on your face, when you struck gold, was a sight he welcomed, and not just for the payload that it came with.

You'd slip away from the informant as soon as he was stupid enough to look away, easily slipping out of his sight and outside, away from prying eyes. The Ghoul would be right behind you on your heels, walking in sync with your footfalls. 

Most times, he'd tease you about how well you handled the men -and the women- when getting the information you needed, but this time, he was silent as he trailed alongside you. You looked at him from the corner of your eyes and silently regarded him, but you knew he had something to say and refused to say it. 

“You good?” He finally managed to ask, his eyes flickered over your face and then back ahead. 

Your brows furrowed together, confused by his question. “Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked him, your hand holding onto the strap of your bag as you adjusted it. “I got us the information, didn’t I?”

What he didn’t tell you was that your skin was more flushed than usual, and your forehead seemed to shine with the glaze of sweat that constantly coated it lately, but he figured you knew and decided not to comment on it considering you could take care of yourself. “Course you did,” he assured with that typical grin. 

You dropped it after that and continued your travels to the next town, which was a bit further away from your usual haunts, but you both could handle yourselves, yet there was a small nagging feeling in the back of your head. But as much as you tried to ignore it, you couldn't ignore the feeling that was creeping through your body. 

You set up camp near a small lake, or what was left of the pathetic excuse of a puddle that used to be a lake, and you stared out across the hillside while the fire crackled behind you. The Ghoul sat and fried up some of the meat he'd taken from some poor man's hide while you sipped greedily at your canteen, drinking the last few drops of the only water you had. You could boil some of what was left, maybe make it drinkable, but you were tired. Your body had felt as if it had been crushed by a yao guai the past two days, and you just chalked it up to constantly being on the move, you tried to assure yourself that was it. But you knew you were working against time now, and you couldn't bring the Ghoul into your personal fuck ups. The shame you felt for not realizing your stupidity sooner ate away at you. 

“It's like I'm campin’ with a mute nowadays, the hell is goin’ on in that head of yours, Bunny?”

You turned away from the skyline glittered with stars and looked over at him, his intense stare already on you. “What do you mean?” You asked.

“Ever since, well, you know when, you've been actin’ strange, almost distant, even.” He didn't move, his gaze didn't soften, he was more annoyed by your behavior than anything. 

“I've just been tired, feeling real out of it lately, I dunno, just need a good night's sleep I think.” You reached up and rubbed your neck, your eyes drooped slightly. You felt the fatigue hit you like a ton of bricks. “It has nothing to do with that night, I promise.”

This seemed to give the Ghoul something to think about, but he had no reason not to trust you, you hadn't given him a single reason yet. He nodded and leaned back again, resting against a large rock while he enjoyed the warmth of the fire before he headed into the large tent you'd both set up for the evening, but there was still something off about you, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. 

You joined him soon after at the fire and tried your best to keep that usual cheery disposition the Ghoul seemed to enjoy, but you’d fallen asleep sooner than expected as you listened to one of the many stories he liked to tell about his adventures across the wastelands. What you didn’t plan on was the Ghoul carrying you into the tent as you barely stirred, the worry he had was gone when you seemed to sleep comfortably, and he watched as your chest rose and fell as you looked so gentle while you dreamed. 

The days passed and you were feeling worse, your body was trying its best to fight off what you were suffering and it wasn't succeeding, but you kept your spirits high as you continued your journey, but you desperately needed to get your hands on some RadAway as soon as possible. You were mad at your carelessness after the night you and the Ghoul shared, thinking that all would be well if you were to take some of the chem to take care of the exposure you experienced. But after a few run-ins during your travels, you hadn't realized that the last couple of packs you had were used up, you were completely out. 

Your hands dug around frantically in your worn bag as you pushed your items around, looking intently for the familiar IV bag filled with liquid, or maybe one of the needles you got from that last merchant, but there was nothing. Your heart poured hard against your chest as the panic set in, but you couldn't bear to tell the Ghoul of your carelessness, this was no one's fault but your own, and you'd take care of it. If you didn't, what if he refused to touch you again? He wouldn’t find all the trouble you went through worth it, so he’d remain closed off to you once again, and you felt that it was a worse fate than suffering from radiation poisoning. 

Ridiculous, you knew this, but no amount of chems could beat the high you felt when his hands touched you the way they did.  

While the Ghoul tracked down which way a bounty could have gone, you ransacked everything you could in the abandoned diner that had a few parked cars still in front of it. You checked inside of those, then dug around the drawers, cabinets, and anything you could find that could have hidden away some treasures—desperation at its finest. The Ghoul just figured you were looking for extra caps or scrap to sell, which you often did in between merchants and settlements, so he left you to it. He walked along the inside as he waited for you, then quizzically pressed a button, which activated a jukebox that still seemed to work. 

“Well, hot damn,” he chuckled as the song started playing, transporting him back to when things didn't seem all that bad before the bombs dropped. If there was a time before he could go back to, it was when life wasn't so complicated, where it wasn't tooth and nail to fight to survive. He could wake up and expect to pour his heart out on the big screen, capturing the characters he so loved to play, but he hadn't thought of that part of him in so long, he was but a distant memory that no longer existed, that man was too weak to survive in the wastelands. 

While he reminisced about a time long past, you continued to dig around the area frantically, but you finally accepted that you wouldn't find anything you were looking for. The heavy sigh that left your lips echoed throughout the room. You'd never been so careless before, but you wouldn't dwell on that now, you had to get going and trudge on to another merchant. 

You stepped out of the back of the dining kitchen and peeked your head around to see where your traveling companion had gotten to, but it was quiet, save for the trickle of music you heard coming from the half-destroyed jukebox. It was a song your parents played for you when you could recall a time in the kitchen, your eyes closed gently and you smiled as you thought back on it. You were so wrapped up in the memory that you didn’t hear the heavy footsteps of the Ghoul step up beside you.

You looked over to see him regarding the jukebox with a sort of fondness in his eyes until he pulled his gaze to you, and then he wore a mischievous grin.  

“What?” You asked him suspiciously.

He hummed and reached over to grab your hand, pulling you into his grasp while his other hand rested gently on your waist. A side of this man you hadn’t known existed had begun to shine through little by little, a rare occasion for you both to witness. 

“What are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like, Bunny?” He asked dryly.

You just scoffed and allowed him to lead you across the floor, the weight of surviving and struggling through another day no longer a main concern, for now, you just enjoyed the moment before it fleeted away from you. You hadn’t danced in, well, you couldn’t recall when you ever did, but there was no time to think about that considering the Ghoul had tapped your boot with his own, getting you to move your foot. He told you to watch how he moved his feet, you had to mimic the direction in which he moved so you could follow along, and the more confident you became, the less stiff your body moved with his. Soon, you were swaying across the broken tiles and old debris, laughing at the way you felt lighthearted and silly, but the privacy of the moment was something you’d want to hold onto forever. 

‘It isn’t your sweet conversation

That brings this sensation

Oh no, it’s just the nearness of you-’

As sick as you were feeling, this dance lesson was something that you were glad you didn’t miss, but your body was fighting against you despite how happy you were feeling. You scolded yourself, hoping you could hang on for a little bit longer, but the Ghoul looked down at you as the gentle piano of the song played in the background, his eyes in those sunken-in sockets seemed troubled.

“You sure you’re good? You seem sicker than a dog lately, you feelin’ alright?”

“I uh, I’ll be fine, promise,” you lied with a small smile. “Just living in the moment, this is nice.”

He chuckled and knew you weren’t being completely honest with him, but if you knew what you were doing, then who was he to say otherwise? “Whatever you say, Bunny. And you ain’t too bad on your feet.” He smirked as he tested the waters and pulled away from you, then gave you a little spin. 

You spun and laughed as you almost tipped over, but he caught you with ease and he pulled you back flat on your feet. He stared down at you and wondered what it was you were thinking about, though he felt he wouldn’t admit to what he was thinking if given the chance. 

You looked up at him with the same look on your face, and your soft smile only grew when he kept staring. If only you could just have a bit of normalcy, you craved having just a slice of it like you once had, but all you could picture was him here with you, sort of in a moment like this one. This could be your new normal, him standing here with you, dancing around the desolate diner with the scratchy music playing. You laughed internally at the thought, but it didn’t hurt to pretend for now, but you’d deal with the ramifications later.

You thought you could feel it; the spark of something in the way he looked at you, and the way his hands held onto you as if you belonged here in his grasp, but you weren’t entirely sure. He didn’t budge, he was as still as a hunter watching its prey from the tall grass, but before you could say a word, the sudden rise of bile stung your throat. You began to cough and violently jerked from his arms and flung yourself away, gagging as you fell to your knees while you released the contents of your stomach onto the floor.

The Ghoul’s face turned to shock as he was beside you in an instant, his hand on your back while he stared down at you in sheer panic. “Bunny, what- are you okay?” He would wait for your answer while he attempted to comfort you, but human ailments hadn’t been a worry for him in so long, he had no idea what would be wrong.

After a moment, your breathing was heavy and you attempted to catch your breath before you responded. “I… I fucked up, cowboy, I’m sorry…” You turned to him, and the tears in your eyes from retching stung your eyes. 

