#look !!! my source !!!! bastard !!!

[francy-sketches]

If I'd actually posted all my pjo art when I made it instead of hoarding it like a little goblin for no apparent reason today I might have been known as the octavian guy instead of the joffrey guy...scary thought...

[lukei]

I simply think that Chip should have more piercings

[pronouncedahn]

🩷 LOVESICK 🩷

[aliosne]

Me, guy who has Feels Like Shit All The Time Disease and also Disproportionate Reactions To Normal Disappointments/Frustrations Disorder: why do I feel so frustrated and angry about this very mild and normal thing

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Short Stories:

Knight in Shining Armor

Yandere Monster Knight x Princess Reader

TW: delusional Yandere, Yandere behavior, kidnapping (mentioned), etc.

Ajax had always been princess (your name)’s confidant and source of solace… so why did he have her cornered on the bed of the inn? His large, muscular frame towered over her as his body trembled.

“I can’t do it… I can’t let you marry some other man.” Ajax whispered, his metal mask hiding his expression. There was no doubt in (your name)’s mind that he was shaken up about something. She had no clue why he’d be so upset about her getting married…

“Ajax, it was bound to happen eventually. It’s my duty as the kingdom’s princess-“ (your name) gasped when he closed the distance between them. Ajax’s large palms pulled her into a tight hug. The force of the hug caused them both to land on the small bed with a soft plop.

“Ajax-“ Ajax placed a finger on (your name)’s lips to pause her words.

“I won’t allow it… I won’t allow some other man to sully you.” Ajax’s deep voice made her body anxiously shake. “Not when I’ve wanted you for so many years…”

“Ajax-“ (your name)’s eyes widened when he finally removed the mask that’s concealed his face for over a decade. Ajax was half orc? (Your name) hadn’t a clue and she had been with him for so many years…

“I’m half monster, I thought you knew.” Ajax chuckled as his crimson eyes flitted over (Your name)’s frozen form. She was now a helpless lamb trapped in the maw of the wolf. “It’s why the other knights have been so cruel to me… why the maids avoid me like the plague and your father wanted to send me to war.”

(Your name)’s eyes can only take on his scarred and burned face in shock. Why was half the skin on his mouth missing and his tusks filed down? Who had hurt him so much that he didn’t confide in her, his best friend? What atrocities had he faced while she remained none the wiser?

(Your name) were shocked when he bent down to show you his teeth. His tusks were clumsily filed down to almost look like teeth but they were still rather sharp. “I did the tusk work, but they grow back rather quickly. The skin on my face is still healing from when there was an assassination attempt on you from your future husband’s concubines. Bastard was going to pour acid on your face.”

(Your name) reached up to trace the scars on his face while Ajax gave her a soft smile. “Ajax…”

“You’re the only one who’s never treated me like a monster… you’re so wonderful and kind.” Ajax moved his large, gloved hands to hold her hands. “That old king doesn’t deserve you. No one does!”

(Your name) blushed when Ajax brought her hands up to his lips to press tender kisses over each of her knuckles. Despite how badly Ajax wished to ravish her, he must keep his composure.

“You took this amount of damage for me?” (Your name)’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it made Ajax melt into a puddle.

“Of course I did. I will do anything for you.” Ajax moved himself to crouch on the corner of the bed, his head in a slight bow. Yet (your name) could feel the burning obsessed behind his crimson gaze. “I am in love with you. Madly, deeply, entirely devoted to you and only you.”

Ajax grasped (your name)’s bare foot and brought it up to his mouth to press tender kisses across the top of it. “I will love you until my skin rots off my body and I am nothing but bones. Yet even death could not separate me from you for I will be in every corner of your life like a permanent shadow of protection. I will protect you with my entire being and soul. I will haunt and dismember your enemies if you so much as give them a glance of distaste.”

(Your name) felt her blood run cold when Jax gave her a bright grin that reopened a few of the stitches across his cheeks. The blood dripped down his face and onto her foot, but he merely lapped it up with his longer tongue. “Now tell me… is what I feel not love? I may not be a handsome prince but I swear I’m your knight in shining armor.”

[nightingale-prompts]

Deathday Party

Part of this post series > link

Tim had no idea he was being courted by Danny and was making his way to an official engagement at this rate. What he did know was that Danny had invited him to an important party at the mansion of none other then Vlad Masters.

Danny had mentioned that his family and Masters had a rocky past but it had gotten better before he left for university. Tim wasn't convinced due to the stories Danny had offhandly mentioned. The guy had tried to out Danny to his parents and rallied the town against him. So excuse Tim for not wanting Danny to go back to a homophobic town like that and a bastard who did something so petty just because a kid's mom wouldn't sleep with you.

But Danny was his friend. The only normal friend he had who treated him like this. Sure he really likes giving gifts and has a fascination for flowers but that's all the more reason to look after him. It was pure luck that Tim befriended him before a cult did.

Tim was still going to supportive and still needed to make it up to Danny for not visiting Amity Park last time. So he packed and boarded the plane a few days before the party.

Danny began introducing Tim to everyone in his family. For the most part, it was a warm welcome. Danny's dad told him that they would have to sleep in separate rooms because "He knows how boys could be and there will be no funny business."

Tim was indignant but reminded himself to be polite. Danny's dad may not be the most accepting of LGBT people but this was his home.

Danny only blushed and brushed his dad off, after all, he and Tim hadn't even kissed yet.

Danny's friends were cool though. Sam was definitely the source of Danny's gothic tendencies. She and Danny discussed herbs, crystals, and graveyards together while Tim got to know Tucker.

The next day they went to the Masters' estate and Tim met Danny's other family. Dani or Elle was Danny's little sister or cousin or something. It was confusing but she immediately took a liking to Tim.

"Ooo, he's cute~ You dont mind sharing right Danny?" She teased linking arms with Tim.

"Knock it off Elle. He's too old for you anyway and if Vlad heard you he'd set Tim on fire." Danny admonished her pulling her off by the hoodie.

Tim didn't catch that Danny was being completely serious about the fire part.

Vlad Masters would be out of the house until the party that night but the mansion was being set up for the event. Apparently, the "Deathday" party was a bigger deal than Tim thought. The guest list was a mile long.

From what Tim gathered a death day was a celebration of life after a near-death experience. Like if someone flatlined during surgery and are brought back. Its actually a pretty smart way to deal with trauma by making the event a reason to celebrate.

Tim had heard from Danny of the day he was electrocuted and that it changed his life. He definitely had the scar to prove it. Danny had gotten a UV tattoo over it or something because it glowed faintly at night. It was pretty cool.

That evening Tim was handed his costume for the event. The party had a royal theme, something that didn't seem like Danny's idea. Still, Danny's silver and ivy green dublette looked...pretty good. Tim dressed in a similar red and gold suit.

"You look good." Danny pulled out an ornate emerald cravat pin and pinned it to Tim label.

"You too," Tim said without thinking but Danny smiled before going back to putting the finishing touches on their outfits.

It was...intimate to say the least as Danny pulled back Tim's hair. He fastened their capes and a (fake) dagger to his belt.

Danny put put on a subtle layer of makeup. Darkening his eyes, cheeks, and lips. It gave him a pale and deathly appearance.

"I have to look my best. I don't want anyone to think I'm just using you as arm candy." Danny laughed.

"That implies that you are using me as that already." Tim jested but stopped when Danny pointed to the makeup trey. "You're joking."

"Im not. It's an important event and this isn't Gotham. There are alot of people i want you to meet. Just play along." Danny begged.

Tim agreed letting Danny put on a bit of black and red makeup.

"Aww, Tim. You look absolutely ghastly. Your funeral ready." Danny gushed as he turned to grab the last things they needed. Two circlets with stars emblems embedded in them.

Tim laughed internally. Danny was always to positive Tim forgot just how goth he was. Tim knew he shouldn't be surpised.

Tim and Danny walked to the mansion's ballroom which was full of guests dressed similarly to them. The room glowed eerily under green-flamed torches. Very gothic. On second thought this suited Danny.

A staff member er...servant announced their arrival.

"His Highness the High Prince of the realm of infinite space and his guest."

None other than Vlad Masters approached. He had thrown this party for his godson and wanted everything perfect. He eyed Tim critically before speaking to Danny.

"Daniel I heard about your...friend from Elle. Its that what he is?" Masters studied.

"He's my-"

"Boyfriend! I'm his boyfriend." Tim interrupted. He was not going to let this homophonic piece of shit undermine Danny's sexuality again and try to embarrass him. Especially on such an I'm day. " Tim Drake, son of Bruce Wayne and head of Wayne Industries. I've heard a LOT about you Mr.Masters."

After a moment Vlad nodded and smiled.

"You've chosen well. He's quite the catch my boy. Happy Death Day." Vlad patted Danny on the back before going to mingle with Danny's parents who where tearing up the cheese platter.

Danny blinked owlishly at Tim. Tim had never used that word yet, Danny thought they were not at that stage yet.

"Sorry Danny, i got caught up." Tim sighed.

"You know he's going to tell everyone right?" Danny laughed "I hope you're ready."

Danny dragged Tim to meet his ghost friends for the rest of the evening between dancing and eating.

Tim had fun meeting Danny's fellow goth friends who complimented him a lot. They were definitely strange but they really loved Danny. The whole party was like a Renaissance festival meets one of those novels that Jason loved. Actually, Jason would be so jealous of him right now. Tim made sure to take pictures. Some of them came out fuzzy but it was enough to make Jason mad.

[beloveds-embrace]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Matchmaking Buns

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ in which your bunnies inadvertently lead you into meeting your new neighbors, who are far too endeared by you from the get-go <3

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

The thing is, you absolutely adore your bunnies. Two holland lops, one mini lop, and a flemish giant all together with full freedom of your house and a big garden for them to play in- with a bet overhead to protect them against hawks and whatever else. Hell, they even have a patio in case it rains.

You absolutely adore them. You worked your ass off to have a house like this, and then have enough money and space to give them everything they need. They are the lights of your life.

Simultaneously, they might possibly be your biggest source of headache.

All this space, all these spots and nooks and crannies for them to hide and play in- and their favorite activity still remains having you chase them down the road like the incorrigible brats they are. None of your neighbors are surprised by the sight anymore, often helping you but right now there isn’t anyone around except a group of men that you ignore. They must be the new neighbors.

(God, your embarrassment will know no bound after this.)

“You fucking four bastards! Once I catch you- ugh!” You shout, aiming it at those little monsters that remain living rent-free in your house as you run fast after them. But-

Oh no. Oh noooo. The four men, the new neighbors, turn around at your shout; likely assuming you meant it at them. Only to have your bunnies barrel through and between their legs.

After this, once you get those brats back, you will have to join them in finding a burrow to hide in your garden. That’s the only solution.

God must be smiling down at you, though; God must be satisfied by the regular entertainment you provide, because the men catch the bunnies. All four men catch all your four bunnies. It’s almost hilarious seeing your mini-lop in the hands of the big(gest) dude with the surgical mask. The tiny bastard doesn’t even seem mildly bothered, just nosing around the man’s chin and mask. Your two holland hops are in the hands of a very pretty man- wow, what eyelash serum does he use?- and a man who is wearing a boonie hat. Your flemish giant chills in the hands of the one with the mohawk.

You slow down as you jog towards them, trying to catch your breath. The amusement and confusion on their faces would’ve almost been comical if you weren’t so embarrassed.

“Oh- oh my god, I’m so, so sorry-” You begin, cheeks pink. Fuck, you weren’t even anything that appropriate either; jean shorts and a rather thin top. “I’m sooo sorry, jesus christ. They- they usually don’t bother other people when they do this-“

“They do this often?” Boonie hat man raises an eyebrow, chuckling.

You nod, glaring down at the bunny who just… stares right back at you. Little beast. Evil little beast that enjoys your suffering. “Yeah… they get a certain joy out of my suffering. Once again, I’m so sorry-“

“Easy there, lass,” mohawk man grins at you, as does pretty man. You can’t tell what exoression their fourth might have on his face. Your flemish giant begins cleaning her face, unbothered. “They dinnae hurt noone… though maybe just yer lungs.”

As you gather your breath, still cradling your wayward bunnies, you glance up at the group of men and realize you haven’t even introduced yourself yet. Great. Chasing rabbits down the street and forgetting your manners? You’re on a roll today.

“I’m—uh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m [Name].” You gesture awkwardly toward your bunnies, still snuggled up in their rescuers’ arms. “And these are… my little troublemakers.”

The man with the boonie hat offers you a warm grin, extending his hand. “John Price. Looks like we’re neighbors now, love.”

You take his hand, appreciating the solid, firm shake and give him a smile. “Nice to meet you, John. And thanks again.”

The man with the mask remains silent but inclines his head, giving the tiniest of nods. He’s still holding your mini-lop, who’s completely unbothered, nosing at his mask like it’s a toy. “Simon.” he says in a low, gravelly voice.

His voice sends a tiny shiver down your spine. There’s something about his calm presence, even with your rebellious bunny in his grasp, that feels oddly reassuring. If anything, seeing your bunny si relaxed makes you far more willing to trust him. “Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it.”

The man with the mohawk steps forward, his grin as cheeky as ever. “Johnny MacTavish.” His Scottish accent rolls smoothly, and you can’t help but smile back. “Looks like yer big girl here likes me, huh?” He scratches behind your flemish giant’s ear, who responds by nudging into his hand.

You laugh. “Yeah, she’s usually shy, but I guess you’ve won her over.”

The last man, who had been standing back slightly, steps forward, still gently cradling one of your holland lops in his arms. “Kyle Garrick.” he says softly, his eyes flicking between you and the bunny. “They’re cute little things, aren’t they?”

You nod, heart warming a little. “Yeah, they are. And… a handful.”

For a brief moment, there’s a quiet, comfortable silence. You close your eyes and take in a deep, calming breath, not noticing the way all of them seem oddly focused on you—not in a bad way, but more like they’re genuinely interested.

“How do you take them back then?” John asks at last, breaking the silence. He’s almost absent-mindedly patting your bunny’s head.

“Well, I usually try to coax them with treats,” you say, opening your eyes to glance down at your bunnies. “but it seems like they’ve chosen chaos today, so no treats for them. I’ll just herd them back.” You shoot the bunnies a mock glare, earning a soft chuckle from Price.

“Seems like they’ve got a bit of personality,” Simon comments, his voice low. “Must’ve gotten that from you, yeah?”

You blink, caught off guard by his subtle tease. Was that a compliment? From him? You laugh softly, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Well, they’re stubborn, that’s for sure.”

Kyle, steps forward and holds the bunny out to you. “Here, love. Looks like he’s had his fun. Don’t worry, no harm done.”

You take the bunny from him, your fingers brushing his as you do. “Thanks,” you murmur, feeling a bit flustered by the warmth of his touch. “I was about ten seconds away from having a meltdown.”

Johnny leans forward, his grin widening even as he hands over your flemish giant. One by one, you get back all your bunnies. “Aye, ye seemed like ye were in a bit of a panic. But nae need to be embarrassed, lass. We’ve all got our little burdens.”

Your eyes dart to his, catching a mischievous twinkle there. He’s definitely enjoying this a little too much.

You sigh dramatically, still cradling your mischievous bunnies. You set them down, and like the most obedient angels ever, they just hop and wait around your feet. “They’re more than burdens, they’re the bane of my existence sometimes. But I love them.”

Price chuckles, arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s good you care about them that much. Not everyone would go to such lengths for their pets.”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, well… they’re my kids, basically. Little fluffy nightmares, but I love them.” You glance up at the group, unable to hide your appreciation for their help. “I seriously owe you guys. Maybe a drink sometime? Or dinner? As a proper thank you and welcome, of course.”

Simon shifts slightly, eyes still on you, though his face remains unreadable behind the mask. Johnny shoots him a look, then turns back to you with a grin. “Would nae wanna bother ye, lass-“

You blink, quickly shaking your head. “Oh, no, it won’t be a bother at all! I mean, it’s the least I can do after… all of this.” You gesture vaguely at the situation. Your mini-lop flops down near Simon, likely expecting pats.

Johnny’s grin deepens, and he exchanges a look with Price. “We’ll hold ye to that, lass. What day works for ye?”

You laugh nervously, cheeks still warm. “I’ll… I’ll figure something out and let you know.”

Kyle gives you a soft, reassuring smile. “We’ll be looking forward to it. And don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye out for any runaway bunnies in the meantime.”

As the men begin to head back to their place, Johnny calls out over his shoulder, “Remember- dinner, lass! No backing out!”

You roll your eyes with a playful smile but can’t help feeling flustered as you watch them go, and then laugh a little when Simon smacks the back of Johnny’s head, your heart beating a little faster. When they’re out of sight, you glance down at your bunnies.

“Thanks for the assist, you little terrors,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Now I owe them dinner. Perfect.”

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Part 2

Masterpost + interactions, comments, reblogs and everything in between is very much encouraged 🫶🏻

[iamumbra195]

School Bus Graveyard incorrect quotes because I'm bored

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Taylor: Look how creepy it is looking down this hallway.

Ashlyn: I'm gonna get vertigo.

Aiden: I'm a Virgo!

Tyler, deadpan: No, you're a virgin.

...

Aiden: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Tyler: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Aiden: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ASHLYN WITH ME

Logan, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

...

Taylor: Why is Tyler so upset?

Logan: He took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes

Taylor: And...?

Logan: He got Aiden.

...

Ashlyn: What did you do with the phantom's body?

Aiden: What didn’t I do with the body?

Everyone:

Aiden: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the phantom respectfully.

...

Aiden: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Logan: Aiden, no.

Ben, with text to speech: Mistlefoe.

Logan: Please stop encouraging him.

...

Taylor: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Tyler: You’re a hazard to society

Aiden: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

...

Emma, trying to be nice to Ashlyn's new friends: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Mike, excited for his daughter: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

...

