#rotted teeth

[psyrapmafia]

Uncouth (cropped)

art from May 7th. Freekazaur being just a regular everyday normal motherfucker.

[pangur-and-grim]

my mom was saying that I'm pretty unlucky when it comes to cat health, but I was saying that a lot of folk have issues like mine, it's just that they don't deal with them and then the cat dies.

she said "that's not true at all," and I had to list how many cats my aunt and uncle have burnt through in the same time I've had Pangur and Grim. and then I talked about an old friend who would never even name her kittens, because they always died within the first year. and of friends who've watched their cats deteriorate without going to the vet, while saying "there's nothing I can do." in mainstream culture, cat death is normal and invisible. it's just that a lot of time the cat dies outside of the house (whether through illness, accident, or predation) so people get to maintain deniability.

[ghoulbats]

well….it finally happened

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

JJK men but it’s your birthday!!

smau, teeth-rotting fluff, cursing, slightly suggestive?

Pt. 1 - Satoru, Suguru, Sukuna, and Choso

in honor of my birthday in three days! :)

[wtfforged]

i think about this one piece party panel so often i wanted to draw it

the panel ⤵️

[k1n1chswif3]

Kinich was a man of little words. And he believes actions meant more than words. It wasn't that he didn't want to express himself verbally, he just doesn't know how to.

That's why you were slightly surprised when he asked you if you could finish your commissions earlier today. You're not sure of what he was planning, but you hesitantly agreed.

You trust kinich with your life, and he does the same with his, and you're sure that he wouldn't do anything to put you and him in danger

So imagine your surprise and delight when you opened the door to your shared home, hearing pots scrambling in the kitchen and Ajaws complains and insults to kinich

You put down the trinkets you bought and walked into the kitchen, sniffling a laugh when you say kinich covered in a little bit of flour

His head wiped around before he put Ajaw in timeout, "I see your home," he acknowledged, "you came earlier than I expected" he trailed off

"Let me help?" You offered, entering the kitchen, and taking your spot beside him as you reached up to wipe the flour on his face, and then you turned back, you feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it, getting the pan ready

"Cupcakes?" You cracked a smile

"Yeah" he replied in monotone voice

For the next 30 minutes or mire, you and him spent time in the kitchen, enjoying each other's company

[venbetta]

Full-time space captain, and full-time dad

(Context: they're hanging out in a pillow fort)

Space AU belongs to @himbo-in-limbo

[sydneighsays]

The Magnus protocol has awakened something unholy back up in me

Not that Jon being my favorite isn't unholy in the first place

[kingofattolia]

Honestly I cannot overstate how much seeing Hayden as TCW Anakin changed EVERYTHING. Matt Lanter's Anakin is a frat dude. He wears a backwards baseball hat and says vaguely offensive things without realizing, while being a fundamentally chill and outgoing guy at heart. Hayden's Anakin is... not that. His voice. His expressions. His physical presence. It's off somehow. It's just left of normal. It's completely unremarkable and yet deeply uncanny for reasons you can't quite describe. TCW Anakin was always a flatter, blander portrayal, but I don't think I realized until now what exactly was missing: the serial killer energy. The inarticulable conviction that SOMETHING unhinged is going on behind those eyes.

[tomatorabbitsticker]

Hori please if you’re listening, let aoyama’s going away party be carnival/amusement park themed and have Izuku sitting on the side being contemplative/clearly upset looking while everyone is playing ringtoss or something. And then have Katsuki come up to him with a crepe and tell him that they need to talk about what’s bothering him. Please please give us soft supportiveness.

[biscuit-boy-n]

Tail Wraps!

[littlejuicebox]

The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

-----

If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay. 

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality. 

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully. 

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin. 

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face. 

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige. 

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance. 

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell. 

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf. 

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him. 

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring. 

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last. 

