#kates mailbox

[catmask]

You talked a while back about your music taste on stream, and If you don't mind me asking, would you mind sharing any personal favourite artists/bands? Don't wanna bother i just think music talk is always fun and interesting

not a bother at all!! i have a lot of longterm favorite bands/artists. lately ive been listening to a lot of deftones, whichve been a longterm favorite. ive also been getting into sade, imogen heap and kendrick lamar!!

[sweetnnaivete]

CERI.

hi hello do u have recommendations for songs i shd add to my nobleflower playlist ? xx

omg you know i've never actually thought abt this !!! i love nobleflower though >3< here are my ideas :

the sensual world - kate bush

anything - adrianne lenker

bad decision! - esha tewari

vivica - jack off jill

i can't be with you - the cranberries

we'll never have sex - leith ross

i don't smoke - mitski

wuthering heights - kate bush

west coast - lana del rey

carolina - taylor swift

[sexchangedotcom]

oh hey i know this guy! (Also my condolences for being instagram repost famous ik it happens to u often)

oh god. i barely use instagram i have no clue how often this happens to me. oh god. thank u for the condolences i'll send flowers

[chaurm]

do u write for kate

yes pookerina

[clovermunson]

summoning mo requires

5 deeply traumatized & dark-humored fictional men who are each holding a rescue puppy and an order of cheese fries.

everyone else can go home, kate has summoned me and she can’t get rid of me now (sorry bestie, no backsies)

i showed up for the traumatized fictional men and stayed for the rescue puppies and cheese fries. i am a simple woman.

what five items would you use to summon me?

[sunflowergirl522]

book haul RN

Ask and you shall receive bestie.

First off I got a box set of the LOTR books + The Hobbit even though I already own them. To be fair though my copy is this ginormous book that I can’t take anywhere or hold comfortably. And these ones are all small with nice matching covers.

Then I got Murder on The Orient Express and Death on The Nile because I’m a slut for a good murder mystery and I’ve been meaning to read Orient Express since I saw the movie. And I loved watching Death on The Nile. If I like these two I’m gonna get more of the Poirot books.

Then I got three romance books. Too Hard To Forget by Tessa Bailey, The American Roommate Experiment by Elena Armas, and Roomies by Christina Lauren. All authors I absolutely adore and am excited to read.

Now I just have to figure out where to put each book in my pile.

[themangopdf]

happy valentines!!!

ahh thank you so much kate!!!!! 🌻💐🌷🪷🍫🍬🍪🍮🍨<- giving you flowers and yr favorite sweets <3

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter One

Summary:

Your colleague Dr. Ancunin is a smug condescending bastard and you can't stand him. But you also can't get him out of your head.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no breeding kink, masturbation, vaginal fingering, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, like the briefest mention of suicide while talking about Hamlet

This would not exist without @zipzoomzaria's gorgeous glasses screenshots because PROFESSOR, PLS. Go follow her bc her edits are out of this world. The masturbation scene is also heavily inspired by @astarionfreak's "Are You Satisfied, Darling?" If you haven't read it what are you doing???

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. It could be his arrogance, or the condescending way he peers over his glasses at you and your other colleagues. It might be the overpriced cashmere turtlenecks that hug his figure perfectly or the stupid silver earrings adorning his stupid elf ears. But every time he opens his pretty little mouth you feel a snarl growing deep in your throat.

This is the first university you’ve worked at where the theatre and English departments shared an office. Theatre and music, sure, even theatre and dance. But theatre and English? It feels insulting, honestly. English PhDs are some of the snobbiest people you’ve ever met, and they always speak to you like a child. Is it because they’re unimpressed by your MFA, like it made you less deserving of your position? Who knows. But Astarion Ancunin is no different.

“Grace, would you mind making twelve copies of pages 219-254 when you get a chance?” You hand the administrative assistant the heavy book. “You can leave them in my mailbox, I’ll pick them up later.” Grace opens the book to the instructed page.

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing! I love that one!” she squeals with delight. “That Beatrice and Benedick,” she sighs, stroking the Complete Works lovingly. You smile at her cordially.

“They’re great, they’re basically the non-problematic version of Kate and Petruchio,” you respond in agreement.

“How tragic that Taming’s writing is better.”

You whirl around to see Ancunin walking in looking at something on his phone. He doesn’t even look up as he inserts himself into your conversation. You glare at his interruption. He looks up at Grace, bypassing you completely.

“Good morning, Grace darling, how are you today?” He sweeps over to her and takes her hand in his, planting a kiss on her knuckles. Gods he’s fucking insufferable. Not to mention unprofessional. Grace, however, blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl.

“I’m doing well, Dr. Ancunin, and yourself?” The tiefling’s voice jumps up about three pitches and her tail starts swishing excitedly.

“Leagues better now that I’ve been blessed with your presence,” he coos at her, voice positively saccharine. It takes every ounce of your patience to keep from rolling your eyes. He casts his gaze to you, and even you need to turn away from those piercing red eyes.

“Good morning, professor. Starting Much Ado with your students, I take it?” he asks with a light smile that makes you bristle.

“Yes, it’s a great way for them to practice switching between verse and prose,” you respond coolly, more than a little defensive.

“Of course, one of his best.” He glances down at the volume still in Grace’s hands and his eyebrows raise, peering over the top of his round glasses. “Going with the Bevington, hmm? Interesting. I’m more of a Norton man, myself.” He runs a slender finger along the binding as you grit your teeth. Is he really patronizing you over your choice of edition of Shakespeare’s Complete Works? Of course, he’s an English scholar.

“The Norton is a great tool dramaturgically, but the Bevington is a much better resource for actors, so, yes.” Your voice is steady but there’s an undeniable venom in it. Can he tell how much he’s bothering you? Probably, he’s almost certainly getting enjoyment out of riling you up. His little smirk would seem to suggest it, at least.

“Well certainly, and who knows acting resources better than our resident classical acting expert?” he intones, voice still dripping with honey. You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s taking another jab at your degree.

