#hes still a part of my soul. but i just might leave it private for the time being

[kkoct-ik]

my kinlist is updated and also ported to carrd because my tumblr kin page broke on me and i give up (carrd is more versatile anyway tumblr has some limitations as hard as i try to code and overcome it)

[bigboysfalldeep]

the nick jonas experience - posession

I always had one rule: never target a celebrity.

It's just way too risky; there is simply no way to just vanish and start a new life inside a new body. Still, one young man always tickled my fancy: Nick Jonas.

I contemplated for months: was taking over his beautiful body worth the risk? My decision was taken from me when he announced a concert very close to me, a couple of hours by car, and instantly my mind was set on my newest target. I bought a ticket and spent the coming months obsessing over him more and more. I loved the way he kept teasing his fans by acting all cocky, geared up in leather, and showing off his well-formed body.

During the two-hour drive, I kept going through the coming operation. I would wait, enjoy his music, and once he's done, exhausted, happy—whatever he would be, I'd strike.

When he entered the stage, I couldn't believe my eyes. Nick was wearing a tight green leather tracksuit, showing off his thick bulge for everyone to see, and I couldn't turn back now, not after my dick grew so hard inside my jeans.

Once the concert slowly came to an end, I made my way toward my car, just to leave my old vessel behind—it wasn't a bad body, but nothing compared to the heart throb that is Nick Jonas.

After years of doing this, it was the easiest thing to do. I focused all of my being on leaving the fleshy husk behind. I can't simply take over anyone's body. Part of their soul, their consciousness, stays behind—locked away, chained, simply unable to move, think, or fight back. The guy might be able to take his body back, but why would I care?

As an astral being, I was able to ascend into the sky, watching all those thousands of people leave the stadium. Nick should be in his private quarters right now, and with a little luck, I might be able to strike.

Nobody could see me; some could feel my presence, however, when a cold shower ran down their backs, their arms, or their legs. There were so many potential new hosts, but I wasn't letting anything sway my mind when I had come thus far.

I made my way through the hallways, thin corridors, and wide open spaces when I finally picked up a trace. I spotted a few security guys and decided to follow them, and sure enough, they brought me right toward Nick's door.

I licked my nonexistent lips in anticipation, reading his name printed on the door: Nick Jonas.

However, walls, doors, and concrete didn't mean anything to me right then. I entered the room, and there he was: Nick, in person.

He was sitting in a chair talking to a few people, chatting happily about the successful concert. The closer I got, the more I had to control my urge to jump him, force myself into his fleshy self, and take him right in front of all of these people. 'Patience,' I thought, but I couldn't help myself and approached him nonetheless.

"Just give me a few more minutes, alright?" Nick said in a husky voice—probably due to him performing for hours now. His team nodded, and one by one, they left while I was hovering in front of him, just inches away from his face. 

Nick was stunning: sweaty, thick, and, most importantly, handsome. I hesitated; this was the last chance to stop, to admire him now, but to leave him and find any other hot guy to take over.

But then he turned his face and let out a long, guttural sigh. My entire being was shacking, and if I had a body right there, I would have wet myself.

Nick grabbed his phone and started to text someone, but that didn't bother me. I swirled around his body—I learned that the back is the easiest way to enter someone else's body—and placed a hand on his shoulder.

His body shuddered once; even through his leather jacket, he must have felt the cold embrace of my presence. Bewildered, he quickly got up and turned around.

"Hello?" Nick said his voice was rough and husky. "Somebody here?" 

I just grinned and placed my hand on his neck. Making contact with a warm human body always shocked the target; it wasn't natural to be touched like that. 

Nick opened his mouth to say something, but he froze. His body grew hard and stiff; all of him was tensing more and more. Gently, I drew a line from his neck down to the small of his back, following his spine, and even though I wasn't touching his bare skin, he opened his mouth and let out a low growl. It's to prepare his body for my entrance; think of it like unzipping a costume—a fleshy meat suit.

The muscles on his back relaxed barely, while the rest of him got even harder. I enjoyed this moment any time I took over a new body. The simple blissful joy and anticipation of entering a new host always made my entire being vibrate.

Using both of my hands, I reached out, touched him, felt him, and watched the tips of my fingers vanish inside his back. Right then, his body reacted by bending his back as waves of pain and pleasure flooded his being.

"Fuuuck." Nick moaned breathlessly as my hands and arms sank into him. It felt so good, causing my form to pulsate vibrantly. I used all of my strength to stay invisible, but the pleasure running through me made it so hard, yet I couldn't let him see me, not now.

Nick managed to turn himself around, probably aware of something happening. He stumbled toward a huge mirror on the wall, pushed the chair out of the way, and steadied himself against a small table.

I was clinging on to him, enjoying his attempt to figure out what was happening. He looked into the mirror and ran a hand across his neck, his face, and through his sweaty hair. This meant, however, that I was able to look at his reflection as well. His eyes looked a little foggy already, telling me that he was a very suitable pick.

Slowly, carefully, I pushed deeper inside of him—a sensational feeling—as all of me started humming. I hold back a deep moan, but he, on the other hand, is unable to do the same, and a fierce grunt escapes his lips.

Shaking his head, he tried to shake this feeling—me—off, but I wasn't letting him leave now. My arms were sliding into his sleeves, filling his entire chest with my blissful humming and vibrating self, causing him to let out more low grunts and groans.

"What is happening to me?" Nick's entire body went stiff, and all of him tensed harsher than ever before. My slim form wasn't filling his upper body fully, so I needed to enlarge myself a little bit, putting even more pressure on his body and, more importantly, on his mind. I needed him exhausted, so he wouldn't be able to fight back.

Just then, my fingertips reached his own, and I was able to get a hold of them. I was shaking when I first moved his fingers, his hands, and his arms—just an overwhelming feeling for the both of us. I could see the confusion spreading across his face when I started to stroke him, his neck, and his firm chest.

It felt so good—running my fingers across his skin, along his jawline, and further down to his chest. Feeling my fingertips brush over his leather jacket made me vibrate even firmer. At the same time, I tried to calm him down a little to soothe his mind.

Still shaking his head, he tried to regain composure and control, but I wasn't letting him do that, was I? The more I stroked him, the more his muscles bulged. His arms were so thick already, and once his biceps started to bulge even harder, his bulky form tested the limits of his clothes.

Still, I pushed even further and stepped inside him. Right then, he let out another breathless yet deep moan, and I was forced to steady ourselves against the table again. A gigantic smirk spreads across my lips when I feel his body vibrating and tingling due to my moving inside him.

Nick's breathing quickened rapidly; all of that pleasure and pressure were taking a toll on him already. But I knew he was able to withstand and overcome. 

I felt all of him reacting to me invading his body: his entire chest was hard as a rock, his arms bulged firmly, and so did his thighs and calves. Like putting on thick leather boots, I slid down his legs and right into his feet. In response, Nick leaned his head back, groaning audibly.

Now, I was able to get a firm stance, so I was able to move my hands freely, but part of him was clinging on to his form. Together, we moved our hands across his chest, and again and again, we kept stroking him.

With a firm thrust, I pushed my hips into him, like I was fucking him from behind. Nick winced once, and I felt his cock growing bigger now. He was so large and so hard that his member was visibly tenting inside his tight leather pants. I knew he felt it too, because right away, he grabbed himself firmly, rubbing the palm of his hand across his thick dick.

"Fuck, this feels good." He groaned under his breath as more waves of pleasure flooded his system. To make it even more enjoyable, I thrusted against his hand once, then twice—he shouldn't miss out on this sensational experience. 

Nick purred happily as we kept stroking his dick and chest at the same time, but I wasn't done yet. After I took a deep breath, I moved my head into the back of his, the first attempt to merge ourselves, or more precisely, to take over his body completely.

Instantly, he froze again as our minds began to intertwine. I felt all he felt: he's scared, confused, yet aroused and somewhat excited. Nick didn't know what was happening, and I liked it that way.

As his thoughts became my thoughts, his body reacted again: he started drooling heavily, his eyes lost focus, and they turned vacant, slowly yet steadily. A soft groan escaped his wet lips as his mind got overwhelmed.

In a last, futile attempt to regain power, he closed his eyes, fighting back. His head dropped down, his chin on his chest, as he tried to locate me to remove the parasite inside his head—a cute attempt, but an attempt in vain.

I felt my form spread even further through his body; all he felt was a heavy, tingling sensation—a warmth filling his entire being. Knowing this feeling all too well, I moaned, filling his mind with even more images of pure pleasure.

Nick was powerless, and to make him give in, I put even more pleasure and pressure on him. As I got full control over his arms, I began to stroke him again, just like he had before. Invading his mind revealed all of his most sensitive spots, so I played him like a fiddle. I stroked him hard through his leather clothes.

I knew he was into leather, seeing him wearing all sorts of leather jackets and pants, as he knew how good he looked in those. It was easy for me to take advantage of that, as the simple feeling of leather on his skin made all of him hard.

"Who are you?" He thought, feeling my presence finally. But I didn't kiss and tell; instead, I grabbed his dick again. Nick was already leaking, staining his boxers with his precious cum, much to my enjoyment.

Then I got control over his legs and took a firm stand. It wasn't unusual for hosts to cave in during a takeover, but I've gotten used to it by now.

We moaned in unison as I began to thrust again and again, right against the palm of our hand, while I used the other to stroke our chest. It felt so good to use his voice; I instantly leaked even harder, feeling the steaming liquid press against my skin.

Nick enjoyed this just as much as I do, but somehow he didn't want to give in to me.

"Pleasee." He begged, but I made a sly smirk spread across his lips instead. I rubbed our hand across our dick again and again, encouraging it to leak more and more.

We started to grind together, moaning together, when our heart accelerated rapidly. Our entire being bulged so hard because all of our muscles grew so much bigger, and all we could think of was to cum.

I kept edging him on, but I was in control, and he didn't release himself; instead, I let the pressure build up.

As I finally overlayed my mind with his, I felt him panicking. "Whatt?" We moaned—the most exciting feeling for me—but Nick was torn between pain and pleasure.

With one more heavy thrust, I simply overtook his mind. To feel my form encompass another, not join him but be him, was the most sensual feeling I knew. That was the first time I came as Nick Jonas, staining his underwear and leather pants with my hot cum. One load after another, I let go of my old self and became him at once.

We started to drool heavily as I chained him, gagged him, and locked him away. Our eyes were unfocused and partly rolled back into our skull. Swaying slightly, I took control over his now vacant body. 

His fingers, hands, arms, and shoudlers became mine, causing his muscles to nearly tear apart as they adjusted to me even more. I grew bigger as his skin now covered me perfectly.

I filled his chest, his stomach, and his thighs, and I grew larger as well, regaining my composure. Finally, his legs became mine, and I stopped swaying instantly.

I opened my eyes, looking at my beautiful reflection. Smirking, I took a step closer, one hand still at my wet crotch, the other noew tracing my firm jawline. 

"This felt so good." I used his handsome voice—my voice—for the first time, causing my dick to pulsate again, shooting another dry load. I ran a hand through my sweaty hair and licked my lips. It felt so good to finally be him; I couldn't stop smirking the whole time. 

I took a long and close look at my reflection. I had only seen Nick in videos or photos, but I never imagined seeing him for real, let alone being him one day. I couldn't stop my dick from twitching. I loved this so much.

"Fuuck." I moaned; hearing his beautiful voice echo through me made me grow harder again. I had been running dry for a while now, but it just felt too good. I gave in to my desire and encompassed all of my upper body.

I closed my eyes for a moment and felt the core of me hum again. I never felt so good.

Subconsciously, I kept on stroking my dick and my chest, enjoining the feeling of leather again. I looked so hot in this body, and I didn't care for the risks. 

"This body is perfect." I purred and opened my eyes, unable to resist the urge to touch myself again.

As I took a deep breath, I smelled me for the first time, and in response, I let out another long guttural moan—a mixture of sweat—and his cologne invaded my nostrils, a smell I would grow to love so much.

I didn't catch myself tracing the outlines of my cock again, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. If it were for me, I would have masturbated there at least a dozen more times. I felt my new body craving so much more, yet I had to play it cool.

No one can know.

[loquaciousquark]

"Please don't leave me/I can't do this without you" from anonymous (caretaker - 20); "dance with me" from @sasskarian (flowers - viscaria); "come down/come back" from anonymous (flowers - Jacob's ladder).