[angeleternity]

[carlmipololo]

Warm

Carl Grimes x Fem!reader

Fluff, blood, cramps (like, very, VERY bad cramps), comfort and loads of sweetness from Carl. (Most prolly ooc)

It was that time of the month you feared again, your period was one of the things you hated the most in the world, bleeding wasn't even that bad, the cramps were.

You had found out you were on your period that morning when you woke up in pain, your lower belly felt like it was being constantly stabbed, ripped apart by something sharp from the inside, and lucky for you, you had stirred your boyfriend awake too.

"What's wrong?" His voice was raspy and groggy, still laced with sleep as he rubbed his eye, looking at the way you remained sat in bed while holding your pelvic area, his eyebrows quickly furrowing in concern. "Is it that time of the month? Are the cramps bad?"

You can't help but nod at his questions, too preoccupied with your pain to actually want to try and mouth a reply for him, and he understands it, if you hated your period cramps he hated them ten times more, he couldn't stand seeing you suffer, and even less when it was a pain he couldn't really help with taking away.

Carl sits up and gently reaches forward for you, his touch soft on your skin as he makes you lay down again, switching places in bed as he checks for any kind of leakage you may have had in your sleep, he notices the stain and is quick to lift you up from the bed. "C'mon we gotta get you clean, alright? I'll change the bedsheets too."

He carries you to the bathroom, setting you down on the toilet, taking off the flannel he had used to sleep and placing it around your lower belly to provide some warmth to ease your cramps a bit as he starts the water to run you a bath, "just wait for a little, alright love?" he kisses your forehead tenderly before disappearing into the room for a couple of minutes, changing the bedsheets. Returning just in time to turn the water off, checking the temperature before helping you out of your pajamas, being mindful of your comfort as he tries not to stare too much or do anything you wouldn't want him to. "I can get inside myself."

He shakes his head, clearly not accepting that. "Nope, I don't want you passing out on me or something because you tried to tough it off, let me take care of you right now, please." You sigh and reluctantly accept, being carried and carefully set down inside the tub, the hot water soothing your swollen pelvic area.

Carl bathed you gently, his touch caring and sweet as he washed you, and now he had taken the mission of dressing you comfortably, a pair of new underwear along with a pad, his sweatpants and one of his t-shirts. "Where did you get a pad?" He smiles sheepishly, looking up at you "I asked Michonne for one for you, she gave me a couple more too."

You muster up a smile through the pain, Carl was always so sweet, so caring, when it came to you. "Thanks."

As Carl eases you back into bed and tucks you in you try and relax a little, but the pain is overwhelming even if you were already kinda used to it, and Carl knows that, so he's quick to pepper kisses on your face before leaving to go downstairs to the kitchen, returning shortly after with a plate of pancakes that were probably cooked by Michonne, a bag of hot water and a chocolate bar he was saving up in the freezer.

"Alright baby, let me take care of you." His hands are gentle as he places the bag of water over your lower belly, taking a seat beside you on the bed and feeding you patiently, helping to try and ease your pain through every painful cramp with kisses and sweet words.

[...]

"I can't take it, I hate this." You say softly and start sobbing, it had been hours and your pain only seemed to be getting worse, and Carl couldn't help but feel his heart ache for you. "It's alright, pretty girl, it's alright baby, let me get you a cup of tea and make you warm, that will help."

It doesn't take more than five minutes for Carl to be back with a hot cup of tea for you, which he places between your hands to let you drink at your own pace, he had also gotten you a couple pills of painkillers of his own that he had been given after his eye got shot off, it wouldn't take all the pain away, but he hoped to make it better.

As you finish drinking the tea and swallow the pills you ease back onto the mattress, hiccuping slightly from crying before as Carl envelopes his arms around you, warmth, that's what he provided, and you loved feeling warm with his love and care.

"I love you, Carl" you whisper as you let your head rest on his shoulder, your arms around his neck as he cups your lower back, gently massaging it. "I love you too, baby."

