#those blasted fireplaces!!!

[thebramblewood]

The Great Vatore Manor Fire

[amongemeraldclouds]

Dancing in the rain with the Slytherin boys

Ft. Matteo Riddle, Lorenzo Berkshire, Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini

© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I share my written work.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 2.2k words

Lorenzo Berkshire (established relationship, modern au)

The walk home should have been simple and straightforward. But as you stepped out the bustling restaurant, you traded the warmth for the unexpected downpour. Yet it could not dampen your good mood; the alcohol buzzing in your veins made sure of that.

“You sure?” Enzo asked as you opened the door and faced the rain.

“We’ll be fine, it’s just a short walk,” you suggested and he simply shrugged in agreement.

The song blasting from the restaurant stayed with you and you found yourself singing the lyrics. You wondered how a space cow found its way in a song about summer romance, but it seemed to match the beat of the song. It was good enough for you.

“Are those even the right words?” Enzo asked, a small laugh accompanying his question. It was not.

“Space cows can be wherever they want to be!” You declared.

“Yeah space cows!” He cheered you on as he started singing with you, ever the supportive boyfriend.

“You know since we’re singing,” you said, a glint in your eye, “we might as well dance. It’s just us here.”

Enzo stopped abruptly in front of you and surprised you with a bow. “My lady,” he said, courteously reaching out his hand. You held a corner of your dress in each hand and curtsied.

You took his hand and found yourself dancing on the empty sidewalk with Lorenzo Berkshire. You hummed the song as you moved, feeling his body move in sync with yours.

When you arrived home, you’d shower and warm up with a cup of tea. You’d spend the rest of the day cuddled beneath cozy sheets, wood crackling in the fireplace. But for now, the rain drowned out everyone and everything else. In that moment, it was just you and him dancing with your silly smiles.

Mattheo Riddle (enemies)

You exited the hall and stepped into the evening air, eager to get away from the music and merriment. You were the furthest thing from feeling festive. Not after your date had ditched you for another pretty girl.

Your cheeks burned with rage and embarrassment and you tried taking deep breaths to steady your nerves.

Just when you thought an already bad evening couldn’t get worse, you saw lightning flash through the sky followed by a crack of thunder. Before you could safely make your way back the castle, you found yourself drenched in the sudden downpour.

With no other outlet for the intense emotions, you released a frustrated scream and your tears soon joined in the rain. You jolted when a warm hand touched your shoulder.

You inhaled the telltale scent of cigarette smoke. Through the blur of tears, you saw Mattheo Riddle. Of all people, it really had to be your enemy. He must have been smoking outside and got caught in the rain.

“What happened to your dashing date?” He spat.

“Come to laugh at me, have you?” You said bitterly. “He’s off with a prettier girl,” you said, not sure why you were even talking to him.

“Why, I’ll break his face” he started and it was your turn to put his hand on your shoulder.

“But why? Don’t you hate me?” You asked, confusion mixing with your cocktail of rage, disappointment, and weariness.

“Obviously,” he said quickly then added, “but only I can be horrible to you.”

“You can’t be possessive over your enemy, that’s not how it works,” you shot back.

“I can be possessive over who I want to be,” he moved closer, arguing.

You sighed. It had been a long day. “Fine, just let me wallow here in peace.” You muttered, “didn’t even get to bloody dance.”

He studied you closely, it was unfair how gorgeous you managed to look despite the tears and soaking rain. The look in your eyes broke something in him.

You were stunned when you found yourself in his arms. “I’m only doing this so I don’t have to look at your crying face. This is for my benefit,” he explained, trying to sound annoyed.

Then he really was annoyed when he realized how nice it felt. To distract himself, he started to move, swaying you both to the beat of a song only he could hear. It soothed the storm raging within you.

“For the record, this never happened,” Mattheo stated, quick to deny everything.

“As if I want everyone to know I danced with you,” you said even as you matched his rhythm, “no thank you.”

“Good,” he stated.

“Good,” you replied, not wanting him to have the last word.

There was an odd comfort dancing with Mattheo. You could overanalyse it later. For now, you savoured how secure you felt in his arms, his body warm against you. Electric sparks lit within you as if lightning coursed through you.

Hidden by the onslaught of rain, you could pretend you’re not enemies even if it’s only for a moment.

Draco Malfoy (established relationship, modern au, Yule Ball)

The regal melody of classical music greeted you as the footman opened the limousine door and the cold wind caressed your hair. Draco waited near the door in his crisp tailored suit, his hair neatly gelled back. You took his outstretched hand and smoothed your hand over your dress when you exited the car. You were fashionably late and ready to make a grand entrance at the Yule Ball.

“Ready to party?” He asked. Salazar, you were gorgeous. He was eager to show you off to everyone.

“You mean get drunk and dance the night away? Count me in!” You leaned in, inhaling his expensive cologne. 

You had just taken two steps away from the car when thunder clapped and the sky rumbled ominously. Draco put a protective arm around you as if he could save you from the elements.

“Let’s get inside quickly, yeah?” You nodded wordlessly, trying to walk as fast as you could in heels. Despite his rush, he was patient enough to match your pace, placing you as his first priority even when the first drops of rain fell on your heads.

“Bloody storm,” he muttered. Before you knew it, the sky unleashed a torrential downpour, soaking you from head to toe. You gasped. Hours of hair and makeup was smeared off by Mother Nature in a matter of seconds.

You could sense the thoughts in Draco’s head: “how much would this cost me at the dry cleaners,” “this suit was made for balls and dinner parties, not mud and rain,” and “how dare the elements!”

Instead he looked at you, worried. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the disappointment in your eyes and the set of your jaw. You were doing your best to hold it together.

“Not the kind of ball I expected” he said, turning to face you, “but we’re here and there’s music around us. May I have this dance?”

You laughed at him, but when he didn’t join you, you blinked. He shrugged as if to say ‘why not?’

For the second time this evening, you took his hand and he spun you around. Water droplets traced your movements and he watched you in slow motion. It’s ridiculous how you still looked perfect despite everything. He was relieved to hear a small laugh escape you.

He wrapped his free arm around your waist and pulled you in, his other hand still firmly holding yours. You leaned in his shoulder, “sorry this didn’t work out the way you expected.”

He shook his head. “Whatever do you mean? I’m dancing with the most beautiful girl in the world. I’m still the luckiest man here tonight.”

Tom Riddle (established relationship, spicy but not smut)

Tom Riddle did not do parties. Yet he somehow found himself walking alongside you, accompanying you to one.