Logan: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?

Ben: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-

Aiden: Smad.

...

Ashlyn: Why are you on the floor?

Aiden: I'm depressed.

Aiden: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ben, please.

...

Taylor: Aiden and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Ashlyn, sighing: What did he do?

Taylor: he chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Aiden: Who wants a steering wheel?

...

Aiden: If I accidentally sat on a voodoo doll of myself, would I be trapped forever in that position, doomed to starve to death?

Logan: How am I supposed to know?

Tyler: You say that as if we don’t use you as a source of knowledge of the occult.

Logan: ...You wouldn't be trapped.

...

Ashlyn: Tyler, keep an eye on Aiden today. He's going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Tyler: Sure, I’d love to see him get punched.

Ashlyn: Try again.

Tyler, sighing: I will stop Aiden from getting punched.

...

Aiden, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Tyler: You did WHAT–

Ben: William Snakespeare

...

Ashlyn: Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life

Taylor: Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?

Ashlyn: Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.

Aiden: edible

...

Taylor, whispering to Aiden, who’s on the phone with Ashlyn: Ask her something!

Aiden: How are you feeling?

Ashlyn: Fine.

Taylor: Something personal!

Aiden: At what age did you start hearing voices?

...

Aiden: If I die, my funeral is going to be the biggest party ever and you’re all invited

Logan: If?

Tyler: Great, the only party I’d actually go to and he might not even die.

...

Logan: We need a distraction.

Ashlyn: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Aiden, whispering: My time has come

...

Tyler: Where are you going?

Taylor: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Tyler: I'll come with

...

Mike, buying a whole bag of knives, guns and other weapons like he's going to war on a random Tuesday: I can explain

Jacob (shop owner): Can you?

Mike: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

...

Taylor: Heads up, if you try to make a candle with food colouring, it will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food colouring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food colouring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter.

Tyler, sighing: What did you do?

Taylor, wailing: A MISTAKE

...

Mr. Thomas: What are your goals?

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs.

Mr. Thomas: No, I meant your goals for this trip.

Ashlyn: To pet all the dogs in Savannah.

...

Logan: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Ashlyn: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak?

...

Taylor: Aiden isn’t answering their phone

Ashlyn: I’ll call

Taylor: Ben and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Aiden: Hello?

...

Aiden: I was arrested for being too cool.

Tyler: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

...

Aiden: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much

Taylor: You’ve been to jail?

Aiden: Once. In Monopoly.

...

Mike: You love me, right?

Emma: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it.

...

Aiden: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Ashlyn: Okay

Aiden: And make out during the scary parts.

Ashlyn: The-

Ashlyn: The scary parts?

Ashlyn: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

...

Ashlyn: How petty can you get?

Tyler: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Taylor: I KNEW IT-

...

Aiden: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Logan: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

...

Mike: So what’s for dinner?

Emma, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

That's all for today!

[novaursa]

What about a Jace x sister

Where he fell in love with her and in the same time he is not ok with it. He might be the only Targaryen related who thinks that’s not okay to loved their related. But no matter how he can stopped loving her, she might have a look more “Targaryen” with white hair with some black in it (narcissia Malfoy style?)

He always do some weird shit to be closed to her without drow to much attention, And when they finally get really closed their mother call all the bastard to become dragon rider. And Ulf find them in the Pit and try to get something from them in exchange of his silence.

Jace wake up and choose violence 🫣 and just say no and fuxk her in front of him and say that if he say anything he make sure his dragon will eat him

Sins of the Blood

- Summary: Jacaerys always loved his sister, more than he should. It was wrong, he knew it, but the dragon in him claimed you as his long ago.

- Paring: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded the reader with Grey Ghost for the plot.

The sea breeze dances through the open halls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the waves. You stand with Baela and Rhaena on the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the cliffs, the three of you bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your laughter rings out, clear and melodic, mingling with the cries of the gulls that circle above.

Jacaerys Velaryon watches from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knows he should not be here, should not be watching you so closely, but he cannot help himself. You, his sister, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, have been a constant presence in his life, a source of both comfort and confusion. His eyes trace the silver streaks in your hair, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, mingling with the deep brown inherited from your true father, though only you, he, and his mother know the truth.

He remembers when you were children, how you would chase each other through the halls of the Red Keep, your laughter infectious, your bond inseparable. He had always been protective of you, even when you didn’t need it. You were fierce, a dragon through and through, and yet, as you stand now with Baela and Rhaena, there is a softness to you, a grace that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Do you remember the first time we flew together?" Baela’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She grins at you, her violet eyes bright with the memory.

"Of course," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. "I thought Jace would never let me ride my own dragon, he was so worried."

Jace feels a pang at your words, both pride and regret mingling in his chest. He had always been overly cautious with you, more so than with Luke or Joffrey. Perhaps he had always known, even then, that his feelings for you were not entirely brotherly.

Rhaena giggles, leaning in closer to you. "He’s always been that way, hasn’t he? Always the protector, always looking after you."

You shrug, though the warmth in your eyes betrays your affection. "He cares. That’s just how he is."

Jace clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the pride that swells in him at your words and the guilt that gnaws at him for the thoughts he cannot seem to banish. He knows it is wrong—this desire that burns in him like dragonfire—but it is also undeniably a part of him, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Take what is yours. The words echo in his mind, a voice that is both his own and something darker, something ancient. The blood of the dragon runs hot in his veins, urging him to act, to claim what he believes is his by right. You are his sister, yes, but you are also so much more. You are the embodiment of everything he has ever wanted, ever desired.

You turn then, as if sensing his gaze, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the world seems to stop. The laughter of Baela and Rhaena fades into the background, the sound of the waves dulls, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"Jace," you call out, your voice breaking the spell. "Come join us!"

There is no hesitation in your invitation, no hint that you are aware of the storm raging inside him. You are just his sister, inviting him to share in the simple joy of the evening, oblivious to the battle he fights within.

He forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath, and steps forward. "I was just enjoying the view," he says, his voice betraying nothing.

Rhaena giggles again, nudging Baela. "See, I told you he’s always watching over her."

Baela laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. "It’s because he’s a good brother."

The words cut deeper than they should, a cruel reminder of the line he cannot cross. He wants to be a good brother, he truly does. But the blood of the dragon does not care for such boundaries. The blood of the dragon demands more.

As he approaches, you smile up at him, that same smile that has always had the power to calm him, to soothe the fire within. But today, it only stokes the flames higher.

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, your eyes searching his face for something he cannot give.

He nods, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Of course. Just… thinking."

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing look passing over your face. "You think too much, Jace. You always have."

He laughs, though it is a strained sound. "Someone has to, with you lot always running headlong into trouble."

Baela snorts. "As if you don’t love it."

He shrugs, unable to deny it. "Perhaps."

You laugh then, a sound so pure and unburdened that it twists something deep in his chest. How can you be so carefree, so unaware of the darkness that haunts him?

The conversation drifts to other things—plans for the next dragonride, the latest antics of your younger brothers—but Jace finds it hard to focus. His eyes keep returning to you, to the way the setting sun catches in your hair, to the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. Every moment is a battle, every word a reminder of what he can never have.

Take what is yours. The voice whispers again, insistent, relentless.

He pushes it down, burying it beneath layers of duty, of honor, of love for his family. But it is there, always there, a part of him that he can never truly silence.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and gold, you turn to him once more, your expression soft, almost tender.

"Thank you, Jace," you say quietly.

He frowns, unsure of what you mean. "For what?"

You smile, and it is a smile that breaks him, because it is so full of warmth, of trust, of love. "For always being there. For always watching over me."

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Always," he promises, and it is both a vow and a curse.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm, and the simple touch sends a shock through him, setting his nerves alight. For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets everything but you.

But then Baela speaks up, her voice pulling him back to reality. "We should head inside. It’s getting late."

You nod, but your eyes linger on his for a moment longer, as if searching for something, something you cannot name.

Jace watches as you turn away, following Baela and Rhaena back into the castle, your laughter fading into the evening air. He stays behind, his heart a tumult of emotion, his mind a battlefield.

He knows what he feels is wrong. He knows that he should push these thoughts away, should bury them deep where they can never see the light of day. But he also knows that the blood of the dragon is not so easily denied.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jace makes a silent vow to himself. He will protect you, he will care for you, as a brother should. But he will also fight this desire, this hunger that threatens to consume him. He will not let it destroy him, or you.

But deep down, he knows that it will be difficult.

And as he watches the last light of day fade into night, he wonders if it ever truly will be.

Months have passed since that evening on the terrace, and yet the fire within Jacaerys Velaryon has not dimmed. If anything, it has only grown stronger, a persistent heat that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to consume him at every turn. He has thrown himself into his duties, into training and studies, hoping that the rigor will burn away these unwanted desires. But nothing works. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the pull you have on him.

Today, he finds himself wandering through the halls of Dragonstone, his mind restless, his heart unsettled. The castle is quiet, the stillness only amplifying his thoughts. His feet carry him to the library, a place he knows you often retreat to when you seek solace or simply a moment of peace. He tells himself it is a coincidence, that he has come here to study, to distract himself with books and knowledge. But deep down, he knows the truth.

As he enters the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink greets him, a familiar comfort. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they find you, seated near the window, the light of the midday sun casting a soft glow around you. You are engrossed in a book, your silver-streaked hair falling over your face, your expression serene. The sight of you, so peaceful and unguarded, sends a wave of warmth through him, and before he can stop himself, he is walking towards you.

You look up as he approaches, a smile tugging at your lips. "Jace," you greet him, your voice soft and welcoming. "What brings you here?"

He hesitates, his mind racing for an excuse. "I thought I might find you here," he admits, the words tumbling out before he can catch them. "I wanted to see if you needed any help with your studies."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since when do you offer to help with my studies?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I just thought... we haven't spent much time together lately. I miss it."

Your expression softens at his words, and you close the book in your hands, setting it aside. "I’ve missed it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can feel the tension between you, a charged energy that crackles in the air. The pull is stronger now, a magnetic force that draws him closer, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside you, his body instinctively leaning towards yours.

"What are you reading?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glance at the book, then back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "A history of Old Valyria. I’ve always been fascinated by our ancestors, by the dragons and the blood magic they wielded."

"Of course," he murmurs, though he hardly registers the words. He is too focused on the way your hand rests so close to his, the way your eyes seem to shimmer in the light. "Our blood is strong, isn’t it? The blood of the dragon."

You nod, your gaze holding his. "It is. It’s what makes us who we are."

The words resonate deep within him, a reminder of the truth he has tried so hard to ignore. The blood of the dragon is what binds you together, but it is also what drives him to the brink of madness. The fire that burns in his veins is not just a curse, but a part of him, a part of you. And he is no longer sure if he can continue to fight it.

"I wanted to ask you something," you say suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between you.

He blinks, trying to focus. "What is it?"

You hesitate for a moment, as if gathering your thoughts. "I was wondering if you could help me with my dragon training. Grey Ghost is so much more... spirited than he used to be, and I thought maybe you could help me understand him better."

Jace swallows hard, the thought of spending more time with you, alone and away from prying eyes, sending a thrill through him. But it is also dangerous, more dangerous than anything he has faced before. Still, he finds himself nodding. "Of course. I’d be glad to help."

You smile, a smile that warms him from the inside out, and he knows he is lost. He cannot deny you, cannot deny himself any longer. The pull is too strong, the fire too fierce. And as you rise to your feet, gesturing for him to follow, he feels that pull tighten, like a chain around his heart, binding him to you.

The two of you walk side by side through the corridors of Dragonstone, the silence between you comfortable, yet charged with an unspoken tension. Your presence is a balm to him, calming and yet igniting something deep within, something he can no longer ignore. Every brush of your arm against his, every glance in his direction, fans the flames higher, until he feels as though he might burst from the sheer force of it.

When you reach the courtyard where the dragons are kept, you turn to him, your eyes bright with excitement. "Let’s start with the basics," you say, your voice full of eagerness. "You’ve always been better at this than I am."

Jace shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "It’s not about being better," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s about understanding them, forming a bond with them."

You nod, your attention fully on him now, and he feels a surge of pride at the trust you place in him. "I know," you say softly. "And I trust you to help me."

The words strike him like a blow, the weight of your trust almost too much to bear. He wants to be worthy of it, to be the brother you believe him to be. But he also wants more, so much more, and it terrifies him.

As you step closer to him, your arm brushing against his, he feels that pull again, stronger than ever. He knows he should move away, put some distance between you, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself leaning in, his body drawn to yours like a moth to flame.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve always felt safest when I’m with you."

The confession catches him off guard, and he looks down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why?"

You smile up at him, a gentle, almost shy smile. "Because you’ve always been there for me, Jace. No matter what."

His breath catches in his throat, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. The pull between you is undeniable now, a force of nature that neither of you can resist. And as you stand there, so close that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, he knows that he is about to cross a line that he can never return from.

But before he can act, before he can make the decision that will change everything, you reach out and take his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he is lost, completely and utterly lost.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looks down at you, his heart in his throat, and he knows that this is it. This is the moment he has been dreading, the moment he has been craving. The pull between you is too strong, the fire too fierce, and he knows that there is no going back.

But then, as if sensing the turmoil within him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Thank you," you say, your voice soft and sincere. "For always being there."

And just like that, the moment passes. The tension between you eases, and you step back, releasing his hand. The pull is still there, still strong, but it is no longer overwhelming. For now, it is enough to simply be with you, to feel your presence beside him, to know that you trust him.

As you turn your attention back to the dragons, Jace takes a deep breath, steadying himself. The battle within him is far from over, but for now, he has won a small victory. He has resisted the pull, resisted the fire. But he knows it is only a matter of time before the dragon within him demands more.

And when that time comes, he is not sure if he will be able to resist.

The winds howl around the jagged peaks of Dragonmont, the volcanic heart of Dragonstone. The sky above is dark, thick clouds swirling in ominous patterns, but here, beneath the shelter of the mountain, you and Jacaerys find solace in the company of your dragons. Vermax and Grey Ghost, their massive forms partially obscured by the mist that clings to the rocky terrain, rest quietly nearby, their watchful eyes ever alert.

The air between you and Jace is charged, as it has been for days now. Since the arrival of the Dragonseeds and the beginning of the Red Sowing, there has been an unspoken tension, a shared anxiety that neither of you has fully voiced. Today, it seems, that silence is about to be broken.

Jace paces before you, his brow furrowed, his steps uneven. "I can’t help but worry," he finally says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mother’s decision to let these Dragonseeds try to claim the dragons… it could destroy everything. The only thing that sets us apart, that makes us legitimate in the eyes of the realm, is our bond with the dragons. What happens if anyone can do it? What happens if they succeed?"

You watch him, feeling the weight of his concern settle over you like a heavy cloak. You understand his fear; it echoes within you as well. "They are Targaryen bastards, Jace," you say softly, trying to find the right words. "The blood of the dragon runs in their veins, even if the world doesn’t see them as we are seen. But you are right to be cautious. We cannot control what might happen if they succeed. But we can control how we respond."

He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes are intense, filled with worry and something deeper, something you’ve seen growing there in recent days. "What if it shatters everything? What if the realm no longer sees us as the rightful heirs? If they can claim dragons, what does that mean for us?"

You rise from your seat on a smooth outcropping of rock, moving closer to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You can feel the warmth of the dragons nearby, the heat from the mountain beneath your feet, but most of all, you feel the heat radiating from Jace, a fire that matches your own.

"We are more than our dragons," you say, your voice steady. "We are the blood of the dragon, yes, but we are also our mother’s children, the heirs of House Targaryen. That will not change, no matter what happens with the Dragonseeds."

Jace’s gaze softens as he looks at you, the storm in his eyes momentarily easing. "You always know what to say," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I’m still afraid. Afraid of what this means for us, for our family."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and the contact sends a spark through you both. "Then we face it together," you say firmly, your fingers tightening around his. "Whatever comes, we face it together, as we always have."

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the kind of silence that speaks louder than words. The dragons are quiet too, their presence a comforting weight in the background. Jace’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

Without thinking, you step closer, and suddenly the space between you is gone. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and unsteady, and the intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear. The pull between you is stronger than ever, an undeniable force that you can no longer resist.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken, something that has been building for so long.

He doesn’t reply, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both hesitant and eager, as if he is afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you kiss him back, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks, months, perhaps even years, pouring out in that single moment. It is as if the fire that has always burned between you has finally found release, and there is no stopping it now.Jace’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the desperation in his touch, the need that mirrors your own. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"So have I," you admit, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Jace, I—"

He silences you with another kiss, more urgent this time, and you can feel his hands moving to the fastenings of your attire. There is a moment of hesitation, a final chance to turn back, but neither of you takes it. Instead, you help him, your fingers trembling as they work to undo his clothing as well.

The air is cool against your skin as your garments fall away, but you hardly notice. All you can focus on is Jace, on the way his hands move over your body, on the way he looks at you as if you are the only thing that matters in the world. And perhaps, in this moment, you are.

He guides you down onto the warm rock, his movements careful, almost reverent. The heat from the mountain seeps into your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and you feel yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.When he finally joins with you, the pain is brief, a sharp sting that quickly fades, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly connected to him. Jace pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for your permission to continue.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, but the look in your eyes says everything. "Please," you whisper, and that is all it takes.

He begins to move, slow at first, almost tentative, but as the moments pass, the hesitation fades, replaced by a growing urgency, a passion that neither of you can control. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on, meeting his every movement with your own.

The world around you fades, the sounds of the dragons, the wind, the distant roar of the sea, all becoming nothing more than a distant echo. There is only Jace, only the fire that burns between you, the flames that consume you both, driving you higher and higher until you feel as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it.

