#it would be easy to just lay down and never have an opinion again and take the fall for everything like I've always done

[medicinemane]

Mike johnson has so god damn much blood on his hands, obviously Ukrainian blood, but also plenty of American blood

Refusing to renew something that helps vets exposed to atomic blast and Americans who were downwind of the fall out... it's just sick. I can't fucking stand mike johnson, he's one of the worst scum to ever be in congress, and that's fucking saying something

"Johnson refused to allow House members to vote on bipartisan legislation to renew and improve the program"

Fucking quivering little pimple seems to have a real MO for just wringing his hands while insisting it's not his fault, he just can't do the one fucking part of his job of putting shit up to a vote... oh boo hoo, so sad, he'll just have to unilaterally let funding expire on things instead of literally just putting it up to our elected representatives to see if they want to vote yay or nay

Single handedly make the choices but it's not his fault when they work out how they do

Murderer

[meltedhorror]

I always hoped we'd rot together, that the day the earth reclaimed my bones it'd be by the side of you. . . Maybe if I close my eyes and believe enough, it'll come true eventually. . .

[bigfatbimbo]

Take a Bite

1.5k words,, Bill Cipher x Reader

summary — Bill and the reader have sex, which has proven to be very difficult seeing as he isn’t doing anything, and, of course, things are never easy with that insufferable brat.

warnings — SMUT, bill being annoying and toxic, dom!reader, sub!Bill, heavy pain kink, bill’s human form, the fat fuck not the twink

a/n — Admittedly, this fic only happened because I never see Bill sub in fanfics and i’m very interested in what the dynamic would be. You’d be like… domming with a risk of death.

“Well, slick,” Bill leaned back and gestured up and down his body, “Give it your all.”

Amusement was thick in his voice, along with bubbling giddiness. He fumbled with the seams on his pants, not out of nervousness, but as if he had forgotten how to take them off and was looking for some kind of zipper. One, admittedly, that he would not find on slacks. 

“Wow, human clothes are just as bad as the fleshbags. So needlessly complicated,” He sounded on the verge of a laughing fit, “Oh, and toots? Before you dig in, remember to leave marks. I wanna see how durable this thing is.” 

His amusement was not matched on your part. The situation invoked dull curiosity at best, in your opinion. The idea of harboring a wanted criminal, ex-overlord, god-like demon in your house challenged your idea of a good time. Having sex with that demon was even harder to swallow.

Then again, any situation with bill warranted an ungodly amount of stress. 

“Whatcha’ thinking about over there, sweet-cheeks?”

You smiled at that; of the few advantages you have, being in gravity falls for weirdmageddon proved to be one of them. You know of his powers, and with that, vague guesses on how to prevent them.

Tinfoil-lined bobbie pins were one of them. A guess, granted, but a good one at that. Really, not that complicated when you recall every alien movie you’ve ever watched. 

“Upset you can’t tell?” 

He laughed, “Upset for you, maybe. Trust me, it’d be so much easier for both of us if I could just read your thoughts. I’m already your roommate, how much closer could we ge- Ah.”

You brushed his pants crotch, and began to unbutton. For all his mightiness, the guy couldn’t work pants. “Careful, human body’s are touchy.” 

“Touchy,” He repeated, “Tell me about.” 

Getting his pants off was a task harder than it should have been, no thanks to Bill, who seemed to have taken to just lying there, occasionally flicking you, and then himself. 

When you finally peeled all of his clothes off, you warned him to brace himself, to which he ignored you. On top of that, the entire time Bill had been talking, droning on about ‘the last time he’d been in a human body.’

You wondered vaguely if he’d ever done this with someone else. In the time he’d been at your house he’d mentioned some ‘sixer’ ex-thing-ish of his. But you doubt he’d done anything with him.

As he’d mentioned, he hadn’t perfected his human form until very recently. Perfected is a strong word, he was pudgy and short, remanisent of a human peanut. And his teeth were terrible. 

Either way, you’d gotten him ready, and began your work. Laying a light finger on the tip of his dick, and running it down the base of his length, you got Bills first reaction: a short sniff.

Recovering fast, he adjusted his seat, “Yeah, tick tock, toots. This better be good.” 

It was his idea, you thought, but continued. Your fingers wrapped around the entirety of his cock and you began to stroke it. 

A sigh left Bills mouth, “Oh, this does have a kick to it. Maybe you’re not so bad, after all.”

Over the course of the next few minutes, you’d grow angrier and angrier. Although you were clearing making him feel good, he’d never shut his snide mouth for two seconds. 

“Jesus, slow down, pal— I just perfected this flesh-bag, at this rate your gonna break something—“ 

You didn’t realize how much your hand sped up. You thought for a moment, before completely stopping. Bill looked taken aback.

“Hey! what’s the—“

Without warning you grabbed his dick with full force and squeezed. He yelped, before giggling at the hurt.

This made you more mad, “God, do you ever shut up? I wish you’d lost your voice when you lost Gravity Falls.”

He stopped giggling. “I’d watch what you say, if I was you, kid.”

You threw your head back and laughed, running your hand slowly up his dick and then slamming back to the base of his cock. Finally, a reaction other than knowing bliss: anger. Weakness.

“Oh dear god, rearrange the features of my face then, Billy. See if I give a shit when you don’t have a place to live.”

His face turned red with rage, and he recoiled at the mention of your upperhand. And then, finally, at the slowing of your hand, a small, wavering whimper. 

You both caught it, and he was quick to put a hand of his mouth, “Sensitive human bodies - Hey, don’t look at me like that, that was not my fault.”

“God, you’re such a brat.”

“Oh please, what are you gonna do about it?” And he was completely serious.

Without much hesitation, you took the moment as an opportunity to abruptly sink yourself onto his dick. He sucked in a breath but you didn’t give him much time to do anything else.

“Ah- Now we’re talki—“ You slapped him hard across the face, and grabbed his cheeks with your hand, squishing them together, mockingly. Stifled laughter from Bill. 

“This is the form you spent all that time perfecting? I can barely feel anything. It’s worthless!” You sped up riding him, loosening your face to give the illusion you were bored, “You’re worthless.” 

His eyebrows arched down and his eyes widened, “I can kill you with a snap of my fingers! You think I need this sex— You think I need this hous— ah, ah—“

The unknown pleasure was getting to him, making his brain foggier than usual, and it was showing. Human senses were a key factor in your ability to keep the high-ground. Just as long as it felt good enough, he wouldn’t go back to his original form and… well. 

You wondered vaguely if you were actually going to be in mortal parole after this. But then again, the look on his face was almost euphoric, despite the anger. Thankfully, Bill was selfish, he’d probably chase the high again

You sighed, “Oh, you do need this house, Billy. Where else would you go? Everyone else in town has already forgotten about you, and your little maniac friends are no where to be seen.”

You sped up once more as your hands danced up his body, and continued, “With this whole out-of-sight-out-of-mind routine, i’m giving you something you won’t be getting anywhere else: attention.”

“You— Ah, curse this feeble human body! I’ll make your life a living hell-“ He whined, actually whined. 

Slamming yourself down on him, he cried out and then scowled. You raked your nails down his chest, deep enough to bleed, drawing out a  giggle from Bill as he felt the littlest bit of blood start to pool.

“You’re lucky this meatbag is— ah— funny enough—“ He was cut off with a gargle as a your hand sharply wrapped around his throat, and squeezed tight. 

“It’s not luck, i’m good at what I do, Billy. Not that you would know what that’s like, you pathetic shitbag,” although that insult wasn’t particularly true, you didn’t give him a chance to snap back, and instead put your other hand on his neck as well. 

You rode him with more speed than ever now. His eyes fluttered open and shut slowly, and he leaned into your hands. 

His face flushed, but a dreamy smile spread to the edges of his face as you made sure to leave bruise marks on his throat, still slamming against him. 

Although, you didn’t want to actually break him, so when his face began to turn purple, you let go. He gasped for air and let out a raspy, crazed giggle that went on for too long, and ending in a moan.

“I’m— “ Bills eyebrows furrowed, as if he was trying to decipher what the amusing thing the human body had planned next, “Somethings— somethings happening.”

His voice was broken, neck bruised, cheek red with a slap mark, eyes foggy, and chest bleeding from your nails. 

Before you dig in, remember to leave marks. I wanna see how durable this thing is.

Clearly you’d kept your end of the deal, and from what you’ve gathered it was time for the finale. You chased your own climax now as well, even though, admittedly, you hadn’t been thinking about it the whole session.

Annoying as it was that Bill still managed to make something all about him —and he definitely knew, mind reading or not— you still kept up your pace. 

“You’re close?” 

He smiled blissfully, and nodded.

What the hell. You smiled, “Good boy.”

His reaction was… startling. He leaned his head back, let out a small half-whine half-laugh, and arched off the bed. Finally, he released.

[kiwinapped]

Daisuke smut where ur both bestfriends and u sneak into his room at night to play on his game boy and one thing leads to another n they end up getting on his bed and ‘wrestling’ 👅👅 fem reader pls 🙏🏻

I GOT YOU.

You tossed and turned in your assigned bunk, it wasn’t that it was necessarily uncomfortable, it just wasn’t doing anything to soothe you to sleep. Working on Tulpar was great and all, good pay and benefits, but being out God knows where in a hunk of metal with an assigned crew for months on end wasn’t exactly easy.

With a groan of irritation and defeat, your feet found their place on the floor. Slipping on a jacket and slides, you quietly made your way to the shared common room. The night time screen displayed on the monitor came into view, as well as one of your fellow crew members. Daisuke.

You were both not far off in age and he carried a friendly attitude that, in your opinion, was well needed. With everyone else, your relationships were strictly business. There wasn’t much lightheartedness, except the few times you would all come together for a celebration. Daisuke however, seemed to always be grinning about something. It was nice. Refreshing.