“I want to dance!” You declared.

“I’d rather die,” he muttered.

You laughed and took his hand, leading him outside the castle grounds.

“This isn’t the way to the party,” he observed.

“It’s a compromise, we’ll bring the party to us,” you grinned. He sighed in surrender.

“Hear that?” You asked, the faint party music audible from where you stood. You took his hand and started moving. “I’ll look less silly if you joined me?” You offered hopefully.

“Then we’ll both look silly,” he stated.

As if Mother Nature was on his side, rain fell from the sky unceremoniously. You were instantly soaked.

“Come on,” you insisted, still asking him to dance.

“You know I love you all wet and needy doll, but not like this,” he said, not budging from where he was.

“How about this?” You offered, lowering your voice. “After this, we’ll enjoy a nice hot bath together and then I can be wet and needy for you the way you like it.”

He closed his eyes and groaned, already picturing all the sinful things he would do to you. “Fine,” he growled, “you’ll be punished for this doll. I’ll make you regret it.”

You casually shrugged and smiled, “worth it. Now come on, the sooner we dance, the sooner you’ll have me just where you want me.”

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his lips to yours, his other arm snaked around your waist as he drew you in. Bodies flush together, you felt his hard length against you and you moaned against his lips.

He started moving you both slowly, the upbeat party music long forgotten. You let him lead, glad to have him dance with you in the rain.  

Despite everything he brought his lips to your ear and said in a low voice, moving his hands around your body. “I already have you where I need you.” That hot shower would have to wait.

Theodore Nott  (established relationship)

“As much as I’d love to get away from the party with you amore, it’s storming outside,” Theo said, stopping as you both neared the exit. 

“A little rain wouldn’t hurt,” you grinned and stepped outside, getting drenched within seconds. You welcomed the cold and lifted your head to the sky, raising your arms and spinning. You looked so carefree and it tugged something in Theo’s heart.

“Come back here, we can stay warm indoors,” he offered.

“Too late, join me!” You asked, running towards him. Instead your shoe slipped on the wet grass and you lost your balance. Theo’s eyes widened as he held his arms out as if he could catch you.

He saw you on the floor, shoulders shaking and he rushed towards you. When he neared you, he put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You looked at him, your laughter piercing through his concern and he breathed a sigh of relief. “If it brought you out here, it’s worth it,” you thought aloud as he helped you back up your feet again.

“Come on, someone’s got to keep me upright. Dance with me, caro,” you said, wrapping your arms around him.

“With no music?” He asked skeptically. He was not making this easy.

You looked at him, listening closely to the rumbling in the clouds. Any second now. Lightning struck and you raised your finger. On cue, you heard the crack of thunder. “There,” you said, taking a step back to hold his hands. You started spinning around again, taking him with you this time as you raised your head up the sky again.

You were so full of life, your energy so infectious, that Theo let the rain wash away his protests. He mirrored you and lifted his head up the sky, feeling the raindrops on his face. The things he did for love, he sighed inwardly as he smiled.

Blaise Zabini (established relationship, modern au)

You laughed as the first drops of rain fell. It was sweet relief after a sweltering afternoon at the festival. You raised your head up, welcoming the rain, and bopped your head side to side to the beat of the music. 

You looked to the side and saw your boyfriend, Blaise, already watching you. He was a man of few words, but his expressions and actions told you all you needed to know. It took forever to convince him to join you at a festival where it would be crowded, loud, and now muddy. But here he was, grinning at you.

Blaise held out his hand to take your phone and he tucked it safely in your tiny waterproof bag that he carried for you. You pecked a kiss on his cheek to thank him. He didn’t seem to mind the rain though you could tell he was trying hard not to be bothered by the cold and mud.

You grabbed his hand, waiting for the DJ to drop the beat. You mirrored his grin in anticipation, the bass building up slowly as the rain fell down heavily. Your heart thumped along the music’s beat, your body dancing along the rhythm, the crowd electric as the music built up to its crescendo.

You counted down with other festival-goers, breaths held: 3, 2, 1.

The beat dropped. You launched yourself in the air, bringing Blaise with you, chanting along with the crowd. Everyone else blurred as you kept your eyes on him, watching his eyes glow with excitement.

It may have been dark and stormy around you, but right in front of you, his smile was all the sunshine you needed.

A/N: Based on a super cute request I received! Original ask will not be published for a bit as there are multiple ideas in there I’d like to play around with.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

I have a little request if that’s alright😊

Could you possibly do a like fluffy aftercare fic with Rhys? Like I love the smut but sometimes that really fluffy aftercare with him checking in on you and making sure you are okay is even better. Him getting a bath ready and helping you clean up and him feeding you.

Basically what I’m trying to say is fluffy smut with fluffy aftercare is delicious lol

I absolutely love your Rhys fics!!! I’m DEVOURING Love and War and just your Rhys fics on general lol

I hope you’re taking care of yourself and have a great day sweetheart💜💜

I love requests! Send as many as you like! <3 Rhys doesn't get enough love so I've decided to roll up my sleeves and put out as many fics as possible and it makes me so happy to see other people enjoying them as much as me! I hope you like this one! <3

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Vacation Days

It's the crackling of logs in the fireplace that awakens you; the hiss of flames and the hint of pine that perfumes the air a gentle alarm clock that makes you roll over onto your side to peer out the window to see how early in the morning it is. The sky is still gray, though it could be the encroaching storm clouds that darken the sky and not the time.

You drag the heavy, fur lined blanket up over your head and bury your face in the pillow. Whatever the case, it's too early! And you're too comfortable to get up.

The bed dips beside you, blankets shifting as another body climbs into the mountain of furs needed to keep out the deep Illyrian chill. Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against a very bare, and very icy chest.

You give a little squeak of discomfort as your mate tosses a leg around your waist, effectively trapping you against his body.

"Rhhhhyyyyssssss," you whine, voice still thick with sleep.

He kisses the top of your head, hands soothing down your back, even as the deep baritone of his laugh rumbles through his chest. "Morning, love."

"No morning. Sleep." You grumble, burying your head in his tattooed chest and squeezing your eyes shut. "We're on vacation. I'm sleeping."

The hand on your back trails lower, until he can, teasingly, give your ass a squeeze. "I can think of a few other activities we could be doing in this bed for our vacation."