3000 words, set mid-Act 3. I had too much fun with this one, so you'll have to forgive the self-indulgence.

—

“Say it.”

“Certainly not.”

“Say it.” Tav’s whisper had taken on the wheedling quality that it always did when she was laughing at his expense. “Please don’t leave me, darling. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’ll rot first,” Astarion snapped, and he heard Tav stifle a snort of laughter in her own arm. A few rustles followed as she clearly settled down to wait on the other side of the cell wall; Astarion guessed they were roughly back to back, even if six inches of solid stone separated them. He stretched out his legs in the thin, disgusting straw that covered the prison floor, crossed his bare ankles, and closed his eyes. “How utterly useless you are.”

“I’m not the one in Heapside.”

“For once in your life,” Astarion said bitterly, and he heard her laugh again. “Wretched, half-witted clod. Watching me paraded away by three Fists—three of them—for no reason at all. Not even an attempt to save me. An innocent man!”

“You stole a melon in broad daylight.”

“Half a melon. From an abandoned picnic blanket in the middle of the park without a single soul in sight to complain.” He curled his lip in annoyance. “I’d picked it up for you, darling.”

“Liar.”

She was right—he’d taken it as idly as Gale humming while he cooked—but Astarion was in no mood to entertain conciliation. “Well! As charming as it is to sit here and listen to you gloat, my dear, I apparently have a gods-damned sentencing to await.” He thumped his head back against the wall in annoyance. “Nearly two hundred years successfully avoiding this execrable place, and you have me slung in here within a handful of months.”

“I just wanted to share the joy with you.”

“Please don’t.”

“Shut up in there,” one of the guards said sharply. He rattled a cudgel against the bars of Astarion’s cell, then peered into the dim shadows. “Who the hells are you talking to?”

“Myself, darling,” Astarion drawled. “The best company one can dredge up in this awful place.” He rapped a knuckle against the wall behind his head. “Tell me, what’s behind here? Storage? Another cell?” He leered. “Somewhere you and I might be a little more…private?”

“Fink,” he heard Tav breathe through the cracked stone.

The guard flinched, blushed, and smacked the iron bars again. “Nothing for you to care about. Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

“I suppose my fortitude is robust enough to endure the mystery,” Astarion said aloud, and the guard continued on his route, still grumbling. After a moment, with the last bare vestiges of his temper, Astarion hissed, “Well?”

A series of images raised themselves before his mind’s eye, like a cardsharp rifling through a trick deck. A loose stone about two feet to his left, displaced just enough for Tav to slide through a wrapped set of her lockpicks. A great storage chest in the middle of the main prison floor, made of oak and reinforced with iron straps, where all his stripped belongings had been stored. A view of the main room through a cracked door—the door to the privy hallway where Tav was hidden—and the pair of guards playing checkers at the back table, swords ready at hand beside them.

Excellent. He didn’t bother to work out a plan—they never seemed to come right anyway—but as he laid one surreptitious hand on the loose stone, he felt Tav hold it in place from the other side, preventing him from taking the tools. “Please, darling. Don’t be a bore.”

“Tell me you can’t do it without me.”

“I’ll shout your name to the bloody rafters if you don’t let go.”

“How stupid that I still love you,” he heard her sigh, and the stone released.

Ignoring the swoop his heart gave at that, Astarion quickly unrolled the leather and perused her tools. This part of his cell was exceedingly dark, and he had to pause with affected unconcern for a moment or two as the patrolling guard made another lap. Even so, he could see enough to be disgusted. “Ugh.”

“What?”

“Your tension wrench has a bend in the neck.” He grimaced. “And your long rake is missing altogether. Darling, you live like this?”

“Why would I need a rake when I have the half-diamond?” Ah, there was real irritation in her voice now. Entertainment at last. “And you bent the tension rod, remember? When you borrowed it in the basement of Sorcerous Sundries, after your own melted in that fire trap.”

“I don’t recall,” he said in that offhanded way that he knew infuriated her, and he tucked the rest of the rolled-up toolkit into his shirtsleeve. “Honestly! I’m amazed you’ve ever unlocked anything lately.”

The gasp of outrage made him choke on his own laughter. “Idiot!” she said, the whisper almost slipping into full voice, and then he heard a shuffle behind the wall. “You’re on your own. Tymora keep you in your escape, because I certainly won’t.”

“Come now, darling, don’t be petty.” Astarion paused, but there was no answering retort, no further whisper or step. He reached out with the tadpole, but it rebounded off her mind like a hammer off an anvil, and he winced at the recoil.

She’d wholly shut him out. She’d actually left him here in this Heapside cell by himself. He was shocked at his own dismay. “Tavish? I demand you come back.”

“I told you to shut up in there!”

Silence.

Gods. She’d left him. Two hundred years knowing himself utterly alone and friendless, and the betrayal still felt as new and agonizing as a white-hot poker between the ribs. Gods below. He wanted to rip out his dead heart and crush it. He knew he could get out easily with what she’d slipped him—knew these cells would be as porous as she’d described—but by the Hells, that wasn’t the point—

“What are you waiting for?” Tav hissed.

Relief crashed over him like an upturned bucket of water. “I thought you’d left,” he gasped, unable to pretend away the fear.

“I would never really leave you,” she said shortly, as if it were obvious. Her voice was a little further away, he realized, and a little lower, as if she’d crouched deeper in some shadow, but she was still here, still with him, and the tremendous comfort that provided was at once appalling and invigorating. “I wouldn’t leave my worst enemy here. Well—maybe Gortash, I guess. But you? No. Never.”

“Good,” Astarion said, thoroughly shaken. “I’d hate to have to snap this tension wrench the rest of the way.”

“I’ll snap your fingers if you do. Are you ready?”

“Naturally, darling. Do try to keep up.” He clambered to his feet, stretched, then went to the door of his cell, where he casually folded his arms against the bars. “Guard! Oh, guard! Come here—something’s the matter with my lodgings.”

“Tyr’s right hand,” the man sighed, circling the room’s central pillar to come to him. “You’re noisier than a fleet of jackdaws. What’s wrong with you now?”

“Any number of things,” Astarion said, letting the annoyance bleed through every word. As the guard reached his door, a shadow flickered behind him. It was gone in an instant, and a moment later one of the braziers on the pillar went out with a little puff of smoke. “I’ll settle at the moment for the straw, however.”

“The straw?”

He swept his arm grandly behind him. “Look at it! Thin, damp, and utterly reeking of piss. My dear boy, these aren’t fit conditions for a dog, much less a man.” He could barely make out the shape of the chest that held his belongings in the deepened shadows, but he thought he saw the lid lift an inch or two, pause, then lift a few inches more. “Oh! How curious…hm.”

The guard took a few hesitant steps nearer, hand on his cudgel. “What? What is it? What are you looking at?”

“Your eyes. They nearly glow in the lamplight.” He let his voice drop into his chest, low and rumbling, and turned his head so that the curl of his close-mouthed smile caught the torches. “They’re…beautiful. That’s all. Captivating, really.”

“What does he want?” called one of the guards playing checkers.

“Nothing, nothing!” Even in the dimness Astarion could see the man was blushing furiously. Gods, how easy it was to slip back into all of this, like reaching for some ancient tattered overcoat at the start of winter. Not warm, not beloved, not even attractive—just the only functional defense one had against freezing to death. “Captivating,” the man repeated, a little amazed, and then he gave a self-conscious laugh. “Oh. Because you’re—because you’re captive.”

Disgusting. A wit. Astarion snaked a hand between the bars and ran a finger up the man’s armored stomach. “And charming, too. What a pity.”

In his periphery, the lid of the wooden chest dropped silently shut. The shadow darted back behind the pillar while the man was staring cross-eyed at Astarion’s finger; a moment later Tav straightened up directly behind the guard, peering at Astarion over the man’s shoulder. Her eyebrows were raised in question.

The fight to keep his face still was monumental. Little idiot!

The man gave a startled, awkward laugh into the quiet and began to back away. Astarion hooked a finger in his collar like lightning and dragged him an inch or two nearer the bars. “You know, darling, this cell’s rather big for one person. A man might find himself lonely if he’s left here long enough. You know…” He licked his lips. “Frustrated.”

Tav rolled her eyes over the guard’s shoulder, but she noiselessly dipped away into the dark again as the guard stammered and babbled. After a few seconds Astarion saw the door on the far side of the room crack open, revealing a glimpse of stairs beyond, then close. He waited a few minutes more, idly toying with the guard’s belt as he murmured something nonsensical about candlelight, and then the door opened and closed again without a sound. Perfect.

“But you’re—you’re so beautiful,” the man was saying, and the very small portion of Astarion that was still listening gave a polished, tittering laugh. “I reckon I probably shouldn’t have—you know. Told you to shut up.”

“You’ll think of a way to make it up to me,” Astarion purred, and the entire prison rattled with a brief but deafening explosion.

Dust and grit cascaded down around them. Astarion’s guard didn’t yelp, but the other two did, and all of them waited in breathless silence for the braziers to stop trembling. The explosion had come from directly above the prison’s main room, and Astarion could hear shouts and calls of worry over many pounding feet.

“We’d better—” one of the guards at the checkerboard said, and she and her partner rose and hurried through the far door to the stairs—after unlocking it first, which Astarion found immensely satisfying. The guard at Astarion’s cell hesitated, glancing back and forth between Astarion and the door where they’d disappeared; eventually the fear won, and he trotted with one hand on his cudgel to the base of the stairs and peered up after his comrades.

As effortless and choreographed as a dance. The moment the guard’s back was turned Astarion had the lock undone, even with Tav’s wretched half-diamond and bent tension wrench. In a trice he was out of the cell altogether, the dagger Tav had slipped him via the guard’s belt firm in his grip.

She’d understood his need for a blade, even with picks in hand. She knew better than most the difference between being loose and being free.

Another brazier winked out with a puff of smoke. Astarion spared a precious few seconds to relock the cell door behind him—if she could do it, so could he, and it would be hilarious besides—and as he finished he felt Tav’s hand alight on the small of his back. He raised his arms for her to rebuckle his belt around his waist; in the same motion he returned her picks to their leather case and hooked the case itself to her hip. The belt’s leather tongue hissed as she drew it taut, and the returned weight of his sheathed knife was a comfort in itself.

The dagger he kept bare in his hand. For an instant his eyes fell on the guard still standing at the bottom of the stairs. The throw would be effortless, even in the dark. Simple. Clean. The smart thing to do, really.

But Tav wouldn’t like it. He knew she wouldn’t, as sure as he knew their next steps in this silent waltz, and with a grimace he turned away from the guard. She lifted her eyebrows again; he gestured impatiently, and she gave a slow, sweet smile before hooking a hand around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

Ah. An improvisation, and one Astarion enjoyed very much, even here. He sighed through his nose, the weight of the last few hours rolling away like the coins from a spilled purse, and he slid an arm around her waist. His own pack obstructed his way briefly, the straps far too long for her shorter frame, but she arched into his chest anyway with her habitual eagerness, and that was more than enough.

Gods. How easy it became to endure every trial the city might conjure up when he knew Tav would be waiting for him at the end of it.

“I have a confession, darling,” he breathed against her mouth. A second, much smaller explosion went off upstairs to a chorus of startled cries.

Tav’s eyes were bright with humor. “Hm?”

“As it happens, I’d rather not do this without you.”

“Mm,” she said, satisfaction thrumming through the sound, and she kissed him again.

Ah, but they were pushing their luck already. Despite every part of him yearning to cling to Tav until the prison came down around them, he released her when she pulled away, and when she led him by the hand back through the privy door he followed without complaint. She locked the door behind them; he broke the bolt in place. He’d very much miss seeing the guard’s look of stupid shock, but—

“Here,” Tav whispered in his ear. She slid aside a stone about the length of a finger, just wide enough for Astarion to peer through if he crouched a bit. “Found this about eight months ago.”

“The gifts you give me, my dear,” he breathed, and he felt her vibrate with laughter against him. It took a little jostling, but they managed to find a position where they both could see, and they watched together as the guard at last came back around the pillar, glanced over, and paused with comic confusion at the sight of the empty cell.