“You didn’t do nothin’ of the sort-”

“I ran out of RadAway, I didn’t take anything after that night… I was careless.” You huffed as you stared up at him, looking and feeling so ashamed of your carelessness. As you were about to speak again, an odd sensation took over your body and you felt a sudden wave of dizziness, your eyes fluttered, and then you felt everything go black. 

The poisoning coursed through you rather quickly without any medicine, but the Ghoul didn’t have a drop on him either, so you were running on borrowed time until your body began to shut down and change drastically. He caught you before you fell unconscious, then slowly got to his feet and hoisted you into his arms, your limp body cradled against his chest as he searched around the diner for a safe place to keep you. He didn’t find much until his head tilted up as he groaned in frustration, his eyes then spotted a latch that led up to an attic or storage space of some kind. 

He gently set you down away from the area and opened the door, then climbed up the wooden ladder that slid down, and he peeked around to check the hidden room. It had been untouched for years up there, things were still neatly placed and packed away, so this would be the safest area to keep you until he could return.

Once you were up in the storage space and laid out on your blanket, he covered you with your jacket and looked around, hoping he could get lucky with a hidden medkit, but he turned up empty-handed.

“Dammit,” he muttered as he looked back at you. He knew you’d be pissed if he left you here, but he hid you away, you’d be safe until he returned. The Ghoul wasn’t sure how far away the next town was from where you were, so maybe he could return to the one previous. He had to do something, anything to get you what you needed before things took a turn for the worst, vomiting was only the beginning. He knelt beside you for a moment and looked down at your features, his eyes scanned your skin, anything that was alarming, but it had only been a few days since you both got close. He had time.

“I ain’t gonna be long, Bunny, I promise,” he muttered low, his gloved hand pulling your jacket up further to keep you covered, resisting the urge to smooth out your hair as a lover would do. “We’re gonna get you better.”

He stood and looked down at you while you slept, afraid to leave but too afraid to stay, he couldn’t just sit idly by and do nothing. So he left you there, locking up the crawl space door to assure your safety while he was away. It was an odd feeling as he traveled alone, not having you with him on an adventure almost felt wrong in a way, but the journey would hopefully be a quick one. 

His feet felt heavier than usual as he walked out of the diner, but he turned to look back at the decaying building and stared up at the walls that held you safely within them, but it was difficult for him to move forward. With a deep sigh and a hardened gaze, he sought after what he needed, and internally, that small little voice in his head had prayed for a miracle that you would be okay. 

You weren’t sure what happened, you were happily dancing one minute with the Ghoul, and the next was a complete blank, you just remember falling and that was it. Your eyes barely opened as you lazily rolled your head to the side, trying to focus your sight. You looked for him in your haze, calling out to him weakly, but no one responded to your calls. The Ghoul was probably just making sure no one approached the vicinity, you knew he would be overprotective in your current state. Another reason you cherished your friendship. 

Friendship, if that's what you want to call it. 

Your head was pounding and your body felt weak, on fire, and had the chills all at once, so you may have rested until he returned to your side. But the pain in your head was too much as it throbbed annoyingly, what else could you do but lay there as you stared at the ceiling filled with small holes? Yet the longer you lay there in silence, the more you realized just how quiet it was, and then you wondered if he was truly still wandering around the vicinity. 

What if he took it upon himself to… no, you had hoped not, that wasn't in your plans. You wanted to take care of it yourself when you were able to sleep it off, and yet there was the possibility that he took it upon himself. You slowly pushed yourself to your feet and almost tumbled into the wall, but you regained your footing well enough as you looked around the room. There was no indication he was here, even when you looked out of the second-story window, there was nothing. 

“Dammit,” you muttered. 

Of course, you caused problems for him, took him away from his work, and foiled it all. He'd never look at you again in such high regard, would he? Not after this. You cursed yourself and stumbled back to your makeshift bed, feeling the roughness of your dry throat that ached for water. As you reached for your pack, you hoped he'd come back and still give you a chance. Sleep was clawing at you again while you wondered if you could force yourself to remain awake, but you hadn't stood a chance. Your eyes closed and you prayed to whoever would listen to have him look at you like he did before. 

While you had slept, the Ghoul made decent progress across the wastelands to acquire what you needed, and he hoped he’d get it in time before your body shut down any further. He kept pushing the negative thoughts from his mind, whistling or humming that tune from the diner, just trying to make it through. Along the way, he took out raiders, random lone gunmen, and anyone else who figured he was easy pickings, patting them down after their bodies fell with a hard thud to the ground. He’d gathered a small collection of RadAway in his bag, but surely not enough to help you get back to yourself, so he promised himself only to find a few more. 

It was after this personal promise that he had stumbled into some hideout he didn’t know existed, yet he still pressed forward as if he had no time to deal with the several men who stepped out and blocked the view of the windows all around the destroyed building, but they insisted he stop to have a chat.

“Ain’t got time for autographs, boys, I got somethin’ important I gotta do,” he said as he brushed them off, walking past them without a second glance.

One of the raiders scoffed and raised his gun, cocking it to catch the Ghoul’s attention. “I ain’t askin’, freak,” the gunner guffawed. “Gimme what’s in your bag, now.”

The Ghoul took this as an insult, so he turned on his heels rather slowly, comically so as he looked at the four men who stood here, holding him up from his mission. “The fuck you just say to me?” He asked with a scoff. His hand had already rested comfortably on the hilt of his hand cannon, watching all the men with interest, mapping out the direction from which they’d all come after him. He was meticulous with his planning, making sure each bullet he shot wouldn’t go to waste. 

“You heard us, ghoul,” another man spat in reply, “give us what you got and you can keep your arms, possibly.”

The Ghoul chuckled to himself and lowered his gaze, his face hidden by the brim of his hat. “Now, I ain’t one to back down from a challenge, but I got someone who needs help. So I’ll cut y’all a deal. You got any RadAway? I’ll happily give you whatever is in this here bag,” he said as he patted the leather saddle bag. 

Whether it was a trick or not, the men figured if all he wanted was RadAway, he was stupid enough to trade it all for that. The one closest to the door walked inside, disappeared for a few moments, and came back with an entire bag filled with RadAway. 

“Figure with all the caps you probably got in there, we could buy more than we got,” the man laughed and tossed the bag onto the ground before him. “Now hand over the bag nice and easy,” he said.

“Well now,” the Ghoul started as he slid the bag from his shoulder and let it drop, “seems there’s been a change of plans, gentlemen.” With a fast hand and an even faster draw, the hand cannon was out and he shot all four men before they had a chance to react. “Been a pleasure doin’ business.” 

He walked up to the discarded bag and grabbed the IV bags, peering inside to ensure they were all accounted for. Most were untouched while others looked a tad worse for wear, but it was enough to be able to help you out and get you back on your feet. Just as he was about to throw his saddleback back over his shoulder, one last man emerged from the broken-down shack and took aim at the Ghoul. 

“You don't deserve to leave after what you did,” the man spat. 

The Ghoul stopped and cocked his head, not even bothering to look back at the man. “None of us deserve shit one way or the other, but my companion don't deserve to die.”

“Companion? You think your companion wants to be around you in the first place? You're a fucking ghoul, a freak. Probably just playin’ sick to get rid of you. But if it's RadAway you need, you're gonna end up killin’ ‘em anyway. Do them the favor and get the hell away from ‘em.” 

The Ghoul had more patience than a saint at that moment, but the part about killing you, it struck a nerve. Without looking back, he put an explosive bullet straight into the man's forehead, his head exploded with a large pop, and his body fell to the ground. 

“Fuck you,” the Ghoul huffed, grabbed his prize, his bag, and hustled back to the abandoned diner. 

If he hurried fast enough without stopping, maybe you had a fighting chance. 

You had thrown up several more times and could barely move from your makeshift bed, your limbs felt sore and your entire body was on fire. It felt uncomfortable just to lay there. How could you be so careless? Even though you were suffering from the effects of radiation poisoning, you knew that you'd never regret the decision you made that night. You’d happily do it again if given the chance. 

As you lay there half dazed, half-conscious, you swore you heard a melody from outside the gas station, you weren’t entirely sure. Poorly sung, the lyrics sounded screechy, it wasn’t exactly pleasant. But the voice wasn’t his, so you pushed yourself up as slowly and quietly as possible as you attempted to make your way over to the window. The sun was setting, the large ball of light almost hidden below the horizon as you peeked through the broken glass, seeing a group of three raiders wandering about as they heard the song playing on the jukebox.

You didn’t even realize it was still playing considering you’d been so out of it, but they figured someone had to have come here. Your plan was to be as quiet as possible, allowing them to think their timing was off, that someone just passed through and paid no mind to stick around. If push came to shove, you’d hole up on the roof and take them out from a higher ground. The Ghoul had taught you some basics since you would have rather run from combat than be a part of it, but he knew it was important to know if a situation ever arose. You’d have to thank him later for those helpful tips if you ended up needing them. 

The adrenaline was pumping through your system as they got closer, carelessly wandering, swinging their weapons into the nearby cars just for the sake of destruction. You wanted them to leave as soon as possible, so you hugged the nearest corner with your gun firmly in your grasp, and you did your best not to pass out at the most inopportune moment while you pressed your back against the wall.