The young man was sprawled out on the couch, engaged with the game console in his hands. His eyes flash upwards, seeing you he pauses his game and sits up rather excitedly. “Y/N! What are you doing up? You okay?” You take a seat next to him and run your fingers through your hair with a sigh. “Yeah, I’m okay. I just haven’t been able to sleep.” He nods and gestures to his console, “Yeah… I get that.” The silence was awkward for a moment before he spoke again, “You wanna go to my bunk? It’s quiet in there and we can play a game or somethin’! Or just.. sit there too.” He trails off with an awkward laugh. It’s easy to see the red flushing his cheeks, even with the poor lighting. You smile at him and nod, “That sounds great.”

~~~~

Daisuke’s bunk is…well loved. The company permits us to bring a few personal items on board to keep us sane, but if you hadn’t known better you’d think it was his dorm room. A poster of a movie you’ve never seen is taped up on his wall, a litter of game and movie cases on the floor, and even a figure of some cartoon girl on his table. It made you smile.

You and Daisuke spend the time laying in his bed together talking, laughing, and playing on his game. He even takes the time to excitedly show you the gist of the controls before shoving the game to you to watch you play.

In the comfort of the moment, Daisuke squeezes your thigh while excitedly telling you how “awesome” you were doing. You both look at each other and smile, a real smile. One that you both hadn’t realized you needed.

Before you knew it, Daisuke and you were locked at the lips. The force of Daisuke’s lips on yours is telling that he doesn’t have that much experience in this kind of thing. It was sweet.

In a fury the two of you had stripped each other bare. Daisuke’s hands were everywhere, firm grasps at your breasts and thighs. It was as if he didn’t have you in his hands you would disappear. Lifting your arms, you snaked your fingers through his hair making him moan and clutch you even tighter. He breaks away from the kiss hesitantly and locks his eyes with yours, his face is flushed hot and his lips wet and swollen from the passionate connection. Smiling at him softly, you run your hand down his chest, stomach, until you wrap your fingers around his excited cock. He moans, when you start softly pumping him you can feel him tense before relaxing. This time you lean forward and initiate the kiss, even with your lips pressed to each other his moans were clear. As you pump and twist your hand around his cock, he shakily releases the grip he has on your hips and starts rubbing two of his fingers on your pussy. You moan into his lips as your grip on his cock tightens reflexively from the attention. He breaks away from the kiss but just barely, as he talks his lips brush yours. “A-Ahh... y/n.. I-I.” Stuttering over his words while his body tenses, you pump his cock even harder. His moans were loud and uncontrollable, even with his head buzzing he continued rubbing your pussy even quicker as he feels your body tightening up too. Your warm thighs clamped down onto his hand.

Both of you locked in a kiss once more, Daisuke slips his tongue into your mouth the two of you moaning and kissing heavily. In what felt like an instant, the two of you cum.

Laying together while shaking lightly and panting as the two of you recover from the intensity, you both locked eyes. Daisuke even with his face flushed and sweat on his forehead flashes you his cheeky little grin, “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

[loki-cees-all]

Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters. 

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet. 

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel. 

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer. 

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally. 

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth. 

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence. 

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now. 

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes. 

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image. 

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary. 

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest. 

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out. 

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache. 

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki. 

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween? 

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him. 

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night. 

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one. 

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone. 

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki. 

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long. 

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki. 

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day. 

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door. 

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you. 

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had. 

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment. 

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward. 

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door. 

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment. 

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door. 

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration. 

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness. 

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal. 

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft. 

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected. 

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red. 

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction. 

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind. 

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose. 

They were David fucking Bowie’s. 

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone. 

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how? 

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down. 

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth. 

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been. 

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there. 

And the stars look very different today… 

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence? 

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here? 

For here, am I sitting in a tin can? 

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room. 

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time. 

“Something the matter, dear?” 

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie. 

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again. 

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?” 

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke. 

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you. 

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant. 

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission. 

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…” 

“As you wish, darling.” 

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor. 

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?” 

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been. 

“As you wish, darling.” 

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice. 

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over. 

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly. 

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?” 

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously. 

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?” 

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest. 

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…” 

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…” 

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair. 

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…” 

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…” 

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest. 

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him. 

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…” 

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress. 

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party. 

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours. 

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion. 

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since. 

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?” 

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself. 

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place. 

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours. 

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust. 

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it. 

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth. 

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily. 

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you. 

You fucking loved it when he did that. 

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second. 

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them. 

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went. 

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him. 

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction. 

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space. 

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….” 

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand. 

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him. 

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs. 

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you. 

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him. 

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?” 

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack. 

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?” 

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway. 

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine. 

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back. 

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple. 

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday. 

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…” 

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?” 

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes. 

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…” 

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?” 

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…” 

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted. 

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare. 

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics. 

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast. 

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him. 

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next? 

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him. 

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake? 

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home. 

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…” 

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest. 

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.” 

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…” 

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…” 

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.” 

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment. 

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…” 

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity. 

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?” 

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat. 

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.” 

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room. 

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway. 

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door. 

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality. 

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up. 

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him. 

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling. 

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party. 

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled. 

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?” 

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you. 

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…” 

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?” 

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…” 

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?” 

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it. 

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…” 

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…” 

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were. 

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself. 

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?” 

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?” 

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek. 

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!” 

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?” 

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed. 

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?” 

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth. 

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…” 

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.” 

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work. 

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense. 

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering. 

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…” 

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips. 

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ” 

“Sweetheart.” 

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…” 

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat. 

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were. 

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.” 

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection. 

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice. 

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too. 

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…” 

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…” 

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…” 

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!” 

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?” 

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance. 

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here. 

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there. 

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…” 

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…” 

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate. 

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it? 

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises. 

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you���d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay. 

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?” 

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously. 

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

[blooming-violets]

Lucky number 13 for Nature please :)

Apple Of My Eye || TASM Smut

Nature - 13: beneath the shade of trees in the middle of an orchard

[TASM Peter Parker x Fem!Reader]

WC: 1k (look at me being short and sweet for once in my damn life)

A/N: Two weeks later and I'm finally start to write for these prompts! I'm a slow bitch, I can not help it.

“It’s colder than I thought it would be out here.” She wrapped her arms around her sweater to try and hug out the chill in her bones. “I don’t think a skirt and tights was the right choice.” 