In the early morning haze, your shields are completely down, and he slips right into your mind with the ghost of a caress, filling your head with images of your running your tongue along his body, tracing tattoo and muscle as he guides you onto his lap, letting you ride him slowly, leisurely, taking your time until you're both a mess. You can taste the tang of salt from the sweat that clings to his bare skin, hear those soft, breathy moans you love to drag out of him as you roll your hips over his, taking him deeper into your tight heat. Despite your desperate attempts to cling to sleep, heat pools in your lower belly.

"Rhys," you warn.

His other hand slips beneath your nightgown, dragging sensual fingers along your spine as his lips drop to your shoulder and leave slow, deliberate kisses along your exposed flesh.

"I'm not doing anything," he lies, the image he crafts shifting to him rolling you onto your back, his head between your legs, tongue lapping against your center, warm and wet in contrast to the bruising grip his hands keep on your thighs.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight; you can practically feel him inside you already.

"You're a terrible liar," you retort. Especially when the proof of his own arousal is flush against your hips.

His teeth nip at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his own hips rocking just enough that he can claim it’s an accident, even though you know it's not. You've been mated long enough now, you know his tells, can practically taste how much he wants you, even if he’s clever enough to tamper down on it through the bond so it doesn't blast you with the strength of it. Sometimes it still shocks you, just how much he wants you. You'd thought it would fade over time, had kept yourself up at night early in your relationship, convinced that eventually the High Lord of the Night Court would get bored having a simple little healer for a mate, but every day he calms those fears and shows you just how much he loves and wants you.

You can't help the little sigh that escapes you when he gets his lips on your throat, head tilting back reflexively to give him more access. Though your mind knows what it wants, your body moves on instinct, melting in his grip. This is as natural as breathing. The proximity of his body is calming, soothing the irritation of being woken up, filling your body with warmth.

His lips trail over your throat, along the underside of your jaw, warm breath caressing your quickly flushing skin, as he trails over your chin. He fills your mind with more images: You on your stomach, body flush with the mattress as his lips trail up your spine, hands caressing your bare skin in heated touches; the two of you in the shower, bodies slick with soap, caged against the damp stones and his chest, hips rutting leisurely into each other. Each image is a little more intense than the last, the bond flickering with the need he's been trying to hold at bay until you were more awake and ready for it.

You slide your hands over his bare chest, feeling the thundering beat of his heart against your palms as his lips finally slot over yours. Though he is more than ready for you, there is a leisurely pace to his movements; he knows he has time, days even, to have you. You'd come up to Illyria for a long weekend, and the Inner Circle is under strict orders to not contact either of you until you've returned to Velaris. Things have been tense in the city lately, Rhys' office cluttered with all the paperwork necessary to rebuild after the War with Hybern. Your little clinic has been full to the brim for weeks and weeks. Both of you have spent the better part of three months only seeing each other in passing before exhaustion pulls you into bed with little more than a kiss goodnight. You feel that lack of intimacy in his movements, in the way his body moves against yours. There is an air of desperation, only quelled with the knowledge that he can take his time with you.

And you with him. Fully awake now, your senses on alert, you are painfully aware of the ache between your legs. It's been too long. Far too long without this sort of intimacy. Your hands slide up his chest and shoulders, trailing until you can card your fingers through his hair.

He moans against your lips as you scrape your nails against his scalp. "Tell me..." his voice is a ragged, desperate thing, lips brushing with every word like he can't bear to drag himself any further away from your body. "Tell me to stop and I will."

Sleep is distant memory now, though you no longer mind it like you did a few minutes ago. You adjust the placement of your hips and manage to roll him onto his back, hips flush, his erection heavy and hot between your legs. You give your hips a little roll as you brace yourself on your elbows, brushing your chest against his as you lean down to kiss him once more.

"I've been convinced to get up," you tease.

His hands eagerly grip your hips, urging you to grind down on him as his tongue slips behind your teeth. Your bond hums appreciatively at the contact, the months of stress and separation slipping away.

"Although, I hope this doesn't become a habit of yours, you know I need my beauty sleep."

He releases his grip on your hips just long enough to find the hem of your nightgown and push it up and over your shoulders, letting the silken fabric fall somewhere in the pile of blankets you'd disturbed. Deft fingers trace the swell of your breasts, tweaking over nipples pebbled in the cool cabin air, before skimming back down your stomach until he can once again hold your hips.

"How could you possibly get any more beautiful than you already are?" He says, violet eyes tracing every bare inch of you, narrowing in on the lone piece of clothing separating you from him.

You kiss him again, trying to hide the blush that dusts your cheeks. You know he can feel it through the bond, know he knows just how much little things like that mean to you.

"So perfect," he murmurs, chasing after you when you break the kiss. You'd think you had starved him of affection for years on end with the way he keeps coming back, body shifting and rocking beneath you. Soft, little moans leave his lips every time you grind yourself a little harder against his cock, still separate from you by the thin layer of his sleep pants and your violet colored panties. You hadn't been paying too much attention to them when you'd changed last night, but the color and the little bow along the waistband are fitting now.

You try to pull away to rid him of his pants, too many layers between you, but he keeps you locked in place with a grip on your hips that's tight enough to leave a bruise.

"Want you out of these pants," you insist.

A small wave of his fingers has both your clothes disappearing into a random pocket realm for the time being, leaving his hands free to position the tip of his weeping cock against your entrance.

The first drag of his tip through your folds makes your head lull back, mouth falling open as you moan unabashedly. It has been far, far too long since you've been able to enjoy him like this.

"Look at my pretty girl, all ready for my cock," Rhys croons. "What was that about being tired, love?"

"Don't remember," you mumble, hands splaying across his chest to brace yourself as he slides into you an inch at a time.

He grins victoriously. "I've missed this."

It's always a bit of a stretch, taking all of him, especially after so long without him, but despite the desperation that claws down the bond at you, he takes his time, letting you adjust.

"Me too," you say, voice a breathless rasp as you try to find your bearings again. He's everywhere, filling you up so thoroughly you forget why you had reservations at all. You should have spent the whole night with him inside you, making up for lost time.

He's barely sheathed inside you before you start rocking your hips, forgoing all patience and chasing the pleasure that has started to build at the base of your spine. It's too much and not enough. Everything you need and yet not quite within reach yet.

He tuts at your neediness, holding you in place with a chuckle. "What's the rush, Darling?"

You gently drag your nails over the plains of his chest. Later, once the bond is satiated a little more, you'll take your time and run your tongue over every swirl of his tattoos. Let the dark ink lead you steadily down between his legs so you can take his glorious cock down your throat, but right now... right now the last three months are obvious in every coiled muscle of your body. You need him to move, hard and fast; to fill you up until the absence no longer feels like such a gaping wound.