“Uh,” the man said aloud. He crossed to the cell door, jostled it, and then unlocked it with a key from his pocket. He stepped into the cell itself with a series of useless looks to the walls, the scattered straw, and inexplicably the ceiling, as if he expected to find Astarion clinging upside-down to the stone, then came out and stared helplessly at the empty room. “Uh,” he said again, much higher, and then with obvious panic he quick-marched himself up the far stairs and out of sight.

Still laughing, Tav led Astarion back along the privy hall, past the privy itself, and then through a small broken grating about halfway up the wall. It was a tight squeeze for Astarion, though he made do by pinching Tav’s ankles every time she paused, and soon enough they stood on a small stone ledge overlooking a reasonably finished portion of the sewers. Another much larger grate to their right let in a considerable amount of afternoon sunlight, and Astarion stretched catlike in its warmth.

“An acceptable rescue, I take it,” Tav said, watching him. That damnable smile still played over her mouth; Astarion wanted very badly to kiss it.

“A little lengthy, I thought,” he said instead, and settled for resting his fingers alongside her throat. “And it all involved me spending rather too much time with a very dull idiot. Though I suppose I can’t really complain, seeing as I am, in fact, free once more. Here, darling, for you. Never let it be said you found me ungrateful.”

“What’s this?”

“Only a small trifle,” he said, and watched with tremendous satisfaction as she opened the clinking bag.

“Astarion!” Her eyes lit with genuine delight, and she ran her fingers through the gold like water. “You lifted this for me? Really?”

“Every coin he had,” he said, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek the satisfaction in his chest brimmed over into an ocean. “Besides, my dear, I suspect you’ll need it. How much alchemist’s fire did you use, anyway? I thought the walls might come down around my ears.”

“Every vial we had,” she admitted, and she gave him a proper, if woefully brief, kiss on the mouth. “I thought the first match hadn’t taken, so I threw three more. Thank Gond the mortar held. Here, take back your pack. It’s heavy.”

“And you’ve all the strength of a damp tissue,” Astarion said, but he lifted the pack from her shoulders. A glimpse of something beneath the half-latched flap made him pause. “What have you done?”

“I thought you might want it back,” Tav said, the picture of perfect innocence. “Seeing as it started this whole mess in the first place.”

“You ghastly thing,” Astarion said, fangs bared, and with a great deal of prejudice he slung the blasted sunmelon as deep into the sewers as he could. It bounced twice, then disappeared into a small algae-choked pond with a sploosh. “How fortunate you have other charms.”

“Yes,” Tav agreed, linking her fingers through his, and they climbed together from the sewers into the clean, sweet air of the sunlit afternoon.

—

end.

—

For the record, Astarion's melon incident is adapted from this series of in-game events.

[echoalyssa]

Blinks | Brian O'Conner

image generated by midjourney ai

It was known throughout the entire crew that losing a car would hurt just as much as losing a person. We all knew that we had formed bonds with our cars in ways that no one would understand until they experienced it themselves. The second you sat in the driver’s seat; the car became an extension of yourself. The two of you were one, biological and material parts meshed together.

I’m on my knees, my hands are resting on top of my thighs, palms upward. The tears that seep from my eyes burn. Someone is crying so, so loud. There are hands on my shoulder’s keeping me from falling forward. I can’t even keep myself upright… 

How had this happened? One second, I had been speeding down the mountain pass, and the next I was scrambling away from the burning wreckage.

The entire engine bay is in flames, thick plumes of smoke spiral up into the sky. His horn blares loudly. Both blinkers still flash at me and the last remaining headlight peers at me. I can smell my car burning, chunks of flames fall to the ground around it. He was so strong, holding on as long as he could. My car has reached its end though and the horn stutters before it cuts out completely. The remaining headlight goes dark, as if someone had just blown out a candle. Almost immediately, his blinkers go dark. The last blinks… his final goodbye as he went willingly to wherever the souls of cars go.

It's utterly silent now, except for the crackling of the flames and my sobs. The trees spiral high into the sky on all sides, almost sealing us from the world. A private death. He had sacrificed himself to save my life.

I can feel my boyfriend behind me, his fingers rubbing at the back of my neck soothingly. Brian had lost his eclipse earlier in the year, so he understood everything that was running through me. I had been building this car for just under two years. I had dumped thousands of dollars into it, replacing every part of a sixteen-year-old car that I could. And beyond everything, I had walked through life every day with this car by my side. My first car.

Every time I had needed a release, something to keep me sane, I would drive. There is no better partnership than a driver and their car. No one would ever know the car the way the driver would. But what is a driver without their car? Nothing.

~~~

Brian

She sobs, she’s desperate, just trying to get to her car. I tighten my grip on her, whispering to her. All she wants is to throw herself into the flames. She pulls and strains against my hold and part of me worries that she might bruise under my fingers. I can see the life slowly leaving her car. There would be no coming back from a fire of that magnitude. 

“Please Brian. Please!”

It’s quite possibly one of the saddest things that I have ever seen. Her car holds on as long as possible, crying for help but proud that it had fulfilled its promise of keeping her safe. There was barely a scratch on her. She’s sobbing so hard that I’m worried she’ll forget to breathe. 

Hopefully, the rest of the crew would arrive with extinguishers soon. Maybe then she would be able to save something from the car. We could build another car, but it couldn’t just be any car. When choosing a car there was a feeling, that if it was right, it would just feel right. 

I had taught her how to drive manual in this car all those years ago, we had had out first kiss standing on top of it. All of that, ripped away in a single second. Gone.

“Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay…” She whispers, so quiet and broken by her hiccupping breaths that I can barely hear it. 

When the crew finally arrives, she is just sitting on the pavement staring numbly at the still burning frame of her first car. Her eyes are dry, having already spent all the tears, but there is a haunted look to them. As if, a part of her burned right along with her car.

Thick foam from the extinguishers coats the engine bay and the front fenders. The flames do not give up easily, fighting to stay alight. She watches the whole process in the same spot that she had been in for over an hour now.

When the flames are finally gone and all that is left is the ash, she stands up. She picks her way over to the corpse and then lowers herself to the ground in front of the frame. Her forehead falls forward, landing on the car’s bumper. She presses her palm flat against it.

It’s a hauntingly beautiful picture. A last goodbye.

I let her take as much time as she needs but it is getting cold. I shrug off my jacket and approach her slowly. I drape it over her shoulders and lean down to press a kiss to her temple. I use the back of my hand to brush the tears from her face and then brush the stray strands of her hair away from her eyes.

“If you knew it was your last drive, would you have still gone?”

“Yes.” She whispers, without hesitation.

[fangirlingalittletoohard]

Falling

Crowley has never been one for relationships. Neither have you. But when a meeting in your favourite Angel's bookshop leaves you both breathless, you might just allow yourselves to finally be loved.

Crowley x fem!reader

Use of y/n, dual perspective

Warnings: None! Crowley being an idiot xoxo

1,419 words

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Chapter 1

You sat curled up in an armchair, laptop balanced on your knees, fresh cup of tea steaming on the coffee table beside you as the rain drummed against the windows in your favourite spot to get some work done. You’d befriended Aziraphale months ago when you’d discovered his bookshop, which stocked so many beautiful and unique volumes that you couldn’t help but return multiple times a week. Eventually, you began to use the space to work, both you and Aziraphale providing quiet companionship to one another. You’d laughed at first when Aziraphale confessed that he was an Angel, believing him to be jesting as you so often did with one another. However, after much questioning (and many hours listening to his stories gathered over thousands of years of existence) you came to realise that his little quirks made sense for an other-worldly being and your friendship became even more dear to you. 

Tapping away at your keyboard as usual, you heard the little bell above the front door tinkle, signalling a customer. You didn’t look up, the appearance of a customer being nothing out of the ordinary, until something in the stranger’s voice as he greeted your friend stilled your fingers. He had marched over to Aziraphale’s desk, asserting in a low growl “Aziraphale, we have a problem. It’s…” His voice trailed off as he noticed the cease in the click of your fingers against your keyboard. You lifted your head to greet your friend’s guest, but words seemed to fail you as you gazed upon him. Tall, slender, slicked back red hair, dark sunglasses, and impeccably clad from head to toe in black. He was… well, he was gorgeous. 

~~~

Crowley forgot why he was angry. If he was honest, for a moment he couldn’t remember why he’d come to find Aziraphale. Hair nonchalantly pulled back out of your face, wide eyes, plump lips parted slightly, curves in all the places he liked them. He had taken many intimate partners over his thousands of years, but you were something entirely unique. Never had Crowley felt self-conscious before, but when your eyes met his, he was awfully aware of his arms. How did he usually stand? Surely his arms didn’t always feel this heavy and awkward? 

Thankfully, Aziraphale swooped in to his rescue. “Crowley, this is my dear friend [y/n]. [y/n], Crowley.”  “Pleasure.” Crowley murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. You smiled. Hell, Crowley swore it was the prettiest damn smile he had seen in his entire existence. 

~~~

“You had a problem?” You reminded, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up under his gaze. Despite standing across the room from you, his stare had you pinned to the chair, feeling as though he could see straight into your soul.  “A… Ah, yes! Aziraphale, I need to speak with you in private.” Crowley remembered, finally breaking eye contact and rushing your friend into the back room. 

You sat, fingers frozen above your keyboard, staring at the door Aziraphale and Crowley had just disappeared behind and let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. You were a flirt. You loved to make people chase you and relished in their satisfaction when you finally gave them what they wanted. You loved a passionate fling that ended in fire. Rarely did anyone take your breath away quite like Crowley had in this very brief introduction. You wanted him. Badly. But something told you he was not the type to chase after a woman. You would have to change your approach. 

Just as you were resolving to lay your flirting on thick to ensure he knew what you wanted, the door to the back room flew open and Crowley marched out of the bookshop without so much as a glance in your direction. You sat dumbfounded, staring at the door swinging closed. Aziraphale hurried out of the back room, flustered. “Oh don’t mind Crowley. He’s not really a people person.” He apologised, punctuating the last two words with exaggerated bunny ears. 

“Is he… like you?” You asked, finally dragging your gaze away from the door and over to your friend.  “Yes. Well… sort of.” He replied, flipping distractedly through the pages of a large volume he was studying.  “Sort of?” You pressed. “He’s a Demon.” Aziraphale replied quietly.  “A Demon?” You asked incredulously, laughing a little. “As in, fallen Angel, lives in Hell kind of Demon?”  “Yes.” You stared at the Angel. You wouldn’t have believed him had you not already known all of the stories your friend had recounted to you. “Well, he only ever goes back to Hell reluctantly, but yes, he is a Demon.”  You were silent for a second, before thinking out loud, “I didn’t expect Demons to be so…” you struggled to find the most appropriate word, “pleasing to the eye.”  “They’re not all so…” he turned to face you, “attractive?” He tested. You blushed. Aziraphale opened his mouth to taunt, but you interjected, “not a word!” The Angel mimed zipping shut his mouth and turned back to his desk, stifling his giggle. 

~~~

Crowley returned to the bookshop almost daily. He would greet you, if you were there, with a curt nod of his head and a quick smirk, but couldn’t bring himself to talk more to you and it was frustrating him. Even worse, Aziraphale had noticed something was amiss. Crowley couldn’t blame him; he had visited the Angel’s bookshop more times in the past week than he had in the past year. 