Peter’s eyes roved over her body, taking in her legs in the sheer tights, “I think they were the perfect choice.” 

That was easy for him to say. He had pants on. 

She rolled her eyes and dropped the wooden basket full of apples she was carrying at the base of the closest tree trunk. 

“Your opinions don’t count when you just like how my legs look in tights.” 

They had been wandering through this apple orchard for almost two hours. At this point in their trek, they had yet to come across any other pickers for over forty minutes. They were deep into the orchard. 

Probably lost. 

Though Peter would never admit that. 

With two full baskets of apples, they had more than enough for her mother, May, and themselves. 

She sighed and leaned against the knotted tree, kicking at a rotten apple with the toe of her leather boot. 

She was tired and hungry and cold and sick of picking apples. 

“Are you going to give me your jacket or are you just going to stare at my legs some more?”

Peter tore his eyes away from watching the way the light breeze made her skirt dance around her thighs. 

“What?”

She threw up her hands in exasperation, “Oh my god!”

He laughed, tackling her off the tree and wrapping his arms around her, dragging her straight to the dew covered grass. 

“I was kidding, baby, kidding!” He pinned her to the ground, keeping her shoulders locked down with his palms and sliding his knees around her hips.

She couldn’t remember the last time she laid on the grass without a blanket between her and the ground. 

“Peter!” She cried. “It’s wet down here. Cold and wet. Probably bugs. Worms. Little beetles. Oh god, spiders!”

“Shut up,” he laughed. He shoved his lips against hers to keep her quiet with a kiss. “It’s not cold. You’re just tired and cranky because we’ve been walking for approximately ten full business days while carrying all these apples.”

She nodded, huffing, “This is true. You got us lost. And now you’ve forced me to lay in Spider’s Ville. I bet they're crawling in my hair right now and laying their eggs.”

“The only spider down here is me and I’m already on top of you so you have nothing more to worry about.” 

That got her to drop a bit of her attitude, turning her head to the side, the wet grass tickling her cheek, as she tried to hide her smile.

“Don’t you turn away from me when I’m being cute,” he chastised. 

His hand slipped around her chin to gently turn her face back to him. He leaned down to kiss her again. 

Taking his time. 

Adoring her lips. 

He slid down her body and forced himself to a kneel between her legs.

“You don’t need my jacket. I have other ways of warming you up,” he whispered, throwing a wink at her. 

Her eyes widened in surprise, “Not here! We’re in public!”

Peter lifted his head and looked around, “Baby, please, all I see is you, me, and a shit ton of apples.” 

“Well they could come!” 

A suggestive smirk grew across his lips, “You’ll be the only cumming, don’t worry.” 

Before she could even protest, his hand was slipping up her shirt and covering her breast over her bra, while he attacked her mouth with fiery kisses. 

“Omph, Peter,” she tried to breathe through his kiss. “This is…is…oh.” 

He had tugged down the strap of her bra, loosening the cup, so he could access her nipple. As she spoke, he flicked a finger against it, causing her to forget her words. 

Her quiet moans in response were all he needed to keep going. 

His tongue slipped past her lips, tangling with hers, enticing her to play along. 

Her body relaxed, hands slowly moving up to run through his hair, as she submitted to his will. 

The moment he felt her give in, he was ready to go. 

Peter broke from the kiss to slide down her stomach. He trailed kisses over her sweater until he reached her skirt. 

“You said you didn’t like these tights, right?” He panted, eyes wide with mischief. “They weren’t keeping you warm enough?”

She silently nodded, still trying to catch her breath from his dizzying kiss. 

His hand disappeared under her skirt and a loud RIP followed. 

She gasped in shock, “Peter!” She felt the massive hole he had torn open in her crotch. “That’s your solution to me being cold? Ripping my clothes off me? Counter productive.”

He chuckled under his breath, already settling himself in the grass between her legs, laying on his stomach and smirking up at her. 

“Are you really that averse to my methods?”

She went quiet, hiding her need to smile. She wasn’t averse to it. She actually found it to be incredibly sexy. They were just a pair of cheap tights. 

But she refused to tell him that. 

He winked, reading her facial expressions anyway, “That’s what I thought. Now shut up and let me eat you like one of these apples.” 

Chilly hands gently hooked behind her knees, raising her legs and spreading them wider, so he could scoot his shoulders closer. Peter pushed aside her underwear and let out a happy sigh at the sight awaiting him. 

“I love this pussy,” he whispered to it. 

His head ducked under her skirt and descended to her inner thighs. He brought his lips to her soft, rolling flesh. He traveled with kisses over her stretch marks and blemishes that he would never allow her to even think about calling imperfections. 

There wasn’t a single inch of her skin that Peter didn’t adore. 

Whatever reservations she might have had moments ago fly away the moment his breath hit her where she needed it most. The anticipation of what was to come had stoked a spark of her desire into a roaring lame. She didn’t care where he took her just as long as his tongue was buried in her pussy. 

A whimper escaped her as they made contact. 

She felt him give a breathy, hot laugh against her, knowing just as well as she did that she was enjoying this more than she wanted to let on. 

He mumbled against her dewy lips, “You’re the cutest.”

He always loved hearing her whimper and moan despite all the fight she would put up. 

She would give in. 

Every time. 

Peter delved back in, licking a steady stripe over her soft folds, dipping into her for a taste before dragging his tongue back up to her clit. 

Tight, slow circles toyed with her sweet bud. 

His mintrations were reserved. Lazy. Like he was purposely taking his time to savor every stretching second. 

Languid and precise. 

But it wasn’t long until he had her mewling and writhing over him. 

The sounds urged him to hasten his work. 

He wrapped his arms around her legs, pushing them up, locking his arms over her stomach so he could hold her closer. His face buried into her. Head hidden under her skirt. Lapping his tongue over her soaked, sensitive folds. Tending to her clit, worshiping it between his lips, before sinking his tongue back into her for another taste. 

Heat rose over her body, warming her skin, pushing away the chill. 

At least he was correct in delivering on that front. She was no longer cold. 

Steaming hot. 

Panting. 

Her thighs trembled in Peter’s hold as pleasure seemed to pulse out from between them. 

She let out a long, gasping moan. Trying to be silent should anyone be nearby but unable to keep it in. 

Peter was too good with his tongue. 

He responded with a guttural moan of his own from under her skirt, eating her out like a starving man unabashedly enjoying his first meal in days. 

The vibrations of such a low, growling moan spread across her clit and sent shivers up her arching spine. 

Her fists clenched at clumps of wet grass. 

Feeling it give way in her hands. Ripping up. Dirt sinking under her nails. 

She should be embarrassed how quickly Peter could take her from complaining about the cold to forcing her to orgasm but she couldn’t focus on anything besides that building pleasure. 

His tongue pulled breathy whimpers from her lips. 

Easing her closer and closer to that beautiful release. 

“P-Peter!’ She gasped, letting out a desperate, needy whine. “Feels…so good!”

He was mumbling something against her lips but his words were muffled out by her cunt. 

His grip around her belly tightened. 

He knew she was almost there. 

Hanging on by a quivering thread. 

Peter turned all his attention to making love to her clit.

Her hips canted, arching off the ground. 

Peter anticipated the move, shifting to follow her, knowing her well enough to predict where her body will go. Never letting the latch his mouth had on her pussy slip for even a second. 

Her calves shook under her weight, holding her up, following her trembling thighs as her body gave in. 

Her hand slammed across her mouth to stifle the shriek she desperately wanted to let rip. Letting it fall against her heavy, clamped hand instead.

Smelling the earthy dirt mixed with juicy apples against her fingers. 

The faint smell of sex lingering in the wind. 

Wet grass clinging to her skin. 

Her clothes, damp. 

Her body, on fire. 

Peter stayed dutifully to her spasming pussy, letting her ride it out, sucking out every last drop she had to give, until she came crashing back to earth. 

He lapped through her folds with moaning growls of delight as he cleaned her with his tongue. 

It was only when she couldn’t take it anymore, far too sensitive post orgasm, that she shoved him out from under her skirt with her hand. 

He emerged with a lopsided, glistening grin that screamed a silent “I told you so”. 

It was only them and the apples. 

Not a single person wandered on to the erotic feast he had devoured. 

She threw a sweatered arm over her eyes to block out the sight of red apples against the deep blue sky. 

Breathing heavily.

Feeling uncomfortable wet down below. 

She felt him crawling over her. The weight of his stomach pressed against her. 

His salty lips urged her out of hiding with his tongue gliding into her mouth.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him deeply. 

Peter’s eyes were shining, proud of the work he had done this lazy afternoon.

He didn’t care for her ripped tights or soaked underwear or the fact that they were both covered in wet grass stains. 

All he cared about was her and making sure her mood had shifted. 

She shook her head up at him, still not fully believing he had suckered her into this.

“I love you to my core,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the apple of my eye. You’re so a-peel-ing to me, baby. Let’s go home and live apple-y ever after.” 

“I literally hate you so much right now.” 

His laughter was enough to prove her statement false. 

She loved him. 

Even if he was a dork.

[junnieverse]

— TAEHYUN AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ! 💭

➙ boyfriend taehyun thoughts

pairings: kang taehyun x gn!reader

genre: fluff

request: " Hello <3. Kang Taehyun as boyfriend ? Don't overwork yourself pls "

warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread

a/n: hi anon, thanks for this request and cute message, make sure you follow it too. this got much longer than I intended but we all need some tae in our lives, what an angel <3

he would be such a dreamy boyfriend

but then again this just may be me projecting but who wouldn't be completely smitten over taehyun

he's smart, funny, kind, talented, stunning and the best of all, he can cook!

definitely the type of boyfriend to prefer stay in dates because he wants to cook for and/or with you

gatekeeps how he does his magic tricks but he shows you a few of the easy ones he knows

all of his FULLY shirtless pictures he takes go straight to you and then he crops them to post for fans (sobs hysterically)

taehyun remembers every little thing and detail about you that you've told him, he's like a (y/n)-pedia, sometimes he even remembers things that you forgot

massages

just thinking about it has me screaming into a pillow swinging my feet

taehyun will give you a massage whenever and wherever you need one

was slouching the entire day studying? he's going to massage your back and shoulders

had to walk in heels the entire day? not only will he carry sneakers or flat shoes for you but he will also give you a piggy back ride and then massage the tension away in your feet

where do I order my own kang taehyun?

not overly affectionate in the sense of giving especially in public but he loves receiving it from you

hug him, cuddle with him, kiss him all over, doesn't admit it much but he loves it

if he's not holding your hand then his arm is around your waist

he loves head scratches :((

so whenever he sees you relaxing he'll join you and lay his head on your lap and your hand automatically plays with his hair

definition of 'ask and you shall receive'

if you ever so mention something you've been wanting or you thought it looked cute, best believe he is going to get it for you even if you didn't actively ask for it

tyun is very much dominant and a provider sort of man in my opinion, in that aspect of wanting to take care of you and get you whatever you want

all he wants in return is your love, he will do everything else to shower you with his love in every way that he can

he almost never actually gets mad at you

he does that cute little thing where he puffs out his chest and has his hands on his waist and playfully scolds you acting all serious

because you find it so cute, you end up laughing and he breaks character

but in the rare cases where he is upset or you both do fight, he is definitely the type to talk it out because neither of you can go to sleep angry

if you do try to leave angry at him and tell him you're sleeping on the couch, well best believe he will sleep on that couch with you

if you both have similar music tastes then there's definitely multiple shared playlists you have and you always recommend new songs the other should listen to

girlfriend privileges are real

let's you win during play fights and when you catch on he lies claiming you won fair and square so you get bragging rights that you're stronger than him

oh new txt album and songs coming out? you've heard them even before they were released

he will carry your shopping bags, all you have to do is buy whatever you want to your heart's content and he will carry everything and pay for it too

he always goes out his way to show his love to you with big and small gestures but he brushes it off like it's nothing

bf who listens and maybe the s/o who talks alot trope?

genuinely such a great listener and support system

he makes sure to listen to all your vents or just be a shoulder to cry on when you're feeling down

quite sentimental with the gifts he picks out for you so it'll often times be something that holds a certain memory or it just reminds him of you

"Just saw this and picked it up along the way." he would say as if it were nothing special

despite seeming tough around everyone else, that is your squishy marshmallow

tyun gets so soft around you

his favourite way of kissing you would be cupping your face in his hands before he leans in to kiss you

the most obvious one, the best girlfriend privilege of dating kang taehyun, he sings to you all the time

[thevegandarkelf]

Joshua "Scud" Frohmeyer NSFW Alphabet

A deal was made with @francisofthespook, and here's my part of the deal. She agreed to write Daryl's NSFW alphabet if I wrote Scud's, so here it is! Massive kudos to @dixons-sunshine for proofreading my work, as always, and to @francisofthespook for proofreading as well (I proofread yours, so it felt fair for you to proofread mine lol). I hope you enjoy it! To my general taglist people, I'm sorry if this isn't something you'd normally want to be tagged in. I figured I would just add y'all anyway lmao. This is hands down the filthiest thing I've ever written and I had to stop several times to fan myself.

Also these are MY OPINION. If you don't agree with something, that's fine, but please play nice.

NSFW alphabet template by @the-coldest-goodbye, dividers by @anitalenia