"Move, please, Rhys," you beg.

He temporarily lets go of your hips so he can prop himself up on his elbows and kiss you properly, hips shifting upwards, cock driving deeper into your aching core.

You use the freedom to roll your hips, savoring the slight burn as he stretches you out further, body adjusting to his size. It's all a delicious torture you'll come back to time and time again.

You're not going to last very long at this rate, but there's no stopping your body from slowing down, from trying to savor it. The bond knows you still have days left to be slow. When he pulls out of the kiss, your lips automatically drop to his neck, kissing and sucking as many marks into his skin as you can.

One of his hands soothes down your back as the other goes back to your hip, helping you follow the quick pace of his thrusts as he slides almost all the way out of you and then right back in.

"So perfect," he purrs as he hits the spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your natural reaction to the stimulation is to clamp your teeth down on his shoulder, and he lets out a groan that makes the coil in your belly even tighter. You love it when he's vocal for you, when he doesn't hold back the obvious sounds of his own enjoyment. Sometimes he gets too focused on your pleasure that he loses sight of his own.

Your bodies find a smooth rhythm, the headboard tapping the wall with the rocking motion of your bodies. The air filled with the sounds of your joining and the soft crackle of flames in the fire place. The flames cast your bodies in an orange halo, you trace the fractions of light across his bronze skin with your lips, just as his hands trace your skin.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, chanted and recited like worship as your bodies meet over and over again. Stars blur across your vision, maybe from your mate, maybe from the bond, it is hard to tell at this point. Not that it matters, as long as the heat coiled in the base of your spine continues to spread and fill you.

Rhys' hand slips between your legs, rubbing tight circles into your dripping heat. He hums appreciatively at the wetness that spills down your thighs, coating his cock in a milky rings as he slides in and out of you.

"'m'close," you murmur into his neck, where you've left a darkening bruise with your teeth. He looks so pretty all marked up by you.

His thrusts stutter at your words, losing the rhythm for a moment as you feel the muscles in his abdomen tighten against your pelvis. "Let go, I've got you," he assures, lips dusting over yours. He won't be far behind.

His fingers rub circles against your clit, drawing that blissful edge closer and closer with every pass. Your breath stutters out of you, hips rocking without rhythm, trying to chase the white hot pleasure that licks up your spine.

His own motions chase after yours, finding the rhythm again, hitting the perfect spot inside you once, twice, and a third before your orgasm crests and washes over you. The clenching of your core around his aching cock drives him into his own release, hips stuttering as he fills you with his own release.

Your bodies slow their movements as you collapse on top of his chest, sticky with sweat and your joint release. His heartbeat slows, becoming steady against your cheek as he catches his breath, hands soothing down your back.

"Did so good for me," he coos, lips pressing soft kisses against the top of your head.

You let your eyes drift shut as you catch your breath, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his body as you come down from your high. The bond finally quiets, content for now, and you stroke a mental hand down it, letting him know just how much he means to you through it.

Once you've both come down from your highs, he rolls you over onto your side so he can slide out of you, lips gently caressing yours when you wince from the over-stimulation. "I'll be right back."

Even though you believe it, it's still a loss, the lack of warmth obvious from the moment he leaves the bed to fill the tub with water. You need him back in your arms immediately and you will not be soothed until it is so.

Like he knows this, he's back quickly, but instead of sliding back under the covers, he lifts you up into his arms and carries you to the bathroom, where the tub is full of bubbles and sweet, jasmine scented oils. He doesn't even try to let go of you, especially not when you have your face buried in his neck, just steps into the tub and settles you comfortably in his lap in the delicious heat of the tub.

A sigh escapes your lips as the heat licks up your aching muscles, body relaxing as you close your eyes again. Rhys' hands sooth up your sides, drawing simple patterns into your skin as he rests his head atop yours.

"Are you all right, Darling?"

You let your own fingers trace the water droplets that adorn his tattooed chest, movements leisurely and slow. You can take your time now. "Perfect."

He leans back against the tub with a hum of approval. A flick of his wrist makes the lights dim and candles along the counter flair to life, bathing the room in a soft glow that feels like it's made to match the flicker of starlight you feel dancing around the bridge between your souls.

"I've missed you," you say as you tilt your head back to look at him.

Rhys presses a kiss to your temple as his magic brings a matching set of champagne glasses and bottle to sit along the edge of the tub. "We've spent too long apart," he agrees as a shadow of his power moves to pour the champagne for him. "Let's definitely not make a habit of it."

You take the glass despite the bubbles that drip from your hands and tap it against his in toast. "Agreed."

To go with your drink, a plate of fruits and pastries appears, the later still warm, a curl of steam slipping out the sides. You raise a brow at him. "Whose oven are you pulling these out of?"

He grins as he takes a grape off the plate and offers it to you. "Maybe I made them before you woke up."

The fruit bursts in your mouth, but even the pleasant flavor isn't enough to distract you. "Darling, you are many things, but a pastry chef is not one of them."

"Fair enough," he concedes, bringing a strawberry to your lips this time.

After months of tending to so many other people, it is nice to have someone taking care of you. Your muscles relax further against his body, letting the gentle lapping of the water soothe any residual discomfort as he feeds you.

"I thought about making you something I could cook, but I didn't want to leave you alone that long. We only have so much time before we have to go back."

You take a sip of your champagne and reach for a croissant with chocolate dripping from the sides, but he snags it first and brings it within reach of your mouth for you.

"Maybe we should extend our vacation," you don't like the heaviness you feel when he sighs, not when you finally have a moment to not think about it. "Just for another day or two?"

He steals a bite of your croissant as he thinks about it.

"Amren can handle things for one more day," you suggest as you drag your fingers between the plains of his chest. "We've earned a vacation and more than our fair share of rest."

He leans down to kiss you gently. "That you have, Darling."

"Both of us," you press. "Besides, I didn't get out of our comfy bed for nothing, I think we still have some catching up to do."

Stars glitter in his violet eyes as he takes his glass from the edge of the tub and taps it against yours in another toast. "Yes we do."

[abysstrap-ran]

❖ Piltover Winters (Jayce/Viktor Headcanons)

A/N: I realize I always come back to writing around xmas. Erm, anyway. Have you guys seen Savior Viktor??? Delicious. *I don’t actually know if it snows in PnZ but it’s December so let’s live a little.

❖ Viktor

If you're cold, chances are he's freezing too because of how cold he usually runs.