Just as you reach the peak of your union, lost in the sensation of him, you hear a sound, the soft crunch of footsteps on the volcanic rock. Your eyes snap open, and you see him—Ulf the White, one of the Dragonseeds, standing a short distance away, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

Jace’s movements slow as he becomes aware of the intruder, but he doesn’t stop, his body still pressed intimately against yours. His eyes narrow, and you can feel the tension in him, the protective instinct that flares up at the sight of another man watching you in such a vulnerable moment.

Ulf’s smirk widens as he recognizes both of you, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he speaks. "Well, well, what do we have here? Prince Jacaerys and his fair sister, indulging in some… private time, I see."

Jace doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on Ulf, his body shielding yours from view. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. "You will leave now, Ulf. And you will speak of this to no one."

Ulf’s amusement doesn’t fade. "And if I don’t? I imagine this little secret could be worth quite a bit."

Jace’s expression hardens, the dragon within him rising to the surface. "I have another proposition for you. Leave now and never speak of this, or tell someone… and Vermax will feast on your bones."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with the promise of violence. Ulf’s smile falters, the realization of Jace’s seriousness sinking in. He glances at the dragons, both Vermax and Grey Ghost now fully alert, their eyes locked on him, and he takes an involuntary step back.

"Fine," Ulf mutters, the bravado gone from his voice. "Your secret’s safe with me, Prince Jacaerys. I was never here." With that, he turns and hurries away, casting one last nervous glance at the dragons before disappearing into the mist.

Jace watches him go, his body still tense, but as the danger passes, his attention shifts back to you, his focus returning to the moment you had both been lost in. The fire that had momentarily cooled begins to burn again, his hands finding yours, his gaze intense.

"I will marry you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "In the traditions of our ancestors, in the ways of Old Valyria. You are mine, and I am yours, for now and forever."

The words send a shiver through you, the weight of them, the promise in them, filling you with a sense of certainty, of belonging. You nod, your voice trembling as you respond. "Yes, Jace. Yes."

And as he moves within you once more, the world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by the fire of your blood.

[save-mohamed-family2]

Urgent call for help 🚨🚨🍉🍉

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[doumadono]

Warnings: fwb, finger fucking, period s*x, mentions of blood

Synopsis: navigating your period is never a walk in the park, especially with Dabi, your usual source of comfort, off base. Fortunately, your other friend with benefits is available. The question lingers - will your boss be willing to help ease your anxiety?

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The dull ache had been gnawing at you for hours, twisting deep in your stomach and making it impossible to get comfortable, no matter how many times you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders or curled up smaller on the couch. You’d tried everything, maybe a little bit of everything at once, hoping that something - anything - might finally distract you from the constant cramping that made you restless, edgy, and worse, needy. That feeling always came with the ache, twisting at you with a constant want to feel something warm, something grounding against your skin.

Dabi, your usual go-to for comfort during times like these, had vanished again - off on one of his mysterious escapades. Bastard. He was off God knows where, doing who knows what, and while you wanted to curse him for vanishing at the worst possible time without even letting you know, your mind was already drifting to the only other person you trusted for this sort of comfort.

Tomura Shigaraki. The leader of the League of Villains, and your second friend with benefits.

His door was slightly ajar, a faint blue glow casting just enough light to outline his silhouette. Shigaraki sat splayed out on the bed, his room dim, save for the flickering screen that illuminated his focused expression. His hands moved expertly over the controller, his gaze locked onto the game with an intensity that made him seem unreachable - detached, in that familiar way.

You lingered in the doorway, feeling the dull ache low in your stomach pulse, the discomfort pulling at you. “Boss…” you murmured, stepping in quietly, letting the door click softly shut behind you. You padded over, slipping under his arm, tucking yourself against him as you nuzzled into his chest. His familiar scent washed over you, grounding you somehow, and for a moment, you just stayed there, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing as you sank into his warmth.

Shigaraki shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the controller, and gave a low, exasperated sigh. “What is it?” His voice was low, his eyes still fixed on the screen, and though he hadn’t yet acknowledged you fully, the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a piece of his attention that was aimed at you.

“Hurts,” you mumbled, pressing closer, your voice soft, barely more than a whisper. You buried your face against his shoulder, letting out a small whine. “Feels tight, uncomfortable. And Dabi isn’t around, so…”

A low chuckle escaped his lips, and he finally tore his gaze from the screen to look at you, his eyes gleaming with pity. “So you came to me because he’s not around, huh? What am I, second best?” he teased, though his fingers were already tracing along your waist, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “You’re interrupting my game.”

You pouted, curling against him tighter, your hand resting on his chest. “Can’t you help me just a little, boss?” Your voice was a soft plea, needy, and you could feel his chest rumble with a low chuckle as he set the controller aside, finally giving you his full attention.

“Help you, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, his fingers reaching up to trace along your hip, teasingly slow, his gaze wandering over your face, studying the faint flush in your cheeks, the way your eyes lingered on his mouth. “And how exactly am I supposed to help with that, Y/N? Indeed though, you look like you’re suffering,” he added quickly, his voice rough and low, a hint of amusement curling at the edge of his mouth. His fingers brushed along your exposed thigh as your skirt rode up, careful, as always, to keep one finger lifted. “Funny though. Dabi is busy, so you come crawling to me. Look how pathetic you are, Y/N.”

You bit your lip, giving him a look that was both pleading and lustful as you leaned in, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Pretty please?” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw, feeling the tension there as you let your lips linger. “It’s just cramping. I’m on my period,” you managed, feeling a wave of embarrassment rush through you, but he only narrowed his gaze, studying you as if you were some puzzle he wanted to solve.

“I guess I can help with that,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips, his hand trailing higher, his fingers ghosting along the waistband of your plain skirt. 

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, the heat pooling low in your stomach twisting into something that made your whole body tighten with anticipation. “Tomura, but… I’m bleeding,” you reminded, your voice barely a whisper, half-expecting him to recoil, but instead, he only smirked, eyes darkening as he leaned in closer.

“Doesn’t bother me,” he replied, his tone laced with a dark, playful edge. “Blood never has.” A soft hum escaped him, his tone mocking, but there was a spark of interest in his eyes. His fingers pressed into the small of your back, guiding you forward with a firm, steady pressure, until you found yourself sitting on his lap, your back against his chest, his hands settling on your thighs. His grip was steady, demanding, and he leaned forward, his voice barely above a murmur as his breath brushed your ear. “Need attention that badly?”

Your heart pounded, cheeks flushed, but you felt yourself nodding, letting your arm drift up around his neck. “Maybe…” you managed, leaning back against him, feeling the press of his chest against your back, solid and steady.

His fingers kneaded the soft flesh of your thigh, slow and purposeful, sending a wave of heat through you that made your muscles tighten. His gaze flickered down as he watched your clothed pussy after he yanked the hem of your skirt up once more, his tone dropping to a murmur. “Then spread your legs wide f’me, like a good whore you are.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you obeyed, shifting so your thighs opened slightly on either side of his, giving him access. 

“Good girl.” His voice was a low murmur, edged with satisfaction, and his hand trailed higher, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers trailed along your inner thigh, tracing slow, lazy circles that made your breath catch, each touch sending sparks through your body. “Look at you,” he murmured, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he let his fingers drift higher. “Already desperate, aren’t you?” His calloused hand slipped between your thighs after he yanked the hems of your skirt up with the other hand, his touch rough yet cautious, the warmth of his fingers spreading as he traced gentle circles against the sensitive skin of your pantie-covered mound. 

Your breath hitched when his fingers slipped beneath the silky fabric of your panties, warm and rough against the softness of your folds, already covered in a slick arousal mixed with blood, and it was impossible not to tense under his touch. 

Shigaraki worked slowly, drawing it out, the pads of his fingers pressing in against your pussy lips just enough to make your body react - an involuntary clench of your tight hole around nothingness that sent a rush of heat to your face. You glanced away, but he seemed to notice every single shift in you, the way your breaths were coming quicker, shallower, under his attention. 

His smirk was faint but unmistakable, an almost lazy satisfaction that he let settle between the two of you. “Warm,” he claimed matter-of-factly, and there was something about the way he said it that made the room feel even smaller, his voice scraping low and rough. His fingers brushed your panties aside, exposing your glistening pussy to the chill of the air for just a moment before his hand covered your slit again. He took his time, tracing a line up and down the slick slit with an infuriating slowness, his eyes never leaving your face as his fingers explored with an intensity that made your whole body start to tremble. He used his index and middle finger to spread your labia, smirking wryly as he spotted your hole clenching rhythmically. “Fucking whore. I bet you’re tight too, aren’t you, sweet rose?”

You swallowed hard, feeling your face heat up, a pout already forming as he kept that steady, infuriating pace. “It… it’s uncomfortable,” you mumbled, voice catching as his fingers pressed harder against your lips.

He leaned closer, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm against the skin of your neck as he watched a pink-tinted, lucid mucus effused out of your tight hole. “Cheap whore. You’re dripping wet. Spread your legs wider f’me.”

Before you knew it, you had one foot on his bed, and the other lazily hooked over his left knee, showing off your glistening pussy so openly and lewdly that you felt like you were doing a porn shoot. Your entire attention was focused on the way he stroked and caressed your slick labia.

Tomura’s finger probed your opening which was already wet with anticipation, then traced back to the top, caressing your swollen clitoris again. He repeated this motion, tracing down, probing you, picking up your slick, thick wetness, and trailing back up to caress your clit. 

“Now, tell me where it hurts.” 

You whimpered, feeling your legs start to tremble as his finger slipped inside your wet, tight pussy that easily opened to welcome the much wanted intrusion. The long digit was stretching you, filling you with a deliberate fullness that made your head spin. “Right… right there, boss,” you whispered, clutching at his knee with the free hand, feeling your body tighten, a warmth blossoming in your core that sent jolts of pleasure through every nerve, so the only thing you could do was to buck your hips more into his rough palm.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled softly, placing a faint kiss to the column of your neck as you rolled your head back, his fingers moving faster, rougher now, his control slipping as he watched you come undone beneath him. “So desperate, and all that just for me.”

You were moaning like a whore as Shigaraki’s fingers fought the slippery friction of your cunny grip as he slowly finger fucked your hole.

Carefully, the white haired man curled his fingers downward and rubbed the tender underside of your pubis with soft, circular strokes. “That’s it, bitch,” he praised.

You could feel yourself getting closer, the pleasure building, overwhelming, and he seemed to sense it, too. You whimpered as the muscles in your back, shoulders, arms, and ass tensed. “Oi, Tomura!”

He chuckled, his free hand gripping your titties through your tank top, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, his pace steady but relentless. “There you go, bitch,” the leader of the League of Villains praised, his lips grazing the column of your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as his fingers curled, pressing against that perfect spot that made your body tense, and your breath hitch.

“Faster, faster,” you pleaded, grinding your hips so you rubbed your slick pussy lips against the heel of his rough palm.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” he continued, his voice a low growl as his fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing against your clit, tapping it a few times, sending jolts of pleasure through every nerve in your body. “Maybe next time, you’ll think about coming to me first.”

White haired man slipped another finger inside your bloody cunt, stretching you painfully as your core was super tight due to the period and cramps, filling you with a pure lust that made you gasp, your body arching as he pressed deeper, his thumb rubbing against your swollen clitoris. He grinned at your reaction, his finger curling inside you, hitting that perfect spongy spot that made your muscles clench, made your entire body tremble. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, adding yet another finger, pumping them in and out with a steady, deliberate rhythm that left you panting, your hips moving in time with his touch. He watched you, his gaze dark and hungry, a look of pure satisfaction crossing his face as you were falling apart beneath him. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact his protective glove was getting wet with your juices and blood.

His pace grew relentless, a rhythm that made you call out his name, on and on. The only sounds echoing around you were your soft mewls, a breathless symphony of pleasure,  mingling with his low, breathy grunts. Each time the heel of his hand met your slick labia, it created a wet, lewd sound that punctuated the air of his bedroom. 

You tried to close your legs when a massive orgasm crashed over you, leaving you trembling, but Tomura kept your legs open. He held you close, his fingers still moving slowly in and out of your abused hole, drawing out every last tremor, until you were left mumbling incoherently, breathless, completely undone in your boss’ lap.

You turned your upper body part in his arms, placing kitten kisses to his cheek and jaw, silently thanking him for relieving you.

When Tomura finally pulled his hand away, he looked down at the faint traces of blood mixed with cum smeared on his fingers. His nasty smirk widened.

Your body was still trembling, your mind hazy with pleasure as you watched Shigaraki, your breaths shallow as you tried to regain your composure. 

But then, his eyes met yours, dark and steady, as he raised his hand to his mouth. 

Heat flooded your cheeks, your heart racing as he brought his long fingers - slick with your arousal and faintly stained with traces of blood - toward his mouth. He paused, inhaling deeply as if savoring the scent of his quarry, embodying the essence of a predator assessing its prey. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he wrapped his cracked lips around his fingers, licking and sucking them clean, every movement intentional and tantalizing, his gaze never leaving your eyes. He hummed at the taste, palming himself through his pants without giving it a second thought.

You expected a grimace, maybe even a disgusted comment, but instead, his expression was one of dark satisfaction, his tongue tracing his fingers with an intensity that made your stomach flutter, that set your already sensitive nerves tingling all over again. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every last taste, made a soft, shy whimper slip from your lips. You tried to avert your gaze, but it was impossible to look away from him, from that wicked, knowing smirk on his face.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though you could see the amusement in his eyes. “What, did you think I’d be grossed out?” His smirk widened as he leaned in close, his voice a low murmur that made you shiver as he kissed your nose.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you met his gaze, feeling a mix of embarrassment and undeniable excitement twist in your stomach. 

He didn’t mind. He didn’t care about the blood, didn’t care that you’d practically begged him to touch you. He’d taken it all in stride, and the realization left you feeling both vulnerable and completely captivated by him. 

You glanced away, feeling your cheeks flush as you tried to hide the shy smile threatening to show. The room felt smaller somehow, quiet, and his gaze on you felt heavy, like it held you in place. You could feel him watching you, studying every flicker in your expression, every nervous breath. Finally, you managed, “I… I just thought…”

Tomura cut you off, his voice soft but with that firm, unmistakable edge that left no room for protest. “You thought wrong,” he murmured, his hand resting just above your knee, his fingers brushing over your thigh in a way that sent an unmistakable spark through you. The warmth of his skin, the way his touch lingered, sent your heart racing, pulse pounding loud in the silence. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, the warmth of his breath so close that it made you shiver. “If you’re coming to me for this,” he whispered, each word low, deliberate, “then you’d better be prepared. I don’t do it halfway.”

A thrill settled in your stomach at his words, twisting into something deep, something that left you breathless as his hand drifted higher, thumb tracing lazy circles over your thigh. You bit your lip, trying to calm the heat spreading through you, but it was no use. There was an anticipation in the air, a tension that had you leaning in, your voice soft, playful, but with an edge of your own. “Guess I owe you… for helping me out like this.”

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of his eyes on you, the slight quirk of his brow that told you he was watching, waiting. 

Without breaking eye contact, you slid off his lap, sinking to your knees on the floor in front of him, one hand finding the bulge that was already building beneath the fabric of his pants. You ran the tip of your tongue along your upper lip.

His eyes flickered, interest gleaming there, the corner of his mouth curving into a look that was more than a smirk but not quite a smile. It was something darker, something that lingered, his fingers reaching out to brush over your cheek, his thumb tracing along your jaw in a touch that was gentle, but expectant before he pressed the digit against your lips, watching you part them for him, sucking the finger in your mouth like a good, obedient whore you were. “Then I’ll be expecting that repayment soon,” he whispered, his voice like velvet, “Very soon.”

tagging: @baby--vera @unhinged-bratty-boy @shonen-brainrot @shionancientsblog @irkedpomeranian @within-eyesight @misafiryanki @cyberrthegreat @grossograsso @krabkornel @roast-toast @arthurbristow @alexandhisstuff @proherodabisballsack

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

fellow + gidel ssr time fellas

(This bastard took an entire soft pity :(( but hey, I got a Dorm Uniform Jade dupe and finally FINALLY my first Dorm Uniform Floyd on the way, so I ain't too pressed about it.) RISE UP FELLOWIVES NOW’S YOUR TIME

***Character profile, voice lines, Groovy, and vignette spoilers below the cut!!***

First off! His official profile, coffin, and candy (Fox Candy):

(School) Grade/Class: None

Birthday: May 17 (Taurus)

Age: 26

Height: 181 cm

Dominant Hand: Right

Hometown: ???

Club: None

Best Subject: Mathematics (specifically Arithmetic)

Hobby: Watching theater

Dislikes: Saving money

Favorite Food: Apples

Least Favorite Food: Potatoes

Special Skill: Sewing

We finally get confirmation of Fellow’s age! (He had previously said in Playful Land that he was 20-something.)

I love that Fellow’s best subject is math Deuce is jealous/j; it makes so much sense given that his inspiration, Honest John (and Fellow himself) aren’t good at reading. It’s that whole “kids are either good at math or English” stereotype. In Japanese, the phrase 算数 is used. 算数 refers to arithmetic, or very basic math taught in elementary school (adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing). That specific phrase explains Fellow’s elementary level of understanding. His dislike being saving money is also related to numbers; he spends the money he has right away to get by in the moment. Fellow doesn’t really have the skill or the luxury of financial planning, he has to focus on the here and now, looking out for both himself and Gidel.

OMG, his favorite and least favorite foods???? 😭 Playful Land has apple (core) flavored candies and popcorn… and again, this is a reference to Honest John and Pinocchio’s first encounter! He takes the kid’s apple and eats it, lol cnsvwiwguwkw Potatoes being his disliked food… Maybe it’s because it’s the “poor” man’s vegetable? Because potatoes are so versatile, keep for a long time, and are filling because of the starch content, Fellow might resort to eating them a lot, so perhaps as a result he got sick of the taste.