18+ below the cut, minors DNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s big into aftercare! The cleaning up, the cuddling, the pillow talk, he loves it all. I think it’s one of his favorite parts of sex. Basking in the afterglow all cozied up under the covers with you, your bodies tangled together…God, he lives for that shit. After your first time doing something new, he’d want to talk with you about how it was, how much you liked or didn’t like it, and if you’d wanna do said thing again.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For his own, I wanna go with the obvious and say his dick, but I think (and hear me out) that his stomach would also be one of his favorites. He thinks his scars are cool and are proof that he survived something he probably shouldn’t have, and I think he loves that part of himself. For his partner, he’s a boob guy, easy. He doesn’t care what they look like or how big or small they are. They’re yours, and that’s all that matters to him. And if you have any insecurities about them, he’ll be sure to show you how much he loves them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to be inside you when he comes, whether that’s with a condom or without. He loves the faces and sounds you make when he’s twitching inside you, riding out his high. If you allowed him to come inside you without a condom, he’d be thrilled, but he’d still check in with you the whole time up until he comes to make sure that’s really what you want.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This might seem like a cop-out, but he doesn’t have any dirty secrets. He doesn’t have any shame in what he likes in the bedroom, so there’s no secrets between you two. If he likes something or wants to try something, even if it’s something other people might find strange, he’s going to tell you/talk to you about it. If he expresses he’s into something and you’re not down to do it, he’s not going to feel ashamed for asking. Like I said, he has no shame in what he likes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s very experienced & absolutely knows what he is doing. He prides himself on being able to make his partner feel good, and all the skills he’s acquired over the years will aid him in pleasing you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl and doggystyle, both for different reasons. Cowgirl so he can watch you bounce on top of and fuck yourself on him. Especially when he’s high, he loves to lay there and just let you go to town again and again. Looking up at you through hazy, half-lidded eyes would make him crazy. Doggystyle (specifically facing a mirror) so he can watch you watch yourself take him. He’d lean over you and dirty talk into you ear, telling you to look at yourself in the mirror so you can see how beautiful you look taking him. Both positions are also great for him to be able to circle your clit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very humorous. He never takes himself too seriously, and that include in bed. Sex is supposed to be fun, and he definitely brings that. He needs someone that can joke around with him during sexy time. If he were to get more serious at any point, it would be when either of you are close to coming.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Yes, the carpet matches the drapes. He doesn’t care about grooming, though. He’s not bothered by body hair, both on himself or his partner. If you asked him to clean up a bit, he certainly would, but otherwise, he doesn’t care. He’s not unhygienic though, he just isn’t bothered by it enough to do anything about it. For you, though, he’d do anything.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

That depends on our little angel’s mood. Sometimes, he just wants to lay back and let you do the work, but he’d still praise you and tell you how good you’re making him feel. If he’s releasing some pent-up frustration, he’d still be soft with you, but he might not be as giggly or romantic as usual. For special occasions, like your birthday or anniversary, he’d really ramp up the romance, adding sensual touches like lighting candles and putting on music.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

This one feels obvious, but he thinks about you when he jacks off. Thinks about your taste, your scent, all of the sounds you made during your last sexual escapade. He drools a little when he comes, specifically when he comes from masturbating. He’s so deep in the thoughts of you while he’s touching himself that he can’t be bothered to make sure he isn’t drooling.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves having his hair played with/pulled. When he’s going down on you, he lives for having your fingers tangled in his hair and gently tugging while you buck up into him. He also loves to be praised (because who doesn’t?) (it would send his ego to the moon) and give praises as well, telling you how good you feel/how beautiful you look/how good you’re doing.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Somewhere where you’ll both be comfortable, like in bed or on the couch. But if it’s a quickie, he’d take you in the shower, over the kitchen counter, even the floor as long as you’re comfortable. He’d even take you over his work bench if it didn’t risk you two getting caught.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He gets easily turned on, especially when he’s in love. He loves seeing you in lingerie, and of course that turns him on, but he gets really turned on when you wear his clothes. Your bare breasts against the inside of his jacket, your core on the inside of his boxers, he loves it all. He’d have a hard time keeping himself together the next time he wore something of his that you had on, picturing you in it instead.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s turned off by anything non-consensual, he’d put his foot down at that. Even if it was something you wanted to try, he wouldn’t allow it. He’s into gentle biting and giving hickeys, but biting to the point of drawing blood is a no. Anything else that would cause either of you harm (something that would cause bruising that isn’t a hickey, leave welts, etc) is a no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves both giving and receiving, but he prefers giving. He’s in heaven with your thighs clenched around his head and the taste of you coating his mouth and tongue. His skills are next level. When he’s high, his skills somehow get even better, bringing you to orgasm faster than you could’ve imagined.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with him is for sure soft and giggly. He’s a goofy bean, and that personality of his certainly transitions into the bedroom. If you asked for something a little more rough, he’d obliged, albeit hesitantly at first, until he sees how much you’re enjoying it. However, that wouldn’t be often, as he prefers to be soft and slow and take his time with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his time with you and savor every second. He may have a high drive and be DTF a lot of the time, but it’s still special because it’s with you. When there’s not time & you’re both so fucking desperate and needy for each other that you can’t wait, a quickie will suffice, but he’ll be longing for more. And he’d make sure the next session after the quickie was extra special.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes yes and yes. He’s willing to try just about anything, and if he isn’t, he’ll let you know. He won’t shame you for any ideas you bring up or anything you might be embarrassed about wanting to experiment with. He’d be flattered that you felt safe enough with him to ask to experiment in different ways.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on the type of sex. If he’s high, he’d only be able to go for one round, wanting to cuddle up and fall asleep shortly after (post-aftercare ofc, I can’t stress enough how much he loves that). If he’s had a stressful day and/or it’s been a while since you two have been intimate, he’d be able to go a few rounds, wanting to stay in the throughs of pleasure with you for as long as possible.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He would certainly use toys on you if you asked. He prefers to do the work himself and get you off with just his touch, but he knows toys are friends, not competition. If you did the deed and he was too sleepy after to go another round but you wanted more, he’d lay there and watch you get yourself off with toys, watching your eyes roll back while he knows you’re thinking about him the whole time.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you until you’re a squirming mess & can’t take it anymore, whining & begging him to do what you’re asking. If you express that you like to be teased, he’d be delighted and draw out the teasing for as long as he possibly could until neither of you could take it anymore.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Our little stoner is definitely vocal in bed. He makes a variety of sexy grunts, groans, and moans, all of which sound like music to your ears. When there’s privacy, he’s loud. He doesn’t hold back at all in expressing how good you’re making him feel. If you’re ever in a situation where you might get caught or others are within earshot, he can hold back the noises, though he’d struggle to hold back the closer he gets to coming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This may be a hot take, but he is not a whimpering mess of a sub. A switch? Sure, I can see that. A whimpering mess that’s begging you and calling you mommy? Absolutely not, and that’s a hill I’m willing to die on.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s average-sized, maybe a little bigger than average. He’s an average-heigh guy, so it would make sense that his package reflects that. There’s a couple of veins that bulge when he’s got a boner, and they add to the pleasure you feel when he’s inside you. There’s also his scars. He loves when you give them attention, kicking and licking down them slowly as you position yourself to suck him off.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s got a high sex drive, especially when he’s in love. After the first time, he can’t get enough of you. Your scent, your taste, your touch…he dreams of it.  He’s so in love with you, he’d get distracted at work thinking about all the things you did the night before. And the second you’re both home, he’d be pouncing on you, ready to devour you again and again.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

That depends. If it was sleepier sex while he was high, he’d pass pretty shortly after (post-aftercare of course, once you were both snuggled up under some blankets). Otherwise, he’d want to stay awake and enjoy some pillow talk with you, admiring how beautiful you are post-orgasm and savor the moment of you two wrapped up under the covers.

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract

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[em1e]

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˚༉ words | 1.3k ˚༉ warnings | valhalla spoilers (?) ˚༉ notes | baji my beloved

「baji keisuke」 could always find the softest moments just by looking in your eyes. he thinks, when he is alone with you, that maybe, maybe even after kazutora went away, even after he had to face mikey apologetically, maybe this life was okay. it was worth living, as long as you were beside him. 

maybe you’d think the same. 

it was amazingly easy to be around you. always so simple to just be in your presence, doing things that kids do - playing video games, studying for classes. late, late nights filled with the sound of your laughter and shh’s wrapped around the idea that your parents would scold you for being so loud, and then scold you again for sneaking baji into the house after they’d expressed their distaste for him. 

you never seemed to care for their opinion, arguing in favor of him anytime they’d turn their nose to him or give him a nasty glare, and the idea that you cared so much about him that you’d fight your parents tooth and nail until they stopped pestering you about it made his chest want to burst. all of this, just for him? it was hard to accept on his own. 

“careful, baji-!” you all but scream in his ear as he swerves between cars down the road, grinning at how you tighten your arms around him and he knows he should slow down but you’re not really worried about that. your short giggles fill the air behind him as your forehead presses into his back. 

eventually, you step off of the bike after him, legs shaky with adrenaline and baji has to steady you (as he always does when you ride with him) while you get your bearings and shoot him the biggest smile. 

“so scary riding with you.” you mutter, but he knows there’s no real fear behind it. you enjoy the thrill, don’t you? especially with him. 

he finds himself flicking your forehead in response, earning a pout from you, “you could’ve just met me here if it’s so scary.” 

the way he teases you is light-hearted, with no real aggression following his words, and instead of arguing, you stick your tongue out at him and turn towards your destination: a playground. the dark sky tells you already that no sane child would be wandering on the equipment, giving free reign to every bit of plastic you desire. you find yourself climbing to the top of the tower, calling for baji to follow you with a giggle and baji would be damned if he’d never come to your beck and call, especially when his name leaves your lips so sweetly. 

when he makes his way up to the top with you, you’re laying on your back facing the sky. baji settles beside you, exhaling as the cool floor seeps its way through his clothes and leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

“it’s always so peaceful at night.” you hum, turning your head to look at baji. he turns his face you in return, scanning over your features in the dark and fuck if you’re not the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. . . and then you smile at him and he knows in that moment he’s a sucker that’s in too deep. 

he realizes your mouth is moving far quicker than he can process, lost in his own world when you laugh and sit up abruptly. 

“you’re not even listening to me!” 

“was so,” he argues, lying through his teeth and watching you while making no move to sit up as well. 

“what’d i say then?” your legs cross under you, now fully facing him with intent to maim him if he gives the wrong answer. he takes a second to reply, squinting at you as if you’ve asked the most ridiculous quest from him. 

“i don’t have to answer you.” he settles on finally, arms coming to rest behind his head to make himself comfortable on the very uncomfortable playground tower. you scoff, jabbing a finger into his side. 

“lame.” 

he twitches at the contact, opening one eye to glare at you, “don’t do that.” 

you live for the challenge, quickly jabbing him a second time at the perfectly prompted opportunity. 

“or what?”

he closes his eye back and shrugs, “you’ll see.” 

he can sense the energy radiating off of you, eating the opposition out of the palm of his hand and feels you pull back to jab him again. he catches your wrist instead, one eye opening to stare. 

“you don’t listen, huh?”

you don’t reply, going to make another move with your other hand, but he’s far quicker than you, grabbing it effortlessly and you huff at the idea of being caught so easily by him while he finally sits up to get a better grip. you glare upon this realization, testing to see just how much of a hold he has by pulling your arms towards you. he doesn’t budge, snickering at the failed attempt. 

“i warned you-” he starts to say, triumphant in this affair and ready to call himself the victor - 

but you’re moving instead, setting yourself in his lap with both knees at his side and letting the hands he was still holding find place between the two of you.  

“warned me?” you continue for him, prompting him to actually look at you and he for once understands how hakkai can get so fucking shellshocked talking to women because fuck. he opens his mouth to reply, to say anything that doesn’t leave him looking like a fish gasping for air but no words leave his lips and the way you’re looking at him is not helping. 

your eyes scan over his face, head tilting slightly while you wait for a reply. 

“i . . .” he’s barely able to get out a sound, almost choking when one of your hands cups his face. when did you let go of his hand? how did he not feel it-