You drift off into a peaceful slumber, and so does he when he senses you're better now, and how to not be? If he kept you so warm and comforted, you felt like even the greatest pain eased between his arms.

What the fuck did I do help. Anyways, I'm bouta die from my own cramps, so this is for all the cramping girlies.

Also, deadass wanted to make Carl play-punch reader in the lower belly to say some corny ahh shit like "evil cramps, leave my princess alone" 💀

Tags: @carlslvr @crxssbowcarl @aurasplanet @lunarnightt @herrera2k @hiro--aoki @twds-things @carlsangel @smollbean42905 @girlthatsinsane

[oneawkwardwriter]

So High School

pairing: James Potter x fem!reader warnings/tags: none except some teeth rotting fluff, possibly inaccurate Quidditch team (I didn't know everyone's positions), allusions to suggestive content?, no use of Y/n summary: just James being an absolutely amazing boyfriend totally not self-insert what- a/n: and thus begins the saga of me taking Taylor Swift songs and turning them into stories about fictional characters. Don't even act like you're surprised, you shouldn't be by now <3 Also, I've been wanting to write for James but couldn't get it right, so a little thank you to Miss Taylor for making this possible wc: 0.8k

"And another goal made by Gryffindor chaser James Potter!" Remus shouts into the microphone while he reacts to the latest Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. "That is three in a row for Gryffindor. Sorry, Ravenclaw, it seems like you'll have no chance of winning today, better forfeit already-"

He is cut off by Professor McGonagall taking the mic out of his hands, "Don't get forget to stay objective, Mr. Lupin," She says, just loud enough for the microphone to pick it up, but the crowd is too busy cheering to hear it.

James does a victory lap on his broom, flying close to the crowd. When he comes close to your section, he sends a quick wink in your direction. You lightly chuckle and roll your eyes when a couple of first years nearly faint from being so close to their unrequited hallway crush.

Not that you can entirely blame them, seeing as you yourself still can't shake the giddy feeling of butterflies whenever James wraps his arms around you. Sure, you'd been dating for about half a year, but somehow he still managed to make your heart skip a beat.

Not long after, the match is over when Marlene manages to catch the Snitch. Louds cheers erupt once more from the spectators on the stands, and soon enough, they're running onto the field to greet the victors.

You're pulled along in the flood of people, practically carried towards the field until the crowd parts for the Gryffindor team. You smile as you lock eyes with James, who practically storms right at you before trapping you in a bear hug, slightly lifting you off the crowd.

"That was amazing!" You say as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "You did so great out there."

"Only because my lucky charm was in the stands," James replies, burying his face in your neck as he grins, "Couldn't have done it without you cheering me on." You chuckle, knowing arguing against him would be pointless even though you know he's a great player whether you're there or not.

The celebrations continued in the Gryffindor common room, the firewhiskey flowing while people cheered, laughed and talked to each other. Throughout the entire night, James held you practically glued to his hip: always an arm around your shoulders or waist, kissing the top of your head or your cheek.

"-And then Mary fired that Bludger at the Ravenclaw Seeker, and I ducked down for the Quaffle, and then-" James rants about the game, completely caught up in his story.

"Remember to breathe, James. We don't need you passing out," Remus says, making everyone laugh and James shake his head.

"Oh please, as if I could breathe when this one here takes my breath away the entire time," James quips, "Not that I mind, though. I'd gladly pass out if it meant you sitting next to me in the hospital wing."

"James!" You exclaim.

"What? It's true," He responds shamelessly as he shrugs, making the others shake their heads and chuckle.

As if you weren't already glued to his side, James pulls you even closer to him, making you laugh when his breath tickles the nape of your neck.

"Oh come on, can you two act even more like high school sweethearts? We're getting cavities from looking at you " Sirius groans, to which you only raise an eyebrow and reply with, "That's rich coming from the guy who had his tongue down his boyfriend's throat less than a minute ago."