“Spit it out Crowley, what’s going on with you?” Aziraphale asked after Crowley had slumped into your armchair with a huff one day when you weren’t there.  “Why would you think anything’s going on?” Crowley retorted sulkily. “You’re moping.”  “I don’t mope.” Crowley insisted, dramatically resting his elbow on the arm of the chair and dropping the side of his head to his hand. “What you are doing is the very definition of moping.” Aziraphale insisted. “And I think it has something to do with [y/n].”  “Why would it have anything to do with her? She’s not even here.” Crowley complained.  “Exactly.” Aziraphale observed, causing Crowley to huff. “You should ask her on a date. She would say yes, I think.”  “A date? I don’t date.” Crowley retorted.  “Court, wine and dine, whatever. Just take her out to dinner and get to know her. You’ll like her.”  “I don’t want to like her.” Crowley snapped. “Liking her is the issue.” “Ah,” Aziraphale sighed knowingly, irritating Crowley even further. He huffed and shot up out of the chair, beginning to pace around the bookshop.  “Liking people makes things too complicated. Feelings make things too complicated.” Crowley explained. “I don’t do complicated. I see someone attractive, I sleep with them a few times, then we part ways.” “It isn’t complicated when they like to in return.” Aziraphale advised. Crowley stopped his pacing suddenly. “She likes me too?” He asked. “Ah, well, I really shouldn’t…”  Crowley shot over to the Angel, whipping off his sunglasses and staring face-to-face with his friend, yellow eyes suddenly extremely serpent-like. “Angel, don’t torment me. Does she share these feelings.”  “Yes! Yes she does.” Aziraphale relented, slinking away from the demon as his pupils began to dilate again. 

~~~ 

You entered the bookshop and stopped in your tracks. The air felt electric, making your skin prickle. “[y/n]!” Aziraphale greeted, almost nervously, hurrying over to you and taking the laptop from under your arm.  “Is everything okay?” You asked cautiously, your eyes finally finding Crowley at the back of the shop. Aziraphale didn’t answer as Crowley turned and began to approach you. He stopped, so close to you that you could feel his body heat. His sunglasses were clutched in his hand, allowing you to see his eyes for the first time. They were unlike anything you had seen before, and you were mesmerised. Yellow-gold irises and serpent-like oval pupils gazed into your own eyes, causing your breath to catch in your throat.  “Would you join me for dinner this evening?” He asked quietly, the sultry growl in his voice making your stomach flip.  “I’d like that.” You replied softly, trying to conceal the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips.  “I’ll pick you up at eight.” Crowley asserted, putting his sunglasses back on and striding out of the shop.  You stood in silence for a second before turning to Aziraphale. “He doesn’t know my address.” You stated.  “I’ll pass it on.” He replied with a smile. 

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chapter 2

[holylulusworld]

Before you (7)

Summary: King Steven Grant Rogers once was a good king and a gentle alpha. Now he’s a cruel shadow of his former self. Can he find the light again?

Pairing: King(Alpha)!Steve Rogers x Maid(Omega)!Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Warnings: angst, language, softer Steve (he tries), Bucky is the best (soft Bucky is a warning, okay), mentions of loss of loved ones, undefined age gap, a hint of fluff, true mates, a/b/o, scenting, Steve is still a little possessive 

Before you masterlist

<< Part 6

“I want you to stay here,” Steve tries to keep his voice soft and even. “Please.”

“Steve, a word,” Bucky watches you hug yourself. You stand in the corner of Steve’s room, looking like a scared animal.

“I got no time, brother,” the king doesn’t want to leave your side. Now, that he finally has you back in his life, Steve cannot let go of you again. Ever.

“Brother,” his brother walks toward the king to cup the back of his neck. “I love you; you know that. But right now, I’m concerned about Y/N. You need to be more patient, and less aggressive. If you want her to trust you, give her room, and let the healer take care of her.”

Steve snarls. “I know what you are trying to do, brother,” the king puffs his chest and pushes against Bucky’s chest. “You can’t take her away from me. She’s my omega.”

“Steve, you may be the king, but you are acting like a feral animal. I will not let you hurt Y/N only as Peggy was a monster. This is not about her, this is all about you, and the hole in your chest you desperately try to fill.”

“Bucky,” Steve swallows thickly as you look at him, tears in your eyes. The king has the urge to bring you into his arms as his brother holds out his hand for you. “You can give her the chamber next to my private library. It’s not too far away.”

“Good,” Bucky gives his brother a curt nod. “I’ll make sure Y/N is safe. Samuel and Clint will guard the room.”

“You should bring her away from me,” the king whispers. “I don’t know for how long I can tame my alpha. You’re right. She’s scared of me, Bucky.”

Steve turns away from you, not wanting to witness your departure. He doesn’t know if you will ever open up to him. The girl he once knew seems to be long gone.

Just like the boy he used to be…

The king paces the throne room. He stops in his tracks and looks at the knights watching him with stoic faces before he starts pacing back and forth again.

“Do you think I should-“ he looks at one of the elder knights. “No. Forget it.”

It’s been two weeks since he last saw you. The healer reports on your health to the king daily, but he won’t tell Steve if you asked about him.

“Brother,” Bucky watches his brother with amusement. “Steve, you need to stop, or your boots will catch fire.”

“I need to,” Steve huffs. “No, I cannot ask her to join me for dinner. Maybe I should go to her. What do you think?”

“I had to beg her to stay here. The poor soul is afraid you’ll change your mind and punish her for speaking up.”

“She didn’t do anything to anger me, Bucky. If anything, she made my heart beat a little faster.” The king chuckles. “For a short moment, she reminded me of the wild girl she used to be.”

“Steve. Give her more time. A few days ago, you wanted her to leave your kingdom. She lost her family, home and I’m afraid, her hope too.”

“I must give her hope,” Steve concludes. “I just need to find out how to give someone hope. How can a man who lost all hope a long time ago give someone hope?”

“Be the man you should have been for all these years,” Bucky pats his brother’s shoulder. “If you can try to be a better man, king, and alpha for Y/N, she might find hope again.”

“Come in,” you softly say as someone knocks at your door.

Over the last few days, you got comfortable in the room the king offered to you.

It’s not a home, and will never be. But it’s warm and safer than the stables, or being on the run.

If you trust one soul in this world, it’s Bucky. He’s a good man and would never hurt you.

Unlike the king who still scares you.

He can’t be Grant. There is no way the gentle and kind boy turned into this person.

“Y/N, omega,” you immediately take a step back as the king enters your chamber, not Bucky, or the healer you got to know better over the weeks Steve left you alone. “I wanted to see if you are better.”

“I-“ dropping your eyes to the ground you nod. “Thank you, my king. I’m honored.”

“No—no,” he runs one hand down his face. “I’m not the king, my love. Please, let me show you that I’m still your Grant, the boy you let into your heart.”

You look at the king, eyes wide and fearful once again. He sighs as you drop your gaze only moments later.

Taking a deep breath you muster all the strength left in you to talk to the king.

“The queen’s horse, when did you get it from my father?”

“Long before I had to marry her. I imagined we ride together again one day,” he whispers. “She didn’t give it a name.”

“Beleza,“ you mumble. “That was the name I gave her when she was a foal. I was so sad when my father told me he sold the mare.”

“Beleza,” the king repeats. “A beautiful name, Y/N.” He carefully takes a few steps toward you. “Do you want to see the horse? Maybe it remembers you.”

“I spend many nights at the stable and didn’t recognize her,” you sniffle. “How could I not see that it was Beleza? She’s the only survivor.”

“No, she’s not,” he closes the distance between the two of you to bring you into his arms. “You’re here. Peggy didn’t win. She failed.“

“The queen?“ you close your eyes and allow yourself to inhale his scent. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Steve lies. He cannot tell you about the queen’s betrayal. Not yet. If he does, he’ll lose you forever. “Do you want to see Beleza? We can go to the stables. I got time.”

He runs his hands up and down your back, purring low in his throat as you make a soft noise. “I’d like to see her.”

“That’s Amis,“ Steve points at his horse. “A strong horse. He once saved my life. I got heavily injured, but Amis found his way home.”

“Amis,“ you gently run your hand over the stallion’s back. “Strong, and majestic. He’s worthy of being a king’s horse.”

Steve watches you talk to the horse. His heart beats a little faster as you whisper something in the horse’s ear. “I hope to be worthy of being his rider.”

“You’re a king,” you remind him.

“Being a king doesn’t mean I’m worthy,” he stands behind you to sniff at your neck. “I think that I lost the right to call myself a king since my queen died. Maybe even for a longer time.”

You wrap your arms around the stallion’s neck, sighing as the familiar scent of horses and straw fills your nostrils.

“You lost your way, your majesty. Maybe your brother can help you find it.”

“Bucky tried. The Lord knows he tried so hard to tell me Peggy is not a good wife. I almost abandoned him,” he admits. “He’s my brother, and I turned my back on him. How could I?”

You’re not sure if you can tell the king what you think about him, and his behavior. You are still scared of the alpha.

He can change his mind at any time and throw you into the dungeon.

“It’s not my place, my king,” you lower your eyes as Steve moves to your side to watch you. “You’re a king. I’m a peasant.”

“You’re my true mate, my love,” he corrects. Steve can see the fear in your eyes return. “You should greet Beleza now. She’s waiting for you. I’ll be outside, Y/N.”

“Thank you, my king.”

“You showed her the horses, that’s good,” Bucky watches his brother bury his nose in a book. “What else did you do?”

“I walked her back to her chamber, and wished her a good night,” Steve looks up from his book. “I followed your advice. Y/N is scared and vulnerable. I need to take things slow.”

“It must be hard not getting what you want, your majesty,” grinning Bucky closes his book. “She will make sure you court for her like an alpha, and a king should.”

“Y/N is worth it. I will try my best to become the alpha man she deserves.”

“Well then, brother. I’ll help you…”

Before you (8)

More tags in reblog.

Before you

@sebsgirl71479​, @rosemirrors, @patzammit​, @stoneyggirl​, @openup-yourmind​

[multicolour-ink]

Okay, so I know the thought of Mario and Luigi having twin sense is essentially a shit of free serotonin straight to the brain, but consider:

They don't KNOW they have the Twin Sense until someone explains it to them, and upon looking back at their own history of all the times it happened, they have a serious Brother Feelings moment, realizing it means they've always had the other with them all this time, even when they were separated.

I'm not a twin myself so I can't speak on behalf of anyone who is, but I imagine with the Mario Bros - given how close they are - they always knew they have this twin sense.

Neither can ever describe to anyone else what it is or how it works, but to them, it's a feeling. A bond that is all the more precious and special because it belongs to just the both of them. They share this connection, and no one else can take it away from them.

some headcanons I have for this bond

I'm imagining scenarios where they can feel that the other is is danger, or just a sense of dread; like when they are kids in school and Mario just feels something is wrong, and sure enough, when he goes to look for Luigi, he finds his brother being picked on by bullies.

Or even during the events of the movie; Mario strangely feels hot, even though he's not anywhere near fire. And later on Luigi feels like he's suddenly been smacked in the face, even though he's been sitting in a cage.

These aren't intense feelings mind - more like looking in a distorted mirror - an observation than a full on experience.

I also headcanon that they can feel each other's emotions (joy, anger, sadness etc), but only under intense or very close situations.

And we mustn't forget what was described in Yoshi's Island!

"The bond between the twins informs each of them where the other one is"

It's never been confirmed if the Bros still have this ability in adulthood - but I headcanon that it's less prominent than when they were babies, simply because they are adults, and can look after themselves until they can reunite again. But I imagine they can do it if they focus and reach out to each other with their bond.

I've read fanfics in which a villain (mostly King Boo) finds out about their bond and proceeds to use dark magic to torture one of the twins, and in turn, the other feels it!

This does make me headcanon that if someone with truly dark magic was able to hurt souls, then it's gotta be 10x worse for the Bros because theirs are connected! Not only can they feel the other's pain, but it also sickens them, because someone has touched something so deep, so private, and so personal to the both of them. It would leave them so emotionally exhausted and broken because it hurts so bad. They might be left wanting to vomit.

I also added a bit into my own fic of them soul connecting, not just because it was integral to the story, but I also wanted to explore the idea a bit: imagine if you could soul bond with someone who you knew and loved your entire life. What would you see? How would the experience go?

Given that souls, hearts, and bonds do play a part in the Mario franchise, I figured it was perfect to try and figure out!

The Bros would not be scared at all, I imagine. Why would they? They trust each other more than anything. Why wouldn't they be more than comfortable having the chance to link on a spiritual level?

I know this is quite a mish mash of headcanons and canon itself, but it's interesting to share and contribute ideas!

[unreliablesnake]

Bakeneko (John Price x reader)

Summary: Price is mad at you because of an incident and doesn't even want to see you. To have the chance to be close to him again, you turn into a cat and give him a visit.

Note: Supernatural!AU. (Not the series, the supernatural world in general.) The reader is a bakeneko, so they're at least partly Japanese. This part is gender neutral (let's note that a calico can be a male, although it's very rare), but might turn into a fem!reader story if I write more.