The smaller man who had been looking around the outside of the diner didn’t seem interested in sticking around, but the other two wanted to be thorough in their search for anything worth the caps.

“Davie, c’mon, man, there’s nothing here,” the small man grumbled.

The larger man just laughed. “And what, you some all seeing, all knowing motherfucker now, Francis?” 

“Shut up, dick.” Francis huffed and waited outside, keeping an eye on the skyline in case there would be trouble.

The second man followed Davie inside the diner to scout around for anything, and he started pressing buttons on the jukebox. 

“Quit fuckin’ with that, Daren,” Davie barked as he tossed an empty box at him.

Daren huffed and continued to make his way around the diner, finding nothing of interest, but they made sure not to leave any stone unturned. 

As you sat up in the corner, you figured there was still a small chance they’d come up there, spot you, and do who knows what, but you had no real backup plan in case that were to happen. Maybe cover yourself with the blanket, pretend you were some discarded junk? Would that work? Raiders weren’t exactly the smartest bunch, but they’d smell you a mile away in a ridiculous cover, most likely. 

You calmed your breathing as they continued to ransack the kitchen area, right below where you were resting in the corner, and you couldn’t help but clasp your hand over your mouth just in case. You listened for them, pinpointing where they could be, how far away their voices were, or how close they’d gotten. Maybe they’d overlook the door altogether, they surely weren’t that thorough, right?

“Shit, Davie, there’s a door leading upstairs-” Daren pointed out, and you heard him tug at the small latch connected to it. 

Your heart dropped in the pit of your stomach as your entire body froze, your eyes went wide as you slowly pointed the gun toward the opening in case you needed to use it, but your hands were shaking so badly. Your vision blurred as you tried your best to will yourself still.

‘Don’t you dare pass out now, you idiot, keep still-’ You willed yourself, your hands slowly steadying to the best of your abilities. Your entire body was suddenly taken over with chills, your strength had been sapped from you as you leaned your head back, praying that they’d skip out on searching up there.

The footsteps beneath you got louder and you heard the door being yanked at. “What d’you think is up there?”

“Maybe the owner’s corpse with all his riches,” Daren laughed and pushed the door, but it was slightly stuck, so he slammed into it with his fist. The door was unlatched and splintered, causing it to remain slightly open.

Your body was shaking as you cowered deep into the corner, hoping they’d just gloss over you, but as soon as Daren stuck his head up through the opening, his eyes landed on you. You shook your head, hoping he wouldn’t say a word, your hand was hiding the gun beside you as you crouched down, but you couldn’t see well with the sweat beading onto your forehead dripping down your face.

“Well, well, we don’t have a corpse with riches, but we have a payload,” the man chuckled and pressed his way upward.

“What’cha got, Daren?” Davie asked as he remained downstairs.

“Please-” you begged him, “I have nothing, just take whatever’s in my bag, I’m sick…” You whispered, hoping he’d have a change of heart. 

He ignored everything you said and yanked at your wrist, causing you to yell out and quickly shoot a bullet into his arm. The raider released you and that’s when you scrambled toward the broken window, and despite your body screaming at you to not overexert yourself, you pushed through it and rolled onto the crackled shingles.

“The fuck happened?!” Davie barked as he climbed up the small ladder. 

“There’s a girl, we can use her for parts!” Daren called back, and Davie was immediately crawling up to assess the damage. “She fuckin’ shot me,” he growled as he ripped off a piece of his shirt, wrapping it around the wound. “Fuckin’ SHOT ME.”

You were too busy trying to figure out how badly it would hurt to drop down from this height, but you had either two large men manhandling you to deal with, or the smaller raider to grab you as soon as you hit the ground. You could probably take him, so you opted for the latter. As you timed it, you jumped and tried your best to land where you could shoot up right away and run, but Francis was too fast. He’d been assessing the entire thing from the outside, his weapon drawn, but once he caught sight of you, he yanked out the rope he had wrapped around his belt. 

“Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

“Fuck you,” you spat as you aimed and shot toward him, but you missed by just a few inches. “Fuck-”

Francis bolted toward you, his weapon drawn in one hand while the other gripped at the rope. He had a baseball bat primed and ready to incapacitate you if need be, swinging it mostly at your legs to bring you down, but you aimed your gun again and this time hit him in the shoulder. He let out an annoyed yell, then dug through his pocket, sucked in some sort of chemical, and you watched in horror as his expression transformed. 

His eyes bulged out, growing wide as the chem worked its way through his body, and the bullet wound was just a passing memory. He grew sporadic and violent with his swings, not calculating exactly where to hit, but blindly swinging so he’d at least hit something. You did your best to dodge and roll out of the way as he would hit, barely take a breath, and swing again, the speed in which he worked was insane. 

“Just leave me alone! I just wanna be left alone!” You screamed at the man, but if he could hear you, he showed no signs of listening. 

Davie and Daren popped out to see the smaller man going straight for you, so they decided to get around you and cut you off before you could run anywhere else. “Goin’ somewhere, sweetheart?” Daren yelled out a string of profanities and launched toward you, grabbed you by your arm, and yanked it hard, causing you to drop your only weapon.

Davie went around and grabbed your other arm, both of them lifting you from the ground as you dangled in between their grasp helplessly.

“Let me go!” You screamed again. 

“You shot me you fuckin’ whore, I ain’t letting you go after that. You’re going to the harvesters.”

“No, please, please! I’m sick!” You thrashed in their grasp, kicking your feet as they held onto you with a firm grip. With as much force as you could, you lunged at one of their arms and bit down. 

Daren shouted again and reeled his arm back, slapping you hard. You let out a cry and kicked even more, but Francis grabbed at your legs, tying them up before you could do any real damage before his chem ran out. Then the two larger men dropped you, taking that opportunity to tie you up completely, sure that you couldn’t escape your bonds now. 

“You wanna do the honors and carry her?” Davie asked.

“Fuck that, she shot and bit me,” Daren scoffed, kicking you in the ribs. 

Your body folded as you let out a cry, but Davie housed you up and tossed you over his shoulder. “Fine, fuckin’ whiney ass-”

“‘Scuse the hell out of you but where the fuck you  think you’re goin’ with my girl, there?” A voice called to them from behind. 

The three men all turned to look toward the Ghoul that stood there, his eyes glued to the figures that held onto his lucky rabbit's foot, and they sized him up without much worry. Daren’s annoyance grew with hearing your yells and seeing yet another obstacle in their way. 

“We found her first, ghoul, you can get your own smoothie somewhere else, yeah? She seems in top-notch condition and I ain’t one for sharin’.”

The Ghoul looked straight at you, taking notice in the smile you shot him as if to say thank goodness you’re here, he knew there’d be no way you’d want to escape him, right? “That there rabbit’s foot is mine, I don’t feel like partin’ with her just yet. So I’ll give you to the count of three to release her, or I’ll make you.”

The three men laughed hysterically and had no intentions of letting you go, and the smaller one -Francis- stepped forward. “Not sure if you heard us considerin’ your ears are kinda… gone? But She’s ours, finders keepers.”

“And I said, no.” The Ghoul said sternly, taking a single step forward, the familiar jingle of his boot spur seemed to cause you some comfort. “One.” The Ghoul held up his hand canon, took aim at the man on your right, Davie, and continued to glare. 

“You really got a problem here?”

Francis quickly took aim with the hidden .223 pistol he had stashed on his person and let out a bullet, hitting the Ghoul in his left shoulder. His body jerked slightly but he didn’t allow the force of the bullets to deter him much.  

“Two.”

Francis let off several more rounds into the Ghoul’s chest while Davie took out his 14mm pistol and landed a couple of rounds in him as well, but the Ghoul didn’t fall, nor did he back down. He smiled wickedly as he aimed his hand cannon, shooting each bullet off in succession. 

“Three.”

Daren’s left arm blasted off, and the splatter of blood covered your face as you ducked and yanked yourself from their grip, then Davie’s throat had been shot clean through, causing him to drop instantly. Francis was left alive, but barely, as he was attempting to crawl off with one missing leg. He was still riding the effects of the chem he inhaled, but they’d die off quickly with all the blood loss.

The Ghoul was one to play with his prey, so he slowly sauntered up to the raider and chuckled at the pathetic attempt of his escape. “Well damn,” he said as he squatted down closer and dug his finger into the gaping wound of his leg, causing him to scream.”If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that hurts.”

“Pl-please, stop, don’t h-hurt me, okay, man?! We just needed caps!”

“Ah well, I just needed to bring her some medicine to help her get better, and here you thought you could just up and take her?” He asked as he stood up, tilting his head down at the man with a mischievous smirk. He placed his boot onto the end of Francis’s leg and applied a gentle amount of pressure to keep him from crawling off too far.

You watched all of this, not feeling much remorse for him or the others after what they planned on doing to you, but you had no idea what you could have done if he hadn’t shown up when he did. You felt useless as you stood up shakily, your body swayed slightly as you tried to steady yourself, still feeling the poisoning coursing through you. The cold feeling took over and you felt your entire body drain of color as you fell to the ground again, but despite feeling faint again, you felt safe knowing he was here to help you.