“Well, as much as I enjoy standing around and debating the merit of various editions of the Complete Works, I’m about to be late for a meeting. Grace, thank you so much, I’ll be back later to pick up those copies. Dr. Ancunin,” you turn to his smug face and he looks back at you innocently. “A pleasure, as always.” You grab your papers and leave the office, feeling the heat of his gaze boring into the back of your head as you leave.

***

“Yes, Thaniel, come on in, have a seat,” you call out to the freshman loitering in the hallway outside your office. He comes in and drops his overfull backpack next to the teal club chair across from your desk. You close your laptop and smile at him warmly.

“So, Hamlet, that’s ambitious! I think it’s a good choice for you, but it’ll be a lot of work,” you say, glancing at your own copy of the monologue.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Thaniel says nervously. “I’m fine with the scansion and stuff, that I get, but I still don’t get the actual words. And I know you said how important that is.”

“For sure, I can guarantee all of the bad Shakespeare you’ve seen has been because the actors had no idea what they were saying. Have you used the Lexicon?” Thaniel looks off to the side, embarrassed.

“No, I don’t really get how that works either,” he says, an air of chagrin creeping into his voice.

“No worries, it takes practice. Here, we’ll do a few lines together. So first off, to be or not to be, that’s fairly obvious, right?”

“Yeah, he’s talking about suicide, right?”

“Sure, but what is he actually saying about it? To take arms against a sea of troubles/And by opposing, end them. What’s ‘them’ referring to?”

“The sea of troubles?”

“Right, the aforementioned slings and arrows. So even though you might know what those words mean individually, look them up in the Lexicon to see if they have a different context here. But you’re right, he’s trying to figure out if it’s better to suffer through the shittiness of existence or to take your fate into your own hands and, well, end them.” You highlight the line and lean over your desk to show Thaniel. A voice pipes up from the doorway.

“That’s not exactly what he’s saying, you know.”

The paper crumples in your hand slightly as your fist instinctively tightens. You plaster a strained smile on your face and look up at him.

“Dr. Ancunin, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Care to elaborate?”

He’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, face in shadows. Your office is unusually dark because of the storm outside, and so the bright fluorescents in the hallway give him an almost ethereal halo effect

“It’s a common misconception that Hamlet is contemplating suicide here. Life and death, sure, but ‘to take arms’ isn’t metaphorical, it’s literal. He’s contemplating dying as a result of killing Claudius, not taking his own life,” he says, almost sounding bored. You stand abruptly, your office chair skidding backwards.

“How can that possibly be true? He says ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’ He’s using the active voice, deciding whether or not to continue his life or end it. To be or not to be. It’s the first line in the monologue. He’s not talking about the consequences of killing Claudius.” You try to keep your voice from shaking. You know that you don't sound nearly as eloquent as him, and it’s pissing you off. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“You’re oversimplifying it, it’s exceedingly more complicated than that. The whole soliloquy is filled with war imagery. He’s at war with himself, the part of him that wants to kill Claudius and the part of him that is afraid to die.” He pushes himself off the door frame and steps back into the hallway. “But apologies, please don’t let me interrupt your instruction.” And like that he was off, leaving you to stew in silence. Thaniel looks up at you and looks back at the doorway where he stood.

“Should I…” he starts, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“Dr. Ancunin comes at this from a very different angle as an English academic. He’s more interested in the words on the page, rather than how they translate to the stage. But,” you sigh, loathe to give him any credit, “it’s a valid interpretation. We can go down that route, if you want, or we can look at it through this lens.” Thaniel chews his lip while he considers his options.

“I think what you said makes more sense, the suicide bit,” he finally decides. You nod and pull out your copies of the Shakespeare Lexicon.

“Great, let’s go over how to use the Lexicon again,” you say as you flip through the book, looking for the entry for ‘slings.’

***

You drop off your bag and toss your keys into a bowl on the counter. Fucking exhausting day. You unzip your boots and kick them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack, stretching and curling your toes for relief. You hang up your wet coat and shake rain from your hair. Your eyes dart between the refrigerator, wherein resides a bottle of white wine, and the bathroom door, contemplating how good a hot bath would feel. Both? Both is good.

You pour yourself a generous glass of Riesling and strip your clothes on your way to the bathroom. One of the perks of living alone. Sitting naked on the edge of the tub, you sip your wine as the bath fills.

Fucking Ancunin.

You’re a little shocked at how much he got under your skin today. Normally you don’t think twice about him, excepting the few times you have the misfortune of passing him in the hallway. But today the fates decided to throw you together and your schedules aligned. Well, in your defense, you didn’t seek him out that second time, he was the one who decided to crash your office hours.

You don’t even like Hamlet that much. You certainly don’t care about alternative interpretations of “To be or not to be.” But you’re mostly annoyed because he had a fair point. His read makes Hamlet a more interesting character rather than a cowardly incel romanticizing suicide.

You slide into the bath, hissing slightly as the hot water flows over your chilled skin. Without prompting, Ancunin worms his way back into your thoughts. Hmmph. You take a gulp of wine to try to wash away the taste of the unpleasant image.

Well… not entirely unpleasant. He’s a good looking man, you’d be a fool to deny it. But gods he’s so smug. And interrupting your meeting with Thaniel was wildly inappropriate. Leaning your head against the edge of the tub, you try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You’re not about to let him interrupt you again, and when he’s not even present, no less.

But there he is, in your mind, crimson eyes looking over the top of those metal frame glasses that you’re, like, 99% sure he doesn’t actually need to see. You take another swig of wine to drown his stupid face. With his stupid cheekbones. And his dumb fucking earrings that you want to bite.

Nine hells, what is happening? You’ve been drinking your wine quickly and aren’t thinking straight. You grab your phone and open Spotify, letting your daily mix play through the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

Now Playing: Hatefuck by The Bravery.

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

By Mystra’s fucking grace, seriously? You growl at the growing heat between your legs. Between putting off dinner and chugging your wine, your head is swimming. You might be better off getting it out of your system.

The wine glass hits the tub edge with a clank as you angrily put it down and sink into the water up to your chin. You are satiating a purely physical need, nothing else.

You still shiver as you slip your hand between your legs, lightly running your finger up your slit. You can see his face, looking down on you through those glasses - those infuriating glasses - and your lips flutter. What does he look like under those sweaters? He’s so thin, but his clothes fit incredibly well. It’s not hard to imagine a sculpted body beneath. You spread your legs further and let the warm water tickle your folds.