It didn't start well. He even threw his cigar away the moment his eyes landed on you, a fire burning in them that could have easily set you ablaze as well. You kind of expected him to react like that, but the way his vicious words rolled off his tongue still hurt your feelings.

"You!" he spat angrily.

You let out a sigh, trying hard to hold yourself together. "Good to see you again, Captain."

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I didn't choose to come here," you said with hands raised defensively. "If you have a problem with my presence, talk to Laswell."

"Oh, I will. Until you get the order to leave, just stay out of my sight," he growled, a pointed finger poking your chest.

Nodding, you turned around and walked out of the room, only turning back from the door to say your last words in the company of some theatrical movements. "As you wish."

Maybe you shouldn't have done that. You liked the captain, you hated to see him be this angry at you, but you weren't about to apologize for what you had done the last time you worked with him.

The remaining members of the team were cornered in an abandoned building, almost out of ammo, many injured in the fight. You knew it was time to do what you were sent there to do, so you went to the window and raised the dead soldiers outside to fight back and eliminate the enemy.

When Price noticed what you were doing, that you raised some of his own fallen men to use them as your puppets, he began to yell at you to stop. But you didn't. You needed them as decoys so you could sneak out through a window and attack time with fireballs.

You went against his order which he didn't appreciate. Did you feel like shit for disappointing him? Absolutely. Did you regret saving them, saving him? No.

It was a complicated matter because something was beginning between you two and a part of you felt like you failed him. But now you had to keep your distance, you had to accept that he was so mad at you that he didn't even want to see you.

Laswell didn't call, which told you there was no order for you to leave. When Gaz came to get you before the briefing, it became clear that Price had no choice but to let you join them. You sat in the back, trying to stay out of his sight as he had asked earlier, not making a sound, not looking in his direction.

But out of the corner of your eye you noticed him looking at you every now and then, his gaze burning a hole into your soul with its intensity. Your heart beated faster every time, desperately wishing you could linger around after the meeting to have a private conversation with him.

Later that night you sat down on the stairs outside the building with a bottle of liquor you sneaked in. The chilly night air helped you calm down a bit, giving you some clarity. You liked him. You still liked him after the way he treated you, and it was hard to be so close yet so far from him.

And this gave you an idea. A stupid yet genius idea. Being a bakeneko had its advantages, like the ability to turn into a cat. And, to make it all better, Price loved animals. He always played with the dogs if they joined the team, always petted strays if they came near the base, feeding them, and sometimes even giving them shelter for the night.

So why not? Why shouldn't you turn into a cat and make it look like you were just a stray looking for food and a place to stay? He would surely take a friendly and cute little calico in. In the end, that's what you did. You took a cat's form and went looking for the captain.

First you bumped into Soap who immediately wanted to pick you up, but you hissed at him and ran away. You found Price near his room, talking to someone briefly before saying goodnight. Meowing loudly, you walked up to him and leaned against his legs with your tail up high.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a smile as he crouched down to pet your head. "Are you hungry? I always have some treats with me. Come on, let's get you inside," Price said before he picked you up and carried you into his room.

You ate the treats then settled down next to him on the floor where he sat down, acting as if you were unsure whether or not you were allowed to curl up in his lap.

"Come here, sweetheart," he kindly said, patting his thigh to get your attention.

With seemingly uncertain steps you climbed up and took your place in his lap. Price immediately started stroking your fur, admiring how adorable you looked. Since the last time you talked he was yelling at you, it was a nice change to hear him say such things, even if he had no idea it was you in that cat's form.

"I read somewhere that a bakeneko can turn into a human. Does it work the other way around? Can you turn into a cat?" Price had asked you one night when you were drinking in his room.

You thought about what to tell him. Turning into a cat helped you move around behind the enemy lines easily, but because of this it was best to keep it a secret that you were able to do that. "Well, we all need to learn how to use our abilities. I suck at shape shifting so no, I can't," you lied with a smile.

In retrospect you regretted not being honest with him. He always told you everything, from little details about his everyday life to his hopes and fears. As you listened to him going on about how good it was to have such a nice kitty around, especially after such a rough day, you quickly started purring and licked his hand.

"I envy you," he suddenly said, his voice sounding surprisingly sad. "Are you even capable of loving someone so much that it physically hurts you if you have to be harsh with them? Hmm? Because I can and it's terrible."

Who the hell was he talking about? You raised your head and looked at him with your head tilted to the side. He smiled at you before scratching your chin.

Price let out a sigh. "She's one of the most amazing women I've ever met. Strong, brave, intelligent, and beautiful. She's everything I ever wished for. But she did something stupid and I don't know if I can forgive her. I want to, but… I don't know. What do you think I should do, huh?"

You meowed in response, earning a wide smile in return. He scratched your ear then leaned down to kiss your head. It was so nice to be with him, smelling the scent of cigar and whiskey that fused with him over the years.

Suddenly he picked you up and put you on the floor so he could stand up. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but it's time for you to go. I have to go and talk to someone," he said with a small smile.

Who did he want to talk to? When he opened the door and ushered you out, you stuck around to see where he was going. You began to panic when he walked in the direction of your room. God damn it, you had to turn back into a human and get dressed before he got there. You began to sprint to your room, happy to hear from behind that someone stopped Price to talk for a second.

You quickly did everything and was just pulling down your shirt when there was a knock on the door. You opened it and found Price standing there with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Hi," you said quietly.

"Can we talk?" Nodding, you stepped aside and let him in. He seemed uncertain, as if he still wasn't sure if coming here was a good idea or not. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I thought about what had happened that day, and even though I'm still not happy about it, I know you only wanted to help us."

Letting out a sigh, you sat on the edge of the bed and watched him quietly. Price gave you an expectant look, but you didn't really know what to say. "You," you said in the end, earning a confused look in return. "I wanted to help you. Sure, the others too, but the main reason why I did that was to protect you before you decided to do something stupid yourself."

Price sat down next to you and rested his elbows on his thighs. "Why?"

"What do you think?" you asked with a shy smile.

Long seconds passed that he used to examine your face, as if you were a mystery he had to solve. Then, just when you thought you lost him, he reached out to take your hand. "Can we have a fresh start?" he asked you quietly.

With a smile, you leaned over to give him a soft kiss. "I'd love that."

"Good answer," Price told you with a smug smile before pulling you into another kiss, holding you tightly to make sure you can't run away.

[tired-teacher-blog]

Hi, Teach!! How have you been?? I have a request, if you don't mind!!

I was wondering if I could request some Izuku, Katsuki, Ochako, and Toga w a gender neutral s/o who is essentially the human equivalent to a cat. I'm talking, can sleep whenever, wherever, and in whatever position, is extremely flexible & nimble, but their also like those cats in those videos who chase off intruders, or protect the family from danger??

I thought it'd be a cute idea to see you write about!! Hope you have a good day/night, and if your requests are closed feel free to skip :)

Hi Jay! I'm doing well, a bit swamped with work, but all in all no complaints 🥰 I hope you're doing wonderful!

I'm so sorry for taking too long to finish your request (more than two weeks I think 🥺) but here it is and I hope it's worth the wait!

My kitty

Characters : Bakugo/ Toga/ Izuku/ Ochaco/ Gender neutral reader

Genre : Fluff/ Suggestive themes/ Headcanons

Notes : Cats' characteristics to be referred to: Unusual sleeping positions/ Dominance and possessiveness/ Flexibility/ Heat cycles

Please do not read if you're a minor

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

Katsuki :

He pretends to be annoyed with your weird sleeping habits since you manage to get yourself into the weirdest places and positions imaginable, but in reality he enjoys them more than he's willing to admit, to the point where he would secretly take pictures of you while asleep and stores them in a private folder on his phone before carrying you back to bed.

There is something that you both have in common which is possessiveness over one another, extreme possessiveness might I add. It's not unusual for either one of you to scare off someone who's trying to get closer to the other, and Katsuki likes this side of you too much that he would purposely provoke it sometimes by ignoring the annoyed looks you give him whenever someone decides to get a bit too close to him, just so he could enjoy your clinginess.

You're extremely flexible and agile, which makes you his perfect opponent, and working out together usually leads to a competition since neither of you likes admitting defeat.

Your sex life is fun and healthy -even during your heat cycles when things get intense- Katsuki takes care of your every need, since he has enough stamina to keep up with you. He would never tell you that he keeps your heat cycles' dates marked in his calendar as he counts the days to your next one.

Toga :

She finds your sleeping habits extremely adorable, which is why she makes sure not to fall asleep until you do, just so she could find out what kind of position you've picked that night. And if by any chance you end up slumbering in a strange place that isn't your bed or couch, then Himiko would still curl up next to you until morning.

You have a bond that goes beyond mere infatuation, a bond that ties your souls together and leaves no place for anyone else to step in between, because when that happens, your savage side comes to life as you chase away any intruder, in which case violence is your first option. She belong to you and only you.

She's your biggest fan, and seeing her mesmerized gaze as you move gracefully during your missions makes you want to flaunt your flexibility even more, just so you could see that cute blush and bright smile of hers.

Your heat cycles used to be incredibly stressful before you two became a couple. You're extremely needy and intense, and none of your previous partners could keep up with you, that is until she became a part of your life, as you have finally met your match.

Izuku :

He is simply amazed by you, and it shows in the way his eyes sparkle each time you appear before him. One of the things that intrigue him is your sleeping habits and especially the unthinkable positions you find yourself in every night. His notebook is full of sketches of you in some of said positions, and each of them is labeled with his personal analysis. It's not unusual for him to carry you back to bed if you end up passed out on the floor.

He can be oblivious to people's advances to him, which never fails to bother and drives you to assert your dominance. No matter who the other person in question is, you always make sure they learn that Izuku is yours, whether it be by randomly kissing him in front them, or hugging him while glaring at the intruder, it always works.

He has asked you -even before you two became a couple- if it was alright to study your quirk since he finds your agility captivating, and that's how you two started training together every day after work. He has helped you develop your abilities so much since he understands your quirk as much as you do.

He's a gentle lover, even during your heat cycles when you get extremely aroused and demanding for days on end and don't mind seeing his rougher side. He has learned through observation and practice the things that stimulate and satisfy your body and uses them to pleasure you.

Ochaco :

She never really understood your sleeping habits, in fact, the only thing she feels when seeing you sound asleep is intense worry, since you're able to slumber anywhere that has a flat surface. She's afraid you might hurt yourself one way or another especially when you decide to adopt a particularly complex position for the night, and no matter how many times you reassure her, she still can't help it.

Your girlfriend is beautiful, strong and talented, which makes her the center of everyone's attention, and you don't mind seeing her get the appreciation she deserves, but you always make sure to stick to her side whenever someone approaches, placing an arm around her waist or shoulder, just to let the other person know that she's taken.

The best part of your day is after work training, when you get to see her bright smile and cute little jumps as she cheers you on while you smugly show off your incredible flexibility and nimbleness, you take pride in knowing that she is your biggest fan, and you never fail to remind her that you are hers as well.

Your intimate times are usually sweet and tender, however, there are those days when your hormones take over and everything changes drastically. Needless to say that poor Ochaco ends up suffering the most, but you always make it up to her with an amazing aftercare that takes away any fatigue she might be left with.

@afterhourswjay

[doodle-pops]