Will forget his scarf. Sometimes, in his work-induced haze, he also forgets that he's not dressed for the weather and walks out of the lab only to get blasted in the face by the sheer COLD, grumbling and sniffling as he retreats back inside. Hence, he appreciates the heater and the fireplace in his academy-funded apartment very much.

While he might not be the biggest fan of the winter chill, he’s amazed by snow since it never reaches the part of the Undercity where he grew up.

Give Viktor a cup of hot chocolate, and his eyes will light up. He won’t admit it, and very few know about it, but much like his love for sweetmilk, he is very much a fan of hot chocolate. However, he doesn’t opt for it too often because its sweetness will irritate his throat, so he takes it every once in a while. He’ll be in a good mood the whole day if he does get a cup, something that Jayce capitalizes on if only to see him smile.

This man can not get up in the mornings, preferring to burrow deeper into the blankets or closer to a heat source where it's warm and toasty. You’ll have to drag him out or coax him out with a cup of hot beverage.

His body does him no favors in this department. The ever-bearing cold makes his joints ache worse, so it’s safe to say that his leg does not like him very much.

Once he gets the back brace, the screws permanently etched onto his spine will hurt, especially in the deep of winter. He’s gotten used to it to a degree, but sometimes it renders him somewhat immobile. It is also hard to navigate through snow with a crutch. This is why you’ll almost never find him outside during the winter months, though that hasn’t changed much from the past. Even if he has to go outside for some godforsaken reason, he’ll make them short and snappy trips at best, or send Jayce, who would be more than happy to do so, in his place.

❖ Jayce

Snow is not his forte, considering how he nearly died in a blizzard as a child. But, it has grown on him slowly over time. Though, you won’t find him outside when the snowfall turns heavy.

He may not show it, but he loves the seasonal festivities. He fondly remembers hitting the attractions and festivals with Caitlyn back when they were both younger, and would sometimes do the same again, if only for the nostalgic factor.

The man of progress might be busy, but Jayce the present-giver works doubly hard. You may barely see him out of his lab, but he’ll make the time, sometimes out of thin air, to get everyone presents.

Coat? What is a coat? This guy’s a furnace, he’s fine (not really) but he will claim he’s fine if you ask. Will happily let anyone he's close to cling to him for his warmth, or laugh and give them his scarf so now they're like a two-scarf coat rack. Paints a rather funny picture to be bundled up in an abundance of scarves.

Probably has to participate in a lot of winter social events due to the council. Dutiful as he is, Jayce will attend those societal gatherings, but you bet he'd whine the next person's ear off by the time he's dragged to his mandatory 3rd dinner/gala or something similar along those lines. Sometimes, if he gets bored, he sneaks back to the lab when no one's noticing… until Heimerdinger pops up when he least expects it. “There's a time and place for innovation, my boy! But tonight's a night for the outdoors, don't you think?”

Will oftentimes be the first one up in the mornings because he knows he has a packed schedule and he'd better get up or else. When he doesn't get up due to it being a lazier day, he'll hog ALL the blankets, curling into a ball and going back for another snooze, much to your chagrin.

[littlest-w01f]

Birchin

"Gangbang" with:

Cazriel x Elsie (Oc) x Feysand

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Summary: Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel invite their mates over to the Berkin after their annual snowball fight

Cw: Gangbang, FxFxMxMxM, FxF, MxF, MxFxM, Smut 18+ MDNI

The night air was crisp and cold, the scent of pine wafting through the forest. The snow fell lightly, dusting everything in a soft blanket of white. Inside the cozy cabin, Feyre and Elsie sat by the crackling fireplace, their laughter filling the room, the Autum female making jokes that had the High Lady of Night doubling over in laughter. They were engrossed in their conversation, oblivious to the fact that their mates were listening in on their chit chat more than being busy soaking in their sweat.

Winter Solstice was always a blast for Feyre and Elsie, the two friends would spend their time making snowmales while their mates had their annual snowball fight, as the sun began to set on the longest night of the year, Feyre and Elsie bundled up in their warmest clothes and sat near the fire in the cabin.

As Feyre and Elsie chatted amiably by the fireplace, their mates lounged nude in the birchin adjacent to the cabin, sweat glistening on their muscular bodies as they recovered from yet another intense snowball fight session. Feyre and Elsie sipped hot cocoa, Elsie' cheeks flushed from the cold and the warmth of the crackling fire while Feyre's body was unbothered by the change in temperature.

"I swear, Rhys and Cassian almost killed each other out there," Feyre laughed, taking another sip of her hot cocoa, catching a marshmallows in her mouth. Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she glanced at Elsie, who let out a snort of laughter.

"Oh please, those two are always trying to one-up each other," Elsie replied with a grin, her firey locks cascading over her shoulders as she leaned back in her chair. "It's adorable, really. Especially when Az is the one who wins."

Feyre suddenly sat up, a smirk on her face, as she set her cup down, eyes glazing over, "We've been invited to the Birchin. Join our mates inside. If you want."

"Where they are naked and sweating...?" Elsie's breath caught in her throat. Elsie's gaze drifted towards the steam room's door, her mind filled with images of Azriel and Cassian’s muscled forms. A blush crept onto her cheeks, and she bit her lower lip, her heart pounding against her chest. She looked back at Feyre, her crimson eyes wide and curious. A few years ago, she would deny seeing another male than her mates naked, but now, the thoughts of watching Rhysand and Feyre brought a smile to her lips. "Sure." She said getting up, dusting off her swollen skirt of non-existent dust.

Elsie followed Feyre into the steam room, the heat enveloping them immediately. She could already hear the low murmurs coming from within, punctuated by hearty laughs and the occasional grunt. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw Rhysand lounging in a corner, his muscular body glistening with beads of sweat. His black hair was damp, clinging to his forehead, and his violet eyes gleamed with mischief as he noticed Feyre's entrance.

Cassian and Azriel, meanwhile, were sprawled out on a bench, legs spread wide, Azriel's head thrown back, Cassian's muscles rippling under his skin as he stretched. He flashed Elsie a wicked grin, his hazel eyes twinkling with desire. "Well, well," he drawled, "look what the cat dragged in."

Azriel's shadows covered his thighs and abs, and the part of him that Elsie craved the most. "No clothes inside, ladies." The shadowsinger growled, eyes going up and down his mate, wings stretching at the sight until Cassian whines he was taking too much space and tried to shove him off with his.