His silvery curls would look so good between your legs, slender fingers wrapped around your thighs while he laps you up. At least then he’d shut up. A gentle moan escapes your lips as you run your finger along your inner lips, pretending it’s him. You could grab hold of those perfect locks, yanking on them to control where he can go, fucking his face.

You move your other hand up to your breast and start teasing your nipple, feeling his lips around it. You give it a little tug and groan, just like if he nipped at it.

You imagine sitting on his pretty face, pointed ears flushed and hair a mess. Your hips buck into your hand as they might on top of him and your toes curl. You make gentle circles around your clit, thinking of all the other uses for his silver tongue. You whine and squirm at the sensations of heat radiating through your body. You slip a finger inside and hiss as you can see his pale digits entering you in your mind’s eye. You curl it upwards and gasp, his imaginary eyes looking up at you through those long lashes and a smirk playing across his imaginary lips.

“Are you ready for more of me, darling?” You can hear him murmur into your ear.

“Yes, gods yes,” you reply breathlessly into the cold bathroom air. You slide another finger in and feel that delicious stretch. The ghost of him moans, coming undone at the sight of you. You could leave him speechless, for once.

You reach over the edge of the tub and grab the box of waterproof toys. You frantically sift through your collection of dildos, trying to find the right one. Here. It’s long and svelte like the rest of him, but bright shimmery purple. You suction it to the bottom of the tub and hover above it on your knees. It sways lightly in the water, tip of it teasing your pussy just like you’d love to do to him.

Gods, to see him beg for your cunt. To see him reduced to a babbling mess, pleading to let him inside you. Your breath quickens at the mental image of him pulling on his own hair waiting for you to satisfy him. You sink down onto the dildo and your groan of pleasure mirrors what you’d like to hear from him.

You start sliding yourself on the purple dick, feeling its ridges glide against the walls of your cunt as you continue to finger your clit. You imagine your hand splayed across his chest, your black nails standing in contrast against his pale skin. You claw at the bottom of the tub as you increase your pace, desperate to see the pink raised skin that your nails leave behind. The fingers on your clit speed up as well, and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Oh gods, Astarion, don’t stop,” the words tumble from your mouth unbidden. You will absolutely hate yourself for that later, but right now all that matters is your ecstasy. You bounce atop the dildo, disregarding the water that splashes over the side of the tub as you chase your finish. Your moans increase in pitch and fervor as the various images of him in all sorts of positions flash through your mind. Between your thighs, sitting on his face, riding his dick, even fucking pegging him from behind because why the hell not?

“Astarion!” You cry out his name as you crash over the edge, legs shaking and pussy pulsing. Your orgasm reverberates throughout your whole body as you ride it out. Eventually, your movement slows and the water gently sways around you. You look down at your hand, milky juices swirling in the now tepid tub water.

Shit.

***

The next day at work, you avoid him like the plague. You keep your office door closed, usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary right now. You double check the hallway before leaving to go teach, and then after class you immediately duck back into your office and close the door again. You even avoid the main office for fear of running into him there.

You can’t look at his face right now. You can’t possibly look him in the eye.

When 5:00 rolls around, you glance out into the hallway. Most of the other professors are leaving. To play it safe, you decide to work until 6 so that you can be sure that he’s gone when you leave. You absentmindedly grade performance responses. After you’ve read one paragraph about Miss Julie maybe a half dozen times, you realize that it’s probably time to go.

You slowly open the door and glance out into the hallway. You can’t tell from this angle if his door is open or not. You grab your bag and coat, take a deep breath, and make a beeline for the stairs. As you approach his office you realize it’s open.

Fuck.

It’s fine. You’ll just walk past it and get to the parking lot and then you won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice you walk by. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as you’re passing his door. Are you fucking kidding? You turn to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even look up at you. Prick.

“Yes?” you ask, not budging from your spot in the hall. He glances up at you over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. You want to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

You tentatively take a step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s still warm and inviting. You can barely see the walls for being covered corner to corner in bookshelves full to bursting. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room - significantly nicer than the university-issued one. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it. There are two chairs facing his desk, much like yours, but a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. You stand there, clutching your bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes you’re not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. You can feel the heat in your cheeks rising. Your mouth goes dry and you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels you to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk, but rather than sitting behind it, he leans back casually on the front of it. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up just below his elbows. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as you stare, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

You blink at him, the conversation not going in the direction you expected. You had been so focused on yourself, that it took you a moment to realize what he was referring to.

“It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching out his lean figure to impossible proportions. The grip on your bag slackened and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze over the length of his body. He looks at you quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses.

Now it’s his turn to give you the once-over, and you feel practically naked before him the way he looks at you. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward you, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. You retreat while holding his gaze until your back is flush against the door.

No escape now.

He gets precariously close to you and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s got at least a half foot on you, and he looks down on you with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in your face has fully reached the tips of your ears now, and your breath comes out ragged.

“I’m sure I-” you start, but it comes out thick and raspy. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” you finally manage with all of the composure you can muster. He cocks an eyebrow at you, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t increased by approximately 20 beats per second in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into you. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter comes out of you as you press your thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let you respond.

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my peace and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. You fully feel that he’s giving you an out, that you can both laugh on this as an embarrassing moment and neither will bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand…

“You’re not mistaken,” you choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts your chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command weakens your knees and you wither under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” you say more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time you notice two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains how he could track your heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing you roughly, hands twisting in your hair and one knee sliding up between your legs. He pushes you against the door and lifts you off your feet slightly. You’re desperate just to keep up as he devours you, hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment you let him take you.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, and you’re both breathing heavily, air cycling between your lungs. Your head feels full of a thick fog and you can’t fully see straight. His hands are still in your hair, tight but not pulling - yet. You get the sense that might not last long.

He drops to his knees and you nearly double over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of your black denim skirt, inhaling again. Your fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from your fantasy. At this point you’re just trying not to collapse.