The Ghoul’s eyes widened as you fell, so he removed his foot from the raider’s injury and aimed without a second thought at his head, blowing him away and taking care of the last issue that remained. He eagerly scooped you into his arms and knelt down beside you, digging through his pack to fish out the IV bag you needed. Wordlessly, he stared down at you as he opened your mouth, tipping the liquid inside as he watched you swallow it. When it went down smoothly, he let out a sigh of relief and let his head fall back, staring up at the sky as he thanked whatever was watching over you.

He sat there with you in his arms, his eyes directed toward the sky, and he laughed. “Fuckin’ lucky rabbit’s foot,” he mumbled as he slid the bag back onto his shoulder and hoisted you into his arms, taking you back to your bed in the attic of the diner. 

You awoke with a fierce headache, but your body overall didn’t feel like your blood was on fire, which was oddly suspicious. You recalled almost being kidnapped and taken, but then he appeared like some sort of twisted guardian angel, saving you at the last minute. The sun wasn’t up any longer, it was pitch black outside as you opened your eyes, the weariness of sleep slowly lifting like a veil being pulled up from your view. You turned to see him there, right next to you as he leaned his back against the wall, his hat tipped slightly low to cover his eyes as he tried to rest. There was no way to tell what he’d been through while he was gone, but he seemed pretty exhausted when he returned, or maybe you were delirious, but you were thankful he was here now. 

The urge to wake him was strong, wanting to just thank him profusely for what he’d done for you, it was more than anyone had done for you in your entire life. Without much debate, you sat up slowly and crawled over toward him, allowing your head to gently rest against his lap. He hadn’t stirred much, probably too worn from his travels to get that life-saving RadAway for you. You weren’t sure how you could ever repay him, but you’d figure it out. 

When morning came, you found yourself back in your makeshift bed, tucked in and comfortable with the Ghoul somehow laying next to you, his jacket draped over you for extra warmth, his hand abandoned to the side as he slept. But your slight movements woke him, and his deep still-human eyes met yours, sending your nerves on end. 

“Well, good morning, Bunny, you feelin’ any better?”

You nodded and stared into his eyes, unsure what to say or how to say it. “You got all that for me?” You asked, your voice soft and gentle as I looked over at the opened bag, the large handful of IV bags resting comfortably inside.

The Ghoul peeked over to the bag and back at you with a small smile. “Possibly,” he replied coolly. “Had to make sure you didn’t go and die on me,” he chuckled. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

You figured that was the sweetest confession you’d get from a man like this, so you took it and smiled wide while you scooted your body closer to his, gripping onto the remnants of his tattered shirt. “Thank you, cowboy, wouldn’t know what to do without you. And I’m sorry… I shouldn’t been so stupid-”

“You ain’t stupid, you should always tell me shit like this though, I could’a got some for you sooner,” he chastised. “Don’t hide shit like that, okay?” He seemed annoyed, but not by you, by the fact he could have lost you.

There wasn’t a way you could pinpoint what he was feeling, this man was a complicated creature, so you just stared across at the wall as you thought about your next words. “I just… didn’t want to trouble you. You think I’m this capable person who can help you when I’m not, I can’t even help myself. And I didn’t want you to… well…” You paused, unsure of how to word this next.

He didn’t rush you when you sought the words, he continued to lay there, offering you some form of comfort in the only way he knew how. The tension between the two of you was palpable as the time passed, and you could tell there was something on his mind. 

“I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, and I didn’t want you to pull away… I don’t regret that night, I’d do it again with the same consequences,” you said firmly. 

He looked down at you, his eyes bore into yours as you spoke, telling him you would rather go through all of this pain and suffering again just to relive that night. This was stupidity, he thought, someone like you wanting to lower yourself to chase a night with him. He started to chuckle and shook his head as he looked at you.

“I could never quite get a read from you, you know that?” He said with a playful tone in his voice. “Can’t put my finger on it.”

Your hand gripped his shirt a little tighter, trying to fight that feeling that coiled in the depths of your belly, wanting to keep this moment pure and unsoiled due to how much of this hidden side the Ghoul was showing you right now, but you had a hunger for him like no other. “Is that such a bad thing?” You asked him.

This made him laugh again, his voice drawn out as there was a deep tone, almost like a mix between a hum and a growl. “Well I guess not,” he replied gently, trying to read this moment, but still being so caught off guard by your companionship, he wasn’t about to overstep. This side of him was uncharted for over two hundred years, he wasn’t sure if he was even capable of having this side of him anymore. His hand reached out and lingered over the one that gripped at his shirt, but he wasn’t sure if he should close that space.

Your head lifted to properly meet his gaze, staring into those eyes that seemed to reach the depths of your soul. “Can I do something?” You asked, your voice quiet, nervous. He nodded, allowing you to do whatever it was you wanted. With a soft push, you rolled to your knees, crawled over toward him, and gently placed your hand on his face, bringing yours closer. “You won’t be mad?”

He scoffed in response and continued to stare into your eyes, already seeing the life spring back into them, the color seeming even more bright than they were before. It was him who closed the gap between the two of you, his mouth hungrily capturing yours while he remained hands-off, allowing you to do as you please. He was just there to learn what he could, you’d show him what to do or how to go about it, he trusted you. And that was an unspoken bond if he ever had one. 

Your hand that was gently placed on his face stroked his textured skin softly with the pad of your thumb, while the other hand reached forward and slowly began to undo the tattered buttons on the shirt he wore. You took comfort in knowing he would tell you if he didn’t want you to continue, so you waited for any sign of that, but you were met with none. Your mouth continued to hungrily meld with his, your tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, coaxing him to open further. He tried hard not to show you were getting to him, but the breathy sigh he made when your hand made contact with the bare upper half of his chest was one he couldn’t hold back. 

The smile on your face grew as you pushed the shirt from his form, both hands sliding off each side down his arms, the chill of his warm skin on yours was a feeling you sought after. He sat up and captured you in his arms, grabbing you rougher than intended, but he’d never hear you complain, and he moved your body effortlessly as he placed you down on your back, wanting to take control as he learned to explore you once again. 

He wasn’t feeling cocky or sure of himself this time, nor was he hiding behind the false boastfulness of his persona that he built for himself, but for the first time in so long, that deeply buried side of his former self slowly ate through. That ancient relic of a man he once was, the one that loved deeply. 

His hands began to work at your clothing, slowly removing your jacket, then your tank top and his fingers stopped at your undergarments, unsure if he should cross that line. You nodded as your hands reached behind you and removed it yourself, sliding the straps down your arms and revealing your bare skin to him. In this lighting, it was almost angelic as the sun kissed your skin through the broken window, his eyes drank in the sight of you while your hands went to remove the rest of what you wore. The Ghoul clenched his jaw when you were just about stripped, and his hands met yours at the hem of your underwear, asking to remove them himself without asking a thing. His hands skated down your outer thighs as you arched, allowing him to remove them completely.

No matter the lighting, the time of day, or whatever it was, he was very entranced by your body. How could something as soft looking as you survive in this harsh and blood-thirsty world? The dips, the curves, even the small knicks and markings you gained while being in the wastelands were like foreign land as his fingers explored you. You couldn’t handle how incredibly intimate this all felt, the Ghoul who was typically thirsty for blood and violence now examining your body as if it was his only salvation.

His head lowered to your breasts, kissing your skin softly as he left a soft, wet trail of kisses from your collarbone to your abdomen, wanting to see if he could try his luck. “I’m gonna try somethin’, tell me if you like it,” he said, breaking that silence to convey how new this was for him to get acquainted to.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead…” 

The Ghoul’s lips continued to trail down your waist, slowly tracing along your skin with his fingers until he stopped just above your core. His fingers gently slid between the folds, testing just how excited you’d been, and he was not disappointed. You had been one to grow exceedingly excited just from his touch alone. He pulled his fingers away from you and placed several firm kisses against you, gauging those pretty little sounds you had spilled from your mouth. His hot breath tickled against your skin before his tongue slowly slid against you teasingly, then he did it again and again as your body convulsed, your muscles tensing whenever his tongue delved slightly deeper. 

He’d remembered from your last encounter what really pushed you over the edge and brought his thumb against you, rubbing teasing circles against your clit while he continued to use his mouth. The sounds and cries he pulled from you were only causing him to grow hungrier, your broken sentences strung together into gibberish, only able to whine from the growing build up in your lower belly that coiled tightly. 

His tongue slid further into you and your body jolted slightly, your thighs almost tightened around him, so he made himself comfortable and gripped your thighs firmly, holding them in place while he continued to assault you with his tongue.

“Fuck, cowboy,” you groaned out, your thighs shaking as he pulled away, leaving hard bites around your inner thighs and your waist, marking you to make sure you remembered who made you feel this way. 

“This feelin’ good, Bunny? Am I gettin’ this right?”

“You’re driving me insane, yes, yes-” You cried out while he licked through your folds once as you spoke, the devilish smile on his face only growing wider. Your nails dug into the sleeping bag beneath you, but your hands grabbed at his shoulders and dug in slightly to his textured skin, causing the Ghoul to bury his mouth even further against you. The moans you released were almost melodious, angelic in a way. 

The Ghoul now sucked at your sensitive flesh, making sure not to inflict too much pain unless you instructed him to, and one of his hands left your thigh so he could push two of his fingers deep inside of your warm sex. He was gentle at first in his movements, but the man was starved, needing to go faster with his mouth and his fingers. 