Maedhros doesn't engage in touch until he truly feels comfortable with the idea of a relationship and even that would take time, months of their private teatimes and a certain slowness in getting to know another -- a sweet sense of familiarity of each other's small habits and changes in expression. Reader gifts him a book, perhaps in the dead of winter for him to read by the fire, a book that she had held dear and close to her heart, though willing to part with it in order to gift it to someone more close and more dear.

I like to think of springtime when he invites her to a walk, to see the sun against her hair and her soft gasp at the sight of the season's first butterflies. Maedhros had once anticipated a much more formal arrangement for himself, hypothetically -- a marriage of state for one reason or another, but he hadn't quite expected this, such an unexpected gentleness within his heart, from such an unassuming maiden. It's a true comfort to have Reader by his side, and he makes his intentions clear to her under the shade of an old tree.

So, uh, this was way longer than I thought it would be, and I'm not 100% happy with it… at first I had imagined a lot of short vignettes -- Reader coming out of her shell, explaining in measured, thorough fashion what had held her gaze towards him for so long… an inevitable wedding and the altar being the site of their first kiss… the distinctions between their class and how it would change after their betrothal, though Maedhros would find it endlessly charming that she continues to have the same humbleness as ever. The hard part was making that all somehow feasible. (Still, I want to know how you might have gone with it!) While I'd love an AU that ends with them having a lot of children and maybe Reader passing on (really, human!Reader is my favorite, size difference and "human/elf relations are known not to bear fruit easily, so I'll have to seed you full to be sure a child takes" aside), I also like the idea of Reader left alone after he and Maglor take the Silmarils. Maybe there'd be some leeway given to him at the Hall of Mandos? Angst with happy endings is the only good form of it in my book, no whump allowed here. Anyhow, that's it for now. I don't know if you'd be receptive to the idea, but those vignettes are stark in my mind -- I'm just terrible at describing them -- would it be possible to draw them out and send them via your submit box? I don't believe I'm able to upload images through your ask box… is all. Regardless, thanks for indulging me, even if I'm not at all familiar with writing!

Alright, first of all: I enjoyed reading the out-of touch/touch-starved journey, and what an interesting version of reader. I don't believe I've ever come across a spinster reader before, so this was interesting. I'm also into your differences you mentioned with reader having children. Then that would mean when Mae leaves Mandos, he meets only his children or descendants should one of them marry an elf to strengthen the chances of being immortal.

I can see you're not someone who enjoys the sad endings. No fault, happy endings are good for the soul. Keeps us nourished.

As for your inquiry, you are welcome to send it in as a submission (I'll turn on the submit function) or via images but you'll need to be off anonymous to send them in I believe. And no need to apologise about your writing, we all have to start from somewhere 😁.

Thank you for feeling comfortable enough to share them with me 🤗

[kaysters247]

So I’ve started a story about Patrick, and wanted to start sharing it on here! I also have it on Wattpad under the name Kaylakuy and the story is called Deadly Inferno. Let me know what you think so far!

Warning: Mature Themes

Word Count: 1104

Part 1 - The Bowers Gang Girl

Summer nights in this hellhole of a house felt entirely endless as the days and nights dragged on. Staring at myself in the mirror with the consistent cigarette burns and bruises that were imprinted fingerprints in my skin were the norm. With my bedroom door locked and window open, the curtains I've had up for what felt like years slightly ruffling about from the subtle morning breeze, I stared at myself in the body length mirror my mom once got me. Mom.... I missed her more than anything. But at the same time, I hated her guts. Leaving Henry and I like she did because she couldn't handle our dads stupid ass was ridiculous. She abandoned us. And look at us now. Henry's so lost in this darkness he can't seem to get out of, not that he wants to. And I just simply do my own thing, smoke in private with Beverly who sneaks me cigs when she can, burning my own skin because it was an ounce of pleasure I somehow enjoyed. Pain. It was something to feel. And I strangely liked it.

"Leslie! Get your ass down here before we leave you." I slipped on my black tank top over my frilly red bra, not caring if the straps were in full view for anyone to see. Everyone already thinks I'm the town slut. Why disappoint now? I grabbed my backpack from the side of my bed and slung it over my shoulder whilst making my way out of my room and down the stairs of our two story house that hadn't truly felt like home in years.

"Dad's in a mood. Ignore him." Henry and I both eyed him from his usual chair, seeing his eyes trained solely on the tv ahead of him. Butch Bowers was an asshole. Let me just start by saying that. A hardass. Controlling.

"Leslie? Don't forget what I told you." I rolled my eyes with a subtle answer to his demand, a little okay slipping through my lips before we bolted out the door. And that would be to stop being a hoe and not sleep with every guy in town. When in fact, I'm still a fucking virgin. I'm 15 with no intent of wanting some dick inside me at any given time.

"You'll have to sit between Patrick and Vic. But I swear to fuck you better not let them touch you. Dad will kill me if he hears another story about you and Patrick...." I sighed a little in annoyance, never understanding how these rumors came to be from the little spies that are called parents that always seem to tattle to my dad. Patrick Hockstetter had been friends with Henry since I could remember. Lanky, long dark hair and green eyes that seemed to bore into my soul at any given chance with wandering hands that loved to go down my shirt when he possibly could, once unbuttoning my shorts right in the trans am in full view of my brother, Vic and Belch. He almost made it past my underwear line before I slapped his hand away and scoffed, buttoning my shorts back up as quickly as possible. Thankfully, Henry didn't notice. But Vic did. And he was trying to hide a smile. Patrick and I had this dynamic that Vic new all too well. He knew everything because I told him. He'd been my best friend since we were little, the reason he's now in what they're called as, The Bowers Gang.

"Just so you know Pat, I will slap your dick if you do anything. Got it?" I slipped in next to him as he mock saluted me with a little humored smirk on his undeniably cute face. He loved torturing me. It was his hobby to torture. Specifically me.

"Alrighty Princess." But his arm laced around my waist anyway without hesitation, only drawing me closer to him as Belch took off down the driveway once Henry was in the passenger seat, my light brown hair blowing in the wind.

"Careful. Your dad might see today. He's been at the school a lot since Betty Ripsom disappeared." Vic's helpful warning in my ear was another shot to the heart I hadn't been thinking of. Betty. I used to sit next to her in math class. She was sweet. But I knew she was dead. There's no way she's still alive. And with all the talk of who's taking these kids, it's honestly terrifying. But with summer break starting today after the last day of school, so many would forget, making her just another missing poster on buildings.

"Hockstetter I swear I will beat your ass if you don't quit touching my sister. And you know I fucking will." Henry's usual temper was in full swing this morning and his voice was as dark and threatening as could be. He hated the idea of Patrick and I. He always had. But Patrick never did let go of me until we got to school and we all clambered out of the trans am, Patrick's eyes directly on my ass the entire time I was walking towards the building. And I knew this because I could practically feel his eyes burning holes in my cheeks. Henry suddenly grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me away from the guys and dragging me away with such a look on his face that he could just make someone drop dead from said look.

"Remember what I said. Don't fuck around with that fag Hockstetter. I see the way you look at him....." I shoved away from Henry just as Vic came walking past with an apologetic look on his face. He knew how bad my home life truly was. He knew Henry could be violent with me and dad? Well he was on a whole other level.

"I don't "fuck around" Henry. Regardless of what people say. But if I want to do anything with Patrick, then maybe I will." Maybe I should was all I kept thinking. My eyes connected with Patrick's as Henry stalked away from me with anger boiling in his blood, seeing the firm look of interest in his green eyes. And that never wavering smirk on his lips.

"It's so hard to believe little Leslie Bowers would be interested in a Hockstetter like me. I'm pretty dangerous ya know?" I looked out to see a patrolling police car and knew it was my dad, his eyes connecting with mine from across the busy school yard. He looked pissed. He hated Patrick. And that's what attracted me more to him.

[momokokimaa]

Annoying (kuchiki byakuya x reader)

It has already been already been 3 years since you have privately dated Byakuya and your 4th year anniversary is coming in 4 days, you were both happy and sad. Even after it has been around 50 years since Hisana has died, he still hasn't moved on from her and you don't complain about that because ofc it is hard to move on from your first ever love. But it still hurts.

You are even surprised that you guys are actually in a relationship because it doesn't feels like you are in one. Not to be mentioned that you are the only on who has been putting all the effort in this relation till now. Though he acts like you're completely invisible. For example: if you saw him anywhere and then smile at him brightly and greet him, he would just walk past you without looking at you as if you were not there at all, when he is in his office you would always serve him tea and sit there in hope that there will be any progress between you two but then again you are completely ignored, and there were other so many times like this but you still ignored it and never told him that or complained because you were madly in love with him and didn't want him to leave.

As he is the captain of Squad 6 and the 28th head of the Kuchiki clan, one of the four Noble Clans of Soul Society he surely is busy, he has been over working himself past few days without any rest and as you are his girlfriend you ofc are worried about his health so you wanted him to rest. You as always walked into his office with a cup of tea in your hand and out it on his table, "Byakuya-san, i think you should take some break form your work right now you look so tired." he didn't even bothered looking at you "(y/n) shut up and let me work" "but you will get sic-" "SHUT UP WILL YOU!, you're not my wife and you are so annoying. Can't you just let me live in peace, just leave me alone and not interfere with my work, i know what is good for me and what is not. If only Hisana was here she would have understood all of this.", he told the last part in small voice but you stilled heard it. You could not believe what you have heard, what he told you, he called you annoying, tears started to form in your eyes threatening to fall anytime soon. This time it really hurt you. Quickly after you snapped that you deeply bowed at him "makotoni moushiwake-gozaimasen" then you take you leave.

******************************************************************************

this is it for part one. i don't know if it's good or not and might delete it later on if many of you don't like it. i will be making part two if you want.

[seaoflove07]

~ Their Deep Waters ~

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️NSFW, Not for Minors!⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

🔪Azusa & Rose🌹

Characters: Azusa Mukami & Christine Melendez. (Rose)

Fandom: Diabolik Lovers.

A commission Fan Fiction Written by @afi-mukami

Note: I can't bring myself to write my own smut. 😅

I did give the dialogue to the writer. All the rest is her magic. 📝🔥

Follow her Oc account @yuriko-tsukino-rp and if you want to read her story with her Diaboy Ship (Ruki Mukami) go Here. Also if you want commissions you can send her a DM on either of her blog accounts.

Tiny droplets of water meet the tile floor of the bathroom which is filled with whirling steam. It is almost like the time itself is staying still in the moments like this. There is no hurry, only soothing warmth lingering in the misty air.

Rose reaches for the shower to turn the water off while her long blond curls glue to her back and shoulders, now heavy with dampness. Her hand stops in the middle way as she hears the door opening and bare feet tapping the tiles.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

At a quiet pace.

Turning around, Rose gazes at the door even though she already knows who it is. Of course, she does, for no one else would be allowed here in her private space. Dark hair with greenish touch almost covers Azusa’s face as his intense eyes catch her deep brown eyes of the soul.

This isn’t a coincidence. Rose can tell.

Azusa has no clothes, yet the bandages still snake around his arms and neck, covering the wounds that never truly disappear. This side of him was something not to be expected, yet Rose has learned how to live with it. No, not only live with it. She has accepted her beloved as he is, cherishing him in the way he deserves. In return, he is giving her something that is more precious than any other treasure in this world; his very being.

“Rose…?” Soft voice that doesn’t echo in the room. As Azusa smiles, the steam in the shower room heats up even more, giving soothing warmth an intriguing edge. Curling lips have the power to make Rose’s cheeks feverish, and she hastily rises her arms, covering her breasts and private parts. A tickling sensation runs over her skin for the peering eyes don’t leave her even for a second.

Azusa steps closer, under the water, his fingers wrapping around Rose’s wrists. He pulls her hands gently and carefully, not wanting to hurt her right now. “Let me see… you, Rose… Your body is… beautiful… every inch of you is…”

Heat washes over Rose, her face blazing until the burning finally reaches the tip of her ears. This flaring isn’t unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant either.

“Why are you here, Azu?” Rose’s voice echoes slightly, bouncing back to her ears.

“Rose… you were taking so long…” Azusa sighs. “I felt… lonely… so I came to… join you.”