He looks up at you, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up your skirt and his thumb runs across your pussy, barricaded by your sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” You bite your lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of your tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, you can’t stop the cry from escaping your throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in your ears. Your knees buckle and he grabs hold of your hips, hiking your skirt up to your waist to get better access to your dripping cunt.

He stands and kisses you again, the taste of you lingering on

his lips. He grabs your ass and digs his fingers into your flesh, spreading them until you gasp into his kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up your legs and wraps them around his waist, carrying you over to that incredible mahogany desk.

He plops you down on the hardwood and you hear books and papers tumbling onto the floor behind you. He presses his bulge into your mound, this time the sound of both of your moans mingling pleasingly. He tears at your chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down your chest as you throw your head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing your top, though you’re certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. You hardly care as you paw wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of you. He pulls the lace cup of your bra down with his teeth and starts sucking on your nipple, pressing his hand into the small of your back. You arch into him, his hands working you like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that you pictured last night. Instead, you’re the one who's been reduced to shambles, begging for satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” you stutter, and those devilish eyes lock onto yours again. He snakes his way back up your chest and bites your lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks your stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against you. You squirm, trying to pull him closer but he’s got your arms locked in his grip. His lips leave yours and ghost over the flesh of your neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across your jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from you in return. By all the gods, you hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement made it clear that he won’t bite unless you want him to.

But holy hells do you want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” you gasp, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get in me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to your own ears, but you’re well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves your panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into you simultaneously, drawing out your cry of both pain and pleasure. You wrap your legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. You can feel his mouth filling up with your hot blood just as your cunt fills up with his dick.

You’re panting as you grow more lightheaded, clinging to his neck. Unthinkingly, your fingers stroke his ears, playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from your neck, looking absolutely feral with your blood dripping down his chin, which only sets you off more. You angle your hips toward him, trying to get him to start thrusting into you. He pushes your back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath your knee high boots. Then he starts pounding into you properly, and you feel like you’re close to losing it. You grab onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching you out as he keeps your legs close to your ears. You can feel the heat mounting in your core and you know it won’t be long before you come. But at this point you’re just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m-” You finish before your sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks your body, if anything, he fucks you harder. Just as you’ve barely come down off your climax, he pulls out and yanks you off the desk, spins you around and pushes your face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from where you had just been. He enters you again, this time from behind, and already you’re working your way up to a second one. Your bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs your hair, pulling your head up and arching your back into him.

For the first time you notice the mirror on the opposite wall across from his desk. But rather than both of you, you only see yourself, disheveled and well-fucked, lips swollen from his abuse. Your hair is pulled up by an invisible force behind you. Another unexpected aspect of vampire fucking.

You desperately wish you could see his face because you can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. You try to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on your hair remains tight. But even if you can’t see him, you can hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in you is enough, and your own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism.

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and you can feel his climax, setting off yours. The throbs of his cock match those wracking your cunt, and you hold onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over you. Once they’ve come to an end he pulls out, and you can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down your leg. You quietly say a thankful prayer for your IUD.

You’re both panting as he collapses onto your back, planting a half-hearted kiss on your spine. You weakly push yourself up off the desk and see the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. You turn yourself around and relish in his appearance. Your blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. You reach up and wipe the remainder of your blood off his chin. He smirks and kisses you, significantly more gently this time.

“That was good,” you murmur through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

[roanofarcc]

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

pairing: boone x fem!reader

summary: years spent in a mediocre relationship with your “highschool sweetheart” comes to an abrupt end. instead of the heart break you thought would consume you, you feel free. and that freedom leads you right to boone’s front door. 

warnings: sad boone, relationship issues, unrequited love (or so one thinks!), a curse word or two, mentions of drinking (brief). I am a firm believer of buying boys flowers :)

word count. 2.7k || masterlist

“Welcome, everyone, to my humble abode,” Boone said, dramatically gesturing to the small house at the end of a dirt road. The place was decorated in a very Boone-like fashion with odd scraps of metal loitering the side yard, junk cars they oftened used for scrap parts when any of their vehicles broke down, and some wildflowers that his mother had sprinkled around the front steps when he first moved in a couple years post-high school. 

His road consisted of three other houses, miles away from anything besides corn fields. The houses had all changed, but Boone kept his the same considering he wasn’t there for much of the spring and summer months, and he spent the winter holidays in Florida with his retired mother and father. 

“Thanks for letting us crash at your place,” Kate said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I don’t think I could’ve slept in one more motel.” 

Javi nodded. “I’m still scarred from the roaches.” The last couple of places they’ve stayed had been less than ideal. They were grimy and bug-infested. All of the Wranglers were excited to stay at an actual home for once. 

They all hopped out of the truck, meeting up with the rest of the crew who pulled in right behind them. Boone enjoyed his home more when there were others inside of it. He didn’t like the quiet and he hated his clear view of his neighbor's home.  

The darling little blue house had stood there since Boone had moved in. The porch had been painted and the landscaping changed a hundred and two times, but the house was still sky blue and always decorated for the seasons. 

He made the mistake of looking at the house for a beat too long. It was like the universe was looking down at him, laughing and serving up some karma alongside his arrival. The front door swung open, and you walked out. He should have looked away and followed his friends inside, pretending like he never saw you, but he couldn’t. You looked up after locking your door and your gaze fell right on him. For a moment you looked at each other from across the street before a smile broke out on your face and you hurried across your front yard, right towards him. 

“Oh, man,” Boone muttered under his breath, hands reaching to fix his hair and smooth out his wrinkled cutoff. 

“Boone?” Tyler said, clapping his shoulder before his eyes fell upon you. “Oh.” Tyler didn’t need to say more than that. He knew about Boone’s stupid crush on you since the moment he moved in. And as many times as he tried to shake it, you made it impossible to let it go. 

You’d been in a long-standing relationship, not married nor even engaged, but dating for as long as Boone could remember. It was awful of him to like someone who was already dating someone else, but there was something about you that made it impossible to rid his brain of it. Every time he saw you, it only made it worse because you were the epitome of neighborly. You baked him cookies and remembered his birthday. You offered to water his flowers and mow his lawn when he was away. You waved at him from the mailbox and told him stories and invited him over for coffee. You always asked about his storm-chasing adventures and listened with so much intent it drove him crazy. 