As the shadows enfolded Azriel's muscular frame, creating a tantalizing silhouette, Elsie's heart fluttered. Her eyes traveled down the curves of his sculpted torso, to the shadows that concealed the throbbing cock she knew all too well.

Her gaze then shifted to Rhysand, who lounged casually, yet exuded raw masculinity. His dark eyes glinted with lustful intent as he watched Feyre with a predatory hunger, the two talking in their minds. Cassian, on the other hand, was openly leering at Elsie, his broad chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

"As you say, my love." Elsie peeled off her clothes slowly, revealing inch after inch of creamy firey skin. Her curves strained against her lingerie, nipples visibly erect beneath the delicate fabric. With a sensual shrug, she let the garment drop.

Azriel's shadows seemed to pulse hungrily as he drank in the sight of his mate's nearly bare flesh. His breathing grew heavier, the anticipation building within him like a coiled spring ready to release its tension.

Meanwhile, Feyre had stripped down to nothing, her taut stomach and toned legs on full display. Rhysand licked his lips appreciatively, his large hands twitching with the urge to grab hold of her slender hips and pull her close.

Cassian groaned audibly as Elsie's lace hit him square in the face, holding the lingerie, inhaling her scent. "Is this naked enough for you?" The female murmered with a twirl.

The steam room was now filled with the intoxicating aroma of arousal, mingling with the scent of pine and wood smoke. Azriel's shadows danced around him, enhancing his aura of seduction. He watched Elsie with hungry eyes, his cock hardening beneath the protective veil of darkness.

"Come closer, High Lady..." Rhysand's hands found their way to Feyre's waist, pulling her onto his lap. His fingers traced the curves of her body, teasing the hardened peaks of her nipples before sliding down to cup her ass, biting down on her neck as she squealed.

Cassian rose from his seat, his towering height dwarfing Elsie. He pulled her against him, his strong arms wrapping around her body, wings caging her in before pushing Elsie into straddling Azriel's lap.

"So how are we doing this?" Cassian smirked, looking between the two duos, leaning into Elsie and Azriel. He knelt down, face buried in the dimples at the base of his mate's spine, electing a giggle from Elsie.

Elsie's gaze locked with Feyre's over their shoulders, both females feeling the heat of the moment, the unspoken promise of pleasure that lay ahead. Their eyes spoke volumes, filled with lust, admiration, and a hint of mischief.

Their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them - an unspoken permission and desire. Feyre's eyes, smouldering with need, raked over Elsie's curves, lingering on the swell of her breasts and the enticing dip of her waist where the shadowsinger's hands dug, right above where Cassian bit down on her.

Elsie returned the favour, her own crimson eyes drinking in the sight of Feyre's muscular form, her pert nipples standing at attention where Rhsyand's finger's kneaded them. A sultry smile played on Elsie's lips as she imagined running her tongue over the delicate buds.

The females shared a look, getting up and crossing the distance, Feyre and Elsie's mouths met in a passionate kiss, their tongues entwined in a sensual dance, and the atmosphere in the steam room reached a fever pitch as they felt each other up.

Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian watched with avid interest, albeit a little disappointment that their mates had left them, but it quickly resolved into need, their cocks stiff and leaking precum as they fantasized about joining the erotic spectacle unfolding before them. Azriel's shadows enveloped Elsie's body, caressing every curve as Feyre kissed her deeply.

Azriel's shadows wrapped around both females, stroking their sensitive skin as if alive. They slid across Elsie's breasts, teasing her nipples until they were stiff peaks. Meanwhile, her mouth claimed Feyre's, kissing her passionately while her hands roamed her toned physique.

The shadows continued their sensual assault, trailing down to Elsie's hips and thighs, making her gasp into Feyre's mouth. She moaned softly, the vibrations travelling through Feyre's body, adding to the sensations coursing through her.

Feyre's hands explored Elsie's back, slipping down to squeeze her firm ass, drawing her closer. Her own breasts pressed against Elsie's, the hardened nipples rubbing deliciously. The steam room was filled with the sounds of wet kisses and ragged breaths, the air thick with lust.

Feyre pushed Elsie to Rhysand. With a mischievous grin, Rhysand took Elsie in his arms, his hands gripping her thighs open firmly. His cock, rock-hard and throbbing, pressed against her slick folds, teasing her entrance.

"Mmm... I've been waiting for this." Rhysand whispered huskily, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down Elsie's spine. His cock teased at her entrance, rubbing along her slit, coating itself with her juices. He groaned loudly, his eyes rolling back momentarily in ecstasy.

Feyre knelt in front of her mate and friend, leaning in to lick over her cunt and his cock

Feyre's tongue swirled around Rhysand's cock, lapping at the pre-cum oozing from the tip. She took him into her hot mouth, sucking gently as she pulled off to suck Elsie's clit, sealing it between her lips.

Rhysand grunted, his grip on Elsie's ass tightening as he thrust shallowly into her slick heat, loving the way her body heat up. "Fuck, you're so wet already," He growled, nipping at her earlobe.

"Fey- Mmm... Fuck." The shadows continued their ministrations on Elsie, caressing every inch of exposed skin, adding to the overwhelming sensation. Cassian and Azriel watched with lust-filled eyes, their own cocks straining for release as they took in the erotic sight before them of their High Lord and Lady ravishing their mate.

Feyre lavished attention on both Elsie and Rhysand, alternating between long, languid strokes of her tongue along his length and quick flicks over Elsie’s swollen clit, She pulled off, grabbing Rhysand's cock to stroke it a few times before she pressed his cock against Elsie's cunt. "You ready?"

"Yeah..." Elsie moaned wantonly as Rhysand's hard cock nudged against her soaked entrance. Her hips bucked instinctively, seeking more friction. Feyre's hand pumped Rhysand's cock, smearing Elsie's juices along the thick length.

With a wicked grin, Feyre positioned Rhysand at Elsie's opening once more. "Do it," She urged, her eyes meeting the violet of her mate, her voice dripping with desire. "Fuck their mate." Her words caused Cassian and Azriel's breaths to hitch.

Rhysand needed no further encouragement. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt inside Elsie's tight channel. "Ahhh fuck! So goddamn tight!" He groaned, savoring the feel of her velvety walls squeezing his aching cock.

"Please..." Elsie whispered, nails digging into Rhysand's powerful thighs to have some semblance of control, Azriel's shadows stroking her clit to help accommodate Rhysand. He gripped her hips tightly, hands gentle as he pulled her off a couple inches to slam her back down. Elsie cried out, her head thrown back in pleasure as she felt herself being filled completely by Rhysand's cock.