“But I was just about to leave…” Rose moves her foot, intending to step out. But while Azusa might speak slowly, he is fast when needed. With ease he grabs her, pinning her against the wall.

A sudden coldness. On Rose’s backside. Heated skin meeting coolish hardness. As she catches Azusa’s eyes again, they drag her into well-known waters of fondness, raising tiny waves deep within her.

Swoosh. The water falls over them both.

Silence.

Azusa’s gaze bores into Rose’s just before he lifts his hands and cups her cheeks, leaning closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Until his lips almost touch hers. She slides her fingertips over his cheekbones, reaching for his already soaked hair and lacing her fingers with it.

“Azu…” Rose’s lips vibrate against Azusa’s.

Too much. Waiting is impossible.

Azusa pulls Rose into a smooch, the tips of his fangs grazing over her bottom lip as she surrenders to his embrace. His mouth is soft and wet on hers as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers while their bodies press each other and her back on the slippery wall.

Moans mixing with tender sucking, Rose gasps into Azusa’s mouth just before trapping his bottom lip with hers, gently tormenting it with her teeth.

With just the right amount, pain is a torturous pleasure

and pleasure is candied pain.

Roses have thorns like vampires have their fangs.

Slowly, Azusa’s mouth travels down Rose’s chin and to her neck where he stops, inhaling her scent that has intoxicated him since their first meeting. She is his rose after all. The combination of the elixir of life that bumps in her veins and the flowery fragrance fills his senses in a way that is unimaginable for a human mind. Still, she doesn’t need to be able to form mental images of it since Azusa is more than willing to show how it makes him feel.

And what it makes him yearn…

Tongue wandering along the column of Rose’s neck, Azusa searches for a spot he has yet to mark as his own.

A moment later…

…the white pain.

It strikes Rose as Azusa’s fangs reach the vein, thrusting into her skin and breaking it. Her blood courses through the puncture marks, dancing onto his tongue and in his mouth while she cries out, grabbing his shoulders and digging her nails into his skin.

“So… very sweet. I can’t… get enough of… it, Rose…” Azusa’s moan radiates on her neck as he focuses on sucking her sanguine liquid of life. She pulls him as if trying to drive his fangs deeper, and he wraps his arms around her, embracing her. “I wish… to be the only one… to give you this… sweet pain…” Lapping up the drops that run out, Azusa’s sighs of pleasure mix with her own as she can’t hold back her voice anymore. This pain is indeed a pleasure she is ready to indulge in.

Giving rein to the pain.

The pleasure.

Like there was nothing else.

Leaving the blood slide along Rose’s neck to her chest, Azusa stops to glance at her as she pants, heat coursing on her face. His tongue follows the trail of crimson, slowly reaching her breasts. Cupping one, he kisses the other.

“Soft… I want to… suck more…” Azusa’s mouth closed over one of the sensitive creamy almond-shade tips of Rose’s mounds, caressing it with his lips before sucking it between his teeth as if her breast was a ripe, succulent fruit for him to relish. She can’t help but thrust her chest a bit closer as feverish feeling courses through her veins, making her sink deeper into the ocean of sacred satisfactions.

Azusa cups the underside of Rose’s sweet mounds, continuing to tease them with his kisses and soft sucking, licking over the buds again and again, until they are hard and throbbing under his touch. And yet he is nuzzling Rose’s chest, crazing it with the tips of his fangs as his fingers curled over one, squeezing it gently at first, then a bit rougher.

“Your scent… It’s luring me in… such a sweet and delicious scent… of roses.” Azusa traces the curve of Rose’s breast with the tip of his nose until he reaches the valley between both, smooching it eagerly. His lips travel south and shower her belly with tiny kisses repeatedly. As he lowers himself in front of her, he gazes up as if asking for permission. As her chest heaves Rose nods and almost hits the back of her to the tile wall when the lips of passion met the throbbing heat between her legs.

“You are… perfect, Rose…” Azusa lifts one of Rose’s legs over his shoulder, pressing her against the wall while his tongue glides along her almost embarrassingly damp folds. His hands trace her hips, fingers clenching on the soft flesh when he finds her pulsing pearl.

Licking, sucking.

Rose’s thigh trembles against Azusa’s cheek; the hot spring in her boiling.

Stroking, lapping, petting.

She writhes against his mouth.

Arching, aching.

For him and for him only.

Rose’s sensitive nub is crying from each sweep, and she can’t help but hump into Azusa as he keeps eating her out and drinking deep from her rosy well of pleasure. And the final bold swipe of his tongue sends her spinning into the arms of ecstasy, her digits entwining with his hair as her whines rebound in the moist and misty air of the shower room.

“You look so… beautiful now, Rose… Did you enjoy… that? …I did…”

Nodding and panting, Rose leans against the wall; her fingers still curled with Azusa’s strands until he gently removes them from there, letting her leg slip back on the floor. Kissing her thighs, he leaves tiny bites here and there without breaking her skin. And soon, he is back on his feet again, nudging against her with heaving breath.

A smile swaying on her lips, Rose leans in, sliding her mouth along Azusa’s cheek and reaching for his neck. She bypasses the bandage, kissing his skin right below it. The marble-like skin. She is sucking it before she even realizes it, giving love bites here and there, marking him as he has marked her, for they belong to each other.

Marks. Here and there.

Signs of love. Small bites, not breaking the skin.

She is his as he is hers.

And that should be written all over their bodies.

“My rose is… eager…” Azusa’s moans reach Rose’s ears, making her sigh in between sucking. “Let me… have you…” He presses his hips against hers, rubbing his length on her belly while a moist reminder of his wishes leaves a sticky spot on her skin. Even though the water pouring over them washes the traces off soon enough, the river of craving is already overflowing deep within Rose. As she straightens up, Azusa immediately pushes her back against the wall, grabbing the backsides of her thighs and lifting her, his slightly jerking hardness gliding toward her pearly gates.

For a moment,

nothing moves

but the swooshing water around the couple.

Gazes lock into each other,

the world ceases to exist.

“Azu…”

“Rose…”

Nothing but whispered words, entangling each other as Azusa coats his member with Rose’s liquid of love and lust. He teases her entrance as if wanting to release the flood, making her body arch from anticipation.

Finally,

pressing into her,

he forces her walls

to stretch

and tighten

repeatedly with his gentle intrusion.

Groans and moans fill Rose’s ears as Azusa keeps bouncing in her at a steady pace. Fingers clench around her thighs, holding her still as he thrusts, thrusts, thrusts. Lost in pounding, Rose sinks her digits into Azusa’s back, her nails leaving red trails with each push.

Trailways of lust.

Paths of pleasure.

Rose meets Azusa’s driving rhythm beat to beat as he starts to move faster, his hardness filling her. Everything but her need is stripping away, nothing else matters at the moment but Azusa holding her and shoving his shaft into her deep dampness. Melting around him, she gives in to the waves turning into tides, sailing to the sea of yearning and bliss.

“You’re moaning… do you like it?”

Hips bucking, length jerking, Azusa keeps plundering into Rose. Her inner walls ripple against him, quaking and trembling as the tension builds up more and more. Her hips meeting his strokes eagerly, fueled by her own passion, she locks her legs around him and holds him captive to her craving. Each shove is deep and possessive, telling her to whom she belongs.

• A commission artwork by Yuma Mukami Garden God •

• Full Uncensored Artwork, Here •

“Are you feeling… good, Rose? I am… haa…”

As Azusa keeps going, Rose is hauled further and further in the storming sea of gratification. Her body vibrates in response to every single waving buck of hips, her toes curling, back arching as the whirlpool of pleasure catches her and all of her cells awash with overlapping tidal waves of contentment and satisfaction. Her heart pounds and her muscles quiver while the Milky Way sparkles over her ocean as she cums in cascading waves.

But the sea is wide as Azusa keeps sailing with Rose. Pressing her tight against the wall, he groans her name into her ear with each shove, increasing his pace.

Until.

He stops.

The seeds of love shots into the depths of the hidden well at the exact instant as his fangs sink through the column of Rose’s neck. Her life guttering into him like his flows into her. And for a moment they are one.

“Rose… I wish… you knew… how much… I love you.”

Rose smiles, panting as Azusa lets her feet land on the floor. “I do know, Azusa.” Cupping his cheeks, she gazes at him. Her bosom heaves at the pace of her still heavy breathing. “I love you so much too.”

No words are needed as Azusa kisses her again, carrying her into another realm with his lips.

The realm that belongs only to them.

- End -

Thank you for reading. 📖🌹

• Artwork by Alluraalteal •

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

McCallistor

The dim hum of the fluorescent lights overhead barely touched the corners of the barracks where Tara McCallistor, known to some by other names she no longer used, methodically disassembled her shotgun.

The pieces lay precisely arranged on a coarse towel, her hands moving with practiced ease, wiping away the grime of yesterday’s drills. Silence was her preferred companion, but it seemed tonight it was not meant to be.

The door groaned on its hinges—a sound that didn't bother to hide its arrival. A young marine slipped through, his posture rigid, as if the air around McCallistor was a tangible barrier he dared not breach.

"Corporal, there's someone to see you," he muttered, eyes darting toward the exit as if he'd sell his soul to be anywhere but here.

"Thanks, Private. That’ll be all," she said, not looking up from her work.He almost stumbled in his haste to leave, the door slamming shut behind him with a clap that echoed off the bare walls. The stillness barely settled before it was broken again by another presence, this one decidedly heavier.

From the shadowed corner of the room, a figure emerged—tall and imposing, adorned in a uniform that clung to his broad shoulders, each medal a testament to battles fought and won. His face was a landscape of hard-earned scars, the most prominent a burn that trailed down from his right brow to his collar-bone, the eye on the same side of his face is blind, milky white and devoid of life. Ghostly, like the rest of him.

Tara remained seated, setting down her rag, her gaze cool and measured. "Sir," she acknowledged, with a nod that was more an assessment than a greeting.

The man raised a hand, a silent cue to dispense with formalities. "Let’s drop the rank and file, shall we?" His voice was smooth, the kind of tone that commanded rooms. "We’re just two super-soldiers having a chat."

A smirk twitched at the corner of Tara's lips. "Chatting isn’t generally what soldiers like us do best."

"True, but today's an exception." He stepped into the light, revealing more of his rugged features. "I know about your work with Project Freelancer."

Tara's hands paused on the metal of her shotgun. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," she lied smoothly.

He chuckled—a sound as dry as the desert wind. "Oh, I think you do... Agent Carolina."

The name hung in the air, a ghost from the past she’d tried to outrun. Carolina straightened up, her face a mask of indifference. "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Let’s just say I’m someone who understands the kind of work you've done."

He glanced down at his uniform, the insignia of a Master Chief Petty Officer visible, with the numbers 117 stitched below.

"I’m here because Leonard Church has disappeared, and you’re one of the last people who might know something useful."

Carolina scoffed, leaning back against the workbench. "If Church wanted to disappear, he’s not going to be found unless he chooses otherwise."

"But you were close to him, closer than most," John pressed, his tone earnest. "Anything you remember could help."

"You think you can just walk in here and what? I’ll spill my life story?" Tara’s voice was sharp, her green eyes hard as emeralds.

"Not your life story," he stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Just the parts that never made it into the official reports."

There was a pause, heavy and thick with unspoken words. Carolina looked at the disassembled pieces of her shotgun, each part a fragment of the whole—not unlike herself.

"Fine," she finally said, her voice softer but carrying a firm edge. "I’ll tell you what I know. But after this, we’re done. You leave me and whatever ghosts I’ve got left in peace."

"It’s a deal."

Ohhhhh I love this! I hope we get to see more of their collaboration. Would also love to see whatever other Freelancer agents show up.

Great work, as always!

[shimmerystyles]

Skate to me, baby. (Part 2) - Harry x Ice Skater!Y/N

Summary: Regionals is a few weeks away, distractions need to be minimal but when Harry's around, that might be difficult for Y/N.

word count: 2k

warnings: swearing, arguing between maisy and h, mentions of sexual acts (blink and you’ll miss it) mostly fluffy shiiii between y/n and h :)

"What do you think of my form, Mark?" Maisy said as she skated with one leg up, wobbling on purpose. He skated over and grabbed her leg with one hand and held her diaphragm with the other.

"Not bad, Maisy. You just need to let loose, you seem too tense." He winks, completely disregarding Harry standing there, arms crossed.

"I'm gonna do some stuff over there, you two keep flirting." Harry says eye rolling before he slowly skates away.

You walked into the arena, warm up outfit on and found a spot to leave your stuff while they finished their private lesson. You lift your leg up to tighten your laces and looked over at Harry, skating like bambi on the ice. You smirk and put your leg down, walking onto the ice and gliding over to him.

"Y/N!" He exclaims but he loses his balance and quickly grips the edge of the wall. You giggle as you stop in front of him.

"Hey, Harry. You need a hand?" You extend your hand out to him and he takes it.

"Thanks. My instructor is busy with his star student." He gestures to Maisy and Mark, both skating together and talking. You eye roll and Harry raises a brow.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He smirks, leaning his elbows on the edge of the rink.