It was a pathic thing, he knew that, pining after a taken woman, but he couldn’t help it. And he’d never act on it, despite how much he loathed your boyfriend. Boone didn’t find himself around your boyfriend that often, for many reasons. But the times he had, he noticed how lackluster he was in comparison to you. Bland and boring with a touch of douchy-ness that rubbed Boone the wrong way. He knew most of his opinion was formed in jealousy, but the rest of it was the little tidbits of information you offered up to him. You didn’t necessarily complain but rather vented. Like the time he forgot your anniversary and tried to apologize with some lousy dinner at his friend's bar. Or all of the times he brushed off your excitement for certain things. The biggest thing though, that you had only admitted to Boone once on a winter’s night after you had wandered over after drinking a couple glasses of wine, was how he never wanted to talk about marriage. Every time you brought it up, he shut you down and left you waiting for some kind of sign of forever. 

Boone was pretty sure you didn’t remember telling him that, but he did. He couldn’t imagine someone being with you and not wanting to settle for forever. And sure, not everyone wanted to get married, but it was clear that you did and were waiting for some kind of initiation from him that never seemed to come. 

“Boone!” you shouted from the edge of his driveway, a bright smile on your face that twisted his gut into knots. He waved and walked forward just as you gave him a hug. You were always warm and smelled sweet, and you never failed to hug him when you caught him returning home. 

“I didn’t know you were due back yet?” you said, pulling away but staying close. 

Boone cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Y-Yeah, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing; no one wanted to stay another night at a motel.” 

“Can’t blame ‘ya there.” Your eyes sparkled in the sunlight, captivating. “Why don’t y’all come over tonight for some drinks?” 

Dani and Lily cheered from behind Boone and everyone aside from Tyler nodded their heads. 

Boone couldn’t say no; he had no reason to other than spending time with you was certainly going to make his affection worse. Tyler looked at him, unsure and sympathetic, but Boone ignored him and offered you a lopsided smile. “Sure thing.” 

You clapped your hands and bid them a good afternoon as you strolled back to your home. It wasn’t until Boone turned around that he dropped his head in his hands. 

Tyler whistled, slinging an arm around Boone’s shoulder as they all headed towards his house. “You’ve still got it bad, huh?” 

Kate turned around, curious. “Got what bad?” 

Boone said nothing as he unlocked the door and ushered everyone inside. Tyler answered for him as he pulled off his boots in the entryway. “A bad crush on the neighbor.” 

A gasp sounded from Lily. “No way! I didn’t know you had a hometown honey!” 

“I don’t,” Boone sighed, plopping down on the couch that was a little dusty from lack of use. “She’s got a boyfriend.” 

“Oh, man,” Javi said with a slight wince. “That’s rough.” 

“You’re tellin’ me.” 

Later that night, Boone shook off his nerves as he led the group of Wranglers over to your house. It was an uncomfortable mix of feelings that twisted around inside his gut. He always liked seeing you and catching up with you, but at the same time, he always found himself flustered and hit with the brick of guilt for liking you. He thought about moving to avoid his achy heart, but that seemed a bit extreme considering he was hardly home anyway. And he wasn’t sure he could give up seeing you, even in passing. You were a friendly face above all else, a calmness to his otherwise chaotic life. 

He knocked on your door, and you opened it with a wide smile, ushering everyone into your backyard. In the dim light of the evening, a fire was cracking in the pit and different beverages were resting in a small cooler. 

Boone ended up sitting beside you, your knees knocking against his. He fiddled with the tab of his beer and worked up the courage to ask, “What’s James up to tonight?” 

You seemed to hesitate before answering, “He’s out for a work thing.” 

There was an itch for him to ask more, but he decided against it and resorted to sipping his beer and listening to his friends start to recant their chasing stories to you. It all was in good fun, a nice night despite the close proximity to you. The fire crackled and smoke danced upwards, melting with the deep blue sky peppered with stars. 

The conversations flowed like you had been a part of the Wranglers since they started. You were easy to get along with, sweet and talkative. Boone wasn’t even sure what the time was before the group started stifling yawns. Finally, Tyler made the decision to head back, prompting everyone to tiredly agree. 

They offered you a mix of hugs and handshakes, a nice goodbye while you offered them a ‘come around any time.’ Boone lingered behind, picking up trash while you smothered in the fire. 

“Your friends are nice,” you said. 

Boone smiled lightly. “Yeah, they’re pretty great.” 

You grabbed a couple discarded cans and hugged them to your chest as you double-checked that everything was picked up. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you looked conflicted. A crease sat between your brows, something worry-filled or upsetting, he couldn’t quite tell. Maybe he wasn’t as close with you as he was with the Wranglers, but his ever-growing feelings led to him becoming extra observant whenever he was around you. Subtleties in your actions were as big as wild gestures in his mind. 

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, not wanting to pry or overstep. 

You met his gaze for a second before you sighed. “I’m…I don’t really know.” 

He made a bold step forward, lessening the gap between you just slightly. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“You asked about James earlier,” you started, suddenly fascinated by the grass under your feet. “I lied.” 

“About what?” he scrunched his face in slight confusion. 

“He’s not out for work. We…we got into a fight, actually. A big one. He said he needed to cool off but…that was three days ago.” 

The confession caught Boone off guard. He nearly lost his balance. “O-Oh,” was all he could mutter. 

You let out a shaky laugh, but not a humorous one. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you continued. “It’s just…I haven’t really talked to anyone about it. And then you showed up and I…Well, I like talking to you.” 

Boone tried not to think about your words too hard, but his heart beat a little quicker inside his chest. He couldn’t muster up the right words before you started talking again. “You know the worst part about it? I’m not even that upset. I should be, right? If we were so in love, I should be upset that he walked out without even trying to talk things through. But I’m not. I should feel different, but I don’t. I don’t even miss him.” 

You groaned loudly and dropped down onto the old log that had been fashioned into a bench. You let the cans tumble into a pile on the grass as you held your head in your hands. “I’m sorry,” you rushed out. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Boone said, slowly lowering himself beside you. “You can’t really help how ‘ya feel, or so I’ve been told.” 