"I don't see the relevance of you pointing that out, but alright," Sirius replies with mock-ignorance as he sits close to Remus, who nuzzles his face in Sirius's nape and softly smiles.

As the night progressed, the firewhiskey started to take over your systems, making you a bit more bold and unfiltered.

"You know, sometimes I still don't understand how we got together," You say, slightly slurring your words as you look at James.

"Oh god, here we go again," Sirius sighed, turning to Remus, "James is going to confess his undying love for her again."

"Hey, I can't help it that this perfect angel walked into my life, you have Remus to blame for that," James shrugged as he kisses your cheek for the millionth time that night.

You and Remus had been friends ever since first year, finding companionship in your shared love for literature and classic history. James swears he fell for you when you were rambling about the works of some ancient philosopher, claiming that you could light up an entire city with the energy you put into it.

"Well, I don't know about perfect angel, but thank you anyway," You say, resting your head on James's shoulder as you whisper in his ear. "I love you, James."

"I love you too, love."

© This work belongs to @oneawkwardwriter, please do not copy this work to any other site or claim it as your own. Reblogs are allowed and appreciated!

Taglist: @unofficialxmarvelfreak

(to join the taglist, simply leave a comment or message me!)

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

MC's light isn't supposed to be on this late at night.

Mammon just happened to be walking past Cocytus Hall, definitely not on purpose, after a night out.

He also just happened to glance up at MC's window and saw that the light was still on.

He definitely didn't worry that they'd fallen asleep at their desk, working and would wake up tomorrow with a sore back. It's pure selfish self-preservation over dealing with a grumpy attendant that drives him toward the door.

It's not even locked, what are these two, insane?

Two humans alone in the Devildom who don't even lock the front door, he's going to get Lucifer on them for that later.

He's visited a few times now and follows the light under the door up the stairs until he stands in front of their bedroom door, only to freeze up once he got there.

What the fuck is he doing?

What now, knock? He's already walked into their house without permission, MC's gonna think he's a weirdo, or worse, that he cares!

He debates turning tail, but before he gets the chance, the door creaked open.

MC's the picture of tired, cotton sleep shorts and a lazy tank top, hair a dishevelled mess with blue light glasses tangled among their locks.

The human doesn't look at all surprised to see him there, cradling an empty coffee cup in one hand, leaning heavily on the door as they eye him tiredly,

"What the hell are you doing up?" He blurted before MC could ask what he's doing in their house.

Tired eyes gaze up at him, lazily fishing their glasses out of their hair. "I can't sleep."

Their voice was soft, cracking and lethargic; behind them is desk covered in paperwork lit by a stub of candle, wax built up around it almost spilling out of its tray.

"So you're working?" Mammon gaped, pushing them backward into their room, scooping both the cup and glasses out of their hands. "Z'at supposed to help?"

"No, but I figured I may as well be productive."

"Screw that, you need sleep damnit."

The demon set MC down on their bed, urging them to settle down while he blew out excess candles, submerging the room in almost complete darkness.

"What's keeping you up anyway?"

MC shrugged, cheek buried in the pillow Belphie gave them last week. Mammon can still make out their blank stare, fixed on some far away point, jaw hinged tight.

"Hey...what's keepin' ya up?"

MC sighed, scooting away from the edge of the bed, lifting the covers. "C'mere, please?"

Mammon froze, gulping down nerves as his body practically moved on its own, sinking onto the mattress beside them.

As soon as he was within arms reach, MC cuddled close, tangling their legs together as the buried their nose in his chest, breathing deep before relaxing completely against him.

He hesitated, hands hovering nervously before giving in to the urge to hold them, letting them press to his chest, relishing in the way they relaxed so completely with him.

"Can you stay, please?"

Mammon replied without hesitation, burying his nose in their hair, pressing his lips to the crown of their head. "Long as ya need me, darlin'."