"Mark's my ex. Also a giant flirt, I would watch your girlfriend if I were you, he's a pretty big player." You cross your arms and continue.

"Skaters shouldn't date other skaters. I had a busy schedule with my content and competitions, he used that as an opportunity to sleep with his students." You looked over at Harry, his eyes wide and you cupped your mouth.

"I'm... so sorry. I'm venting to you but you’re probably uncomfortable with me opening up like this.”

"Don’t be sorry, Y/N. Since you’re opening up I will too. Maisy and I, we... we don't have the same love we had for each other when we first started dating. I truly sometimes feel obligated to stay with her because she’s under a lot of pressure. Her family is very persistent with her being successful in something. After failing at fencing, ballet, singing... yikes." He chuckles and you smile softly. "She stepped on the ice and loved it... now we take private lessons every Wednesday."

"I'm guessing you don't like being here?" You looked over at him and he stared ahead at Maisy and Mark.

"I didn't..." He looks over at you.

"But now I do."

He smiles at you and you bite the inside of your lip to try to stop the flush from invading your face.

3pm.

"Harry!! LETS GO!" You both snap your heads in her direction and she has her arms crossed, skating over to us shooting daggers at you.

"You didn't get much of a lesson, Harry. I'm sorry for preoccupying you." You push off the ledge and he grabs your wrist to turn you around.

"Hey, Mais?" He says still looking at you.

"What?"

"I'll call a car. I'm gonna stick around and finish my lesson with Y/N." He looks back at you and smiles.

"Oh no. No, no, no, NO. Not happening." Maisy reaches for Harry and for some reason you pull him towards you, causing Maisy to almost fall on the ground. She looks up at you, ready to burn your soul.

"I don't mind giving you an extra 15 minutes of lessons since Mark was a little busy prioritizing Maisy." You smile at Maisy and she rolls her eyes.

"Whatever. We'll talk about this at home, Harry." She skates over to the carpet, arms crossed the entire way into the locker room.

You were shocked at yourself, you were never this assertive, EVER. You look up at Harry, a look of relief on his face as he watches Maisy walk out the door. You feel a smirk form on his face.

"You owe me." You elbow Harry and he laughs. "I owe you my life, Miss Y/L/N. That girl is...."

"Something." You let slip. You smack your mouth with your hand and thankfully, he laughs.

"Definitely. Anyways, you don't have to give me any lessons or anything. I just wanted an excuse to watch you do your routine to my song again. Did I tell you that your technique was pretty perfect?" He smirks.

"I mean, you did tell me I was pretty." You winked and skated into centre ice. He chuckles. "Won't let that go, huh?" You smirk. "No, Mr. Styles. You said it yourself." You smile and reach your arm out. "Now come on, let's skate."

He stomps over to you and you snort at his little marches. "Hey! I'm still an amateur!" He says pouting. You laugh at him approaching you and he smirks. "Take my hands." You hold your hands out and he grabs them. Immediately you feel an electric shock and you pull your hands away.

"You okay?" He asks concerned. "Y-yeah, sorry, you just shocked me." You faked a smile but on the inside you were screaming ‘What the hell was that?’

"Okay, I'm going to skate backwards, all I want you to do is glide your feet left and right, left and right, just like this okay? I won't let you go until you have the groove locked in.”

He followed your instructions well and before you knew it, you let go and he was skating.

"That's it! You're doing grea- Oh, Harry! The wall! I didn't teach you to-" Harry slammed into the wall of the rink and you flinched as he coughed from being winded but shot you a thumbs up.

"Next lesson, we'll work on braking." You giggle as you help him over to the carpet.

"Thanks for this, Y/N. I'm sorry for taking time away from your practicing."

You smile. "I'm not. This was fun. Like teaching my 5 year olds I used to teach as a principal skater." You wink and he laughs. "I'm just gonna order my uber and take my stuff off in the stands here, you cool if I watch?"

You nod and grab your remote from the ledge and skate to the centre of the ice, playing the song once again.

Harry watched you hit every move one after the other, in complete awe of you.

Two weeks of knowing you and he was hooked. He was already counting down the days till he would get to see you again. Even with a girlfriend waiting at home, he was too excited about his new friendship with you that he completely forgot that Maisy left angrily and that he would be in for a rude awakening once he got dropped off.

As Harry pulled up to their shared home, he was dreading the yelling he was going to hear from Maisy about you. He knew how Maisy got, especially about other women being friends with him but you were different, he wasn't going to let her dictate his friendship with you.

He walked in and immediately saw Maisy standing there, robe on, hair up, and snarl big as ever.

"What. the FUCK. were you thinking today, Harry? Letting me drive home ALONE so you could skate around with that slut? She's clearly using you to get ahead. Yeah maybe she thinks you're hot but she looks like the type that would use a guy like you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Y/N is a nice girl, Mais. Why are you acting like this? You don't see me protesting about Mark, huh? I see how you two interact at lessons i'm not fucking stupid."

Maisy's eyes grow wide at Harry's comment. "Are you insinuating something, Harry?"

"Maisy, everyone with eyes can see that you two are fucking flirting, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME." Harry walks past Maisy but she grabs his wrist.

"Don't walk away from me, I'm not done." He shakes off her hand. "Yeah, well I am, Mais. I'm going to take a shower. Don't follow me." Harry walks the stairs and leaves an angry Maisy at the foyer aggravated and whining because he didn't let her get her way.

Harry turns the hot water on and just stands in there for a couple minutes, contemplating things. Mostly his relationship with Maisy. Why was he doing this to himself when both of them weren't happy? Why is he still with someone who won't even let him spend 15 minutes with a friend without freaking out. He didn't like who his girlfriend was becoming.

Once clean and hair was washed, he walked out and changed into his grey sweats and a black fitted tank before jogging downstairs for dinner. He walked into the dining room, seeing Maisy sat at one end of the table, being served dinner and rolling her eyes at what was served.

"Of course. After you gaslit me as soon as you walked in, Chef makes YOUR favourite dinner."

He looked down and saw sweet chilli prawn rice bowls with pineapples and brussel sprouts. He smiled and walked over to Maisy's chef to shake his hand. "Chef, you didn't have to cook my favourite. Anything would've sufficed. Thank you so much."

Chef smiled. "Anything for our favourite guy."

Maisy groaned. "Stop kissing my staff's ass, Harry. You should be kissing mine after the stunt you pulled today."

Harry sat down in his seat, taking a bite of his bowl and enjoying it before responding.

"I'll keep telling you Maisy, Y/N offered to help me with my lesson that got cut short because you decided to eye fuck Mark instead of focusing on skating."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I know her intentions aren't that innocent."

"Can you back off Y/N? You don't even know this girl, Maisy. Let it go."

She rolls her eyes again. "Am I not good enough, Harry?"

He chokes on his bite and clears his throat. "You're kidding me right? Y/N is my friend, Maisy. What the hell are you thinking?"

"She's not ugly, Harry. I can see how you looked at her when you talked to her. Am I not satisfying you?" She crossed her arms.

Harry finished his last bite and wiped his mouth clean. "I'm not having this conversation at the dinner table, Mais. Thank you for the meal, Chef. I appreciate it." Harry grabs his plate and Chef stops him. "We will clean up after you Mr. Styles, please, don't worry about it."

Harry always felt guilty watching the staff gifted by Maisy's parents work and do tasks that he and Maisy were fully capable of doing. He would never get used to watching people clean and cook for him.

As Harry made his way up to the bedroom, Maisy immediately followed behind, slamming the door behind her.

"Harry, you're MY boyfriend. I don't want you spending time with Y/N anymore. I don't trust her."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not this time, Mais. She's my friend, deal with it or dump me. Clearly we aren't happy anymore so why fake it?"

Maisy's mouth closes and her eyes look up at Harry, becoming glossy.

"Are you crying? REALLY?" Harry crosses his arms and Maisy blinks, tears falling from her eyes.

"You.. don't love me anymore, Harry?"

Harry's face softened and he let his arms down. "We're not happy, Mais. When was the last time we didn't argue? Truthfully I don't remember. I don't think you want this anymore."

Maisy walked over to the bed and wiped her tears.

"Harry, you love me. You haven't denied it at all. You still love me and you-you're not leaving me. Please, don't leave me."

Harry sighs and walks over to the bed. "Mais."

"Let me show you how much I love you, Harry." She crawls closer to Harry, kissing his lips ever so slightly, Harry immediately pulling away but Maisy taking his face in her hands again and pulling him in deeper, this time, Harry not stopping her.

He was sick of the fighting and making up he and Maisy always did but in this moment he was so over arguing that he would do anything to deter from that.

The problem this time? It's not Maisy he's thinking about while she's under the covers, taking in his length.

It's Y/N.

-----

.... well.

toxic relationships, am i right?

part 3 is in writing as we speak :)

Y/N and Harry won't get together for awhile so don't get your hopes up ;)

love yall xoxo

[tobiasdrake]

Tactical Story Time? Tactical Story Time.

Shit, I don't really have a pen on me. If only there was a way to preserve a still image of your words for future reference or something.

I dunno, maybe rip out the pages and give those to me. You seemed bizarrely okay with that idea earlier.

Does it say anything in there about what she is? Like, I have a vague understanding of what she is in the sense that she's an ominous force that menaces Repine. She used to be their queen but then she betrayed them, possibly to the Soul Curator?

But. Like. Literally, what is she? A robot? A monster? Just some asshole in the desert? What are we dealing with here and, more importantly, what kind of dimensions are we going to need to dig for the grave?

There is one thing in this entry that is no longer true. I aim to create further contradictions.

Oh cool, a logic puzzle. I can decipher this.

I mean, you could probably decipher it yourself. I've played the quiz game. I know you have all of the answers to everything because you're the smartest person ever.

But I wanna take a spin at it.

That's stupid. That would just put them one march east of their starting point.

That will take them a bit further, but you could do it in three steps if you went south instead of southwest and then east.

So one march northeast and then one march east. The goldilocks of poor navigation.

You realized how bad these directions are?

...so you all had the right directions for part of your trek and you somehow know which part even though you were in the wildly wrong areas of the map. Sure. That makes sense.

There's no way this can be literally true. This is a coded map. So we need to go:

NE SE NE E

Bit convoluted with the norths and souths but at least it's consistently moving east instead of winding stupidly in circles.

Wait, there's a speedball station? Why didn't it come back online with the others? There better be a good reason or I'm going to punch B'st very hard in the shoulder.

I don't want to have to do that. He can't actually be hurt because he only experiences the conscious suggestion to behave as though he's been hurt, but also he is very hard and I might injure my hand. Please do not make me have to do that.

Known and noted. Your sacrifice is now part of a larger effort to tear the Queen That Was from her throne and leave her lifeless body in the sands.

Rest in Vengeance, Joce.

Alright, team! It's going to be a four day hike through those sands so we need to make sure we've stocked plenty of food for.....

...glass golem....

...haunted puppet....

...Serai, do you actually eat food? That could go either way. Have you been not eating food this whole time, and your crew just never noticed because of your suave mystique?

Huh. I. Guess. We only have three mouths to feed. That will make this simpler.

Oh my god I am actually sick of the color blue. I didn't think I could get sick of the color blue. I love blue. It's such a great color. But four straight days of nothing but blue is too much blue. It's way too much blue. How do you people live among all this blue?

Oh. So it's a private Speedball station. That makes sense. Congratulations, B'st, you've been spared from having to break my hand.

It's fucking empty. Did we just spend four days wandering aimlessly through an ocean of blue only to find out that the queen's been dead all this time? Are your people living in fear of a memory?

...maybe the real Queen That Was is actually the sand that got in my fucking pants along the way.

What, to murder someone? I'm always ready for that. It's been, like, my default state of being ever since we lost Garl.

I should probably see a therapist about it but I'm not going to because I might kill them.

...you know what, unfurled like that, you're actually really beautiful. I'm going to beat you to death, but I want you to know that you're making the whole "abomination of wires and guns" thing really work for you. I especially love the hand made of cord fingers, and the way your neck forms the handle of a gun.

Are you able to combine into, like, a hand holding a gun that then shoots-- Sorry, I'm getting distracted to the point that Serai's starting to give me stink-eye. We came here to murder.

Oh, you CAN!? AHHHH YES, THAT IS SO FUCKING COO--

OW. FUCK.

Why do I say things? T-T

You know what? Fine. You want to go? Let's go. My artillery is better than yours.

The puppet isn't good for much but he can carry out a fine carpet bombing.

Fuck her up, Serai. This is your moment. I'm just glad we could be here to help make it happen.

Revenge is underrated; That felt great.

We can mark that off as another great menace your people no longer have to live under, thanks to the magic of excessive amounts of violence. I think your world is just about fully liberated at this point.

There's just one malefactor still lingering in the realm.