“you’re so pretty, baji.” your other hand meets his other cheek, and baji thinks surely he’s died and gone to heaven. in absolute, pure bliss at the smallest feeling of your touch. your breath hits his lips and he swallows hard at just how close you are to him. 

“what are you doing to me?” he whispers, words leaving his mouth faster than he can stop them. 

you glance down to his lips, thumbs rubbing his cheek bones and he thinks he could melt into your touch. you lean forward, and baji finds himself closing his eyes and leaning in too, ready to savor the taste of you -  

you press a kiss to his forehead instead, and baji’s fingers flex in his lap at the idea that maybe he’s been reading into this too much. with you sitting comfortable in his lap and his ass aching with no support from the floor, he thinks this is truly all to make him suffer. maybe for driving so recklessly, maybe for flicking you in the forehead, maybe for ruining whatever relationship you had with your parents. 

his hands find purchase on your waist, relishing in the small baji that falls off of your lips before he’s pressing his own to yours. it’s clumsy, the way he kisses you, lips barely missing your own and hitting your top lip, but he’s quick to correct himself. 

when he finally leans away, you chase him, hands attempting to keep him in place for more. your eyes open with a pout, desperate to continue.

“wasn’t done,” you mumble breathlessly, looking back down to his lips. he grins, licking his teeth. 

“like me that much, huh?” 

“just the way you kiss,” you dismiss, giving a quick peck to his nose before he has time to argue about what you say, “you’re okay, i guess.” 

☰

the floor of the playground is cold against your back. 

at the top, where you sat in baji's lap and shared your first kiss. your first real moment showing him how you felt about him. at the top, where baji pulled you impossibly closer, until all you could breath was him, all you could taste was him. 

all you have now is his jacket. 

[itsawhumpsideblog]

A Safehouse Christmas Story, pt. 6

On the sixth day of Christmas, My true love gave to me Six geese a laying...

So far, Nathan hadn't left the house except to go to doctor's appointments, and that was fine with him. The fact was that he felt safe in the house and the idea of leaving it caused him some anxiety. When he thought about it, it was probably the biggest mental mark that being a Pet had left on him. The physical marks were more obvious, but more easily healed- the cast on his leg would one day come off and even though his burned arm had scarred, it no longer hurt him.

But he had spent literally years inside his Master's house. Master hadn't ever taken him anywhere and he hadn't been allowed outdoors for any reason. His concern for Mikey had sometimes overcome his inhibitions, but there had been a cost, even then. He remembered the way his chest had pounded with nerves every time he let himself out the back door and the way his head had spun and his whole body had felt suddenly hot and cold all at the same time. He never wanted to have that feeling again. He could just about manage going to the doctor, since it was a finite trip to a specific place and either Angie or Tim was with him the whole time, but it wasn't easy.

He had felt safe in the assumption that it would be some time before he had any reason to go outdoors- other than for medical appointments- and had tried to put the fear of it out of his mind. It had been working so nicely...

Dark had been falling and they were watching the final episode of the documentary Francis had chosen to watch, before it was interrupted by the power outage. In fact, they had all liked it so much that the next few rounds of choices were dedicated to finishing every episode.

If Nathan remembered correctly, it was going to be Francis's turn again, although Angie sometimes went out of order, to give Mikey and Francis practice with being asked their opinion casually. Nathan was expecting to spend part of the evening discussing movies again when, this time, Angie threw him for a loop.

"We should all pile in the car and go look at Christmas lights," she said. Nathan felt his spine stiffen.

"Is there going to be enough room in the car?" Tim asked, sounding a little doubtful. "I mean, I guess we could take two if we had to, but it would be more fun to go together."

"It'll be okay," Angie said. "We'll take yours, so there's the third row, and we can figure out who has to sit in the back. I'll do it, if I need to."

Nathan glanced sharply around the room, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. Maybe he could claim he had a stomach ache? He was going to have one anyway, before too long. He folded his arms so that they wouldn't see his hands shaking.

"Yeah," Tim was saying, "I guess we could make that work." He grinned, a little sheepishly. "I do really want to go see all the lights."

"There's a really nice display down around the lake," Angie said. "I drove past on my way back from the grocery store the other day. The entrance is- I forget the name of the road, but you remember where we saw that goose and her babies last spring? It was there."

Tim laughed. "I think I know the road you mean. I had forgotten." To the rescuees he added, "Last spring, Angie and I were in training classes, getting ready to move in here with you guys, and we were going out for lunch and there was this goose with like six little goslings. And they walked out into the road and traffic stopped and everything and then they just didn't want to move. I think we sat there for, what? Fifteen minutes, maybe?"

Mikey grinned and Angie laughed at the memory. "Some guy got out of his car and shooed them, eventually, but I was kind of having fun watching them. They were really cute. Anyway, the intersection where we got stuck is where you turn to see the light display."

"Do you guys have any opinions about going?" Tim asked and as he did, Nathan reflected that he might yet be safe from having to leave the house. Now that they had all heard how excited Tim and Angie were, it would be impossible for Francis and Mikey to have their own opinions on the idea. And maybe Tim and Angie would feel bad making them go out, especially Francis, who couldn't even walk...

But there was no such luck. Both of them looked shyly excited about the idea, even though Francis said, "Francis will do as the household chooses" and Mikey just ducked his head and nodded.

"I dunno," Nathan said, realizing that his voice sounded a little odd. Strained, maybe. "I might just stay here." He fished for an excuse. "Getting all the way out to the car sounds like kind of a lot of work- you know, with my leg and all."

"We can help you," Tim said and dammit, he thought he was offering.

"I dunno," Nathan said again and when they noticed the strange note in his voice, he tried not to sigh. Of course they would notice. They were all so... kind. Irritatingly kind.

"What's going on?" Tim asked, sounding a little suspicious.

"I'm okay here, is all," Nathan said.

Angie eyed him suspiciously. "You don't want to leave the house," she guessed, accurately.

Nathan knew when he was caught. "Not really." He shrugged.

"How come?" Trust Tim to just come right out and ask. But Francis and Mikey were looking at him with real concern and Nathan decided that telling the truth was probably... (he sighed again) important for his recovery or some shit.

"I don't want to leave the house," he said finally. "It- it makes me nervous. Ever since... you know."

Mikey nodded, understanding, and Nathan explained, "I wasn't allowed to leave when I lived with- him. I used to sneak out and hang out with Mikey, but never for very long. Being outside really freaked me out because- uh- he'd kill me if he found out. Geez. I can't even say his name, or say what I called him. But you know who I mean. If he caught me outside, he'd probably kill me, and that's not an exaggeration. And he probably would have hurt Mikey, too."

Mike nodded, his expression grim.

"So yeah. I don't really want to go outside. I'm more comfortable here."

Tim nodded and it looked like he was buying himself time to think. "Okay. Well, first of all, if you've made up your mind, we'll respect that. But I do want to say that we're not even going to get out of the car and you'll have all four of us, so if you wanted to start getting acclimated, this is a pretty low-key way to do it."

Nathan was just about to refuse when Mikey looked straight at him, catching his attention the best way he could. Then Mikey waved his right arm in a gesture the meant come on.

"Buddy, I don't know," Nathan started, but Mikey shook his head. His expression was kind and gentle but... maybe also stubborn? He waved his arm again, indicating the two of them. Then he nodded towards the door and made the "come on" gesture again.

"Fine," Nathan sighed. "If you want me to come, I'll try it."

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds

@honeycollectswhump @taterswhump, @starfields08000

@whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

@maracujatangerine

[abeautylives]

Maybe One More Day

a/n: This was a little Beach Josh scenario I had cooked up and it got wildly out of control. Oops.

This is set in the summer of 2019, refer to the picture (no seriously, refer to the picture)

pairing: Joshxfemale!reader

word count: just under 5k

summary: Josh has been your best friend for years, and a short beach vacation with the group is about to take a turn.

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, language, some friendly fluff, allusions to sexual situations, graphic sexual content, unprotected penetrative sex, some pining? unrequited… ya know what, just read it

update: read part 2 here

You bury your toes into the sand as the late afternoon sun beats down on them, the only part of your body not currently shaded by the beach umbrella planted between your chair and Jita’s. Jake's girlfriend is stretched out beside you, curves on perfect display and Sam’s girlfriend is to her right, looking quite like the model that she is. You always find yourself here, rounding out the group to make it an even number, though you’re not anyone’s girlfriend.

Smiling to yourself, you watch as Sam and Jake pass a soccer ball back and forth over the dips and mounds that make up the shoreline, and laugh with the other girls when Jake rounds off a kick that has Sam diving, landing face first in the sand.

In front of you, laying stomach down across a beach towel that’s longer than he is tall, is Josh.

Josh. How would you describe Josh?

Small, quirky, adorable. Probably one of your best friends.

You’ve known the guys for what feels like forever now but it’s closer to almost four years, since you all were practically still kids. Shit, Sam and Danny were actually kids. Growing close with the twins had been easy, and watching them flourish into men and talented musicians has been a pleasure. You feel pretty fortunate that they’ve let you tag along on their journey, which has included meeting girlfriends, and subsequently never talking to them again when they became ex-girlfriends. The group you have now though feels solid, the girls are fun… but you’ll always kind of be one of the guys.

Toes wiggling, sand shifting around and between them, you look down to watch your pastel toenails peek through the surface. Periwinkle. You’d asked his opinion and Josh had chosen the color because he liked the word, then he’d insisted you let him paint them during “film night” the night before you all had left for the beach house.

Lifting your gaze to him, you find him propped up on his elbows, also watching the purpley-blue polish poke through the granules. Never one to miss an opportunity, you kick that same foot out, spraying sand over the top corner of his towel and jerking him violently out of his trance.

“What the hell Y/N!”

“Oops, sorrryyy Joshua!” You’re giggling at him as you pull your foot back and into the shade. “How are you not frying right now? You probably need more sunscreen, your face is red.”

A pink tint is spread over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose, but he swears to you that he just put some on twenty minutes ago. “Can you do my back though?”

With a dramatic sigh and not without making a spectacle out of lifting yourself from your chair, you grab the sunscreen from your bag and walk to stand over him, your shadow stretching across his body. “You gonna stand up?”

“Just come down here, straddle my butt.”

“Absolutely not,” you feign offense.

“You’re absolutely no fun, my dear,” he jests as he pops up into a crouch then stands, lifting his arms to stretch out the stiffness from leaning on his elbows for too long. You avert your eyes from watching the way his skin moves over his torso as he brings his arms back down and turns his back to you. The sunscreen is rubbed into his warm skin as quickly as possible before you ask him to do yours in return.

When your back is facing him and your hair is gathered and pulled over your shoulder, he squirts it directly onto you from the tube.

“Shit it’s cold!” You jump but he keeps you close with his hands on your shoulders before he starts to rub the lotion in.

He only chuckles at your discomfort, “Sorry princess.” He knows you hate when they call you that. The twins both do it, to get on your nerves, because you’re the exact opposite of a princess. You’ve always held your own, especially with two teenage boys having become your closest friends years ago.

Josh knows that you hate it even more right now, with his hands rubbing firm circles into your skin, his fingers tucked under the straps of your bikini top in front of all of your friends, his family. He moves his hands lower, below the band of your top, to rub the remaining sunscreen into your lower back. The tips of his fingers dip under the top edge of your bikini bottoms and they linger there for just a beat too long before you’re scolding him quietly over your shoulder.

“Josh. That’s enough.”

He drops his hands from you completely and you turn your face back to assess the group’s reactions, but none of them are looking at you. Jake and Sam have laid out on their own towels, Jita is reading and Joy looks like she may have fallen asleep under her umbrella.

“Hey, I’m sorry… Do you wanna go walk down the beach? Would be a shame to waste this fresh sunscreen, let’s find some seashells.” He offers the olive branch with innocence in his voice as you turn back to face him. The look on his face is sheepish, you think to yourself that he looks so boyish, young and guiltless. His curls are grown out and a little wild from the salty breeze and seawater you’ve been living in for the last three days. His skin is glowing, tanned from the sun. How could I say no?

“Yeah, let’s do it. I need more sunscreen though.”

“Want some help?” His smile is full of mischief, his top row of teeth on full display with his bottom lip tucked beneath them, his eyebrows raised suggestively.

“Shut up dummy,” you're smiling with him, laughing at his quip, which is exactly what he wanted. After you feel sufficiently protected from the sun's rays, you call out to the rest of the group. “We’re going for a walk! Anyone wanna join?” You’re met with mumbles and murmurs, an overall “no, go ahead”.

Josh walks ahead of you toward the water and lets the break of the small but steady waves wash over his feet when he reaches it. You stand by his side and do the same when you reach him.

“It’s calm today.”

“It’s perfect. The waves kinda kicked my ass yesterday,” you both snicker a little, remembering Josh getting tossed by one particularly rogue wave that had scooped him off his feet. He hadn’t been able to touch the bottom when he resurfaced. “Let’s walk?”