What I find most interesting about Fellow’s profile are his listed hobby and special skill. He largely comes off as despicable and a slimy scammer (which he is, don’t get me wrong), but we can see different sides to him in these details—both the inner child that had his dreams trampled but remains hopeful about the future and the big brother figure/guardian to a child. Gidel is actually formally referred to in Fellow’s profile as his (non-blood related) brother, which made my heart melt 🥺 TWST must know I have a thing for beastmen who act shitty but are actually excellent mentors to the children/j

Fellow enjoys watching theater. It’s a way of transporting you away temporarily to new worlds with crazy stories and emotional performances. When words aren’t enough, you sing. And when singing isn’t enough, you dance. It’s an area that’s so full of life and joy, at least from the audience’s perspective. I’m thinking that watching theater must have been a form of escapism for Fellow, especially with how accessible it is (think of like street performances). Watching theater might also serve a dual purpose of teaching Fellow how to come across as amicable and friendly, which says a LOT about his character. He’s resourceful and able to learn from unconventional sources, then is able to apply those skills to real world situations.

Fellow’s special skill being sewing is surprisingly very cute! If you’ve taken one look at his and Gidel’s designs, we may have already spotted some of his handiwork. There’s mismatched fabric patches on their clothes!! The stitches look so clean too. The patterns not matching is probably because Fellow just used whatever scraps he was able to get his hands on, but I also like to imagine that he tried to make the best of the situation by incorporating the mismatched fabrics in a fun way (like the diamonds in his pants).

Next, can we talk about the composition of that GROOVY????

It’s another reference to the same Pinocchio scene! Fellow’s holding his book like Honest John did and it looks like he’s trying to teach Gidel the alphabet from words scratched on the sidewalk. Notice how the C is written backwards too 😂 He even wears glasses like when Honest John was trying hard to act like an intellectual.

And Gidel!!! Pencil and pad of paper in hand, he looks so interested to learn (something which was hinted at in Playful Land). Gideon in the film is also shown with a pen and pad of paper, scribbling down nonsense as Fellow pretends to diagnose Pinocchio.

Gidel glances up at Fellow with an expression of admiration. I love how wholesome their relationship is depicted as, it leaves a warm feeling in the heart.

The framing of this Groovy is very interesting. We have Fellow to our left—a direction has historically been associated with evil (in Italian, the word for left is even sinistra, as if to imply something sinister) and in the darkness. Gidel is the one to our right and in the light. It presents Fellow to us as someone who has given up on his dreams—but not completely, since we see some light touching his hat, gloves, and highest features + he is currently teaching Gidel and still has dreams of opening his own school. Gidel is shown in the light because he’s still a naive child that doesn’t understand how the world works. His dreams haven’t been destroyed yet, and there’s hope for him to have a better life since Fellow is looking after him and instructing him.

CHECK THIS OUT, GIDEL FOLLOWS FELLOW TO CLASS LIKE MARY'S LAMB OR SOMETHING????? Gidel pops out from under the desk or out of/behind Fellow's cape! Gidel also joins Fellow on the homescreen.

Some of Fellow's expressions are so priceless... For example, look at him in Flight! There's an unsure face and a little bead of sweat. (He makes a lot of pathetic accompanying sounds too, lol) Flying takes magic, so he's probably not confident or powerful enough to maintain flight for long stretches of time--though when he does nail it, he looks ultra smug.

ADGKVAVFOOEFIEQOfsl HIS SHOCKED FACE

How uncool, Fellow-san...

His attack sprites are very similar/identical to what we saw in Playful Land--Fellow's just playing for the opposite team now.

Gidel hops into battle to assist, so I guess they count as the first two-character card. It's been a while since I've seen these animations, but I think I can appreciate them a lot more now. I'm noticing new little things like how Fellow adds a bunch of showmanship into his attack, little flashy flourishes and even presenting Gidel with his arms splayed, as if welcoming a star to the spotlight. The attention to detail really is crazy for these.

If you want to read his voice lines in full, you can find an excellent fan translation of them here! I'll just be remarking on things I noticed while combing through the voice lines myself:

First off: bro calls himself Fellow Hones-SAMA???????? OKAY, KING 😭 Love that confidence you got goin' on there...

bifabsiyofbefe Love how he just reads a textbook and then flat-out admits he has no clue what the heck it's saying. Hey, honesty is a virtue.

Ace 💀 He has the balls to play a prank on an adult... I kind of want to know what the prank was, but at the same time I feel like I should be shaking my head and telling him off for doing it in the first place. I do appreciate that Ace being shitty brought out Fellow's true personality there for a second though, I live for it when Fellow gets real steamed and starts shouting that the NRC students are brats or that they should drop out if they have no motivation in school.

The way Fellow automatically clocked that Kalim is way too trusting and would surely be in danger even if he wasn't the one to come for him... Fellow, watch your back. Jamill WILL come for your sketchy ass for what you did back then.

I didn't find anything super interesting in Fellow's comments about Ortho, but I do think it reveals that there is value in him coming to school. It's only at NRC where Fellow can see such a curious thing like Ortho, and that speaks to the value of really going out there and being exposed to different things. That's part of Lilia's own growth arc too, and a large part of why he now spreads that same rhetoric.

Fellow remarks that Ramshackle is "pretty sweet", which means one of two things: either this is the refurbished post-book 6 dorm OR it's still the shabby pre-book 6 dorm, but since Fellow and Gidel have never really had their own stable housing, even run-down old Ramshackle seems like a massive upgrade.

Fellow and Gidel must have been so happy to see that lunch at NRC is free and served buffet style (so there's no limits to how much you can take). On top of that, they got dead chefs from 5 star restaurants staffing the kitchen! Those two really hit the jackpot, I hope they eat well.

AVUSDGVUADOVIAISDBIDAS THE DIALOGUE IMPLYING FELLOW CASUALLY BYPASSED THE SCHOOL'S BARRIER AND OTHER SECURITY MEASURES... So Chenya-core of him, really. Fellow may not have magical might, but he's seriously street smart to have found a way in like he has.

Small detail but I appreciate how Fellow has lines which call attention to Gidel. It doesn't just remind us that Gidel is there too, but it also demonstrates to us that Fellow actively tries to include him in the conversation despite Gidel's muteness (a condition which may lead others to outright ignoring him or talking down to him).

LAST THING (though it's not in MysteryShopTL's linked post): in his birthday greeting to the player, Fellow says that both you and him don't have talent for magic, so you should get along. I didn't think the game would acknowledge the player and Fellow's similarity in that sense, so it was very nice to be proven wrong.

And to finish off this post (which ended up being way more massive than I thought it would be), a quick summary of the vignettes!! If you want to read them in full, please check out MysteryShopTLs’ post!

In vignette 1, Fellow and Gidel are putting on a street performance in Silk City. Fellow collects fees from the onlookers and then tries to milk more out of them by spinning a story about how Gidel is a puppet that can walk without strings. Buuut Gidel moves like a normal living being and sneezes, which ruins the ruse and leads to the crowd getting mad at them. The duo run off, but Fellow reveals that while the locals were looking at Gidel, he used magic to steal some of their precious metals and jewelry. In the next vignette, Fellow and Gidel have moved on to Fairest City. It's said that they live a nomadic lifestyle and hop from place to place, never staying for too long in any one location because word of their scams may spread and cause a situation where they cannot reasonably make money through their lies. (Cute detail: Fellow listens to Gidel's suggestions on where they should go next and even praises Gidel's smarts.) This time Fellow's trying to auction off a magestone that he claims will allow anyone who holds it to use magic. The people of Fairest City don't believe him and give him the cold shoulder, which upsets Fellow (since he really hates it when others look down on him). He ends up using his UM to get his audience to be more pliant and manages to sell the magestone for a pretty penny. At the end of this vignette, Fellow drops a line about how he and Gidel are so free, how they can do whatever they want since they have nothing holding them back. I really love that thought~

AND IF YOU THOUGHT VIGNETTES 1 AND 2 WERE FUNNY HAHA TEEHEE CUTE, WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE VIGNETTE 3 💀 VIGNETTE 3 FELT LIKE IT WAS A TARGETTED SNIPE ON MY HEART

The setting is Sunrise City! Fellow and Gidel are being chased off by an angry person they tried to rob. It looks like they're unsuccessful today and will be going hungry. Gidel tries opening a random can of OIL in search of food, so Fellow scolds him and tells him to leave it be. Apparently Gidel does this a lot when he's hungry (just grabbing random shit and trying to eat it), even though Fellow has tried teaching him how to read. THIS IS WHAT THE CONTEXT OF THE GROOVY IS, FELLOW SQUATS DOWN (like we literally see his 2D model lowering) AND DRAWS IT ON THE GROUND FOR GIDEL TO SEE. O is for orange, I is for ice-cream, and L is for laugh. Fellow realizes that L is the only non-food word, but he couldn't come up with anything else. I wonder if like... this is some common game they do to distract from hunger. They have to imagine the food they could have but can't. And L being "laugh"? That can't be a coincidence. Fellow could have used any other L word as an example, even if he couldn't come up with a food that starts with L. It makes me think he picked "laugh" on purpose in an effort to lift Gidel's spirits and to try and distract from their circumstances.

Aaaah, as I was saying! Fellow gets upset that he doesn't know as much as your average 26-year old would since he never went to school. Gidel seems to sense his frustrations and reassures him with a pat, which reenergizes Fellow. He says he'll try to find some food, so Gidel should focus on making a fire. While gathering wood to burn, they come across a job posting by a shady rich man that Fellow and Gidel supposedly did another job for in the past. Fellow suggests that they check out the job and if they don't like it then they can leave. ADSKJBBSLDIADBLUBAB These are the events leading up to Playful Land... meaning that Fellow’s showmanship is wasn’t something he developed at the amusement park, but as a general coping and survival mechanism to get by day-to-day.

I uh. May or may not have cried a little at Fellow and Gidel's really wholesome interaction 😭 I MEAN YEAH OF COURSE I'M A SUCKER FOR BIG BROTHER CHARACTERS (and we certainly see that in how Fellow scolds Gidel and looks out for his wellbeing, both in the vignettes and in Playful Land) but also???????? ? ? ? ? ?? ?????? ? ? ? ?? I love Love LOVE how Gidel is shown to be supportive of Fellow as well. Fellow as the older person, the adult, and the able-bodied one of the duo is pulling most of the weight when it comes to getting resources and handling communication. However, Gidel plays an important role in their dynamic as well. He's the heart and the emotional support that Fellow needs when he's down in the dumps and being hard on himself. Gidel not only serves as a "reason" for Fellow to work hard (to support a child), but he also gives Fellow motivation and hope that tomorrow can be another day. YOU CAN REALLY TELL HOW MUCH THESE TWO CARE AND LOOK OUT FOR ONE ANOTHER OTL

OOOOOOOoooOOooOOGGHHHH MY HEART *clutches it* I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE, I CAN'T HANDLE THE ONII-SAMA OF IT ALL

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

7 | What's it gonna take

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, fluff, teasing, dry humping, sexual tension, etc.

❧ Word Count | 5.6k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——The next morning you wake up with your cheek pressed against something warm, an oversized t-shirt clothing you and one of your legs resting atop something. You quickly find out that the something in question happens to be none other than the man you had sex with the night prior, your best friend, Choso Kamo.

Laying on his naked chest, before your eyes even peel open, you relish in the gentle smell of his cologne. Surely you don’t remember either of you showering last night and yet here he was smelling as though nothing had even occurred. But hey, you’re pretty sure you passed out at some point so you wouldn’t be surprised if he cleaned himself up while you were sleeping.

The sound of a phone dinging oddly close by makes you finally crack your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is a phone in Choso’s hand not too far away from you. Since you were lying slightly on top of him, you could feel the deep breath he took due to the most recent notification. 

In the background was the faint sound of The Weeknd— you’ve got no idea what song was playing but it was there somewhere, sounding a bit far away. That aside, instead of focusing everywhere all at once, you center your gaze on Choso’s phone and watch his thumb linger over that recent notification.

You had to blink a few times to read it but the most you got from the text there was a ‘Hey, can u call me when u wake up? I wanna talk about last night…’ from someone named… Hori? You’ve got no idea who that is but the message is swiped away and blatantly ignored before you get to think about it any further.

Choso then swipes through the rest of his messages, answering some recent texts from his family members up until one message catches your eye yet again. It was something from his Uncle and the only reason it caught your eye is because your name was mentioned. Allas, before you could read anything past the words ‘Are you still,’ Choso was swiping out of the text thread entirely and you were soon spotting your contact.

Choso, being the total sweetheart he is, has your name happily saved as ‘Idiot #1’. You wouldn’t expect anything more or less from him but reading that made you scoff, which alerts him that you’re awake.

Followed by his realization is his heavily husked tone hitting your ears, “Well, good morning to you too.”

You almost smile at his voice alone. Something about it had your heart twinging in an unusual way and your lips twitching before you shifted your head up to look at him, “Mornin’ Cho.”

Choso’s gaze softens as it meets yours and you catch the way his whole expression and vibe seem to come at peace all at once. “How’d you sleep?” Holy shit the rasp in his voice was making your legs twitch against him ever so slightly, your eyes fleeting elsewhere.

“Fine, I think,” You hum, glancing around his bedroom until you spot the TV, “You?” As you ask that, you’ve located the source of lowly volumed music.

“Better than I have in a while,” Choso sighs as his eyes remain on your face, “How do you feel?”

You turn to him again and tilt your head, “I feel okay but uh, better than you have in a while?” You repeat with a lift of your brow, “Good pussy gave you some good rest, huh?”

He rolls his eyes at that question immediately, “Oh but I’m the ‘cocky bastard’.”

A smile graces your face and you shrug, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah,” Choso replies simply, “I guess you could say that.”

You chuckle at that and let out a little hum, to which he grins at you. Was there something in the air? Because Choso was staring at you like you were the only thing he’s ever cared to lay his eyes upon and you couldn’t get yourself to break away from his gaze for a long moment.

“Cho,” You hush out, watching as his brows lift, “Why’s my name saved as Idiot number one in your phone??”

Annnnd moment ruined.

Choso chuckles, “Cause’ you’re idiot number one, duh.”

“Why the number? Are there more idiots you know?” You muse, smiling slightly at the man.

“Two things; one, if there were, would you be jealous? And two, did you just willingly call yourself an idiot?” Your brown-haired best friend huffs out in jest, intrigued by your questions.

You shrug, “One; no. And two; yes.”

Ah, he’s full-on smiling at you now. Something was definitely in the air because Choso hasn’t felt this banter with you in forever and his heartfelt weird experiencing it again. 

Then he’s shaking his head at you, “You’re a dumbass.”

“I have my moments, I suppose,” You hum before slowly moving to sit up. The second you try moving, there’s a throb coming from just about everywhere— more specifically your thighs and back, which causes you to wince and pause in your movements, “Shit.”

Choso’s sitting up along with you and he tips his head to the side, “I asked you how you felt ‘nd you said you were okay.”

You scoff, “I was before I-“

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s reaching over to his nightstand and grabbing something for you. Then he’s handing said unknown items to you and earning a confused glance from your face.

“Ibuprofen for your pain,” Choso explains, handing you one of two pills, “And uh, morning after for your uh-,” He awkwardly clears his throat as he processes a few things in his head, “So you don’t get, y’know… Since I uh-“

“Fucked me full of your cum last night?” You say bluntly, making his entire face heat up.

“Y-Yeah,” Choso stutters as a very prominent shade of red spreads across his face, “Since I did that.”

You smile at how shy he’s being before taking those pills from his hand, raising a brow at the man as you gesture to them, “So, am I supposed to throat these pills raw?”

“I’m sure you could if you wanted to,” He comments casually while reaching over for a water bottle, “But if you need me to stretch your throat out beforehand just say the word and I’ll-“

“Christ, Choso,” You gasp as you slap your free hand over his mouth. He smiles against you and hands you the water bottle he was reaching for. “How do you get shy from the thought of last night but then all bold two seconds later??” You huff before taking your hand off his mouth and grabbing the water bottle.

Choso shrugs, “Cause’ I almost got you pregnant last night,” He says reluctantly, the tips of his ears burning red, “But I can’t get you pregnant if I fuck your throat.”

You roll your eyes at him before taking the given medicine swiftly. Choso’s smile widens a bit and he quietly watches you gulp down the water and two pills, his eyes unknowingly focusing in on your throat for longer than intended. The way you effortlessly swallow-, which should be expected, you’re only drinking water but…

That small little ahh you let out as the bottle is retracted from your lips, the way you managed to cause a slip of water to escape your mouth, followed by an innocent glance in his direction, and then your eyes are on his and his eyes are on your lips and he just-

“You want to?” You ask casually, earning even more of his undivided attention.

“Want to, what?” Choso murmurs with a soft furrow of his brows.

You chuckle and lean closer to him. Then, you lean down a bit so he can look into your eyes and not at your lips, “Fuck my throat.”

Choso swallows thickly as he gazes deep into your eyes, “Right now?”

You scoff, “No, idiot. I’m sore enough everywhere else-“

“What’s one more place?” He cuts off, suddenly all too interested in the mere idea of face fucking you.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, “Choso.” You murmur sternly.

“I’ll be gentle,” He whispers back, slowly reaching for your waist and carefully pulling you closer to him.

And then you’re on top of him all over again, your thighs spread and straddling him comfortably.

You shake your head, “Cho-“

“I promise,” He urges as he leans back and pulls your upper half with him until he’s resting against his headboard and your face is less than an inch away from his, “I’ll ease my cock in, take it nice ‘nd slow with you if that’s what you want, princess.”

Your body heats up at both his words and how gentle he’s already being, “Choso… We like, just woke up.”

He flashes that stupidly sexy but lazy smile at you, “Not a big fan of morning sex?”

“I actually am but,” You pause for a minute. Your eyes just linger on Choso’s and you feel his hands trail down to your hips, then your thighs, and then he’s squeezing slightly.