“You feelin’ okay?” He asked, checking on you as your body continued to spasm beneath his grip. 

All you could do was nod frantically. “I’m so close, cowboy,” you warned, your voice cracking as your entire body ignited in chills. 

“Don’t hold back, Bunny, tell me how I’m doin’,” he said, leaving no room for questioning as his tongue continued to gently slide across your heated flesh. He continued to curl his fingers in a gentle motion, his eyes peered up at your face as he worked. “How badly you wanna cum?”

“Please, I need to so bad, it feels so good,” you cried out as you tried your best to hang on, wanting him to continue. 

“Let go then,” the Ghoul commanded, his mouth continued to lick and suck at your folds as his fingers picked up their pace, his mouth working fervently as he tried his best to bring you close to the edge. 

Your fingers gripped at the blanket beneath you, your leg still being held firmly in place while your body trembled from the pleasure, keeping you in place as you chased your orgasm. You were seeing white as you squeezed your eyes shut, you moaned out the playful nickname you gave him, not sure what else to call him as the wave of your pleasure carried you to new heights. Your body lay back against the floor as you felt the energy sapped from you, your breathing was ragged and heavy as you peeked up to see the Ghoul lean back on his knees, your release coating his mouth and chin as he quickly wiped it off with his thumb, sucking it off until he was as clean as he could get. 

Words couldn’t describe what you felt with him now, being on the brink of death only to be brought back and then seek out an orgasm that hard was… it was a wave of emotions. You hoped he wouldn’t leave you there like that, but he ended up surprising you and pulling you toward him, sheltering you in his embrace as he found his spot beside you on the floor. 

He couldn’t fathom what he’d say at this moment, what could he say right now? “You know, I was almost convinced you made a mistake,” he said, his voice low. 

You looked up at him with a grimace, trying to understand what he meant. 

“You lowerin’ yourself to get all physical with someone like me,” he clarified. “And if this keeps up, I’m just gonna end up killin’ you anyway.”

“If that was true, it would be my choice,” you said. 

He looked at you curiously. “You’d want that?”

This made you laugh and you shook your head playfully. “If I have RadAway, I should be okay, not a big deal. It’s just… tempting fate I suppose. I’m gonna die at some point, why not go out a way I want to?” You teased him as your hand was placed gently against his chest. 

“You’re insane,” the Ghoul huffed with a few shakes of his head. “But… I won’t lie, I kinda like it,” he hummed and ruffled your hair playfully. 

This just made you laugh and tighten your grip on him, and you felt content despite everything that happened prior to this. “So, you’re not mad?”

“Mad? Well, now I wouldn’t go that far, maybe a little pissed off you didn’t think it was worth mentionin’ to me,” the Ghoul said matter-of-factly. “But I ain’t mad, just happy you’re okay. Don’t do that shit again, though.” “I promise, I won’t,” you said as you made a gesture across your chest. “Guess I’ll just have to grab a bag every time I see one.”

He looked over at you curiously, smiling that typical cocky smile he always wore, but he didn’t take the bait just yet. “Oh? Plannin’ on needin’ a supply of RadAway?” He wondered.

Your face flushed and felt warm as you reached over and stretched your arm out, grabbing one of the half-full IV bags, and then your gaze turned back to his. “If we’re planning on continuing whatever this is, I can’t be caught off guard again.”

The Ghoul’s eyes glimmered with mischievousness, staring at you with surprise. “You wanna continue this?”

This caused you to scoff and you looked up at him with a playful expression. “Of course? Why wouldn’t I? Went through all this trouble and you think I’m just gonna call it off, then you’re-” 

The Ghoul placed his hand on the back of your head, pulled you closer toward him, and silenced you with his lips. It lasted for a brief moment, but it was all he needed to assure you that he was still in this, and he may have threatened you to keep it quiet before, there was almost a silent understanding that hung in the air. You would keep your word though, but for now, it was just the both of you at this moment while you climbed into his lap.

He just scoffed and watched your nude form sit atop him. “Whatcha doin’ there, Bunny?” It was only meant as playful, he would never dream of pushing you away like this, he craved you more than you realized, the taste of you was divine, too. 

Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer toward you. “I wanna show you how thankful I am you saved me.”

His eyes softened and allowed his hands to slowly slide down the curves and dips of your hips, smiling wide to himself as he watched you with great interest. “Guess I’ll have to save you more often, then.” 

[sunandflame]

Hi :) I’m sorry but my request isn’t there so it may have not sent properly. Please could I request headcanons of the hashira reacting to their crush being very kind and loving to their sibling/siblings :)

Aaah yes! This is such a cute request and I loved doing that! Please forgive me if it took longer than you expected. I hope it is to your liking and if not please let me know through an anon ask.❤️

Hashira's reacting to their crush being kind to their sibling(s)

Warnings: maybe a super tiny nsfwish? mention of trauma and abuse in the past

Word Count: 955

Pairing: Hashira's x Fem!Reader

crossposted on AO3

Kyojuro Rengoku

Listen to me. This man would blush. And you know why? Because of his crush he got on you.

And now he sees how kind and loving you act towards Senjuro?

This of course leaves him with the question of whether you are so loving with small babies.

Of course you would, what a stupid question from him.

But now he just can't stop imagining you with a baby. A baby from you two, because this man definitely wants children later.

He later needed a cold shower to calm his flushing down, since he recalled how babies were made. 😉

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He would watch you silently and while he does an inner image would appear in front of him.

That of his mother's.

And that would confuse the Wind Hashira very much.

Especially when he sees how warm and kind you act towards Genya and other younger people?

He can't stop thinking that Sumi, Hiroshi, Teiko, Koto, Shuya and Sanehiro would adore you.

And that brings a comforting inner warmth that he had always felt towards his mother back then.

You remind him so much of his mother that he got flashbacks of how she protected her children from their brutal father like a lioness.

That spoiled his mood in the usual way and the gentle smile that briefly reflected on his lips disappeared.

He swore to protect you from everything and everyone, because such a kind soul had to survive in this world and not the murderous scum that he saw in himself.

Giyuu Tomioka

He too would be very subtle in his observation.

You probably wouldn't even know that he saw you.

But he did. And it had definitely triggered something in him.

And it was rare smile, but he kept turning away so quickly so that nobody would be able to see it.

The first time he wants to start a conversation with someone. And then with you of all people.

But he is so awkward and shy in it because he had never done anything like that, especially not with someone who he has a crush on. So double awkwardness.

So he keeps watching you, this time a little more obviously, hoping that you might start a conversation with him.

And while he was watching you a soft smile would play on his lips and this time he wouldn't turn away and look directly at you.

Tengen Uzui

The man had 9 siblings and they all died before he was 15

Then seeing you treating a younger one with kindness and love he wished he had felt when he was younger?

Yeah, this man is gonna come to you and lay the world at your feet together with his 3 wives.

But firstly, he would come alone, take your hand and gently kiss your knuckles.

"Be my 4th wife and have my babies. I know you would be a great mother!"

Mitsuri Kanroji

Our beloved love Hashira

She would probably hear it first from her siblings, before seeing it herself.

"Mitsuri neechaaan! Can we (y/n) see again? She was so nice and kind to us! She even brought us sweets!"

Those would be the words of her little siblings as they are all stand very close to each other.

This made her curious.

And if she then sees with her own eyes?

She would squeal in happiness, seeing how loving you are to them.

And would come up to you and hug you. Her breasts press against your shoulder. "Y/n you are so adorable!"

This time it's you who's blushing.

Obanai Iguro

He and Kaguramaru would watch you from afar.

The man didn't have a good experience with women as they were all terrible to him.

But you? You were the opposite and showed him with your gesture that there was also kindness in this world.

And that was one of the reasons why he had a huge crush on you.

And your gesture would make him fall even more for you.

He would sneak gifts to you.

(I am sorry. I feel like I am describing Obanai x Mitsuri as I always see them as canon and his type.)

Gyomei Himejima

He is already a big soft teddy bear

So expect it to grow into an even bigger one.

The first time he noticed tha, he wouldn't think anything of it.

But he sees that it's your nature and that you do it not for yourself.

And he would be touched by your kindness that he would shed tears (as he often does)

Gyomei eventually coming to you and while he towers over you with his height (man is huge) he would ask you.

"Do you want to talk about cats?"

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu witnessed your kindness towards the younger ones in the butterfly mansion.

And she thinks you are downright adorable.

And she wants to tease you about that.

Which she will certainly do. (Nothing is going to stop her anyway) And oh she loves to tease you.

But on the other hand she will praise you. Telling you how admirable your kindness and love is.

"This reminds me of someone..." And for the first time her smile turned sad.

You could help but hug her and comfort her, as you did with the younglings.

Muichiro Tokito

Empty eyes would clear at that moment and would look at you in surprise.

It is not about how you look, but the way you treat other the younger ones. It would bring back certain memory he thought it was long gone.

He would look at you with wide big eyes.

"Y/n..." That he remembered your name would make you turn in surprise, but there would be a smile. "Yes, what is it Tokito-san?"