Nodding your head in agreement, you head south down the beach. Stopping every once in a while to examine a shell, you deem the majority of them unworthy of keeping and move along, chatting easily with each other. You know one another well and conversation has always been comfortable. You pause suddenly, bending down to take a look at a shell that you think has potential and picking it up to show Josh. He disagrees, thinks that the perfect shell is still waiting for you further up the shore. As you agree with him and toss it into the break, you look past him to gauge how far you’ve walked. He glances back to evaluate the distance as well, then turns back to you with a grin. He moves to keep walking and as you fall in step with him, you brush his knuckles with your own. Before your arm can swing forward he grasps your hand, intertwines your fingers, and brings them up to his lips.

After placing a kiss to the back of your hand, he keeps it against his mouth and says, “Thanks for taking a walk with me babe.”

“Of course,” you turn and flash him a beaming smile as you keep strolling, linked together by your joined hands, you think that all of these strangers must assume you’re a couple.

“It’s been difficult to get you alone in that house. Someone is always around, next time we should go somewhere, just the two of us.”

It sounds nice, lovely even, but, “That would seem awfully suspicious, don’t you think?”

“I guess, but… Y/N why don’t we just tell them?”

You and Josh have been sleeping together for maybe six months, no, probably eight by now. It’s been extremely fun, and sneaky, and as far as you can tell it hasn’t changed your friendship at all. That’s all you are, good friends who sometimes see each other naked now.

When you don’t respond, he continues, “I don’t think they would care. And it’s been killing me, you’re walking around in that scrap of fabric you call a swimsuit and I’ve only gotten to take it off of you once, the whole time we’ve been here.” He tugs you closer by your hand and slips his from yours to wrap an arm around your waist. His skin against yours has you feeling hot and you know it’s not from the sun.

“Yeah, but that time was good,” you’re laughing as you think back to two nights ago. Everyone was exhausted from traveling here and hauling their stuff inside, then instantly heading to the beach and spending the whole day in the sun and water. You’d all had the time of your lives, then settled in on the back deck that night, lit only by the ambient light coming from inside the house. You, Joy, Jita and Sam had gotten comfortable in the hot tub while Jake had perched himself onto one of the huge Adirondack chairs, smoked a couple cigarettes and played his acoustic. Josh had joined him and sipped his drink, uncharacteristically quiet.

Two by two, the others had claimed overwhelming tiredness and slipped off to shower and claim their respective shared beds, leaving you and Josh alone in relative silence. The sound of the waves hitting the beach in the darkness had been your only background music. You’d left the hot tub when everyone else did and stood leaning over the railing of the deck, sipping your own drink and watching the moonlight ripple over the ocean.

When Josh had slid up behind you, caging you in with his arms on either side of your body and gripping the bannister beside your own hands, it hadn’t been a surprise. When he’d pressed himself into you with his face nuzzling into your hair until he could reach the bare skin of your shoulder, kissed you there, you hadn’t been shocked. When you could feel him, hard and needy and already rocking his hips against the swell of your ass, you had wanted him too.

He took you there just like that, outside in the moonlight, under the cover of dark and hush of secrecy after sliding the bottoms of your bikini down your legs and slipping himself between them.

“Hmm it was good, it’s better in your bed though. Or on your couch. Or in your shower. Or-“

“I get it!” You reach across yourself to swat a hand at his chest, which he grabs and holds there for just a moment before releasing it. He has you laughing as usual, as he always has even before you’d ventured into this new part of your friendship.

“I’m just saying, they probably wouldn’t care. And if they knew… I could fuck you in a bed later.” He’s dropped the volume of his voice as if anyone around could hear him over the sounds of the water, the atmospheric music from various spots on the beach, the kids playing and digging holes in the sand.

“I’m just not ready yet. I like that it’s just us, it’s just ours. I dunno…” You’re chewing your bottom lip in contemplation. “Let’s give it one more day maybe?”

“Sure, princess. Whatever you want.” He says it affectionately, no sign of disappointment in his tone. “Wanna go swimming? It’s so fucking hot out here.”

You agree easily, you’re sticky and sweating and figure you’ll be heading back to the house once you get back to the others.

Wading into the water, now hand in hand again, you walk out until the small waves are lapping against the bottom of your rib cage.

“C’mere, I need a kiss.” He’s already tugging you to him, lifting you effortlessly in the water and wrapping your legs around his waist. He drops you both down so you’re submerged up to your shoulders.

“Josh, there’s people all over the beach!” You resist but in truth, the beach is starting to clear as the sun begins its descent, your arms are draping themselves over his sun kissed shoulders.

Faces already so close to each other that you can see every freckle that the sun has coaxed from his usually near flawless skin, he says, “They don’t know us, they’re not even looking. Kiss me…”

And you oblige, hardly needing to move closer before your lips are slotted together. His skin is salty from sweat and his earlier dip in the sea and you can taste it on his lips, you open yours and slide just the tip of your tongue over the fullness of his bottom one. A quiet sound akin to a growl rumbles in his throat before his own tongue slips against yours and he deepens the kiss. With his bare chest moving against yours, barely covered by the scrap of fabric you call a swimsuit, floating in the ebbing water you forget for a moment that this is supposed to be a secret. It feels good to be kissing him in the open for once.

The lower halves of your bodies are pressed tight together and you can feel his dick getting hard in his swim trunks.

“Josh…” you break away but stay very close.

“Y/N…” he mimicks. “I could fuck you right here, in front of all these people and they wouldn’t even know. Still our secret.” He presses another quick kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely not, water sex isn’t even that good anyway and I’m definitely not having ocean water shot up my-“

He cuts you off with his lips, giggling against them.

“You’re vulgar. Fine, but if I don’t get inside you at some point tonight, my vacation is ruined.” With that, he releases the grip he had on your ass, grabs your waist and pulls you below the surface with him.

You’re sputtering and spitting water when you come back up, but you watch as he emerges casually, eyes closed as he runs his hands back over his hair, pushing all of it away from his face. Maybe he’s onto something. He looks beautiful like this, totally in his element in every version of nature, and you’re not sure when exactly you started to see him that way.

He’d made the first move that pushed you toward the place you find yourself now. It had been a night of celebration, the guys had just found out their album had been nominated for a Grammy and regardless of their nonchalance about it, excitement had been high and drinks were being handed out and passed around their parents’ home. Out on the back porch, he’d watched Jake go back inside after the three of you had smoked, you and Josh having shared a cigarette. Once the door was closed, he’d offered you the last hit and then taken it when you declined. Very focused on where he was stubbing the butt out on the wooden railing, he asked you simply, “Hey Y/N… you ever hooked up with a rockstar?”

It was a joke, but it had taken little effort to transition it into a serious proposition. Your curiosity had gotten the best of you and combined with the affection you’d always felt for him, you’d let him kiss you there in the cold. Then you’d let him sneak you back inside, past the slightly inebriated members of his family, and up into his bedroom. It was there that he truly surprised you with talented fingers and a skilled tongue, and an honestly perfect cock. Beautiful, even. You should’ve known, based on the rest of him. I guess that was when I started to see him that way.

“Ready to head back?” He’s watching you watch him, you think he can probably read exactly where your thoughts have wandered off to.

Leaving the water, you ring as much of it out of your hair as you can and comb it out with your fingers as you walk before reaching down to hold Josh’s hand in yours again. You spend most of the journey back in comfortable silence, each thinking about the other in only slightly different ways. You’re trying to figure out how you can get him in your bed later; he’s wondering if you’ll give in and let him tell the others about your little situation, so he doesn’t have to sneak into your bed later.

You’ve almost reached the part of the beach where the rest of your group is camped out before you realize you’re still holding hands. Snatching yours out of his more abruptly than you intend to, you quickly meet his eyes. “Josh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

He cuts off your apology with a shake of his head, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “It’s fine, princess.” He’s not upset and you’re not embarrassed. You’re just not… ready.

You reach the others as they’ve started to pack up, the sun dipping farther to the west quickly.

“Jesus, I thought you guys got kidnapped, or eaten by a shark. I was hoping it was the shark,” Sam offers up his speculation on why you’ve been gone so long. “Help us grab this shit, I’m starving.”

Once you’ve made it back to the house you each take turns rinsing off in the outdoor shower, the couples hopping in as pairs to save time. When they’re done, Josh lets you go in before him as the others migrate indoors to start prepping dinner. From outside the wooden shower stall, Josh speaks so quietly you can barely hear him over the sound of the water hitting the concrete at your feet.

“Can I rinse off with you? No one’s out here. They probably wouldn’t even think it’s weird anyway…”

You pop your head out from behind the plastic curtain to find him leaned against the stall and he raises his head up immediately. The look on your face is one he appreciates, you look like you’re up to no good. A hand shoots out to grab the front of his swim trunks, fingers instantly tucking into the waist and pulling him past the curtain and into the stall, your mouth seeks his out as you pull your bodies under the stream of tepid water. He’s kissing you without question, never passing up an opportunity to have his lips, tongue or teeth on you.

Pulling away, breathless, your hands are already moving to untie his trunks.

“Whoa whoa, out here? They’re waiting on us ohh fuck.” He cuts his concerns short when your hand, now down the front of his shorts, grips his half-hard dick. You give it a few strokes, you need him all the way there.

“You better make it quick then, huh Josh?” You murmur into his ear.

It’s not his favorite way to do things, but you’re persuasive. “Ah, heh, yeah okay,” he stammers out as you continue to work him with firm strokes, now fully hard against your palm. “There’s- shit, we don’t have enough time for me to get you off.”

“Don’t care, later, fuck me or get out.” It’s the last thing you’d want, for him to leave now. You know he won’t. His hands are at your hips instantly, pushing you back against the wood and untying the strings that hold your bikini bottoms together, letting them fall to the ground; you’re pushing his shorts down his body just enough to allow his cock to spring free.

“Let me touch you first, make you feel good.”

“I’m ready, c’mon-“

“Shut up, Jesus okay.” Reaching down he cups you with his hand anyway, before sliding his first two fingers through your lips and finding that you’re correct. His eyes shoot up from watching his own hand, to your face.

Your eyebrow quirks up, a smirk on your face. “I told you. Let’s do this, hurry up.”

He slips his fingers through you one more time before rubbing the slickness of your arousal over the head of his now throbbing dick. “Okay come here,” he reaches down again, this time to grip the back of your thigh and lift your leg to wrap around his hip. His other hand has found the side of your neck where it slips back into your hair and holds tight. Forehead pressed against yours, you’re both looking down, watching as he steps forward just a bit and moves his hips in toward you. One of your hands is on his shoulder and you slide it up to tangle your fingers into his curls, the same way he’s done to yours. Your other hand moves down between your bodies to grip him again, guide the tip through your wetness once and line him up with you.

He pushes his hips into you again, his cock sliding easily past your entrance and bottoming out with a thrust and a quiet grunt let out through his nose. He wishes he could savor the moment like he usually does but you’ve already demanded urgency from him, so as you both continue to watch where your bodies are connected, he begins pumping into you rapidly.

“Just like that, don’t stop,” you’d been a little desperate to have him inside you since your moment in the ocean, the feeling is electric enough to hold you over until you can get him alone again. “It’s so good, fuuuck!”

He pulls his hand from your hair and slaps it across your mouth. Your praise has only encouraged him to go harder, faster, but you’re too loud. “Wish I could do better but you’re fucking rushing me,” he spits out but doesn’t break his rhythm. He’s already close, wishing he had the freedom to hear all the pretty sounds he’s used to drawing from you. “Tell me where you want me, where do you want me to cum? Quietly,” his tone has your eyes meeting his and you nod your head in understanding so he removes his hand from your face then shoves it back into your hair.

“Inside,” you whisper, out of breath.

“God you’re perfect,” he grunts out and thrusts hard, only a few more times before he’s spilling deep inside you, his hips pushed flush against yours and his head dropped to your shoulder.

“Mm I know I am,” you joke, slipping your hand down from his hair and running it down his spine, causing him to shiver under your touch. With a soft tap to his butt before dropping your leg from his hip you add, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

You're both laughing quietly, as always the tone is lighthearted, even when he’s easing himself from your cunt. It’s never that serious.

“Let’s get cleaned up handsome, I’m starving now too.”

“What the fuck is taking you guys so long to do anything today?” Jake is the first to call you out once you’re walking into the kitchen. Damn I really thought that was a quickie.

“My hair was disgusting from the saltwater, needed some extra tender loving care Jakey. You understand, I’m sure,” you’re brushing him off but you throw a wink Josh’s way. Otherwise occupied, Jake doesn’t see it.

“Sure princess, so what’s the annoying one’s excuse?”

You scoff in faux offense for your friend. “He is not annoying, he was being responsible enough to rinse the sand and saltwater off of all of your belongings!” Hoping that’s a decent enough cover, and also tiring of the discourse you leave it at that and ask the girls what you can help with after you change. Running up to your room for a clean t-shirt, you remove your bikini top and throw the shirt on, coming back to assist in just that and your bottoms. Everyone else’s state of dress or undress is pretty similar.

Dinner is casual, most of you eat sitting at the kitchen island while Sam opts to stand against the counter and eat from his plate while it’s still sitting in his hand. You all stay in position as the food disappears and the drinks begin flowing freely. You’re a few glasses into a bottle of red wine, various other bottles litter the island. More wine, clear liquors, dark liquors - everyone is sipping on their drink of choice. Conversation flows easily, usually multiple happening at once and currently you’re telling the girls a story about something or another from when you’d first met the guys. Having picked up on Josh’s dramatic flair over the years, your storytelling is animated and wild, earning genuine laughter from everyone.