Choso leans in, “But…?”

“I’m sore,” You whisper.

“You’re sore,” He echoes as if to say it more to himself than to you. With that, he lets off a little nod before slouching back, “Right. Well, can I at least get a kiss?”

“S’that all you want?” You hum while leaning forward and slipping your arms around his neck.

Choso nods again and his eyes greedily drop down to your lips, “Uhuh.”

His hands start sliding up again, as if he just can’t get enough of touching and feeling you. You grin before your lips are slotting into his, his grasp on you tightening all of a sudden. He feels you whine into the kiss and bites back a smile as his hands continue to slip upward.

Choso’s fingertips dance just barely under the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing (his shirt) and you soon feel him hold onto the bare skin of your hips. His hands weren’t exactly rough but they weren’t the softest either. Choso’s skin was an odd mix of both, some areas were more calloused than the others and you could always tell he used his hands quite a bit.

He slides up again with his touch, holding onto your waist before tugging you even closer and kissing you passionately. You hum against him before he starts easing his tongue into your mouth.

And then the kiss is getting hotter and he’s gasping against your lips when you unintentionally rock your hips against him. 

Choso pries away and drops down to your neck, planting kiss after kiss and relishing in every sigh you let out. “Thought you were sore?” He hums into your skin.

You smile, “I am,” Then you’re tilting your head to give him better access and his hands are dropping back down to your thighs.

“Where?” Choso asks softly while caressing the top of your thighs and still kissing tenderly at your neck.

“The back of my legs, kinda,” You explain quietly with his hands moving the moment you speak, “And my back-, b-but mainly under my thighs.”

“Mh,” Choso hums and then he’s sliding his fingers underneath your thighs and pressing into your skin, earning a noticeable wince from you. “Here?” He whispers.

You nod and he kisses under your jaw, his hands focusing on those sore areas of yours as he massages them carefully. 

This goes on for a while up until your head ends up resting on his shoulder and he massages your legs while you remain seated on top of him. Gasping every time he presses into your skin just right and whining while he soothes your tired muscles, you find your eyes squeezed shut as he touches you.

“Right there, Cho,” You whine, to which he rotates his fingertips against the most recent area he was in.

Choso turns and presses his lips into your neck, “You make this sound so sexual, y’know,” He teases.

You roll your eyes, “It just feels good, a-and I’m not doin’ it on purpose.”

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckles.

Then, the two of you simmer back into that comfortable silence of yours, his hands working your tense skin with care as you remain as still as possible.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Roughly ten minutes go by until you seem to be a lot more relaxed under his touch. The same artist that’s been playing lowly from the TV can still be heard, Double Fantasy by The Weeknd being the song filling the still air of the room. 

At some point, Choso decides he can start teasing you again and he moves his lips to your ear, “Where else are you sore, pretty girl?” He whispers way too affectionately.

You quickly pull your head away from him and shoot him a pointed look, “I told you my back…”

He meets that little glare of yours with a smirk, “I really did a number on you, huh?” Choso teases while sliding his hands up to your back and soon pressing his fingers against your spine.

You sigh and your lashes flutter in relief, “Uhuh.”

Your best friend continues to soothe you, skillfully running his hands all up and down your back to relieve the tension. And it felt nice to be cared for like this by him. Usually, if you were sick or ever feeling bad— he’d shrug you off and tell you to thug it out (affectionately).

But now? Choso was the sweetest you’ve ever experienced from him. You wondered how long this would last-

“Choso,” You breathe out, having felt his hand wander off.

“Hm?” He hums innocently.

You almost laugh at the man, “That’s my ass.”

He bites back a laugh of his own, “Yeah, I know. You’re not sore here?” Choso questions while he palms and squeezes at the fat of your ass.

“No, Choso,” You snicker, “You just wanted an excuse to touch my ass.”

“Noooo,” He drags out playfully as his smile begins to mirror yours. You raise a brow at him and he quickly folds, “Okay, maybe. But I dunno, I couldn’t help myself. You’re sittin’ on top of me and lookin’ at me like…”

Your head weighs to the side as you search his eyes for an explanation, “Like what?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know how to describe it but it makes me crave you.”

“C-Crave me?” Your lashes bat in surprise and he nods.

Choso’s naturally sleepy features remain neutral as he peers into your eyes, “Mhm.”

You try to laugh his little statement off, “One night with me and now you’re obsessed?”

“Addicted, maybe.” Choso whispers so faintly you almost miss it.

Almost, “Seriously?” You utter in response.

He swallows, sitting there just staring at you while his hand continues mindlessly squeezing your ass. He has such a mellow expression with you right now. You’ve felt comfort with Choso before but never to this degree. Everything about the way he’s looking at you right now is making your heart feel odd.

“No.” He eventually says in a firm tone.

You scrunch your brows, “Cho-“

“I was joking, shut up.” He cuts off— feeling distant with you all over again.

“No you weren’t,” You refute, scoffing at the man, “You really are addicted to me now, aren’t y-“

He’s cutting you off with another kiss, to which you freeze completely. Your brain simply halts at the feel of his lips on yours again. So soft and gentle with you, like he’s been waiting years to do this and wants to sink into this feeling forever. Hell, maybe he has been waiting for years.

It’s nowhere near the first time he’s ever kissed you but, something about your lips on his makes his mind lose all sensible thoughts for a minute. Which is why both of his hands are dropping to your ass and he’s pulling you impossibly closer to him.

He pushes against you a bit harder and you gasp at how needy his hands are on you. Your lips part against him and he gifts your ass with a smack, earning a faint moan from you.

“Fuck,” Choso sears in between your lips, gripping and grabbing at all of you.

Your chest is pressed tightly against his and because of his tight grip on you, you can’t help the gentle rock of your hips against him.

Seconds, it takes mere seconds for you to feel his cock poking up at your unclothed cunt.

Then Choso’s snatching his lips off of yours and dropping to your neck again, “Don’t stop,” He groans, “Please.”

You moan at the way he shifts one hand to your hips and constantly tugs you against him, grunting hotly into your neck as he feels your bare cunt rub against his cock— one flimsy layer left between the two of you.

“C-Cho, we shouldn’t-,” You’re cut off by him gently lifting his hips against you, a soft gasp escaping you instead.

“Why?” He breathes, moving to grab your ass as you grind against him a bit harder, “We have the whole day to ourselves,” Choso whispers.

You toss your head back and he starts sucking on your neck, careful not to leave a mark. “B-Because… we just, hah, we shouldn’t.”

He scoffs, “Scared of noise complaints?”

“No?”

“Should be,” Choso hums as he bites back a throaty groan from the way he feels you right against his tip. “Shit, did you-, hah, notice what I did to the wall yet?”

Your brows twist up before you turn and catch sight of a rather large hole in the wall, one caused by Choso’s previous roughness with you and the bed knocking into it a little too hard.

“Choso!” You gasp, “How the hell did you-“

“I knew I heard somethin’ last night too,” He chuckles, “I was just too wrapped up in you to care.”

“You-“

“I’m sorry,” Choso breathes out almost finally before reenacting his acts from last night and swiftly flipping the two of you over, pinning you down against his bed and rolling his cock down hard against you.

You gasp, “Oh fuck-, why’re you s-so…”

He tilts his head, the veins decorating his arms flexing, “So what?” He breathes.

“Fuckin’ hard,” You nearly laugh, smiling a bit at the man, “We just woke up not too long ago. H-How do you get turned on so easily?”

Choso chuckles as if to taunt you, “You do know I can feel you right?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not the only one turned on,” He scoffs, leaning down to speak while his lips graze yours, “I can feel how wet you are, idiot.”

You gulp, “I…”

Choso nibbles on your lower lip and tugs for a moment before whispering, “Let’s jus’ make it quick, yeah?”

“Choso.” You utter sternly in protest.

“Promise,” He pants, “I promise it’ll be quick-, maybe I’ll jus’ put the tip in, c’mon.” His hips mash down against yours, causing the outline of his erect cock to push further against you.

You moan, “Mgh, but-“

“I need you,” Choso groans, sounding almost pained, “Jus’ a little bit more of you, please,” He whines.

“Fuck, o-okay, fine-“

And then he’s kissing you again, rutting his clothed cock against you over and over while he messily reaches his hands down to his sweats. Snatching at his drawstring, eager to remove the tiring layer of clothing, Choso’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

You’re such an idiot— giving into your best friend for yet a second time in a row. Were you addicted? Isn’t this wrong? Choso’s your best friend. Your best friend.

He’s just about to pull his sweatpants down before he’s rudely interrupted by the ringing of the apartment doorbell.

You both freeze, panting heavily as if you’ve been caught doing something you had no business doing. Gulping, Choso lets out a long and frustrated groan before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Can we just ignore them?” He asks you.

You giggle, “No, it’s probably one of our neighbors.”

“Oh,” Choso practically smiles at that, “You’re right. They’re probably here to give us an earful about our noise last night. Or well, your noise-“

“Shut up and go answer the door,” You scoff, “I’ll probably be here when you get back.”

“Probably?” Choso questions as he sits up and slides out of his bed.

You shrug, “I might run back to my room while you’re distracted so uh, be quick.”

A wink is sent to the man and he fights the urge to just stare at you in awe. You probably have no idea how you look right now, wearing his shirt, one of the many hickeys he left on you poking out from your collarbone, laying in his bed all tired but horny because of him-

Okay, enough of that for now. Choso shakes himself out of his little reverie and glances around his bedroom floor to spot a different pair of sweats to slip into. He swiftly does so, groaning in discomfort while he turns his back to you and debates on putting a shirt on.

You lay in his bed staring at him, your eyes widening at his back profile and the numerous bright red scratch marks decorating his skin. Damn, did you do that last night?

You almost smile at the sight but in the corner of your eye, for whatever reason, the lyrics to the song from earlier seem to catch your attention. Said song was over by now but the last end of the hook was fading out. Brightly reading the words ‘Even though it’s wrong’.

Now, it’s just a song but you can’t help but find it funny considering you just had sex with Choso last night, and almost again just a few seconds ago. It’s almost like you were forgetting something-

“See what you did t’my back last night?” Choso’s voice tugs you from your mind and you look at him.

Scoffing, “Looks like you were attacked.” You comment teasingly.

Choso tosses the shirt he was considering putting on and shrugs, “Does it?”

“Yeah,” You sigh, laying on your side and watching him glance into his bedroom mirror.

The man turns around briefly to admire the marks left on him and he grins, “Holy shit,” Choso breathes, smiling at the sight, “I looked at it a bit last night but fuck, you clawed at me like crazy.”

“…Did you not feel it while you were fucking me down into the mattress ‘nd telling me to ‘take it’ for like twenty minutes straight?” You ask dryly.

He pretends to think for a long moment and opens his mouth to say something snarky but another ring of the doorbell cuts him off.

“Better go get that,” You hum playfully.

Choso groans, clearly annoyed by the constant interruption before swiftly exiting the room. Entering the hall, passing the living room and the kitchen, and soon approaching the door.

He lets out a yawn as he unlocks the door and soon opens it, “If this is about the noise last night, I jus’ wanna cut this short by sayin’ I’m-, oh,” Choso cuts himself short as he makes eye contact with the person awkwardly standing at the door.

The man in front of him furrows his brows, “I uh-“

Choso interrupts by putting a hand up and glancing back inside the apartment, “Door’s for you!” He shouts back to you. Then, he looks at the person in front of him one more time, sizes him up, and scoffs, “She’ll be out in a sec'.”

The man opens his mouth to reply but Choso rudely slams the door in his face.

Frustrated, and with his mood almost completely ruined, Choso groans again as he makes his way back to his bedroom. As he walks in, he spots you sitting on the edge of his bed looking down at something on the floor before you look back at him over your shoulder.

“What do you mean the door’s for me?” You ask softly, “And uh,” He watches you lean down to pick up a tarnished piece of fabric, “When the hell did you rip my panties?”

“Last night, duh,” Choso huffs out rather sassily before brushing past his bed and heading toward his bathroom.

“You owe me a new pair,” You tell him with a pout on your face.

With no emotion in his voice, “I’ll buy you twenty.” He says curtly before disappearing into his bathroom completely.

You scoff at his sudden attitude and dismissal of your first question, moving to stand on slightly wobbly legs as you extend your arms into the air to stretch. Sighing, you glance around to find your shorts, soon spotting them and slipping into them before exiting the room.

Every step you take, you feel faint soreness but you think the medicine and massage Choso gave you helped your body not to feel too bad. As such, you steadily make your way to the front door— wondering if there’s a package for you or something. You still get the feel you’re forgetting something but between that and Choso’s sudden grumpiness, you just-

Every thought of yours comes to a sudden halt as you swing open the door.

“S-Satoru?” You breathe.

Oh, so that’s what you’d been forgetting. Gojo Satoru, y’know, the guy you’ve been getting along with better than you ever have with any other guy you know, the guy who’s nothing but a gentleman to you, the guy who you were literally dancing with less than twenty-four hours with, the-

Yeah, you get the point. Either way, you’re left staring up at the man with your eyes as wide as ever and your breath caught in the middle of your throat. Staring into Gojo’s kindhearted and dazzling blue eyes, feeling an abrupt rack of guilt lump up in your chest as your mind scrambles for some way to process your situation.

Swallowing thicker than ever, you slowly step out into the hall with him and shut your apartment door behind you, “What uh-, w-why-, what’re you doing here?” You stammer out with the faintest shake in your voice.

Gojo moves to scratch the back of his neck, “If I’m being honest, I’m not too sure myself.”

Blinking in confusion, you tilt your head, “What?”

“I just-,” Gojo sighs, “You didn’t respond at all last night or this morning, so I got a little worried…”

“So… you show up at my apartment?” You question further as you raise a brow at the man.

He winces, “Is that weird-, this, is this weird?” Gojo asks as he gestures to his being here.

Maybe if you weren’t guilty of sleeping with your best friend it wouldn’t be…

“U-Uh, no?” You huff out almost awkwardly, “I just wasn’t expecting you, sorry. My phone died on me last night and I never plugged it up.”

He nods before glancing to the side, “Busy with other things?” 

You choke on your own guilt all over again, “I-I’m sorry?”

“Your roommate said somethin’ about a noise complaint,” Gojo recalls simply as he looks at you once more.

Your brows go up, “Did he? Well, that’s probably from whatever he was up to before I got home.”

Gojo tilts his head at you and you feel as though he could see right through you, “Riight…” He hums, “Anyway, I just came over to make sure you were okay.”

“I appreciate that Gojo but what could’ve possibly have happened to me from last night when you dropped me off to this morning?” You point out to the man with a little laugh. Sure, regret and guilt were eating you alive right now but that still doesn't explain Gojo’s sudden appearance, “I live with someone I’ve known for like eight years.”

“I don’t know-, wait, you’ve known him for eight years?” He redirects as he narrows his eyes at you.

“I met him during my freshman year of high school, Satoru,” You chuckle, “He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all?” Gojo blurts out.

You blink, “Huh?”

The man gulps, having not meant to ask that so suddenly, “Like, are you two just best friends?”

“That’s what I just said, yes.” You reply straightforwardly.

“I-“

Quick to snap back at the man for questioning you in an accusing manner, “Aren’t you and Geto just best friends?” 

“Yeah,” He murmurs.

“Is that all?” You ask with a smirk.

“Of course-,” He cuts himself off with a scoff, “Okay, I see what you did there.”

“Mhm,” You hum, “So if that’s all then uh,” You slowly begin to motion toward the door behind you.

Gojo reaches a hand out, “Wait, are you free today?”

You pause, “Depends on what for.”

“Me,” He shrugs.

“Am I free for you today?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmmm, I dunno, I gotta check my schedule, Satoru.” You say teasingly as you lean left against the doorframe, “I’m a busy woman, y’know…”

Those pretty rose-tinted lips of his curve into a smirk, “Oh are you now?”

You smile, “Mhmm..”

Gojo takes a little step closer and lifts his shoulders, “Can’t you spare some of your time for your favorite barista?”

“I can consider,” You tell him before eyeing the man up and down, “What did you wanna do with me anyway?”

“Jus’ hang out.” He explains simply.

“That’s all?”

“Mhm.”

Clicking your tongue, “I would but, I was planning on taking a bit of a rain check today.”

“Oh,” Gojo hums, his brows lifting in surprise, “That’s uh-, that’s cool. I mean, yeah, no, that’s-“

“Satoru,” You snort.

He stops himself from making even more of a fool of himself, clearing his throat and meeting your gaze, “Yes?”

Lifting a finger, you gesture him to come closer and he shuffles his feet toward you. Then, you reach up for his shirt and carefully pull him down to you.

“Stop being such a dork,” You sigh with a smile on your face. Then you plant a kiss on his cheek and hug him, “And thank you for coming to check on me.”

Gojo’s body goes still for a moment while you wrap your arms around his neck and push up on your toes to hug him fully. After which, his arms are engulfing your waist and he’s letting out a sigh as he reciprocates your hug.

“Anytime,” He murmurs, his hands caressing your back, “Sorry if I made things weird…”

You chuckle, “You’re fine, Satoru. You jus’ surprised me, that’s all.” You slowly retract from the hug and meet his eyes one last time, “So… I’ll see you Monday morning?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

And with that, the two of you are steady to say your goodbyes to one another— soon parting ways as you watch him leave before disappearing back into your apartment and letting you the heaviest sigh ever.

Silence engulfs you as you stand there at the door for a moment. What are you? Some kinda slut? You literally had sexual interactions with not one, but two men on the same night.

Christ, what the hell got into you last night (aside from Choso)? Now the guilt was really settling in. It hit you earlier when you first laid eyes on Gojo but now that you’ve spoken to him, it’s like you feel even worse.