“We’ve been together for ages,” you sighed. “It should hurt but it doesn’t. I think we’ve just been, like, stuck and too scared to admit that things don’t feel the way they did back when we first got together.” 

Boone felt like he was treading into dangerous territory without proper equipment. Like he was barreling right into a twister without anything to keep him grounded. But he knew he couldn’t think of himself, he had to think of you. You were upset; he didn’t like that. He couldn’t fix it, but maybe he could offer some generic, Hallmark advice and it would be okay. 

“Maybe he does just need time to cool off,” Boone suggested. “Space isn’t always a bad thing, right?” 

You shrugged. “We’ve fought before, but this felt different. And if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I want him to come back.” 

Boone let out some air from his cheeks, unsure of what to say and unsure of what you wanted him to say. Luckily, you spoke before he had to come up with something. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry, again. You should get back to your friends. I’m just rambling.” You laughed nervously, standing up once more and recomposing yourself. But he noticed the way you brushed your hand under your eyes and ducked your head. 

“You should do whatever makes you happy,” Boone said, quietly. “If you're not happy with him then…you know…” 

You smiled softly and nodded, and Boone took that as his moment to leave. He hurried back to his home, his heart racing inside his chest underneath the moonlight. 

You chewed on your nails nervously, pacing your kitchen for what felt like the millionth time that morning. After sleeping on your split feelings to Boone, you felt a weight grow heavier and heavier on your chest, a crushing feeling that tried to break your bones every time you saw the storm chaser on his brief visits home. It was wrong, you knew that, to feel something towards someone else while in a committed relationship. You’d never act on them while dating your boyfriend, but you subconsciously found yourself thinking of Boone. 

For a while, you thought maybe it was just a rush of intense friendship that you hadn’t felt in ages, and you confused that with romantic feelings. But the less and less you and your boyfriend felt like a real couple, the more you started to think about Boone beyond the bounds of friendship. It was all fantasy, something to keep your heart occupied while your boyfriend drifted further from you each time you desperately tried to pull him back in. 

The truth was you weren’t working anymore. Whatever spark you’d both been trying to fan for years finally gave way and left you both cold. But for some reason, you both were scared to end the first real relationship you’d ever known. 

After your fight, the absence of your boyfriend didn’t make you miss him, it made you comfortable in the quietness of your home and your freedom. So, you made the call. After trying and failing to bring your relationship back from the dead, you called it off and he agreed with a heavy sigh full of relief. 

Your heart was still tender and jumping into another relationship right away wasn’t what you wanted, and spring was still young. Boone left with his team to finish out the rest of the season chasing, and you worked on yourself until you found yourself in a place much better and brighter than you’d ever been in before. You felt lighter, a newfound sense of life in your veins. 

Once the months started to turn into crisp breezes and shorter days, you found yourself on the front porch of Boone the day after he returned home. 

He swung open the door with a smile and polite, “Hey.” 

“Hi,” you greeted, pulling out something from behind your back. It was a small bouquet of flowers picked from the patch in your backyard. “These are for you.” 

He blinked in surprise. “For me?” Boone chuckled and took him with a carefulness, like he was scared the breeze would take them. “Why in the world are you bringin’ me flowers?” 

You couldn’t stop grinning; your cheeks hurt. “I came to ask you a real important question.” 

He looked beyond confused but nodded for you to continue. 

“Would you want to go on a date with me?” 

Boone looked like he had short-circuited, eyes bulging out of his head and body frozen for a stretch of time that made you start to second guess your bold proposal. It took several moments for him to shake himself loose and ask, “Are you serious?” 

You nodded, heart beating nervously against your chest. His face broke out in a grin almost as wide as yours had been and he lurched forward, picking you up by the waist and spinning you around in front porch light. You threw your head back laughing, nerves subsiding in a moment of bliss. 

He sat you down but kept his hands on your hips, a little breathless and shinning. “Hell yeah I wanna,” he replied, as if his reaction didn’t tell you everything you needed to know.

[syboubou]

Fency set

It's been a while since a made a proper entrance set with new fences and gates. For this one, I followed Kate Emerald wish for more modern tall fences when building contemporary houses. I also included 4 new statues using retopolgy technique with photoscanned opensourced models of real statues !

Description

Includes 14 new items, all basegame and lowpoly

2 tall fences + 1 low border walkable fence

2 gates 

An illuminated porch

Decor intercom and camera

Functional mailbox

4 statues

1 stone tiles floor

Download

Early access on my Patreon

Available for free download on my website !

[boringkate]

Hi Kate, how did you ever work up the courage to transition and live authentically? I've been thinking about and wanting to transition every day for 7 years but can't get through it. Sorry if this is too personal.

I don't know. I'm not much of a "take action" type of girl either. I love to dwell on shit.

I think my mom (and maybe my sister too) started working different hours tho. Like there was suddenly a reliable window of time when I was legit home alone and could leave the house without anyone asking where I was going. So I started going for short walks. Which I hadn't done in years (I was a legit hiki like I literally hadn't gone outside in years). And then I got a private mailbox at The UPS Store (I thankfully had a pile of accumulated christmas and birthday cash) so that I could order stuff without anyone questioning it. Got some prepaid credits cards too. And then I just went and ordered the girl pills from a site that someone on 4chan told me about.

I don't think I was sure I was trans or anything like that. I just knew that I wanted to try it (I liked trap porn and transitioning is what the cool girls on tumblr were doing) and I had the opportunity to do it. And then everything else followed pretty naturally.

That's like a pretty specific scenario and set of neuroses lol, but I think the important takeaway is that if you're in a situation where you want to order hrt and you can order hrt then you should order hrt. Right now.

I didn't have a long term plan for anything. I hadn't told anyone IRL about it. I hadn't made any commitments. I just decided to buy some pills and then the rest happened.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

https://www.tumblr.com/brf-rumortrackinganon/765504142224637952/httpswwwtumblrcombrf-rumortrackinganon765497?source=share

Catherine does what she thinks is the best for her family. I don't think going against his husband in public would put her family in good stead.