Except Josh.

You hadn’t noticed that he didn’t return to his chair after slipping back into the room from a trip to the bathroom. Instead he’d moved through the kitchen and past the island altogether, taking a seat in a chair at the unused dining table. He’s turned the chair so he’s still within the sphere of the group but on the outskirts enough, behind you and slightly to your left, that he feels like an observer more so than an active participant. That’s what he wants, to observe you, watch you blend so flawlessly into his life - making his brothers laugh, making their partners feel included. He’s intrigued by your talent for storytelling, though some of the punchlines are at his expense. He’s in awe of your appearance - carefree and beautiful in his eyes, sun kissed skin and hair wavy from the salt and sea.

You hadn’t noticed him sitting back there, but someone had.

Jake is across the island from you, leaned against the kitchen counter an arm’s length or so from Sam. He’s been enthralled in your tale, though he’d lived the story in real time, but he notices Josh walk by and past the rest of you when he returns. He watches over your shoulder as his twin takes a seat at the table and doesn’t take his eyes off of your back. He catches it when you stand from your seat, reenacting something with your whole body, as Josh’s gaze lands on your still exposed legs and, Jake can only imagine, your ass cheeks peeking out from under your oversized shirt as you move.

Huh. Isn’t this an interesting development?

He’s missed what you said but everyone around the island laughs suddenly, so Jake uses this opening to excuse himself. “Hey Josh, join me for a smoke?”

Josh doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s heard his brother speak.

“Josh. Smoke?” Josh reacts this time, shaking out of his silent contemplation and standing to follow Jake out the door to the deck. You react too, Jake having raised his voice to get Josh’s attention. You watch them head outside and move down the deck, out of view before you pour yourself another glass and listen as Sam is now elaborating on something you’d said.

Outside, Jake offers his twin a cigarette and lights them both when he accepts, passing one to him. Josh is leaned back in an Adirondack while Jake posts up against the railing across from him, examining his face closely.

“What are you staring at?”

“Hm, I could’ve asked you the same, inside just now. What were you staring at?”

Josh’s face blanks, rid of any type of reaction, but it’s too late.

“What’s going on with you and Y/N?”

There’s panic rising to the surface, only because Josh knows you don’t want the rest of them to know about you guys. Yet. “What are you talking about Jake?”

“Don’t give me that shit, you’ve been staring at her like you want to eat her alive. It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. How long has this been-“

“Nothing is going on.”

“You’re fucking lying,” Jake’s not believing a word of it, he knows his brother better than he knows himself sometimes. “Are you fucking her, or do you just want to?”

“She’s my best friend-“

“Not what I asked. Also, irrelevant. So which is it?”

Josh looks away, past Jake, up at the moon. It’s not sitting in the same place in the sky as it had been when he’d been alone with you out here, too early in the night still.

“Well? Are you fucking her? How long?”

Josh drops his eyes back to his twin’s face, so similar to his own, and sighs. He’s not getting out of this, and he almost doesn’t want to. He can feel the relief within reach, at the tips of his fingers, the release that he’ll feel once the words leave his lips.

On a whisper almost so quiet that Jake doesn’t hear it, he lets it go.

“Eight months.”

“EIGHT MONTHS?” Jake whisper-yells, his eyes bulging out of his skull.

“Eight months, two weeks and three days.”

Oh. Ohhh.

They sit in silence for a few long moments.

“How long have you been in love with her?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Idiot.

Josh leans forward in the chair, elbows on his knees and drops his head into his hands. He rubs them over his face a few times then back over his hair, curls flopping back over his forehead.

“A long fucking time, Jake.”

Part 2 🤍

[moonselune]

Ughh, okay, so I have this really weirdly complex relationship thing with one of my Tav's (my dwarf noble Tav, I think I rq'd her awhile back but her story has went through some CHANGES relationship wise).

Basically, like, her and Wyll are a thing. Have been for a bit, but after the adventure, they stayed close to Astarion and Halsin, who were a thing. Could I rq something like Wyll realizing that he's got a crush on Astarion and Halsin at the same time he's in love with Tav, and all of them slowly realizing they all like each other. Tav comforting Wyll, cuz he's worried. Halsin is having the time of his life. It's my opinion that they all deserve two or three people to kiss a day y'know. (I'm poly so sorry if this sounds weird- I don't want it to sound like I'm fetishizing it, I'm not. I'm poly irl)

Oooo very interesting, i don't have a lot of experience writing poly but was excited to take this on

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dwarf!Tav x Wyll x Astarion x Halsin | Poly-cute

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The warmth of the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees as you sat beside the campfire, sharpening your axe with practiced care. The journey had been long, but the end of your adventure was within reach. Baldur’s Gate lay ahead, along with whatever futures awaited you, Wyll, Astarion, and Halsin. It had been an unexpected journey of both peril and closeness, especially when it came to your small but tight-knit group.

You, a noble dwarf from a respected clan, had never imagined the wild turns your life would take when you met Wyll. The Blade of Frontiers, with his heart of gold, his fierce determination to protect the innocent, had swept you off your feet in a way no one else ever had. You had been lovers for a while now, sharing stories by the fire and fighting side by side. You’d seen Wyll in his most heroic moments, but also at his most vulnerable. Through it all, your love for him had only deepened.

Yet, in recent weeks, something had shifted.

Wyll had grown closer to Astarion and Halsin—an odd but endearing couple that you had all bonded with during your travels.

You'd noticed how Wyll’s glances toward Astarion lingered just a little too long, how his smile widened whenever Halsin entered the room, or when Astarion cracked one of his dry jokes. Wyll, who wore his emotions plainly on his sleeve, was easy to read. And though he tried to hide it, you had seen the growing tension in him lately—the internal conflict he hadn’t yet put into words.

Tonight, as dusk settled over the camp and the others finished up their own tasks, you felt Wyll shift beside you. His brow furrowed, his jaw tight, as though he was holding something back.

“Something’s weighing on you, Wyll,” you said quietly, not looking up from your axe. “You’ve been distracted.”

Wyll stiffened at your words, guilt flashing in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, uncertain. You waited patiently, your steady presence always a comfort to him. He had never been good at keeping things from you for long. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I… I don’t know how to say this, love,” he began, his voice laced with hesitation. “But I’ve been feeling… something. Something I don’t quite know how to handle.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your axe down and turning to face him fully.

“Go on,” you urged, your voice calm and steady, offering him the space to speak his mind. Wyll took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of apprehension and guilt.

“It’s about Astarion and Halsin,” he admitted. “I’ve grown close to them, as you know. But lately, it’s been… different. I think… I think I might have feelings for them. And I’m terrified that it’s wrong. That it’ll hurt you.”

He rushed the last part, as if afraid of how you might react. His dark eyes searched your face, clearly expecting the worst. But you weren’t shaken. You had seen the way Wyll looked at them, and you had felt the tug of something deeper within your own heart when it came to Astarion and Halsin. This wasn’t just Wyll’s burden to bear—it was something you had been feeling, too. Your hand reached out to grasp his, warm and reassuring.

“Wyll,” you said, your voice soft but certain, “you don’t need to be afraid of telling me this. You think I haven’t noticed? I’ve seen the way you look at Astarion when he’s being his smug, charming self. And I’ve seen the way you admire Halsin’s strength and kindness.” A small smile tugged at your lips. “If I’m being honest, I’ve felt it too.”

Wyll blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback. “You… you have?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, your thumb tracing small circles over his hand. “I’ve always been drawn to those two, in different ways. They’ve got something special, and I can see why you feel the way you do. I love you, Wyll, and nothing will change that. But if there’s room in our lives for more love, for them… well, I’m not against the idea.”

Wyll exhaled in relief, his entire body relaxing as the weight of his secret was lifted. “You mean it? You’re really okay with this?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t,” you assured him, squeezing his hand. “We’ve been through too much together for me to hide how I feel. If you want this, if we all want this… then I say we give it a shot. There’s no shame in having a big heart, Wyll.”

The smile that spread across his face was one of pure gratitude and love.

“Gods, I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. His arms around you felt like home, strong and reassuring.

As you held him, the tension that had been brewing between you melted away. You knew that this journey wasn’t over yet—that there were still conversations to be had with Astarion and Halsin—but in this moment, you felt at peace. The love between you and Wyll was strong, and it could only grow from here.

Later that evening, as the four of you sat around the campfire, you noticed Astarion’s sly smirk and the way he leaned into Halsin, who was lounging comfortably beside him. They both seemed utterly at ease, basking in the warmth of the fire and each other’s company. Astarion, ever the tease, caught your eye and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, well. Looks like our brooding Blade of Frontiers finally worked up the nerve, eh?” he said with a playful grin, earning a chuckle from Halsin. Wyll flushed, but there was no shame in his expression—only a newfound confidence.

“It’s not just me,” he said, glancing at you with a soft smile. Astarion’s eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he purred, clearly delighted by the turn of events.

Halsin gave you both a warm, approving smile. “Love, in all its forms, is a gift,” he said, his voice rich and calm. “If this is something we all want, then let’s embrace it.”

You leaned back, feeling the warmth of the fire and the love that surrounded you. It was unconventional, perhaps, but it was yours. And as you looked at the three people around you—Wyll, Astarion, and Halsin—you realized that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[flowery-mess]

hiiiii, i saw your requests for noah are open. could you maybe do him with an insecure reader? like she just doesn't like how she looks (particularly her tummy) and he shows her how beautiful she really is to him? preferably smutty with a loooooot of praise <33333

So, I'm sorry it took me few days. To be honest this topic isn't easy for me, cause I like to deal with my insecurities alone, so I didn't really know where to start and go with this. I put these two requests together, hope you don't mind. I also put a bit of myself in there, as I'd like to work for the fire department after college.

Let me know how you like it and if you find any grammar mistakes, let me know, english isn't my first language. Enjoy reading✨

„And then he said that women should not work for the fire department.“ I sighed and sank deeper in the bath, holding glass filled with white wine in my right hand.

„Oh wow, what a captain.“ Noah answered, head against the blue tiles of our bathroom as he was sitting outside the bath with one of his hands also occupied with glass of wine.

“Just acting captain. I really hope they choose someone from the station soon, can’t wait to see him leave. I know he’s the only one with the sexist comments at the station, but lately he’s been showing off his opinions too much and I’m just tired of that. Makes me think I should quit.”

“Don’t you dare do that Y/N. It’ll pass with the new captain. Or file a complaint with others. They got your back. You’re amazing fire fighter, don’t let him ruin that for you.”

Little angry wrinkles showed on Noah’s face as we talked about my job. He was mad that our acting captain was making feel all the female fire fighters this way and he didn’t know how to help with that, but even with the sadness showing on my face, he would never support the thought of me leaving the job. He knows I love it and that I’d be mad at myself and him for letting me do that just for someone who’s stepping up for station without captain.

“I really hope it’s question of days now, the process should be done soon and then he’ll leave.” All the nasty things I had to say about him were washed with the wine down my throat, I didn’t want to ruin one of the first nights Noah’s back home from the tour.

“Yeah I hope too, hate to see you this sad.” His empty hand came on the edge of the bath, looking for mine. When our hands touched, he gave me a little squeeze and we stayed in silence for a moment. Both tired from our jobs, excited for the two days we both had off.

“Can I come in?” Noah asked few minutes of silence later.

“Like in the bath?” I asked the obvious thing and shifted a bit in our big bathtub. I had bubbles covering my body, that made me comfortable. Not like I don’t feel comfortable around Noah, but after months of being apart it felt like he would see me naked for the first time again and that made me nervous. With all the bullshit about women at work, it just made me more insecure about my body, my capability, my whole existence.

“Yes.” He said more as a question. “I enjoy talking to you, but my back is starting to hurt, let me in?”

“I can go out. We can lay down, we’re both tired. We can continue with the talking and wine in bed?” I tried to play it off.

“Why? You went in just a while ago. The water is still warm, let me in and let’s just relax together love.” He said as he got up from the floor. I quickly made sure the bubbles were covering I wanted covered, and Noah noticed.

“What are you doing?” He looked at me, confused.

“Nothing.” I said, not having an honest answer for that.

Noah got his clothes off and went in the bath behind me. I wanted to tell him to sit against me, but then he would be looking directly at my body, and I didn’t like that either.

He sat down and put his hands around my waist and laid us both down. I waited few second, then took his hands and put them more up, around my shoulders. We stayed in the comfortable silence few more minutes, I tried to drink the shame away with the wine, but then Noah put his hands back around my waist and suddenly I felt like crying.

He must’ve sensed something was wrong with the way I became so tense.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong?” he tried to look at my face, but with him sitting behind me it was easy to cover my watery eyes.

“I just-“ I wanted to tell him, I wanted to learn to communicate my feelings better, but it was so hard while being naked, so vulnerable.