The steam room echoed with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, the symphony of moans and sighs filling the air. Rhysand began to move within Elsie, his hips snapping up, retreating, then plunging deeper still. Each thrust hit her sweet spot, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her body.

Azriel's shadows roved over Elsie's curves, tracing the outline of her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and continued their relentless stimulation of her clit. Every touch, every movement, was designed to push Elsie closer to the edge of climax.

Cassian pulled Feyre towards himself, Cassian's hands roamed Feyre's body possessively, squeezing her breasts roughly as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, claiming her thoroughly. Feyre moaned into the kiss, grinding her hips against his straining cock.

The room echoed with the symphony of moans, grunts, and the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh. The air was thick with the musky scent of sex, fueling the insatiable hunger of the five lovers lost in their own worlds of pleasure.

Elsie watched as Azriel pulled Feyre closer by her hair, Feyre's eyes wide at his girthy size, not a shadow on him as they all paid attention to his mate. Rhysand wrapped his arms around Elsie, pressed his head in her hair, inhaling her scent, "We're gonna watch them, ok, princess?"

Cassian trailed his mouth down her neck, planting wet kisses along her pulse point. His hands squeezed her breasts, kneading and tugging at her nipples.

The erotic sight made Elsie's cunt clench around Rhysand's cock. She ground her hips back against him, a silent plea urging him to move. Rhysand obliged, grabbing her hips, and making her ride him.

Feyre looked over at Elsie and Rhysand, seeing the way Rhysand's cock disappeared into Elsie's tight hole, feeling Cassian's cock throb against her own. A whimper escaped her lips, her own arousal building at the thought of watching them all lose control.

With a growl of approval, Azriel allowed Feyre to take his cock into her mouth, her warm tongue swirling around the tip before taking more of him inside. The sight of Feyre sucking him off sent waves of pleasure coursing through Azriel's veins, his shadows intensifying their touch on Elsie's sensitive body.

"Oh Mother-" As Elsie reached her climax, her cunt clenched tightly around Rhysand's cock. Rhysand's thrusts became erratic, his cock pulsating inside her as he chased his own orgasm.

Cassian's cock throbbed inside Feyre's tight cunt, hitting her sweet spot relentlessly. The steam room was now a hotbed of raw carnal energy. Every movement, and every sound amplified the intensity of the moment. Rhysand's cock throbbed inside Elsie.

Watching his mate pleasuring another male stoked Rhysand's arousal further. He thrust into Elsie with renewed vigour, each stroke hitting deeper, his cock rubbing deep against her walls. "Fuck… you're so good," He groaned, his hand moving to pinch and twist one of Elsie's nipples.

"Rhys..." Elsie's eyes crossed, shadows not leaving her as Rhys fucked her through her release.

Cassian could feel Feyre trembling beneath him, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around his cock. He knew she was close, hell, he could barely hold back himself after witnessing Elsie and Rhysand. Gripping Feyre's thighs tightly, he pistoned his hips faster, driving into her cunt with ruthless abandon.

"Yes! Yes! Don't stop!" Feyre wailed, her cries muffled by Azriel's cock thrusting in and out of her mouth. Tears streamed down her face, but there was no pain, only exquisite bliss.

Cassian pounded into Feyre harder and faster, his balls slapping against her clit. He groaned loudly, feeling his orgasm building rapidly. The sight of Rhysand fucking Elsie, coupled with Feyre's tight, warm cunt clenching around his cock was too much for him to bear.

Rhysand watched intently as Cassian pounded into Feyre, her gagging on Azriel's cock, his own orgasm teetering on the edge. Seeing his best friends claim Feyre so fiercely spurred him on, and he increased his pace, driving his throbbing cock even deeper into Elsie's welcoming heat.

Every touch, every movement, was designed to prolong their female's pleasure, Cassian's thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on Feyre's thighs tightening like a vice. He let out a guttural groan as he felt his climax approaching, his cock twitching inside her.

Feeling Cassian's cock spasming inside her, Feyre knew he was close. She sucked on Azriel's cock harder, her mouth watering from the effort. With a final pull, she took him all the way to the base, her throat constricting around him as she swallowed and gagged on every inch of his length.

Elsie clamped down on Rhysand's cock in pleasure as she watched her mates take her friend. Rhysand groaned from the grip of her cunt on her cock, as Rhysand spilt his hot seed inside Elsie, she cried out in pleasure, her walls clamping down on him rhythmically.

The scents of their mixed release triggered Feyre's own climax, her cunt clenching around Cassian's cock as she came hard, eyes rolling back. Her throat worked around Azriel's cock, bringing him closer to his.

Cassian let out a primal roar as he exploded inside Feyre, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his release. The sensation of Feyre's cunt spasming around him, combined with the erotic sight of her swallowing Azriel whole, pushed him over the edge.

Azriel's scared fingers dug into Feyre's scalp as he too found his release, almost silent grunts leaving his lips, his cock erupting in her mouth. She tried to drink down every drop of his essence, her body trembling with the force of her own climax.

As the last waves of pleasure washed over them, the five collapsed onto the heated benches, panting heavily. Their skin glistened with sweat, hearts raced.

Feyre lay sprawled across Cassian and Azriel, a contented smile on her face. "That was… incredible," she murmured, her voice hoarse from her earlier cries of ecstasy.

Elsie curled up beside Rhysand, her head resting on his shoulder. She could feel his cum leaking out of her cunt, the sensation sending a shiver down her spine. "I never knew watching others could be so..." She glanced between Feyre and Rhysand with a shy smile, a blush forming on her cheeks as Azriel's shadows soothed her skin.

As they recovered, their breathing slowly steadying, Feyre gently detached herself from Cassian and Azriel. She crawled over to join Elsie and Rhysand, her movements languid and sensual. Sitting down across Elsie's lap, the female's arms around her waist, she rested her head on Elsie's shoulder, looking up at her with a smile. "Watching you both… It was really hot."

I'm so tired... I don't know how you take them both every day. Feyre's voice rang in her head and she stifled a giggle.

Don't let them hear you say that. Elsie replied back, as Elsie leaned down to meet Feyre's lips with hers, she tasted their mingled sweat and desire. Their tongues danced together in a slow, passionate dance. They kissed deeply, hungrily, savouring the taste of each other mixed with the remnants of their partners' essences.