William is quite the opposite or maybe he also thinks what's best for his family because afterall he was a brother first before he was a husband and later on a father.

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

When you settle into a long-term relationship (whether it's marriage or cohabitation), your family is no longer your parents and siblings. Your family is now your partner and the children you have.

For a parent or a sibling to demand that they should remain the center of your universe instead of the partner you chose and the family you chose to create with them is toxic.*

*Yes, I'm saying here that the BRF has been toxic in because they demand all married-ins prioritize their needs over their own, but I do believe Charles and William are changing that with how often the Middletons have been included.

William is not going to forsake Kate, George, Charlotte, and Louis all because Harry was there first.

Yes, Kate will do what she believes is best for her family. She will also do what she believes is best for the monarchy, the institution she committed to 16 years ago, the institution she married into 13 years ago. But what is best for her family and for the monarchy is for her husband to prioritize their children, the future of the monarchy.

Kate may tolerate William pushing her aside for his brother, but she absolutely isn't going to stand for William pushing their children aside for the monarchy's sake because the future of the monarchy is not Harry. The future of the monarchy is George.

I don't understand how so many people refuse to see that. That when all is said and done, the dust settled, the history books written, the memories faded, the stories forgotten - Harry will not be there. Any influence he may or may not have, should he return in whatever capacity, is and will be inconsequential to British history and royal history in the end.

William will be the one with his name on the stamps, on the money, on the mailboxes, on the ruler, and so will George. Kate will have statues made in her likeness and maybe there will be buildings or scholarships named in her honor. But not Harry. Harry will only be just a Wikipedia page.

He is not the end-all-be-all to William that people keep making him out to be.

[sexchangedotcom]

bro i think its time to send that post to post heaven (or post hell but id imagine its already there w the type of notes its getting 😭)

i’ve never had to put a post down before but i’m considering it but it’s sad and i feel bad

[paintlesscanvas]

hello! any mail boy/girl/enby id packs? /nf!! tyvm if you accept!

and, just wanted to say..

UR BLOG IS GEN SO HELPFUL HELP LIKE ITS SO NICE AND COOL??? LIKE THERES SO MANY STUFF ON THE LISTS I CANT/pos

✉️ . MAILPERSON SNPTS . .

System Names: carrier doves, the mailboys, the mailgirls, the mailpeople, the travelers, those that walk through the city, those that run away from dogs, the deliverers of packages, those that tip their cap, the package pigeons, the stamp collection, the postpeople, the envelope senders, the satchel carriers, letter lovers, dove coos, pigeon squawks, those at the post office, those sorting through letters, the package receivers, the mail truck drivers, those that open mailboxes, carriers of gifts, deliverers of surprises

Usernames: mail4you, wowtherestrees, runfrmdogs, wavetopeoples, down.town, enveloves, pooostoffice, parcelpigeon, penciiilpals, quiet.townn, ghostatthepost, postprince[ss], carrierpige0n, stiiickersss, penpaaaals, flimsypaperrs, doodledanny, envelopunny, maaailbox, inkyyprints, cloudy.town, deliverydutyy, flutteringd0ve, deliverydove, givingdove, giftsfromyrstruly, doodlesforyoodles, no1postman, penmanshiip, heresanote, pitterpatter, boxesrsoheavy, owboxes, writemealetter, smilingparcels, scaredofbarrrks, atthepostoffice, darlingparcels, packagepirate, envelopes4youu, st.ampsss, inkstaaiins, no1letterlover, siillynotes, sentfromaway, organizetheoffice, summerstrolls, envelopesfrmyou, parcelpwr, lettersletters, ilovemail, messyletters, sendingstuff2you, youvegotmail, letterlvr, lovelylettr, mailmale, smilesformiles, parcelfromadove, writingacrssthewrld, prrttymailgrl, prettyparcelsss, g1ftg1ftg1fts, greetingyouu, dizzypackages, ssillystamps, scribblesilly, dancingletters, mailbooooy, hidinginurmailbox, notesfrmthesky, brightdaaay, proudserviiice, in2urmailbox, bewareofd0g, mailtruckdrvr, openbxes, sootcasee, stackofletters, boxoflovers, envelopeoflove

Names: alexander, alfred, alice, annette, archer, archie, arden, arlo, atticus, august, augustus, autumn, barnaby, bartholomew, basil, beatrice, beau, benedict, benjamin, bennett, birdie, blake, cedric, charlie, chester, cliff, clifford, clive, clyde, cornelius, cory, cullen, darwin, diggory, dom, dominic, dorcas, earnest, edgar, edith, effie, elijah, eliza, emerson, emilio, emmanuel, eugene, everett, fennel, flint, florence, flossie, floyd, ford, gale, galina, genevieve, gideon, glenn, greyson, gwendolyn, harriet, harvey, hattie, hayden, holly, ink, ivan, ivy, josette, josie, july, june, kane, kate, katherine, kay, kendell, kinley, kip, kleo, leo, logan, maeve, maggie, malcolm, marion, margot, marlowe, marshall, matilda, mayfaire, melvile, meredith, milton, minnie, molly, mortem, mortimer, nadira, nancy, nannie, navy, neith, nelda, nellie, nells, nettie, ninette, noah, noel, noemi, norman, note, oakley, odette, oliver, orson, orville, oswald, otto, parcel, parker, polly, posey, presley, quill, quinton, ralph, randall, raymond, reed, reid, rhett, romee, rory, rowan, rye, sabina, sawyer, scout, silas, sloane, spencer, stanford, stanley, summer, susan, tallulah, tatum, thelma, thena, thisbe, thomas, tibby, tillie, timothy, tinker, toby, tom, torin, trey, troy, violet, virgil, walden, walter, warren, willard, willow, winnie, woody