“It’s okay, just breathe and talk when you’re ready.” Noah said, hugging me tighter from the back and planting kisses to my shoulders.

I took few shaky breathes as I felt tears running down my face.

“Okay I just, I don’t know what to say. I’m so glad you’re back, but every time you’re on tour and we don’t see each other for a few months I start feeling this way. Like you are seeing me naked for the first ever and I’m ashamed of feeling like that. You never game me a reason to feel bad about myself, so I don’t know why that keeps happening. But with everything going on at work these days, I feel like shit mentally, but keep projecting it to my body and I just don’t want you to see me like that.” I was so proud for getting that off me, felt so good to just let it out. I felt ashamed of what I was feeling, I felt like I was making Noah the bad guy and myself like a hysterical unstable woman, who breaks down after few inconveniences in her life.

“Oh, I didn’t know that. I’m sorry If I would’ve known, I would stay outside. Babe, you don’t have to be shy or feel insecure around me. I saw your body thousands of times and I love it, I love you.” He turned my body a little, just for us to be facing each other. “You’re beautiful, your body and your mind. I’m so lucky to have you. And the station? Same, they’re lucky to have you. You do your job with love and compassion and I’m sure the new captain will see that. I know it’s too much for you now, but don’t ever hide away from me, you don’t have to.” He planted few kisses on my face after his little speech.

I felt more relaxed, but the tension was still there.

“I’m gonna go out and let you have the time you need, okay? I’ll make dinner, then we can finish the wine in bed.” I didn’t need to say a word and Noah knew what I wanted in the moment. He got out of the bath, wrapped towel around his waist, kissed my forehead with little “I love you” and left the bathroom.

I felt at peace after that. I made my routine, got out of the bathroom to find Noah with dinner ready, music playing quietly from the speakers. We ate, we talked, finished the bottle of white wine and went to sleep. I slept with my mind at peace, knowing everything will be alright as long as he’s by my side.

[cosmicbucket]

this is by no means an educated and informative post but rather a severe understatement of the rage i feel over the interview regarding one Gale Dekarios.

under the cut is a stronger criticism on the narrative's integrity with this ending; everything before that is tearing into the lead writer's statements.

note that I will be referencing other companions as contrast. this is not supposed to be tearing them down nor casting shade on anyone who enjoys these characters; i am trying to make a point through relevant comparison.

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

"the guy who starts off annoying everyone" that is such a blatantly subjective thing to say about a character.

for me personally, i Loathed shadowheart at first because of the immediate fantasy racism towards lae'zel. this is very clearly a subjective opinion as she's the most romanced companion, and I'm not mad about that in the slightest! she rocks! you can't judge a character on behalf of everyone ever. that's a foolish thing to do, full stop.

"constantly asking you to give him your most treasured possessions to eat" three times. he asks you for a magical item, three times. after that you are NEVER required to part with a magical item on his behalf again.

the game practically THROWS magic items at you for completing side quests, looting crates and chests. magic items are in ABUNDANCE and a lot of them won't be useful to your party depending on your companions and your chosen class. meanwhile, astarion's peculiar diet lasts the entire span of the game, creating a situation where should you choose to let him feed on you every night, you suffer a penalty to attack rolls, saving throws and ability checks OR waste a spell slot to remove the condition. astarion is most certainly in no shortage of fans and again! he rocks! but by comparison his effect on the player can stretch so far as to affect the final boss battle. gale's condition doesn't even make it past the end of act 1.

"at the end, he gives himself for the world" is it worth it though. is it really seriously worth it.

you can still defeat the elder brain yourself. it's not impossible. hell, with the right spells it's really fucking easy. are you seriously going to rob yourself of the satisfaction of defeating the final boss by sending someone to their death instead and calling it a day.

I can understand the narrative catharsis of a character who is so selfish, constantly, over and over, doing something selfless for the greater good.

But that just is not what Gale's story is.

Gale is ambitious and boastful, certainly. Gale is not selfish.

His attempt to impress Mystra - The Mother of Magic, Goddess of the Weave - came from a want to be equals with his partner. He explains how she refused to allow him to witness the depths of magic, and while that's a reasonable thing to enforce to a regular mortal, she had made him her Chosen, her lover. I would hope I don't need to delve into the blatant grooming (ie Elminster approaching Gale at the age of eight) and the obvious power imbalance between a goddess and a mortal in a relationship, but his desires - ambitious as they were - were not selfish.

When he asks for the player's assistance, he does so knowing that he's asking a lot from them, especially in terms of trust. While it's easy to see his pushiness for magic items as self-serving, it is quite literally a much larger problem than him. The damage he's capable of "could level a city", and that affects not just your party but the surrounding area for miles. His urgency, his impatience, comes from having to rely on someone else who might not respect the gravity of the situation (which, evidently, a lot of players don't.)

When he realises the magic items are doing nothing to prevent his hunger, he lays it out plainly to the player, apologising for having broken their trust, and gives them the choice to send him away to certain death with no hard feelings. He even explains his plan to find an Absolutist base and hopefully destroy that in order to aid you in his death, should you choose to kick him out. This is in Act 1, way before any massive character developments - that is to say, he is unselfish from the start.

Come Act 2, when Elminster tells Gale that Mystra expects him to detonate the orb to kill the Heart of the Absolute, Gale is immediately willing. He will answer to his goddess' whims without so much as a query. You don't have to convince him to do it - rather, it becomes your choice to convince him not to do it.

And you do have to convince him! You have to actively make the choice, over and over again, to say no, we can find another way. You are not dying today.

Even in Act 3, should you take him through Zethino's Love Test, you are able to call him out for his greatest flaw:

"He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead."

I am not calling him selfless by any means; he is not a paragon of virtue. He is, however, a character whose hubris (spurred by an abusive relationship with a goddess) is amply punished, so much so that he believes this punishment is entirely deserved. He is a victim of grooming who is told to kill himself in order to gain forgiveness for trying to be equals with his partner, who took advantage of him as a child.

What kind of message is Larian trying to make here? What are they trying to tell their audience? What are they saying to people who relate to Gale?

It's fucking horrible. Do better.

[cmspeirs]

You’ll only know Peace | Part Two

Epigraph & Prologue

{Band of Brothers, Ronald Speirs x OC}

A/N: Here’s the next part of my story, I hope you enjoy it! Next parts will follow soon on here and on my Wattpad.

—> Part 1

Epigraph

"Miss, you never really leave the war. It continues to wage in your soul. You walk off the fields and grounds on which you fulfilled your duty, but the war isn't held on those; the horrors of war are waging in the people who fought it, and it pursues on, in each of us, to eternity."

———

Prologue

Elaine was laying on her back in a bed she knew she would miss. She was still dressed in her uniform, the duvet on the double bed was untouched and destined to stay ever so neatly folded that night. Her last one in Aldbourne; the small town had grown on her, its rough streets and quaint cottages a heavy contrast to the chaos that awaited her. The town began to feel like home after all the months Easy Company stayed there. The gentle rustling of the trees outside the window, usually so comforting, now felt like a reminder of what she was about to lose.

Desperately longing for a few hours of sleep, she sighed loudly at the fact that her eyes refused to close. Her mind was a battleground of 'what ifs'. What if this was the last night in a real bed she would ever have?

"Hey, did you even listen to me?", a familiar voice tore her from her thoughts. Her eyes slowly wandered from the ceiling through the small room until they landed on her fellow medic, Eugene Roe. He stood beside a wooden bench that was placed in front of the window, on which he carefully positioned the contents of their medical bags; a bit too neat, almost compulsive, in Elaines opinion. She glanced over the arranged bandages and syringes while sitting up and resting her head against the headboard.

"Sorry, what did you say?", she asked quietly, her eyes still laying on the bench. She shook her head slightly. "Also, what are you even doing, Gene? You should be getting every minute of sleep you can."

"Yeah, just like you", he scoffed. "I'm going through all our stuff, obviously. I just counted all of this, and you weren't even listening? Great, now I can start all over again."

Elaine felt the uncomfortable tension which was settling in the room. Eugene took a quiet breath, not looking up. "Can't sleep either it seems?" His voice was softer now, the banter fading into concern.

She pushed herself over to the other side of the bed and sat down facing her friend, ignoring his question. "Hey Gene, we've sorted this stuff about a hundred times already, and counted it at least a thousand times. We're jumping tomorrow...", she began to speak with a soft and slightly annoyed tone. As she mentioned the jump, her own voice got stuck in her throat. The discomfort began to also settle down into her chest.

"Alright, another time won't hurt, huh?", she sighed as she stood up and quickly got her hands busy. Eugene just chuckled at the change of demeanor.

———

As the two medics spent their last night in Aldbourne rearranging their medical bags and checking them over and over again, they barely exchanged any words. Elaine couldn't shake the feeling that this might be the last quiet moment they'd share. She dismissed the thought quickly, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Both their minds were full of heavy thoughts. Whilst Eugene tried to stay professional, thinking through their whole training again and again, Elaines thoughts were going different places. She thought about how the two medics used to stay up all night counting the medical stuff in the stockroom. And despite the overwhelming tension, it was just the same that night. The familiar procedure began to calm her, as her mind wandered to all the past things she experienced since she joined the Men of Easy Company.

Tomorrow, everything would change. But tonight, they were just medics counting supplies, like they did in Toccoa.

For a moment, she let herself believe it was enough.

[rainbowvamp]

"Well, it's nearly midnight. How much do you know about human New Years customs."

1 hour writing spree. Happy New Year. Ring it in with a Hob and Dream first kiss fic, on the house <3

------

Hob spends all day cooking in the new inn. prepping for the New Years Eve party that the inn is having. He is exhausted by the time the New Years party actually comes around.

He turns to his co-owner and tells her that he needs a power nap at around 9pm. She didn't come in until 5, so she's good to be alone for an hour or so so hob can make it through till midnight.

Hob goes up to his flat and lays down. He falls asleep and then pretty quickly after that, he starts to dream.

The dream is nice, but relatively inconsequential. Just Hob going about his business in the New Inn with an increased amount of surreality. It feels so normal to his mind that he doesn't wake up for midnight.

At about 11:55pm BST, Dream pops into his dream. Hob is wiping down the counter and smiling at him, and thinking how lucky he is to be seeing his stranger when he didn't expect to.

And Dream feels that gratitude. How Hob feels about him.

"Your party is awaiting you, Hob Gadling." Dream knows just about everything, and he knows that Hob is supposed to be enjoying this time with his friends. His friends who he cares for in the waking world. He thinks it is a kindness to tell his friend the time.

"What do I need that for, when everything I want is right here?" Hob grins, pouring Dream a glass of wine and pushing it over the bar to him before serving himself a whiskey. The pub that had been occupied before now contains no one but the two of them, completely by Hob's doing. Dream can feel the way that this is intentional for Hob, removing possible distractions, possible people to take Dream's attention away from himself. Dream smiles affectionately, remembering Hob's confession of how the (perceived) Shakespeare slight affected him.

"You would profess that I am all you want?"

"I don't often say things I don't mean, duck." The easy way Hob calls him by a nickname makes Dream feel a fluttering sensation in the area where his chest has manifested.

"What would you ask of me then, if I am truly all you wish for." Dream sits at the bar in front of Hob, and Hob leans over the bar, arms braced wide and face nearer to Dream's than it has been in most of their time acquainted.

"Well, it's nearly midnight. How much do you know about human New Years customs." Hob's smile would be blinding if Dream was anything less than an anthropomorphic personification. As it was, it was a little bit stunning.

"I am aware of all human customs. I am the embodiment of fiction and fantasy, dream and nightmare." Dream offers back his own small smile.

"Well, what do you know about ringing in the new year?"

In the background, a television that hadn't been on (or even present) starts counting down to midnight.

"10... 9... 8..."

"I know that humans have a variety of traditions for it." Dream leans over the bar, closer to Hob. Close enough to be held. Close enough to be kissed.

"7... 6... 5..."

"Any opinions on that variety?" Hob leans in, that centimeter more. His breath glances over Dream's mouth.

"4... 3... 2..."

"I find them... interesting. I might enjoy participating in them. With the right guidance."

"Mhmm,"

"1!"

Fireworks go off in the waking world, but Dream keeps Hob's consciousness firmly in the Dreaming as the immortal leans in and closes the distance between their mouths.

For the two of them, the turning over of a human year means little. They have the capacity to be infinitely old, and experience infinite New Years. For them, this moment doesn't mark the beginning of a new year, but the beginning of a new dimension to their relationship.

When Hob pulls away, his eyes are heavy lidded, and Dream has the urge to pull him back. Dream has never done anything by halves. He loves Hob, in a way he has not chosen to love someone in a long time. He leans in and kisses Hob again, just for good measure. Just because he can. Just because it is a new year, and there is some new component to them, and he wants to celebrate that.

Hob knows that this is real, and Dream is himself, before he pulls away again. His face is a combination of awe and desire. Dream finds he quite likes it.

"Take me to your residence, Hob. Allow me to ring in the new year with you."

"Gladly." Hob grins and reaches over the bar to grab Dream's face and kiss him hungrily, one more time, before dragging him upstairs.