How could you completely forget him last night? The guy went out of his way to show up the next morning just to make sure you were okay and yet there you were, having just been pulled away from having sex with your best friend for a second time. This was so beyond fucked up-

“Y’know if all else fails,” The sound of your brown-haired best friend speaking tugs you out of your thoughts, “You should really consider acting because that was-“

“Oh my god, Choso,” You instantly let out a long groan, turning around to glance at him standing in the nearby kitchen, “Please shut the hell up.”

He frowns, “What’d I do?”

A sigh of frustration is let out, “Me. You did me, and that’s the problem.”

His face contorts to confusion as your statement hits his ears, “How? It’s not like you’re dating the guy.”

He makes a rather good point there but that doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty about forgetting about him and lying to him. “But I like him.” You argue.

Choso rolls his eyes, “So? What does that-“

“A lot,” You emphasize.

Your best friend cocks his head to the side and crosses his arms, “You like him ‘a lot’ but you let me fuck you last night?” 

At that, your breath is caught in your throat, “I…”

He heaves out a really heavy sigh, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t say anything to him.”

You meet his gaze with thankful eyes, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Choso shrugs, “We had sex, who cares. Why would I go out of my way to tell him that?”

“Because you hate me and find joy in my suffering,” You comment jokingly.

He laughs, “I don’t hate you.”

“Debatable,” You argue, “But anyway, thanks.”

Then, you move away from the door and slowly start walking in the direction of your bedroom.

“Mhm,” Choso hums, his eyes following you, “So, are we gonna pick up where we left off or-“

You’re quick to cut him off and not allow yourself to let him have his way with you yet again— you feel shitty enough as is, “Not in the mood anymore, Cho.”

Choso, not fazed by your rejection in the slightest, merely nods, “Another time then?”

The last thing you say to him is a crisp, “No.” Before you disappear into your bedroom and shut your door behind you.

There’s the slightest panging felt in Choso’s heart at the sound of that but he ignores that feeling entirely. ‘No’, you said. He scoffs, yeah right, let’s see how long that lasts…

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[grugruel]

hi, can you please write more of Arthur morgan😭I love your writing so much!🫶

Thank you!🫶 It makes me so happy to hear that you enjoy my writing, it really spurred on my motivation!😌 Still, I've been trying to write this for weeks, but ended up rewriting and starting over. Now im finally done, hope you enjoy this too!🥹

You've Kissed Me For Less

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Arthur wants to teach you hunting. But as your effort proves fruitless and the weather fouls, Arthur needs to keep you warm in the cold hours of the night.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: forced proximity ish, pinv sex, sideways sex, cream-pie, petnames (sweetheart, girl, honey, darlin'), fingering, slight handjob, tension, flirting.

AN: The arrow misses. Not proofread!

Knock, draw . . . Hold . . . Aim, and . . .

"That's right . . . Atta girl."

Crack.

The furry beast jerked in surprise. Looking up, it's ears twitched and turned, attempting to determine the source of the sound. It's dark eyes alert and contrasting, standing out from the light snowfall filling the air.

She stood on unsteady feet, the broken twig beneath her boot throwing her off balance. "You're thinkin' to much, girl," he whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck, making her hair stand on end. "Release."

Siddled up to a tree, they were out of sight from their prey. A large pair of hands guided her arms, and a strong chest pressed firmly against her back. In the cold landscape they found themselves in, the reassurance from the heat of his body was duely welcomed.

She inhaled, holding it for steady aim. But restless and unfocused, she moved her weight from on foot to another–the snow crunched beneath her heel.

Her breath caught in her throat as the beast whipped in her direction, and their eyes met.

Release–the arrow pierced the air.

The gentle beast grunted and wheezed, fleeing as it bounced out of sight.

And where it had stood, her arrow struck bark. The shaft now coated in snow as the force of the blow shook the spruce and rid its branches of the bright, clamoring weight.

"Well," he began, attempting to hide the amusement from his tone. "It ain't easy . . . It's only your first."

She chuckled, her bow arm slumping to her side. "We've been at it all day, Arthur. Thats the fourth shot I've missed."

"Plenty of time to work on your trackin'."

She grunted, throwing her head back in frustration.

He'd wanted her to learn hunting so she could fend for herself if the need ever arose. But as long a she had him, it wouldn't. And if truth be told, she preffered it that way. Secretly sighing in relief each time the arrow missed it's target.

That day, they'd awoken with the sun, and been after the same deer all day. Poor bastard. He should really count his blessings, had Arthur been the one holding that bow they'd been heading back to camp within the first hour or so.

But the weather hadn't been a hassel. Soft clouds had sprinkled light snow all morning, only just coming to an end. But the air was clear and hellishly cold, enough so for the humidity in the air to freeze and glimmer as the mid-day sun shone upon them.

"Were in headwind." She shrugged. "And the poor thing darted off into the woods, we could continue tracking it from there," She said, and pointed toward the otherside of the lake. Surface frozen and snowed over, footing wouldn't be a problem.

"That so?"

"Well, yes-- what? What you grinning for?"

"Poor creature," he quoted, jerking his chin to the side. "You've been missin' on purpose."

She scoffed. "You think too highly of me, Arthur. I would gladly miss if I'd had the aim for it. But as it stands, I'm a poor shot with a bleeding heart."

"Nah, I think of you just right, sweetheart. But we needa eat." He pointed toward the treeline. "And the food just ran off."

She sighed heavily. He was right, but that didn't mean she'd be happy about it. "Well, let's go then. But I cant promise we'll be eating deer tonight ."

No," he began, a smirk spreading scross his lips. "But I can." He took the bow from her hand and the quiver from her back.

Alright, there were no more blessings to be counted.

"Your faith in me is lackluster, Arthur."

He scoffed and stepped onto the ice, nodding for her to follow. "First I think to highly of ya, 'n now its lackluster . . . Would you rather have me wither away . . . Starve to death?"

The ice sang beneath their feet as she thought about it, and her eyes automatically turned to his broad shoulders and thick arms. Her mind drifting to that hard chest and strong hands. "No . . . That'd be a damn shame," she said. "But I do have the basics down, would I really have to I could probably find myself some game."

Arthur chuckled, then stopped. "Tell you what . . . We passed a cabin, head back there and set up shelter," he said and looked toward the sky, the sun passing it's peak. "We're too far out, and probably won't be makin' it back to camp before dark. And I'll track down dinner."

"Really?"

Arthur kneeled down by the shore, examining the tracks. "Nah, don't want you to kill unnecessarily."

She was awed. That man possessed such kindness but was so careful with showing it, and she couldn't imagine why.

Her chest warmed and cheeks blushed, she hoped the cold could be played of as an excuse. "Thank you, Arthur. Truly," she smiled at him. But she wanted to convey her gratitude properly, for it was no small favour he did her.

"No need to thank me, honey. I understand."

But that wasnt enough, so- without thinking, she removed her glove and leaned down. Her hand found his jaw, and her lips his cheek. Gently, she pinched the sharp edge with the pads of her fingertips. And gently, she pecked his face with soft lips.

It was supposed to be a friendly gesture, but as her warm fingers met his cold skin and the stubble along the sharp edge tickled her lips–a trickle of longing brushed her insides.

She'd been sweet on him for a while, which woman wouldn't be? He could be soft and masculine, tough and sweet. He was a manly man, broad shouldered and handsome. He helped her lift heavy things, not because he assumed she couldnt do it, but because he wished to be of help.

She could not think of one thing she yearned for more.

So this touch, it must've been her subconscious. How many times she'd thought of brushing his cheek in gratitude, she could not remember. This time was no different.

As the sun shone on his face, and he'd done her this kindness, her mind must've gotten tired of all impulses stopped by her conscience and simply moved for her.

Now there they were, neither knowing what to do next.

Their eyes were locked on eachother, and Arthur's lips were parted as if he wished to say something but couldn't quite.

"I, I'll just-- I'm heading back, then. To that cabkn-" she began to gesture in the general direction, her mind keeping her tongue busy by rambling. "What am I saying, you can track me," she joked, awkwardly laughing, flustered by her own impromptu affection.

"I can . . . I'll find ya'." Was all he said, still kneeling and looking up at her.

Good, good good good. Before she knew it, she'd already turned around and began making her way back. Embaressment prickled her face, a thousand small needle points taunting her, and Arthur's reaction did nothing to ease her mind. She'd been a fool.

-

Night was closing in and the wind was picking up. Heavy snow began to fall, but thankfully, the cabin was abandoned and the roof was intact, protecting them from the weather, but not the cold. She managed to get a fire going in the old hearth, but it helped very little with warmth when the walls were ramshackle, allowing drafts and especially rough wind draw through.

Shivering down to her bone marrow, the girl hugged herself tightly. "Fuck me," she swore beneath her breath. "Ridiculous." The weather had changed within an hour, completley flipping the serene day into a hellish night. "Could think were in the damned arctics."

She'd endured 3 hours by her lonesome, thankfully forging for firewood before the storm set in.

But she couldn't help but worry for Arthur. He was a rugged man, but even he had limits. She kept thinking It'd all be alright once he got back there, to her side. But what could one man to about the weather?

With the cold came the hunger, and the regret not long thereafter. "Damn conscience," she muttered, her stumache growling.

She could barely see the trees surrounding the cabin, the snow doing more to sabotage her sight than the darkness. It was falling so thickly she could barely see between the flakes.

"Sorry for bein' late," announced a voice.

Startled, she turned toward it–the door opening had sounded like another howl from the wind. Trough the heavy curtain of snow, Arthur emerged, flakes swirling around him as he entered the cabin and the glow of the fire embraced him. "Damn tracks got muddled . . . blown over," he said, the overflow of irritation noticeable in his demeanor and tone. He looked weathered, clothes roughed up from the storm, hat collecting a nice layer of snow, cheeks and nose rosy. "Deer would've been too heavy in this shit," he gestured toward the snow and slammed the door shut behind him. "Got us some rabbits instead."

Wearing an incredulous expression, she had to laugh. She'd been worried about him being alone in this shit storm, fearing he might've frozen to death. But no, he brought rabbits, that's all.

"What's so funny," he asked, preparing the animals before placing them above the fire and taking a seat next to her.

She glanced at him. "That's all you got to say? You got some rabbits?"

"I already apologised to ya."

She scoffed, amazed by his resilience.

The annoyance began to melt from him, the heat thawing his mood. "What? I dont get a 'thank you' this time? You've kissed me for less."

She froze, narrowing her eyes on him. Those familiar needles pricking her skin again. "You didn't magically happen upon an extra blanket or so, did you?" She changed the topic, and as if to prove her point, a particularly violent shiver descended upon her.

Arthur shook his head, then removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. " 'Fraid not," he said, then handed her the cooked meat.

He wore another jacket beneath, but it was thin and unsufficient, in her opinion.

"Thank you," she whispered, and kissed his cheek once more. But there was no embaressment this time. Their eyes met, silently communicatingas mouths were to occupied with chewing. She suspected there'd been a lack of words even without the chewing. "I've kissed you for less," she agreed, then redirected her gaze into the fire.

-

They spent the next half hour in quiet as they ate, nothing but the howling wind and crackling fire to keep them company.

Eventually unrolling their bedrolls and attempting to sleep, a few short words for communication when needed. It proved difficult, however, for the night wore on and the temperature continued to drop.

She could hear her teeth clattering in her skull, even with Arthur's jacket on.

"You're still freezing."

"A-are you not?" She stuttered. The hearth was cramped with their bodies side by side. " 'M sorry if I w-woke you." She hated the idea of her body shivering so much it cost him his sleep.

"You'll get pneumonia, girl. We need to get you warm."

"H-how you figure t-that?"

"Well, I-- hell, let me warm you up."

She didn't stop to think before she spoke, proving a common theme. "Do it, Arthur p-please. Before my t-t-teeth shatter."

She heard a rustling behind her, and then she felt him slip into her bedroll. It was tight, but enough space for then to move around. "We needa get those off you," he murmured, voice gravelly.

She nodded profusely, feeling the familiar contours of his chest against her back. He removed both the jackets from her shoulders until there were nothing but the two thin fabrics of their shirts between their bodies.

She sighed, it felt like a radiator against her back. "F-Feels better already," she said, her dtutter subsiding and shivers calming.

"Good, you're alright, girl," he comforted, wrapping one arm around her waist as she propped her head on the other. He pulled her closer, leaving no space for the heat to escape.

Feeling his hand on her like this felt . . . Heavenly. As if his large hand was molded just to fit her curves. "I want more . . . Arthur. Warmer."

Without a word, he removed his shirt and got back into position. If freezing to death was all she had to do to achive this scenario, she would've done it earlier. Moving to do the same, she yearned for his heat to seep into her directly, skin to skin.

The body behind her stiffened, suddenly worried. "You don't have to, girl." He stopped her.

"I-I want to, Arthur. Im fine."

With her words of reassurance, he relaxed. His hands found hers, aiding her in the removal. She'd had no time to make it clear that there was no corset covering her since hunting didn't require one.

Arthur's breathing hitched at the revalation, prompting him to clear his throat. And his hands were simply hovering, uncertain where they belonged, where they were allowed.

"First time seeing a woman without a corset, Arthur?" She teased, uncertain where this sudden confidence came from, if it simply wasthe bizarre nature of the situation, or that it was only her bare back he could see.

He chuckled. "No, ma'am. 'S just . . . I dont wanna take any liberties."

"I don't mind, Arthur," she whispered. There's no liberties she wouldn't allow him to take, she thought.

Slowly, the hesitance melted away from him, and his fingers found her ribs. She sighed, content with their feeling. They burned, but pleasantly so. The reaction from her core was the only thing growing unbareable. Gaining confidence, his hand slid lower, following the length of her ribs. Fingers stopping just beneath the hill of her breast, hus thumb stroking small circles over her skin.

She hummed appreciatively, forgetting herself.

"Feelin' good?"

"Mmmh, warmer." She was finally relaxed enough to feel the low heat radiating from the fire, but with the numbness gone, the wind grew more noticeable. At times, a strong gust of wind would seep through the walls and graze her skin. Sending new shivers and goosebumps rippling across her body.

The retaliate and keep her heat up, she nudged herself closer to Arthur, tucking her hips and rear into his crotch. This gained her a low groan, and his fingertips sinking into the skin of her ribs like gentle claws.

"Better lay still now, girl," he warned, breathing onto her shoulder.

"Why's that?" She asked, but just as the words left her lips, she felt something slightly harden against her thigh. "Oh . . ." She gasped. Feeling it through both fabrics of their pants impressed her, salivated her.

" 'M sorry, sweetheart, 'm sorry." His thumb brushed back and forth, suddenly grazing the underside of her breast. She felt a twitch below the hips.

"Sorry, s-- I dont mean to," he breathed hard, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, attempting to focus.

"You can touch, Arthur."

"Now, honey . . . "

"I want you to," she assured him, knowing he might question the circumstances.

He shook his head hesitantly. "Dont wanna go takin' advantage of ya'."

You couldn't ever." She grabbed the hand that rested beneath her breast and guided it atop her, nipple already hard from anything and everything he does. "I want you to touch me."

He relented, andsqueezed her breast, releasing a grunt simultaneously. His lips found her neck, gently placing kisses on her skin.

She pushed back against him, grinding down on his crotch. "I want more than touching, Arthur . . ."

"I don't deserve you," he groaned, hand sliding over her chest to wrap his arm around her torso, bost breasts pressing firmly against his forearm.

The arm her head rested on reached down, brushing down her abdomen and beneath her pants. She gasped as his fingers found her clit. "All of you . . . Please." Her hand reach behind her, working to unbutton his pants as she turned her head over her shoulder, and their lips found eachother.

As the last button came undone and his length was free, her hands wrapped around it, gently stroking him and reveling in the pleased moans he breathed into her mouth.

"Hold on, hold on-" he stopped her. "I'll--" he swallowed, lips stalling against her own. "We only get one chance . . . tonight." He tried to clarify. " 'N I want ya' the right way." His hand momentarily left her chest to brush his fingers over the hand that held his member.

"I want that too," she whispered.

With her go-ahead, he pushed her pants below her ass and lined himself up with her entrance, her ass neatly tucked against his crotch, fitting together like piezes of a puzzle, perfectly matching. "Atta girl," he praised and pushed inside her.

They moaned simultaneously, lips reattaching. His hand were quickly back to work, breasts and clit stimulated by his expert hands all the while he thrusted in an out of her. "Feel so good."

She couldn't help but smile, panting between kisses as her body burned for him, every singel nerve flooding with electrical currents. "Harder, Arthur. I beg you. Im . . . G-Getting close. "

Arthur slowed his pace, arm leaving her clit to hold her torso, exchanging arms so he could hook her leg onto his arm for better leverage, reaching deep, hitting her core.

She cried out.

"C'mon, darlin'." He bit her lip. "Im right here."

"Mm, mhmm," she whimpered, the pressure in her core building, ready to topple over any second. Her vision grew blurry, chest heaving and breathing hard. And then- she came. Pleasure rolled over her, Arthur continuing to thrust into her as he prolonged her orgasm. "Breathe girl, you're alright," he comforted her. Fingers playing with her nipple. "Doin' so good."

She shook, she shivered, but the cold was no longer the reason, Arthur was. "Where-- where can I-"

"Anywhere," she moaned, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Too good to me, youre too good to me," he repeated. "Good girl." He grunted, finally toppling over himself, spilling his seed inside her. With a few final ruts, they collpased in eachothers embrace, sweat coating their skin.

"Is it hot in here or . . . ?"

Arthur chuckled and kissed her shoulder. "You're welcome, sweetheart." He wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Pretty girl."

"Thank you, Arthur," she said, and kissed his cheek.

"I get both now? A 'thank you' and a kiss? What's gotten into you?"

"Well," she held back a giggle. "You did."