And then he would remember and he would hold your hand and smile. "Your kindness... It made me remember something very dearly to me. Of my father and mother... Thank you so much for that"

[kakujis]

✧ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍. ✧

synopsis: the sano royal family is almighty, all-powerful, unrelenting. royalty must be, it comes with the territory. you must consume to survive. and what are you but a lowly maid within their palace walls?

i. serenato - prince kakucho’s been gone for months without a single letter back home, you wonder if he’s even coming back.

ii. oblivious - prince mikey can’t help but feel that something’s wrong with his closest friends, especially baji, head of the royal guard.

iii. fairytale - an arranged marriage won’t stop prince izana from reaching his dream.

iv. aria - when shinichiro becomes king, the two of you come to terms with the death of your forever.

✩ 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐍. ✩

synopsis: these stories focus on non-prince members, such as the royal guard. (more info soon!)

i. sandpiper - baji used to be the head of the royal guard, and your mind always wonders why he defected to valhalla, leaving you behind.

ii. snow falling - if there is solace in one thing, it's your moonlit meetings with chifuyu.

iii. story loading...

iv. story loading...

NOTES: hi! this is an au i've had in the back of my brain for a while, and i sort of delved into it last year when i wrote a couple of those prince!headcanons and that one izana scenario. each story will come with a link to the kalafina song that inspired them! ♡ the y/n in each story is a separate character, but there will be no names and will stay x reader. each story will come with their individual warnings, make sure to read them. some will be sfw and some will be nsfw. please keep in mind, everything here is subject to change and stories will be uploaded sporadically. also, i'll try my best to write them in order, but we'll see! also, if there's enough interest i'll open a taglist. ♡

ETA: i will ask if you are a minor/ageless blog to please refrain from interacting with the nsfw stories, there will be a few.

© kakujis please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate any of my work.

[pocksprincess]

Chapter 2 - Meet Cute

Series masterlist

Obito Uchiha x f!reader

Modern AU, obi still has scars, he (29) is a doctor and reader (25) is a vet nurse, pining, he is a simp, obito isn't nice to himself :(

Word count - 1887

Beta baddie - @dabilove27 love you <33

<- Prev | Next ->

It's you. His pretty new neighbour. Standing at his door in a skimpy yellow sundress that leaves little to the imagination–not that his imagination isn't in overdrive right now at the sight of you. It's part of (the main) reason why he hasn't popped over to introduce himself. Pretty girls have always made Obito nervous. And for good reason, the prettiest ones are often the cruellest. 

And it's as your face breaks into a friendly smile and you trill at him, “Hi, neighbour!” that he hopes that rule doesn't apply to you.  

"Hi…" He manages to croak out a greeting in response, his scarred hand clenching the open door he leans against for support. He really wishes you hadn't caught him in his lounge wear and before he had a chance to shower. 

"For you." You don't give him any time to breathe as you hold out a bottle of red towards him confidently.

"What's this?" He asks dumbly, frowning at the neck of the bottle gripped between your fingers. Your nails are short, the polish on them chipped, each finger painted a different shade of pastel–mirroring the remnant colours of summer as the season begins to turn.

"Um, it's wine. Ever heard of it?" You're teasing him, smile turned a little more wicked, but not malicious. It surprises Obito, you're bold.

Your demeanour is playful, just friendly banter…between strangers. It makes him fidgety, he isn't the best at social interactions, let alone with someone as friendly and familiar as you. It makes him instinctively pull into his protective shell–the one he uses to keep others at an acceptable and safe distance. 

You huff a small laugh at his reaction and he wonders what his face looks like caught in the crosshair of your dazzling smile and shining eyes.

"Yeah, I've...I meant, what's it for?" He stumbles over his question, mentally cursing himself for not being more cool and assertive. Deep down (or maybe not that deep) he's still the gawky teenage boy that doesn't know how to talk to girls. 

"It's a housewarming gift!" You announce proudly, hand still hovering in mid-air, caught in the purgatory of his front porch–neither on your side nor his. 

"I think I'm the one who's supposed to do that," he nods at your offering, "yaknow, since…you're the one who moved in." He finishes lamely, what little confidence he had waning under your glittery-eyed gaze, mirth dancing deep within. It makes him feel bad, like a shitty neighbour, but in all honesty, he was too chicken to knock on your door.

You're so beautiful and warm, always smiling and waving at him like you're old friends. Obito knows he'd fuck up any welcome wagon he tried to roll out in your honour, so he just...didn't bother–figuring you'd probably just settle in and he'd never actually have to speak to you. He feels pretty stupid now with you at his door in a cute little sundress, hair playing about your face in the gentle breeze, and holding out a bottle of merlot (his favourite, how did you guess?) with a mischievous smile playing about your lips.

You surprise him once more when you lean towards him, just a fraction, as if you're sharing a secret only meant for the two of you. "Well, maybe I got tired of waiting." Your voice is low, so familiar, and he can see you quietly relish in how it makes him react.

He feels the heat rise to his cheeks unwarranted, mouth hanging slightly open as he flounders for any sort of response. Your words weren't even innately suggestive, you didn't say anything scandalous, but Obito's thoughts race at their hidden meaning anyway. Could you be...flirting with him? He isn't practiced in the art, but he's almost certain that's what's happening here. Either that or some serious wishful thinking on his part.

You shift in place while you wait for his response, putting your weight on your opposite hip, almost as if you're tired of standing out on his doorstep. He has a fleeting thought to ask you in but bats it away when he realises the absurdity of it-it would definitely seem weird coming from a near total stranger. 

"Um, yeah...I-I'm sorry about that," Obito isn't quite sure what to say, or what to do with his arms. He realises they are limp at his sides and decides to cross them over his chest instead, grounding himself with the embrace and hopefully making him appear more confident (or something). He forces his gaze to meet yours, fighting the urge to flit them away. 

"Don't be silly," you chastise him, but coming from your lips, it sounds gentle-reassuring, "It's no problem, really." You shake the bottle in your grip, all but pushing it into his chest, as you finally give him your name. It's just as pretty as the rest of you.

He quickly unfolds an arm to catch the bottle in his hand, his rough and scarred fingers grazing over your soft ones in the process. He didn't even think, just used his naturally dominant arm to reach for the object, forgetting his carefully trained practice of using the left since the accident.

The touch sends a jolt of something into his navel, and he has to suppress the urge to show his obvious reaction to your nearness. You have no such reservations, hitching in a breath as your eyes zero in on the place where your skin just barely meets his, your hand frozen in place around the bottle–delicate fingers overlapped with his larger ones. And he swears your pupils dilate–becoming large and round like a feline tracking its prey. Are you even aware of your reaction or is this all part of the game?

Obito jerks his hand away from yours, narrowly missing the door with his elbow, and barely manages to hold on to the gift you brought him. God, he must look and sound like a total idiot. 

Your eyes dart back to his face, your features twisting into a slight frown as you slowly lower your hand back to your side, fiddling with the yellow tie that dangles from your waist. 

"Sorry," you apologise, as if you did something wrong. You look so sad. Of course you think that, *he* made you feel that way…it's just been so long since anyone has touched him skin to skin, not even a handshake, especially a beautiful woman. He's always so careful, so aware of keeping only his left side angled towards someone, only ever using his left hand in front of others. Your little surprise visit made him sloppy, he forgot himself. And now you think it's your fault.

"No, please!" The words jump from his throat and Obito winces at the desperate tone in his voice. He gathers his courage with a deep inhale and then lets out the anxiety gnawing at his gut with a breath-get it together, man. 

"This was really nice of you," he looks at the bottle, turning it until he can read the label, "it's one of my favourites." 

He offers you a rare smile (one he doesn't afford many), it probably looks awkward and disingenuous on him but it seems to clear the brewing storm clouds from your expression, a sunny smile lighting up your face. Any reservations you may have had about the moment that just passed between you disappears and you are back to the friendly neighbour routine. 

"Really?" You seem excited that you so accurately pegged something about him. He's not sure whether he's impressed by your insight or irritated that he can be so easily read. You remind him of someone else in that regard…

"You just look like a red wine kinda guy, I'm glad I picked the right one." And you do look glad, you look proud of yourself and something else…something soft and oh so dangerous when you look at him.

Obito swallows instinctually, trying his best not to read into any of your actions or glances. He really is pathetic, you're just being neighbourly, a decent person and he has to ruin it by thinking with his dick. He's always been easily led by a pretty face with an even prettier smile. Usually women only use him to get what they want, knowing it will work every time, the desperately overlooked disfigured guy with no self esteem.

But you seem different, he doesn't get the impression that you have malicious intent, you don't even seem to be phased by his scars. Most women grimace when they see him, whisper to their friends, no doubt about what horrible thing could have left him so permanently twisted. No, you can't be…romantically interested in someone like him. You're just nice, maybe you even want to be friends, or something. It's refreshing and terrifying all at once.

You study his face, perhaps slightly amused, as if you can see the battle going on inside his brain. He thinks you might also feel a little awkward since neither of you has spoken in a while. He can tell because you're twisting your fingers together–a nervous habit, perhaps? It looks uncomfortable, but you don't seem to notice. 

"Well, I better be going…" you float the statement out into the sea of stillness between you, breaking the tension-filled silence. "I just wanted to give that to you before I forgot or chickened out."