Pronouns: letter/letters, mail/mails, write/writes, pen/pens, ink/inks, note/notes, deliver/delivers, gift/gifts, scribble/scribble, doodle/doodles, carry/carry, give/gives, walk/walks, hum/hums, parcel/parcels, package/packages, box/boxs, stamp/stamps, sticker/stickers, smile/smiles, proud/prouds, newspaper/newspaper, envelope/envelope, sun/suns, mailbox/mailboxs, pencil/pencil, scrabble/scrabble, sketch/sketchs, house/houses, satchel/satchels, bag/bags, hello/hellos, twine/twines, string/strings, wrap/wraps, town/towns, cloud/clouds, clutch/clutchs, send/sends, post/posts, office/office, sort/sorts, organize/organizes, rain/rains, flimsy/flimsys, thin/thins, street/streets, apartment/apartments, greet/greets, pass/pass’, road/roads, home/homes, locker/lockers, wave/waves, cheerful/cheerfuls, joy/joys, old/olds, weathering/weatherings, service/services, dog/dogs, truck/trucks, fence/fences, sign/signs, slot/slots, city/citys, drawer/drawers, pin/pins, 🫶, 🌳, 🍃, 🍂, 🪹, ☀️, 🥖, 🥠, 🪃, 🛹, 🎫, 🎼, ♟️, 🚐, 🛞, 🚦, 🚏, 🗽, 🏢, 🏘️, 🏙️, 🎞️, 📺, 📻, 🕰️, 💵, 🪙, 🩹, 🧺, 🚪, 🪟, 🧧, ✉️, 📨, 💌, 📦, 🏷️, 🪧, 📪, 📫, 📬, 📭, 📮, 📜, 📃, 📋, 🗞️, 🗂️, 📔, 🧷, 🖊️, 🖋️, 🖇️, 📝, ���

Titles: the cheerful giver, prn who presses stamps to letters, the delivery thing, bringer of mail, prn who delivers packages, the penner of letters, the deliverer of mail, the mailboy, the mailgirl, the mailperson, prn who walks the streets, prn who drives the mail truck, gifter of deliveries, prn who strolls through the city, prn who gives mail [to those who need it], the mailman, the mailperson, the mailwoman, the carrier pigeon, prn who carries mail through the sky, the carrier dove, prn who drops mail from the skies

[clovermunson]

1, 29, & 52

wifey, i almost want to believe that no other numbers can possibly beat this line up at all❤️

1. for whom the bell tolls — metallica

29. powerslave — iron maiden

52. same ol’ situation — mötley crüe

ask about my spotify wrapped

[thegamingcatmom]

Hiiii,, soooo, how do you think the sisters would react when MC wanted to do something nice for either one of them, but it all blows up in MCs face. Like, everything goes wrong?

I've got a few ideas, but I want to hear your thoughts.

😏

Honestly?

(That gif is perfect for them.)

They´d be swooning because their mate´s done something nice for them, how could they not swoon?? They don´t give a damn whether it works/looks as intended in the end. It´s the thought that matters, even Kate understands that. 😏

In fact, I think they´d be more charmed if it didn´t work out as planned because can MC get any more precious??

I guess the best way to describe them would be:

Oh...honey-

Because MC´s all huffy and puffy, crossing her arms and muttering under her breath in utter annoyance and frustration (at herself). So, yknow-

The turns have tabled.

(Usually it´s her wives exhibiting that behavior.)

In other words:

She looks every bit like a grumpy toddler.

.

.

.

Btw: Since you haven´t specified what that "something" MC has done for the sisters should be, I just went with something she´s crafted herself. (Like a vase with the sisters initials or something. Perhaps the date of their very first meeting too. 🤭)

.

Tanya Denali:

can´t hold back her smirk

(not that she´s trying)

yknow, the one where only one corner of her mouth lifts

(ye, the sexy one)

also can´t refrain from teasing a lil bit

just a smidge

eyes glowing and all

"Someone has discovered their artistic streak, it seems..."

(because, whatever MC has attempted to do, the result is rather unrecognizable)

cue MC becoming even huffier and puffier

cue Tanya becoming even more of a tease

"I do appreciate the artistic freedom. Very...abstract."

right, MC´s done now, about to leave out the door in utmost indignation-

well, she planned to

the hand taking a hold of hers stopped her

"I am merely teasing, poppet..."

wrapping her arms around a still pouting MC

starting to sway them from side to side

"You are too precious..."

pecking her lips

again

and again

and again

until MC can't hold back her smile anymore

causing Tanya to beam back at her

"Thank you, my love. I adore it..."

she means it

Kate Denali:

she´s a tease as well

but in a different way

meaning: in a more straightforward way

as in: she'll list the many things you could still do with that...monstrosity

"How 'bout a footrest?"

"OH! We could store it up the attic with all the other Halloween stuff?"

"If we cut out a portion, we could use it as mailbox."

"Or a piggy bank."

"Now that I think about it...it kinda looks like one, doesn´t it?"

she says it all with a mischievous look on her face, ofc

eyes twinkling and all

then she sees the look on MC´s face

-> 😠

which only makes her grin even more

-> 😠

"Oh cmon, Princezná. Don´t be like that..."

tries to wind her arms around a still very grumpy MC

only for MC to refuse, huffing and puffing, turning her back on her

that works for her too, no problem

slinks up from behind to wrap her arms around MC

lays her chin on MC´s shoulder

sways them from side to side

"You´re sexy when you´re grumpy, yknow that?"

MC: "I´m not grumpy."

also MC: 😤

Kate: "So sexy..."

also MC: *trying real hard to keep that smile off her face indeed*

also Kate: "By the way...I love it."

she means it

Irina Denali:

can´t contain her giggle at the sight

a giggle that is most angelic

so much so that, instead of storming out or being grumpy, MC is just pouty

teary eyes and all

Irina feels bad immediately

"I´m sorry for laughing, baby..."

wraps her arms around MC

tries to catch her gaze

tries even harder when MC refuses

rewards MC with the biggest smile once she does catch her gaze

which prompts MC to smile back

just a smidge

the disappointment over her failed attempt at surprising her wife is still very evident on her face though

"Maličký..."

foreheads are touching

"I love it."

she means it

MC scoffs at that

"Truly. How could I not? You´re the one who made it."

MC is basically putty in her arms now

they stay like that for a while

and a while more

until-

"But...do tell me, sweet girl-"

MC: 👀

"...What is it?"

...

they both break into laughter at that

.

.

.

Well?

What do yall think has the sisters in such good spirits? What kind of monster has MC created here? 👀

.

Thanks for your ask! 💋