"Funny," he said, a grinn on his lips, foolishly proud.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (II)

The two yokai men reach an agreement and you begin your journey together, searching for clues regarding the mysterious case of your incomplete reincarnation. You learn about the third of the Legendary Yokai, a gargantuan monster worshipped in times of war.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

The next swish of the mysterious man's sword is parred by Kiritsubo, who managed to make his way to you in time.

"Wait! It's not entirely him, Murasaki, I can explain!" He shouts frantically.

"So you let him live. This is why you've never been good for anything." The dark haired man snarls in a low voice, disgust seeping through his sharp teeth.

It becomes obvious rather quickly that he has the advantage in terms of battle experience. You can only stare in fear, stuffing your wound with your jacket sleeve. What else can you do? You're bleeding profusely and if a demon of Kiritsubo's stature cannot compete, you'd be even less helpful.

"Listen to him, man, I genuinely don't know anything about your master!" You beg as your limbs are flooded with a prickling sensation. They're slowly going numb. "Please. I just want to go home."

Damn it. You have no idea whether the bleeding will stop anytime soon. Is this how you die? You won't even get a proper burial. Even worse, your family will live on thinking you vanished without a trace, unaware you've been stabbed to death by a crazy jackass in feudal Japan. You wish you could make them stop.

You squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to think of a way to escape, when you hear both men groan in pain. You look ahead to see them on the ground, clinging tightly to their chests, faces twisted in a grimace. Huh? They couldn't have killed each other in the few seconds they were out of your view. What is going on?

After a few agonizing moments, the yokai seem to calm down. Kiritsubo is gasping for air, clumsily pulling himself back up. Murasaki remains on the grass, forcing himself to appear collected despite the cold sweat coating his forehead.

"That's...what...I...meant..." The silver haired demon groans between hitched breaths. "Whew. You see it now, don't you? She doesn't emanate enough power to pull this off. It's coming from somewhere else."

Murasaki clicks his tongue in visible annoyance.

"So then, what do you suggest?"

"I don't know. But something is stopping you from killing her and there's a chance she's connected to the source."

"What are you guys whispering about?" You inquire, crawling closer towards the horned men. "And why did you suddenly collapse? You scared the hell out of me!"

"You didn't feel anything?" Kiritsubo questions you with raised eyebrows.

"Besides the, I don't know, stab wound? No, thankfully." You respond sarcastically.

Without a word, Murasaki stands up and approaches you. He crouches down to your level and nonchalantly slaps your hand away from your shoulder.

"Hey!"

"Have you ever tended to a wound in your life? You're shit at it." He uses his sword to cut off your sleeve and folds it over your gash with calculated movements. You hiss at the pain and glare at him. "Bite down on a stick if you can't handle it. Better than being dead."

The white haired yokai flashes you an awkward but reassuring smile.

"He might be an ass about it, but he knows what he's doing."

"Why are you helping me, anyways?" you point out, somewhat wary. "You literally tried to kill me a moment ago."

"I changed my mind. You'll help us find the damned bastard or whatever it is he's using to control us."

"What, the priest? Hell no, I'm going back to my world. I've had enough action for the rest of my life."

Murasaki finishes bandaging you and gives you one final press, almost as if messing with you, and you wince. He stands up and slides his sword back in its sheath.

"If you focus a little, you will find there was no question or request in my words. I'm not negotiating with a weakling like you."

Kiritsubo squats down before you and claps his hand together, pleadingly.

"Please think about it, (Y/N). I know you don't owe us anything, but there's a chance we could finally break the seal and be free. If you'd consider helping us. You can walk away, but that won't change the fact you're part of Abe no Nakamaro. He will want his powers back at some point, and we can protect you when the time comes."

You cross your arms and frown thoughtfully, pondering the options. He did save you twice already. So in a way, you're indebted to him. And if he's right, and you will have to deal with more crazy encounters in the future, it's probably better to have two powerful demons by your side.

"Alright, alright. I'll help you." You exclaim with a confident nod.

Kiritsubo grins, satisfied, and Murasaki huffs and looks away. There's a prolonged silence as you wait for them to continue with further instructions, but the men remain quiet.

"So...what now?" you eventually speak up.

"Oh. I thought you knew where to go next." the silver haired man retorts, confused.

"Idiot. She's not a compass." Murasaki scolds him. "Can you stand?" He adds, turning to you. "There's a shrine a few kilometers away that belonged to him. If we leave now, we should make it before sunset. Maybe we can find something there."

You try to prop yourself up, but Kiritsubo promptly scoops you with his sinewy arm and throws you on his back again.

"I'll carry you. Just hold on."

A faint blush dusts your cheeks, but you don't have the energy to argue it. You clutch onto his broad shoulders and nod.

The walk is uneventful and both yokai seem to be distracted. The gentle swaying is causing you to be more comfortable than you'd like to admit and your eyelids become heavy with exhaustion. Before you know it, your head drops against the toned back and you fall asleep.

By the time you open your eyes again, you've already reached your destination. You yawn and stretch, lazily scanning the surroundings. A heavy shadow looms over you and you glance up. Still groggy from your nap, you scream before you can fully process the object towering above.

It's a statue. A colossal statue of some sort of monster. A demon with thick, wide bull horns sprawling out imposingly, almost eclipsing the ridiculously muscular build. The creature has four arms, flexed in a threatening manner, with one hand gripping a heavy spear and the other a skull. The crimson light of the sunset creeps through the windows and reflects against the chiseled clay, giving the statue a devilish glow. You feel insignificant.

"That's Suma."

"W-what?" your head tilts to Kiritsubo.

"He's one of us. You might meet him soon, if he's been alerted of your presence. This is a shrine built for him, to bring good fortune during times of war."

You cannot help but gawk at the structure.

"Is it, uh, life sized?"

"Heh, almost. He's a little taller than this." He chuckles, slightly nostalgic.

You swallow dryly. Just a moment ago you thought Kiritsubo was unusually big.

"I'd rather not meet him, to be honest." You shiver at the idea.

"Don't worry about it. Now that Murasaki has joined us, you're pretty much safe from anything. He's the strongest of us." The yokai remarks with a sad smile.

"Really?"

You peek at the dark haired man, currently flipping through dusty manuscripts, and briefly observe him. Compared to Kiritsubo, he's quite slender, with noble, elegant features. And he'd be able to defeat this enormous beast? Then again, the glimpse you've caught of his swordsmanship is enough of a convincing argument.

What a bizarre gathering of creatures beyond your understanding.

You remember to look away when Murasaki grunts and throws the remaining scroll of paper. His lips form a thin line as he rakes his mind for the next step.

"Nothing here. But I'm rather certain he has to be at one of his hideouts. We'll check each and one of them if we have to." 

"Wait, are you saying he's still alive? We saw his body before Sekiya and Sakaki took him for the embalming and burial."

Murasaki scoffs at his partner's gullible nature.

"And you believed it? That parasite spent his entire life searching for ways to prolong his reign. He's probably hiding somewhere, waiting for his renewed part of the soul to return to him." 

He rests against the wall and points a clawed finger at you. 

"This must've been his solution. Releasing his remaining energy until it found a proper vessel to grow stronger, and patiently awaiting the body swap. Then we go back to being whipped dogs fulfilling his whims."

It's your turn to be outraged, twisting your mouth downwards.

"No way, I'll pound that old man into sand!" You bark and throw a jab against the air, emphasizing your threat. "As if I'd just hand myself over."

"I'm not sure if it'll be that easy, (Y/N)..." Kiritsubo glances at you with a hurt expression. "He's a terrifying, vengeful bastard."

"Not if we find him first and take him out." Murasaki counters with a glint of determination in his eyes. "Humans need to rest, don't they? We'll spend the night here and tomorrow we head out. Kiritsubo, find me a map so we can keep track of the locations. I'll bring the wood for a fire."

And with this, he marches out. Kiritsubo scurries to his duty and you quietly follow his movements. He seems to be used to executing Murasaki's orders. You hadn't considered their group dynamic much, but it appears to have some rather complex hierarchies involved. You almost wish you could witness all of them together, wondering how they'd interact with each other. 

Who knows? If you stick around, it could happen eventually. Murasaki was surprisingly easy to convince, so the other yokai might as well agree to keep you alive until you find their source of misfortune. Heh. Almost like a harem, or something. You snicker to yourself.

Which reminds you...

The fire has been lit and Murasaki mumbles something about guarding the perimeter. This time you hurry outside after him. You reach out to the dark haired man and pull on his kimono sleeve.

He turns to you, mildly irked.

"What?"

"Teach me how to use a sword." You state with the assertiveness of an order.

"Why? I can assure you I'm more than enough. I've never been defeated." He stares at you, incredulous.

"I don't want to rely on you all the time. You're already this close to being unbearable", you explain, pinching your fingers together. "Besides, if I'm going to be stuck among beasts, I'd very much prefer being the one doing the cool stuff."

And with that, you pretend to slice through an invisible enemy, whistling the sound of your sword cutting through the air. You furrow your eyebrows, imitating the engrossed expression of a seasoned samurai in the middle of a battleground. Murasaki quickly lifts a hand to his mouth - did he chuckle just now? - and responds, the faintest amusement in his voice:

"As you wish. But I'm warning you now, I won't hold back."

"I've been injured twice in less than 24 hours, I'm sturdy enough." You answer, patting your chest proudly.

Next time one of the Legendary Yokai comes for you, you won't be as vulnerable. That's for sure.

[imastrangeone98]

Homecoming

(A/N: boothill my cyborg my love my life my everything-)

WARNING: fem!reader, SMUT SMUT FRESH OFF THE PLATE MINORS GTFO ILL WHOOP YO BUTTS, probably ooc!boothill but whatever it's fine lmao, his exact birth name isn't known so I didn't put a name for him- if there is one I'll replace it; but I found some X art that called his baby girl "cherry" and I really liked it so I'll use that, and way too much plot as always

"Well, hello there! What'cha lookin' at, sweetie?" You bend down to the little girl's eye level, peeking at where the child's gaze is locked on, then smiling in understanding. "You like those ones? They're moon lilies; they're flowers that are really special!"

"Pe... shal?" the little girl babbles, and you laugh.

"Yes, dear. Special." You pluck one of the flowers, beautiful with light blue petals and golden pollen, and offer it to her. "They mean loyalty, and undying devotion, because they only grow in places they like, and they won't grow anywhere else."

"Loya..." the girl mumbles. You chuckle and pick her up, carefully tucking the flower behind her ear.

"Now, where's your mama? Or your papa? I'm sure they're worried sick about-"

"Cherry! Sweet pea, where ya at?!"

Your ears prick, and the girl giggles and claps at the sound. "Well, I guess we found him."

You maneuver through the crowd until you find the source of the call: a man, tall and lean, with flowing black-and-white hair and piercing gray eyes.

Oh. He's beautiful.

The little girl squeals with delight at the sight of her father, and his head whips towards your direction. He sprints over to you and takes the child in his arms, pressing her close to his chest.

"There ya are, ya little rascal! What'd I tell ya about runnin' off?! Ya had me worried sick!" He kisses her forehead, then looks at you. "Thanks, I would've lost her without ya."

"Of course!" You wave it off, hoping he doesn't notice your hot cheeks. "I will say, she has good taste in flowers! If you'd ever like to buy a bouquet, you should bring her along!"

"Flowers? Oh..." He looks at his daughter, finally noticing the moon lily tucked in her hair. His cheeks flush a bright red. "Aw, man, I'm sorry for the trouble, I can pay for it-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's on the house! But I do hope this won't be the last time I see her!" You wave at her, and she giggles.

The man laughs at that. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind." He then stretches out his hand to you. "I'm [???]."

"(Y/N)."

He repeats your name slowly, thoughtfully, then smirks. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, lady."

"I'll be looking forward to it, cowboy."

Your eyes crack open.

Instead of a bustling marketplace, you're in a small shack in the middle of nowhere.

Just a memory.

You rise, body aching with fatigue and heartache, but you force yourself to push it to the side.

There's work to be done. You grab your phone and send a message.

ML: The USB is ready. I'll leave it at the usual place.

BH: ca nt maek it cme her

You stare at the coordinates your contact sent you with a groan.

You don't do face-to-face, too much risk. And the information you collected is time-sensitive; you're not sure if you'll be able to make it to the abandoned planet of Mavorosa in time for it to still be valuable, and your spaceship isn't one meant for such great lengths.

But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: Oswaldo Schneider is likely to make an appearance at the upcoming IPC Centennial Gala, and BH has proven themself capable of terminating that sick bastard.

You know you're not strong enough to do it yourself, but BH is. And anyone capable of taking down the son of a bitch who destroyed your home, your planet, your lover, is worthy of your trust.

So you bite your lip and bear it. You'll work something out.

ML: ok. I'll be there tomorrow @ 18:00, don't be late.

BH: k

You roll your eyes. Never mind.

With a heavy sigh, you carefully take out the picture/ only one you have of him. With your little girl in one arm and the other wrapped around your waist, he stares back at you with a grin. Bright, beautiful, alive.

"Don't worry, darling," you whisper, tracing the lines of his cheek and hair on the photograph. "We're one step closer to our goal. That bastard's a dead man walking now that we got BH on the case. They're good; strong and capable, I know they'll get the job done for us."

You gently press your lips over his image. And for a brief moment, you let yourself pretend that the paper is a good replacement for his callous skin.

"Once everything's done, I'll go over and join you and our girl. We'll be together again, I'm sure."

He smiles eternally at you, and you find yourself smiling back.

"Wish me luck, darling. Help me be strong."

[...]

His little girl adores you.

Each time he comes by the market, the first thing she whines for is to see the flowers. And you always indulge her, lifting her in your arms so you can show her all the pretty little blooms you have in your small cart. You give names to each one, tell her what they mean as though she understands you.

And you laugh. And he finds himself thinking that his little girl is a good judge of character, because he's starting to adore you too.

And it's becoming obvious, since Nick and Gray give him the occasional nab and jab, wondering out loud when they're going to see him get married and give them another grandchild. His siblings too, always cackling and yapping about how he might be the first to hang up his boots and settle down.

He rolls his eyes, but he's not too displeased by the idea. You're soft and sweet, with a kick of spice to match- the thought of settling down with you and Cherry on the farm is surprisingly sweet.

So he leaves Cherry to her loving grandparents and invites you out on a moonlit stroll through the hillside meadow, the one with the perfect view of the blooming moon lilies and the spring lake that reflects the starry night sky.

"I've never been here before," you gasp in awe, eyes aglow as you absorb the scenery. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze fixated on you and the moonlight in your eyes. "You are."

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. "Huh? Did you say something?"

"N- nothin'!" He faces the lake, and hopes you don't notice his red cheeks. "Said nothin'."

You laugh, and god, he melts at the sound. Then you rub the back of your head, and turn away, blushing. "I... I think you're very beautiful too."

His brain short-circuits. "Pretty... you think I'm..." Then he gasps dramatically. "So you did hear that! You sneaky mouse!"

He playfully tackles you, and you both laugh and chortle as you wrestle one another to the ground. But then he opens his eyes and finds himself on top of you, hands intertwined, faces so close he can feel your breath, smell your moon lily scent.

The moonlight bathes you in silver, and god, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you senseless, run his callous hands on your soft skin, wrap your plush thighs around his hips and-

"Can I...?" he whispers, weak and wanting. "Just... just a taste, I swear..."

You stare up at him, eyes so big and wide that he swears the moon itself disappeared to light up your gaze, that he doesn't notice you untangling your hands from his until you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Just a taste, cowboy?" you tease. "You don't wanna try... anything else?"

You raise your hips and grind on his pelvis, and he moans and kisses you, hard.

Eager hands dart across skin, tearing off clothes. He runs his hands over your plush tummy, hooks your thighs around his hips and moans when he finally enters you.

He'll never forget this moment. Even if he were to die and be reborn, he'll never forget you. Your pleasured moans as he slides himself inside your tight heat, your teary smile as you open your arms to let him press his chest against yours, your starry eyes so full of love and desire that mirror his own.

You make love for hours, the stars and moon lilies your only witnesses.

"-hill. Boothill."

His eyes crack open.

Instead of a blooming moon lily meadow, he's in the underground repair shop.

Just a memory.

He rises with a groan, mechanical joints creaking from the lack of use. "Done already? I was havin' quite the nice dream."

The mechanic rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I can tell. Anyway, speed upgrades are done; the rest of your body is the same- sensory receptors are good, memory chip still intact, et cetera."

She rambles on and on; he's used to tuning her out at this point. As long as his body is in peak condition, he doesn't need to know what else extra she's stacked on him.

"-and the dick. Make sure to test it out at some point."

He blinks. "What'd ya say?"

She groans. "The dick, Boothill. Make sure to test it."

"What dick are ya talking about? If you're trying to say I'm a piece of shi-"

"I added a dick attachment to your body, dumbass." She points towards his crotch. "I had an extra one that I really need to get rid of, so I'm giving it to you. Use it, rip it up and toss it, I don't care- just get it off my back!"

And with no further explanation, the mechanic practically throws him out the store, slamming the door with extra ferocity. Boothill lies on the ground, blinking a few times in shock, before checking his pants, and lo and behold, there is a silicone dick attachment. Sensory receptors and everything, he hisses when he pokes lightly at it, the wires in his body jittering at the unfamiliar sensation.

Doe eyes and a teary smile flash in the back of his mind.

He suddenly jumps to his feet with a vengeance and slams on the door. "You cheating, deceitful shirt-bag! Take this fudging thing off right now! You hear me, woman?! Take this shirt off right now!"

He's no doubt starting a commotion, a crowd drawing in to witness his rage-induced ranting and raving. But then his phone dings, and he's forced to put a pin in it, taking out the shitty device to hear the alarm: Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Be there or be square!

Ah, shit.

He can't miss this meeting, not even to blow a hole right between that shitty mechanic's eyebrows. ML is too valuable to lose, having provided him with incredibly detailed information on Oswaldo Schneider and the IPC time and again. Almost as if they have an agenda against that sick bastard as well.