He can't believe you could possibly chicken out…that's his job. But it feels oddly reassuring knowing that a stranger feels the same anxieties as he does. Guess he's not the only one who struggles with people. And maybe, just maybe, that means you aren't quite as confident as you appear. Maybe you are being genuine and are just looking for friends, no one has come to help you with your belongings or visited you since you moved in. Maybe you're as lonely as he is.

"Oh yeah, of course. Well, thank you, really." He tries to put as much sincerity into his response as possible but the words sound stiff to his own ears. 

"Any time, neighbour." You smile a wicked little grin, unfazed by his awkwardness, back to your mischievous tone as you descend his front steps slowly. 

And it's only in that moment that he realises he never gave you his name in return. What a fucking moron. 

"Obito!” He blurts out as an afterthought. You look confused and slightly taken aback by the sudden outburst. He takes a breath and tries a small smile, “Name's Obito.” 

“Obito,” you repeat, sounding the name out on your tongue. It makes his heart thump harder in his chest.

"Well, seeya, Obito!” You call out, throwing up a hand in goodbye as you walk to your door.

He returns the gesture, nodding his head and jerking his hand up clumsily when you turn around to smile at him one last time–key in the lock as you hesitate for a second. And then you're inside and his door is shut and he's leaning against it heavily–breath leaving his body in an audible whoosh. He rests his head against the door with a thunk, eyes screwed shut.

But it's no use, he can still see your kind eyes and pretty smile in the darkness.

[the-moon-devi]

Devi's De'Luxe

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒍𝒖𝒙𝒙𝒆 (𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕). 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒅 & 𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒆 & 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅. 𝑰 𝒈𝒐 𝒃𝒚 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒂'𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝑻𝒚𝒍𝒂𝒉! 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 16 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔. 𝑰'𝒎 19 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚. 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝑽𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄 & 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒅𝒔. (𝑽𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒐) 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔. 𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒐-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓𝒔/ 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 & 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒆. 😭 𝑯𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈! 𝑰'𝒎 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍, 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 & 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒅 , 𝒎𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒔/𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒔. 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈! 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔! 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏 & 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔! ~𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓵 🌊🐚💙💋

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓢𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓴 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓞𝓾𝓽…..

❤️‍🔥𝓗𝓸𝓽 𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝔂

𝓦𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓐 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰?

𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓭𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 // 𝓡𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓮𝔀𝓼

𝓐𝓼𝓴 𝓟𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓬�� 🚨

𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓮

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬:

𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐝 // 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬

𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐬 (𝟒𝟒𝟔)

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬:

𝐀𝐬𝐜 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬:

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐚 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

𝐖𝐞𝐛𝐛 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐚 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ~ (𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧...)

➡ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨: 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬 // 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡

𝐊𝐥𝐞𝐭 (𝟐𝟏𝟗𝟗)

𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 // 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐫𝐚 / 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 (𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐬 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝)

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 & 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐏𝐭.𝟏 𝐏𝐭.𝟐

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐀𝐂'𝐒

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐭 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐁𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢 🌙

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐭

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬:

𝐇𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐬

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦/𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

𝐓𝐨 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬,

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡?

𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡…

𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲/𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞: 𝟏 𝟐

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐘/ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐲 / 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐨𝐮𝐬 🍑

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐨𝐦

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧����𝐬 𝐈 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐩 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲:

𝐍𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, & 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐏𝐓.𝟐

𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐨 𝟒𝐡 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲

𝐀𝐬𝐤𝐬:

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐚 (1487)

𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞 (1388)

𝐊𝐥𝐞𝐭 (2199)

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞 (3768)

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐚 (268)

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐚 (149)

𝐊𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 (216)

𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 (1009)

𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐚 (408)

𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 (695)

𝐀𝐬𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞

𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐤𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞

Moon Devi:

𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, & 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡: 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲

𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒍'𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝑶𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐙𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐬

𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐬: 𝟏 𝟐 𝟑

𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲..... 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐱𝐱

[prophecyprompts]

#PHYSICAL. for when muses need some extra support & self-esteem lifts. all terms are gender-neutral.

hi, pretty.

good morning, handsome.

well, aren't you a beauty?

your eyes are so lovely…

i wish you could see what i see.

please smile more, it's beautiful.

you're pretty even when you cry.

you are the most attractive person in this room. maybe this building. maybe this area, actually.

your body is beautiful because it's yours. don't forget that.

may i touch you? i want to see if you're truly real.

you look like a dream.

my pretty girl / boy / (muse's name).

your hands are nice… n-not like that! i mean, uh..

you don't need makeup or fancy jewelry or fancy clothes. you're perfect, okay?

[gladiatorcunt]

RASPBERRY - CORIOLANUS SNOW

summary: the apparent end of an era

cw: implication of infant death, canon typical violence and canon major character death (if that’s how you read it), unnecessary oc children (mention of pregnancy), reader’s in lucy grays place (chosen to be in the games and etc. not as a substitute for coryo) but if she went back to capitol with him, old man snow loses his marbles, open to interpretation ending, canon typical district citizens slander (and katniss slander but it’s snow’s pov), og timeline reader in this story died in between thg and catching fire, treating this as dark content due to vagueness regarding how willing the reader is

wc: 1.3k

requests are open (read the rules first <3)

block & move on if uncomfortable

do not repost or translate!!

“Boys, workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love I could barely eat

There's nothing sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She give me toothaches just from kissin' me.”

- Work Song // Hozier

Caecilia Snow can hardly stomach what she is about to witness. Her oldest sister, Iovita, stands stoned faced behind her. One of her svelte hands clasped around her left shoulder. A mask, she’s sure. Vita always did have troubles with expressing her emotions. The middle sister, Agrippina, is a complicated mix of both. Her hand is warmer on Caecilia’s right shoulder, but the blisters make it uncomfortable. Cato, the steadfast and tough oldest son, does not look at all. One can only wonder how he felt about that tribute from two, poor souls. Little Ignacius (she will always see him as such even though he's grown a head taller than her) brow is furrowed so terribly, she fears it might get stuck.

And strange Silvanus, the second son, he isn’t even on the balcony with his beloved siblings. Perhaps he is lost in his thoughts again. He wonders now if when his father smells the wood of the gallows, he thinks of a forest out in twelve that he haunted decades ago. The handkercheif he uses to hastily wipe his tears before he can gather the courage to join his family possess drops of blood every time he pulls it away. From his nose or drug up from his lungs, who can say? The wall outside the library his father had made especially for their mother on their wedding anniversary takes several blows from his aching clenched fist. So much blood, like father like son. Silvanus feels comforted by the persistent thought.

Ignacius eyes his brother with open concern as he saunters into view beside him. He barely manages to hide his wobble and his rush to stuff a stained cloth into his pocket does nothing to ease Ignacius’s worries. Silvanus has been one of the more sensitive ones in their parade, though that has never meant that he has not fought for his family. It is because of that that when Silvanus relents to the beseeching stare of his younger brother, Ignacius nods with utmost determination. The second son softens minutely and eventually returns it.

“Snow lands on top.” Six voices whisper in chorus.

Somewhere in an alabaster mausoleum, resides an ornate urn containing what would have been a seventh voice.

At the end of it all, President Coriolanus Snow smiles and he laughs with his entire chest like you’ve told him your funniest joke. Blood pours from his mouth like hot wax. His forked tongue doggy paddles in the little sea of crimson. A weathered hand with hard to spot cracks in the skin and light purple spots clasps itself firmly around the rose pinned to his suit. The wind seems to circle around Coriolanus Snow and he heaves a hearty chuckle when it ruffles through his hair. You’re with him even now as the foundations of your dynasty crumble and scatter over a stormy cliffside. A most welcomed and yearned for torment. His dearest specter.

Finally.

It seems even a Mockingjay’s tiny brain can manage.

It brings to mind the memory of another unfortunate like her. An Angel of Death from 11, tall and hunkered over. A flag being ripped from its rightful place and being pulled over rotting corpses. They were laid so closely together, they might as well have been a pack of sardines. There was ample meaning in his rustic burial, and there were snakes that suffocated it in their multicolored den. A precious rainbow after a great flood.

He’s not the only boy she reminds him of, but he’s unable to recall the second one’s name. A ghost that hovers on the edge of his mind.

Nevermind how useless her brief moment of assumed triumph will be. The games may be locked in a box in the minds of Panem and shoved away so they can be blissfully ignorant, but there will always be those in favor of them. What they represent will remain just as their purpose will prove itself once again when the people are governed by the rabid cannibals that ate them. Dogs can’t be trusted to be left to their own devices and off their leashes. Such deranged creatures were far better suited for being submerged in the violence of their own making.

Panem today. Panem tomorrow. Panem forever.

The soft dulcet tones of silenced voices ring out, something he once knew about a man who murdered three. The white fog fades away and Coriolanus wakes with a muffled shout to find himself in a raggedy bunk in an all too familiar building. his hands tremble but they look no different. with a disbelieving laugh he realizes that nothing has changed yet, that he has been rewarded for decades of dedication and devotion to Panem. That his herculean task others once thought of as sisyphean had been irrevocably realized.

3 daughters, 3 sons. Countless grandchildren. A legacy that will no doubt be remembered no matter the connotations associated with it.

Coryo’s heart is thundering like it did back then on that fateful day, and it does not slow by the time he’s shoved his things into a sack and hidden in the back of a truck. He could sway from the dizziness of deja vu. The truck soon comes to a stop and he clamors out of it, jumping out and racing however many yards he has to until he can spot his heart doing a terrible job of hiding behind a pillar. Anyone with a working set of eyes could discern the scarlet edges of your skirt swishing from side to side. They would have an unchallenging time seeing you suppress the urge to pick at the skin around your nails.

For the first time in over a year, Coriolanus Snow is utterly consumed by the urge to burst into tears. His beautiful beautiful dryad. The blood red dress he had ran himself ragged to buy clung to you like a lover as you twirled around nervously looking for him. Never in his life had a decision been so easy, so with a grateful chuckle and an embarrassingly giddy grin he bounds over to you. The light splintered through the trees nearby, the way it raked through your eyes and made them sparkle brought him fantastic grief. To him, they have never once lost that illustrious shine.

“I thought you’d never show up, Coryo. I was startin’ to worry a bit.”

Your hand feels like a delicious brand when it slips into his, impossibly soft and his cock throbs in his pants at the countless memories it elicits. In an apparent recreation of Pygmalion gazing upon the stone turned flesh form of Galatea, his love spills from him like a reopened wound. his Aphrodite on earth, his goddess with a never-ending number of rose petals in her hair.

“Not even a bullet in my back could keep me from you, dove.”

A garter snake slithers by between the two of you and before you can notice, Coryo swiftly crushes its head under the heel of his boot. The forest is blessedly silent. His world is kept from cleaving in two by the invisible string you’ve looped around his neck.

The putrid smell of the woods around you forces you to attempt to hide yourself gagging behind your hand. His lips twitch but he suppresses the urge to smile in that smug but infuriatingly hot way he knows you secretly love.

You’d better make quick work of getting over the mountains, you’re pregnant after all.

a/n: I’m sick and on bed rest (the cold is kicking my immune system’s ass) so wip progress has stopped but I had this in the drafts. call me Suzanne Collins because I tried with the naming symbolism. Please reblog if you liked it and yell at me about him if you want <3

[biting-miguel-ohara]

A/B/O with Bucky Barnes

A/N: Kinktober fic #11

Errrr 🫣 Don’t come after me if this is inaccurate or weird or anything, please. I wrote this mostly based on memories from back when I had an A/B/O phase. Please let me know if I missed any warnings!

Written for an ftm!Reader

Link to masterlist here

CW: missing Bucky; heats; Reader is an Omega; Reader nests; cramping from heats; sex toys; explicit sexual content; smut; Bucky is an Alpha; ruts; sexual teasing; scent gland biting; nudity; missionary position; rough sex; Reader’s parts are called dick and hole; mentioned multiple orgasms; cumming inside; unprotected sex; knotting; licking; ‘I love you’s; mentioned multiple rounds

805 words

You missed him.

You always did when he was on a mission, but this time was worse. You could’ve sworn you’d double-checked your heat schedule, planned for a few days extra just in case.

But apparently not.

Now you’re ransacking the house, grabbing every pillow, blanket, and soft thing you can find. You’re dressed only in his clothes, his scent helping calm the distress clawing at the back of your mind.

Last time he’d helped you build your nest. Now it feels weird to not have him around.

You drag the load of soft things to your bedroom, breathing in the faint but mixing scents of you and your mate. It relaxes you a little more, gets you more focused on your task.

You have a nest to build, a heat to go through. It’ll be hard without him, but you’ve done it before. You can do it again.

Hopefully.

Your heat hits right as you finish your nest. You crawl into it, stripping off everything but his shirt. You need him on you somehow.

Everything feels hot. Hot hot hot. It’s only made worse when the cramps hit. Strong aching cramps that make you scramble for a toy.

Your entire body screams for him and he’s not there.

The anguish fades once you start to fuck yourself with the toy. Once pleasure starts to do away with the cramps and melts your mind. It’s a big toy, modeled after him, and you intend to use it as much as you can.

It’s not your alpha, but it’ll do for now.

You’re two days into your heat when you hear footsteps. You immediately curl into yourself, fear spiking through the haze of pleasure. Then you catch the scent.

You’re on your feet in an instant, flinging yourself into his arms. “Alpha!”

“Omega.” His voice is low, a rumble of need. He might not be in rut yet, but the sight of you all naked and needy is enough to do him in.

His lips crash to yours, mouth greedy and bruising. He kisses you like he’s going to claim you all over again and you go weak in his arms for it.

His fingers come down to tease your hole, slick gushing over his hand. You’re beyond soaked, your body aching for him. Even just the brush of his fingers has you clenching hard enough to cramp.

You whimper pathetically, shifting and squirming to press yourself down on his fingers. You need something, anything, in you.

Thankfully, thankfully, this finally seems to trigger his rut because he growls and buries his face in your neck. Nipping at your scent gland. “Omega.”

“Alpha!” You melt against him and he scoops you up. Carrying you to your nest.

He makes a sound of approval at the sight, making pride fill every inch of your being.

He lays you down and strips, revealing every bit of his perfect body to you. Your mouth waters, your body already aching for him.

He waits for a moment, letting you get comfortable in the nest before making a move. You appreciate it, swaddled by blankets and pillows as he moves to kiss you.

You moan as he drags his thick cock against you, slicking it up. When he finally pushes in, you gasp and shudder before melting completely. It feels so good. So thick and long and perfect. So much better than a toy.

You cling to him, lips melding to his as he starts to fuck you. It feels so right, kissing your alpha like this.

He pulls back, leaning down to nip at your neck once more. Then he starts to fuck you. Hard and fast; deep, pounding thrusts that leave you breathless and whining.

You can’t think. There’s nothing in your mind but praise for your alpha. Broken coos you manage to whimper out. He seems to revel in them, growling out snarled praises of his own.

You cum once, twice, three times in the first round. You can’t help it, not when his fingers find your dick and rub it so well. Not when he’s fucking you mindlessly, snarling out promises of breeding and pups.

It’s over when you bare your neck to him. When you expose your gland to him. He bites down hard, claiming you all over again. And you melt into it all over again, crying out softly as his thick seed fills you up.

As his knot settles into place. Locking his cum inside you.

He immediately licks at your neck, soothing the sting of the bite with his saliva. You relax into the pillows, sweaty and panting.

A single moment of clarity pierces your mind and you smile lazily. “I love you, Bucky.”

He grins, all teeth and sharp eyes. “I love you too, handsome.”

You start round two not long after.

[alphabetatoes]

fantasies come true (n. kento x reader)

a.n.: hello everyone 👁️👁️ alr ✨ l i s t e n ✨ gamers, i was listening my musicals playlist on spotify and "fantasies come true" came on so i thought to myself 'hARK! what a great fic idea!' and here we are. also realized i hadn't posted anything in almost a month oops :)

feeling: evil :)

summary: you confess your love to nanami in your sleep (or do you?)

having kento nanami as a roommate seemed to only have one real drawback: your work lives were a hurdle neither one of you could quite get over. these conflicting schedules leave little overlapping breaks with your best friend. but that doesn’t mean you don’t try to carve out time for each other. one day, you’re able to leave the highschool early for what feels like the first time in forever. kento is still confined to his office, tidying up his last few pieces of business during overtime.

the two of you decided to go for a movie night, as it wasn’t too energy intensive and you’d still be able to enjoy each other's presence. kento watches as you eventually fall victim to sleep, making yourself cozy on his side. he admires your ability to find serenity, not quite ready to succumb to his own tiredness. he’d been looking forward to seeing you all day and didn’t want to waste a moment of it. 

the movie progresses on; a cheesy boy-meets-girl romcom. yet the plot feels a little close to home. and kento laughs to himself as you scrunch his shirt, anchoring yourself down to reality during whatever fantastical dream you seem to be having.

you start to babble in your sleep. it’s nothing coherent, but kento finds it endearing nonetheless. “…love you, kento.” 

his ears perk up in record time at the comment.

you yawn into him and repeat the sentiment once more. kento can feel the tips of his ears getting warm as you double down on your confession. he’s at a crossroads. does he acknowledge your comment? pretend like it doesn’t light a fire in his stomach, yearning to cross the line from friends to something more? kento weighs the options but settles on one. he pulls your frame closer and whispers a sweet “love you too, sweetheart.” in your ear. for now, he can revel in your confession. 

for now, he can finally be content.

“ken?” you lightly poke him awake, careful not to startle him. as he comes to, kento lets out a confused “hm?” sleep stricken eyes meet you in a daze, confused by his surroundings. you give him a sweet smile, the one that always makes him melt into a million tiny pieces, and brush his hair out of his eyes.

“you practically passed out as soon as you sat down.” just as he does, the reality of kento’s situation awakens as well. “thought you were the one asleep.” “seemed like you were having a nice dream though.” 

“too good to be true.” those sweet brown eyes pour into yours, hoping you might just know what it was about. but kento knows that’s not how it works. yet he takes it in stride. “so how was it? what great triumphs and tribulations did i miss?” kento sinks back into the couch. he watches as you give an animated retelling of the film plot (including voices), and a little part of his heart breaks. it’s bittersweet, but for now he would accept the platonic nature of your relationship. kento already had it in his mind that you would need to be the one to raise the topic of a more romantic dynamic. yet there was no doubt about it. he was smitten by you.

even for a moment- even if it was just a dream, he was able to have his own wishes feel like reality. and he’d wait patiently for the day you’d reciprocate. the day his fantasies come true.