Well. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, right? He'll take what he can get. And if they end up turning their back, well, he's sure his bullet is faster than their legs.

So he leans to the door, whispers a deadly "I'll be back for you, baby," and dashes to his spaceship to head over to Mavorosa.

And as he's prepping for flight, he looks over at the picture on the dashboard.

It's the only one Boothill has of you. The three of you, together- him holding little Cherry in one arm and your waist in the other, you wrapping your arms around him and your baby girl with your sweet smile and moon lily eyes.

He brushes a metal fingertip over your face.

"Just hang in there, moon lily," he whispers, a clump in his throat. "We're one step closer; ML's got some good intel on the son of a nice lady that destroyed our planet- our home. That destroyed you."

Boothill lost the ability to cry long ago, but the corners of his eyes itch all the same. He gnaws on his lip so hard, drops of blue blood trickle down his chin.

"I swear to you, darlin', I'm gonna get our revenge against that beautiful bench. He'll wish he never set his filthy sights on our home once I'm through with him." He gently picks up the photo and presses his lips to your image. "And then I'll come home. To Cherry, Nick and Gray, my siblings. I'll come home to you. We'll get started on that house we talked about, maybe some runts so Cherry can be a big sister..."

He swallows, then carefully puts the photo back on the dashboard. The lump doesn't disappear, so once the spaceship is cruising through the stars to Mavorosa, he sets it on autopilot and descends into the belly to go to his chest of valuables. He opens it up and delicately takes out the moon lily crown.

The one he was working on for you, a promise of his undying devotion. Before the world exploded in fire and ash. Before the IPC decimated his family, the moon lily meadow... decimated you.

He closes his eyes and raises it to his face. Even preserved, the petals are still soft to the touch, and smell just as lovely.

Just like you.

He won't let your death be in vain. He won't.

The lump in his metal chest morphs into rage.

Boothill opens his eyes.

[...]

If not for the Stellaron, Mavorosa would be a wonderful planet. A once lively city now stands abandoned, its skyscrapers and glass structures being embraced by nature once again.

You stand on the rooftop, mask and voice synthesizer on, fidgeting with the USB, simply observing everything when-

"So this is what you look like. I thought you'd be bigger," a male voice calls behind you.

Your body freezes. That voice... it sounds like...

No. You must be wrong. Maybe you've been so lonely that every male voice just starts to sound like your deceased lover.

"I thought you'd be here earlier," you reply with your warped voice. "Time is precious to you and me both, BH."

"Sorry, had to wrap up some... personal stuff on my end. I'm here now, ain't I?" The oh-so-familiar yet distant voice chuckles. "Well. Business ain't gonna settle itself. Where's the drive?"

"Where's the payment? We both know I don't work free."

He huffs. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Don't worry, I got your cash. Just fork over the drive, no need to make things difficult, not after everything, yeah? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"You realize how difficult face-to-face is? It takes a substantial amount of effort to get this intel, not to mention the possibility of being-" You turn around in your exasperation-

And you drop the USB.

Tall and metal. Flowing black-and-white hair. Piercing gray-and-red eyes. Sharp teeth.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to be a gunslinger, just like Nick," [???] cackled, whipping out his revolver and making dramatic poses with it. "Maybe be one of those boothills of legend."

"I'd rather you not," you murmured as you brushed off some dirt off of his shirt. "Those boothills always died on their feet. I'd rather you not die at all."

He softened, and with a smile, he put down his gun and sidled up to you, bringing you in his embrace, warm and strong. You breathed in his comforting scent and sighed happily.

"Don't you worry about that, hun." He kissed your cheek, then square on your mouth. "I ain't goin' nowhere. You can't get rid of me that easy!"

BH. Boothill.

How could you not notice earlier?

Your mouth dries. You can't move a muscle.

It's him. Mechanical, but very much alive.

"Hey, watch the merchandise!" he hisses, pointing at the fallen USB. "I need that, don't you forget it!"

"How are you..." you weakly gasp, then you grab the USB. "Here. Take it. Forget the money."

You slide it over to him, and he stops it with his foot. But his eyes narrow at you.

"Whaddaya mean, 'How are you,' huh?" He walks towards you, slow and leisurely, like a coyote cornering its helpless prey. "You say that like you're shocked I'm still around. What'd ya do, huh? Sell me off to the IPC?"

"No!" you cry, shocked. "I would never-!"

"Why so jittery, partner? What are you hiding?" He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "How about a show of trust, huh? You take off that cute little mask of yours, I don't shoot you dead, and we keep our little arrangement goin'. Sound fair?"

You turn around, eyes searching for an escape route.

Aeons above, you need to leave. You can't show him your face. You can't remind him of everything he lost, the people he couldn't save. You can't hurt him any more than you already have. You're afraid. You want to hide. You're selfish. You want to tell him. You're in love.

You want to die. You want the ground to swallow you alive. You want to hole away in your shack and wallow in your grief, descend into a spiral of what-ifs: what if you tried harder to find him? What if you searched the whole IPC ship you snuck on trying to resolve things peacefully until you found him? What if you ran out earlier and tried to bring him with you? What if, what if, what if-

"Now that you got some measure of my grit," he whispers in your ear, suddenly standing behind you, "I'm sure you know how this ends, yeah? C'mon now, take it off."

You pant heavily, head dizzy with his close proximity- god, even with the metal, he still smells the same. "I- I can't-"

"Feelin' shy? Alright, I'll do it for you."

"No! Please, no!" You swat at his hands and try to break free of his iron grip, but he grabs you hard and pulls you against his chest.

He cackles, metallic and bitter. "And here I thought I finally had an ally, but no- you're just like the rest of 'em shirt-bags." He whips out his revolver and raises it to your head. "Take. It. Off. Now."

You want to cry. You don't want to hurt him.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you take off your mask...

And his gun falls to the floor.

Doe eyes. Soft cheeks. Scars. Floral scent.

"What made you wanna be a florist?" he asked you once, helping you water the rainbow roses. "They're pretty and all, don't get me wrong. But don't you want somethin' more exciting?"

"On the contrary, I think they're very exciting," you explained. "They all have their unique personality; some need lots of love and care, and others don't mind if you go missing for a week or two. There's flowers that only stay with you for so long, and there are others that will love you for as long as you'll let them."

He grunted. "Sounds like you'd do just fine without me."

"Oh, please." You put down your watering can and embraced him from behind. And just as planned, he melted at your touch. "Moon lilies love the moon, but they need the sun to grow. And that's exactly what you are to me."

"The moon?"

"The sun."

ML. Moon lily.

It's so obvious, how did he not realize it sooner?

He lets you go. You immediately stumble away from him, hands covering your face in shame.

Boothill has no lungs, yet he feels his chest collapse.

"(Y/N)?" he calls to you, weak and desperate. "Moon lily? That's really you, right?" He reaches out, hand shaking. But when he grazes your shoulder, you hunch further into yourself. "I- I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to scare ya. Please..."

Boothill willingly let go of his humanity. But right here, right now, he wishes he still had his skin.

"Please, darlin'... turn around? Let me see you, please."

You shiver, tears spilling down your cheeks, and slap a hand over your mouth. You can't hurt him, you'll never hurt him. "I can't... I can't see you."

His body wants to collapse. He wants to grab you by your shoulders and kiss you senseless, look at you from head to toe and sing praises to Lan for protecting you and keeping you safe.

But you won't see him. You won't turn around.

"Why?" he whines, like a pleading child. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not the same anymore!" you sob. "I'm not your moon lily anymore! I don't want to remind you of everything you lost! I don't want to hurt you anymore! You don't know the things I've done, the blood I spilled, all to destroy the IPC!" You sink to the floor in despair, echoes of the dead haunting you, swarming your mind. "I can't bear to see you hate me for being alive when everyone else died. I already hate myself so much, hated myself because I couldn't save anyone else! I thought I lost you, but now I realize I didn't search for you at all! I didn't even try to find you, I..."

You cry and sob and scream. You pound the floor with your fists. You pull at your hair, your clothes, your skin, so hard that drops of blood water the cement.

Boothill's eyes itch with tears that will never spill. His chest burns with a profound grief that will never truly be his own.

"You think I don't feel that way about myself?" he finally whispers. Bravely, he takes a step closer to you. "From the moment the bombs fell, I was never the same. I changed too much to be that man you met at the market- hell, I don't even have the body anymore." He sits just behind you, close to touch but not close enough. "The blood I spilled would be enough to fill oceans. But I'm still here. I still remember everything. I still remember you." His hand, feather-light, brushes your arm. You don't pull away. "I thought I lost you. When I went back to the ranch and couldn't find anyone there, I thought you were one of the piles of ashes on the ground." He chokes as he speaks, but he pushes on. "I never hated myself more. I failed to save them; I failed to save you."

You shake your head, but he gently rests his head on your back, right between your shoulder blades. He breathes you in- dust, machine oil, and moon lilies.

You smell so alive.

"How could you think I'd ever hate you," he whimpers, "when there's no one I hate more than myself? No, sweetheart, I could never hate you. I never will. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. So please, turn around..." He grabs a fistful of your shirt and tugs. "I'm begging you. Let me see your face, please."

Your heart breaks. You couldn't fathom how much he suffered, how lonely he must have felt, the self-loathing that coursed through his wires every time he looked in the mirror.

Just like you.

"Don't hate yourself," you sniffle, rubbing your eyes. "Nothing you do could ever make me hate you either. What happened wasn't your fault; you didn't know what the IPC was going to do until it happened."

He lets out a small huff. "I could easily say the same about you. It wasn't your fault either- neither of us could've known until it was too late."

You exhale shakily. "Do you really mean it? Not hating me?"

Boothill smiles. "Every word."

For a moment, you're afraid. What if he doesn't like what he sees? You know he's not a superficial man, but you're still not the sweet florist he remembers anymore.

You suck in a deep breath. He's not the same man you remember, but he's still your cowboy, your Boothill.

Slowly, you turn around, and...

Oh. His face is just how you remember. His beautiful silky hair, the red targets in his eyes still framed within familiar stormy gray. When you reach out with trembling hands to cup his smooth cheeks, he melts in your touch just how he always did.

And melt he does. He nearly moans at your soft touch, pressing his cheek into your palms to keep your focus on him. He drinks up every detail of your face and commits it to memory- your beautiful moony eyes and the dark circles under them, the faintest hint of a scar curling from the edge of your jawline into your neck, your soft hair that smells of moon lilies.

You're still you, the sweet florist he fell in love with all those years ago. And now you've returned to him, and this time, he'll never let you go.

He sits you on his lap and embraces you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and savoring your scent. You wrap your legs around his waist and make yourself comfortable, admiring his metal body, tracing patterns into the steel.

"I love you," he whispers with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I never stopped loving you, not for one second."

"I'm sorry I didn't look for you," you confess. "But I kept you in my heart every day. Even when we weren't together, you were always a part of me."

"I'm here now." He pulls away to admire you, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he gazes at you with what you could only describe as reverence. "I'm right here with you. I'm not leaving you ever again."

Boothill didn't realize how much his world lacked color until he kisses you, but now he swears he can see every color in the spectrum flash before his eyes. You taste just how he remembers, sweet and salty with your tears. When you pull away for air, he dives back in to reclaim your lips, hooking a hand around your neck to keep you in place.

He won't let you slip from his fingers again. And you clearly feel the same way, because you tangle your hands with his hair and tug him closer, pulling him on top of you.

"Please don't be a dream," you cry in his shoulder, and it damn near breaks his heart. "I don't want to wake up if it is."

"Darlin', those dreams are better off in Penacony; I'm right here. Does this," he kisses your cheek, "or this," he squeezes your ass and relishes in your squeal, "or this..." He grinds into you, and you gasp, squeezing his shoulders with a whimper. And fuck, maybe he was a bit too harsh with that mechanic, he should send her flowers or something, because your face contorted in shock and a hint of reawakened pleasure is a drug he will happily become addicted to. He nibbles on your ear and whispers, "Any of that feel like a dream to you?"

"...No." You stare at him, moon lily eyes abloom with hearts and love and fuck, he wants you, he needs you.

And your eyes are reflected in his, because you're so captivated by how the targets in his gaze morph into blood red hearts that drip with love and devotion. You want to give him everything, bring him under your skin and into your heart so you'll never be separated again.

"I love you." You smile and open your arms for him. "Let's never be apart again."

Boothill's brain short-circuits. He can only remember the minutiae of what happens next- tearing off your clothes, your hands running across his metallic chest, his sensors working in overdrive to let him process your touch, your smell, your taste, as he kisses, nibbles and sucks his way across the canvas of your body to reach your core.

But just as he's about to taste your liquid gold, you tug on his hair. He immediately moves up to your face, nuzzling into your neck to comfort you.

"What's wrong, moon lily? I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassures you, but you bite your lip and shake your head.

"I know. But I don't want that right now; I want you to fuck me."

You spread your legs, once again revealing your soaking pussy to his hungry eyes, and fuck, his mouth goes dry at the exquisite feast before him. And his new dick feels the same way, as the electricity in his body jolts it to life, straining against his pants.

He swallows. "Yeah, baby. I want you too, but I gotta prep ya, or it's gonna hurt."

"Don't care!" you whine, and on Lan's Arrow, you're so cute with your pouting and wailing. "I need you, Hillie, I need it, I need it-!"

Ah, fuck. He can't say no to you, and he won't start now.

So he rips off his pants, and after a few quick pumps of his new cock (yeah, he'll send some flowers to the mechanic as a thank-you), he grabs hold on your hips and thrusts forward.

You shriek at the burning sensation, scrambling for grip on his shoulders as he penetrates deeper and deeper. Fuck, it's been so long since you had sex of any kind, and it shows. You moan loudly, shamelessly, so sensitive to the buttons his cock presses perfectly against your walls, that you cum instantly when he bottoms out, hips meeting yours with a soft thud.

"Fuuudge," Boothill groans, each syllable drawn out in pleasure, "you're so tight, sugar~ I can't even move..."

His brain might just melt from the overload of sensations. Your pussy's so tight, so wet, he's damn sure he near ascended to aeonhood. And your face is so adorable when cumming, he makes sure to engrave every part of it into his neurochip and brush the hair out of your eyes, moving his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, guiding you out of the afterglow.

When you finally blink the stars out of your eyes, you see Boothill hovering above you, rubbing your cheek with hearts in his eyes.

"God, you're so fudgin' gorgeous." He grins, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. "Think you got another for me?"

You whine, "Still sensi- AH!"

He immediately sets a vigorous pace, hips slamming against yours in a hypnotic rhythm. He fixates on your breasts, and leans over to take a hard nipple in his mouth to suck and lick and nibble. You squeal and pull on his hair. He bites your skin in retaliation.

"Easy, moon lily," he moans, quickly stifling it with a kiss. "Hold on to me."

He grabs under your arms and lifts you onto his lap. His cock sinks impossibly deeper inside you, the tip nudging at your cervix. With a shriek, you bite his neck to try and ease the discomfort, but it only excites him more. With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into your sopping hole, bouncing you up and down with rough hands to set an even rougher pace.

You're still so sensitive; too much, too fast, and his cock fits so snugly inside you that you're already spiraling towards another release. But you don't want to make that journey alone, you want Boothill beside you.

So you grab his face and devour his mouth, pressing your tongue against his to savor his metallic taste. He moans against your lips, hips stuttering in an effort to keep up with you.

"Wanna make you feel good," you pant heavily. You carefully slide up and down on his thick cock, head thrown back as it hits your sweet spot. "Wanna... wanna cum with you!"

"Y- you are, baby," he groans against your neck, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "You're makin' me feel so- darn- good-"

You're so close, you can see the faintest glimmer of stars again. Or maybe that was the sparks from his body as it overworks to keep his sensors running, so he can keep feeling you, tasting you, fucking you.

"Hillie," you gasp when the stars start to overwhelm you. "Hillie, I-"

"I know, baby, let go, I'm right with ya." He kisses you, over and over, thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, sensors working overdrive, wires sparking to further push him over the edge. "I'm- fudge, fudge, fudge-!"

He chokes, and you both come undone together, chasing that relentless wave of pleasure side by side. Stars collide and burst in showers of gold and silver, and your strength all but fails you, so you collapse in Boothill's arms, rubbing your cheek on his cool chest.

He catches his breath, letting his sensors rest as he basks in that afterglow. His wires are probably fried after such an intense sensory overload, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. Not when you're sitting so pretty in his arms, eyes just barely able to stay open.

You're so cute when you're sleepy, it's hard to not bite your cheek like he used to do. But tonight, he'll be generous and resist the temptation; you need your rest.

He runs a hand through your hair, and he once again finds himself wishing he still had his skin. But he sets that aside, preferring to be lost in your sleepy smile instead.

"Love you, Hillie," you coo drowsily, head nodding off.

"I love you more, moon lily," he whispers back with a kiss to your forehead.

In a moment, he'll bring you on his spaceship and clean you up, then tuck you in the spare bunk next to his charging port. He'll have to look at that USB you painstakingly put together for him sooner or later.

But for now, right here, he's not going anywhere.

His moon lily came back to him.

Boothill has finally returned home.

[Post-Credit]

"What the actual hell is this..." the mechanic sighs as she stares at the large bouquet of blue flowers.

She wonders if she should toss them out before she notices the card.

Thanks for the added bonus, Doc! - BH & ML

Her eyebrows raise. The handwriting's too nice and legible to be that Galaxy Ranger's, so...

She chuckles. "I figured it'd come in handy sooner or later."

She sets the bouquet on her desk and continues on with her work.

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

A/N: holy shirtballs BOOOTHILL MY LOVE AAAAAAAHSHDHDBSK I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE I NEVER LOVED A CHARACTER BEFORE

...if only he loved me back just the slightest, cuz I lost 50/50 and went hard pity to get him. But I did win his lightcone so I guess it's even...?