{General taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings}

{Acotar kinktober taglist: @romanticatheartt}

{Rhysand taglist- @yeonalie}

{Cassian taglist- @yeonalie @nestastits}

{Azriel taglist- @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch @satorusemepls @fieldofdaisiies}

[estellardreams]

[Demon King Red belongs to @purble-turble] (Once again I will lore dump)

Considering the circumstances of the Charcoal Bone King AU, it's MK and Macaque who got it the worst.

MK was swiftly recaptured by a sudden and direct attack by the king himself, and with LBD's new powers combined with King Red's extreme drive and obsessive, no one was prepared. But they did try to stop him.

... Nearly getting frozen to death and the noodle shop decimated in the aftermath did not sit well with anyone. And with the ice and fires rapidly spreading, they were forced to abandon Megapolis and flee.

The ice prison MK got locked in was so frigid that he lost feeling in his hands, feet, and face rapidly, constantly shivering in the cold. With the circlet and new ice cuffs/boots, he was practically trapped in the room unless CBK released him momentarily to bond with him.

Meanwhile Macaque has been consistently losing power due to CBK needing to get stronger, taking away chunks of his energy (therefore dropping his glamour) and using it for his own benefit. Not to mention LBD's ice taking over half of his body, icing over half of his face, one side of his six ears, arm, leg, and small shards on his hip. He's also freezing cold, which isn't doing well on top of his burn marks from CBK lashing out at him.

Surprisingly for these two, Macaque was actually the one to use the last of his strength to teleport himself and MK out of the fortress, moving as far as he possibly could through the shadows. He promptly collapsed right on top of Flower Fruit Mountain... Where the Monkie Kids were temporarily hiding out.

Everyone was genuinely so relieved to have MK back, but the poor boy needed so many blankets, hot food, and a fireplace. He couldn't stop shivering until two weeks after his rescue, that's how cold he was.

Macaque eventually got the ice broken off of him as well, knowing full well how much trouble he was probably in with everyone else. Though, it was MK who stepped in and tried to get everyone to help Macaque due to him rescuing MK, and knowing full well that Macaque probably suffered way worse than him at the hands of CBK.

Cue a potential Macaque redemption arc-

... Okay but on the topic of the samadhi fire what if this got combined with a Samadhi Fire Wukong AU/concept? There should be more of those. And it would be super interesting to watch play out, especially considering Red isn't there to teach him (for obvious reasons) meaning MEI is the one who steps in to tutor him on his new fire.

MK eventually asks to get blasted by the samadhi fire to keep warm but we don't talk about that /j

[fandomnerd9602]

Our First Thanksgiving

Bambi!Wanda x Reader

Gif belongs to @abimess

You couldn’t believe it. Halloween was a blast for you and your doe hybrid mate Wanda Maximoff. You and her had enter the ‘seasons of firsts’ as you would call it.

Thanksgiving was just on the horizon. Another first holiday for your doe and you. Honestly you loved having these firsts with her. It was like new experiences to share together, to feel the joy and elation that it allows was incomparable.

Your doe had traded her jean shorts for a comfy pair of PJ pants that she wore around the house. Her little deer tail popped out the back of the pants, in truth, it gave you another reason to stare at her perfect form.

One night, about two weeks before Thanksgiving, your mate in question came running into the living room and jumped onto the couch and into your lap.

“So what are we gonna do?” She asked, her doe tail wiggling with anticipation.

“About?” You asked her right back.

“Thanksgiving!” She exclaimed. “My family never celebrated it, you know being from Sokovia and all”

“Well it’s a feast,” you replied, “a time where we gather together and share what we’ve been thankful for over the year”

“She nuzzles you, her antlers fitting just over your head, “I think you know what I’m thankful for, my buck”

You kiss her nose in response. “I promise I’m gonna make this Thanksgiving a memorable one for you, my doe”

She giggles, “I know you will”

You had no idea where to even begin. Your mind races with ideas both good and bad as you walk down the hallways of the sanctuary.

“Hey boss,” Natasha said with a smirk, “need fuel? Your brain looks like it’s running on fumes”

Natasha, your ever loyal wolf hybrid pal guides you into the break room and pours you some coffee.

“So what’s on your mind?” She asks as she gives you coffee.

“Thanksgiving. I wanna make it special for Wanda.” You explain.

“My advice…make a few vegan dishes. She’s probably not gonna want direct turkey.” Natasha explains. “But prepare a small one for me, hey I’m a carnivore after all”

“Just inviting yourself huh?” You ask with a chuckle and a smirk.

“Am I not invited?” Natasha offers a mocking offense. “I’m your buddy, your pal!”

“Of course you’re invited Nat,” you smile at her, “you’re like my sister. Closest thing I had to a family for a long time, Yelena too”

Natasha smiles, her wolf tail wagging a little. “Make some turkey tofu for the future wife, some cranberry sauce, stuffing and a green bean casserole, you’ll be good”

“Future wife?” You look at her a little confused.

“Hey just calls it as I see it. I hear wedding bells for you and your doe in your future” Natasha laughs.

You couldn’t help but blush. You heard those same wedding bells too.

Thanksgiving had arrived. You worked on both the turkey tofu for Wanda and the regular turkey for your wolf hybrid pals. Natasha borough the green bean casserole. Yelena brought the cranberry sauce, joking that she got into several scuffles for it.

Tony handled thanksgiving dinner for the sanctuary. Doctor Strange led the festivities in your place.

You, Wanda, Natasha, and Yelena held a small intimate dinner at your apartment. You had a nice fireplace loop playing on your tv. Wanda and Yelena found themselves watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while you and Natasha worked the kitchen. Eventually, everyone took their place at your small dining table.

Wanda sat next to you, holding your hand under the table. The dinner was nice and simple, conversations faded into something jovial. The wolves couldn’t help but embarrass you by telling Wanda all about your life before her.

Wanda couldn’t help but feel blessed. She had a small family there with her. She had two wolf sisters and the love of her life.

Little did she realize how quickly that little thanksgiving dinner set up would grow over time. Eventually Natasha had to bring a bigger fold out table.

Your first thanksgiving as a couple was also your first one as a family. And as far as Wanda could see, it was just perfect.

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @scarletquake-n7 @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @aloneodi @olsenmyolsen @russianredassassin @revanshand @texaswolf23 @multi-fandom-enjoyer @moonlit-imagines

[babybatss-blog]

ALONE

Sam (stardew) x f!reader, 3300 words

summary: maybe it’s a bad idea to get high with your childhood crush, but here you are, crying and praying you didn’t feel the way you did.

a/n: okay this is way angstier than I intended it to be! It ends up being quite sweet, but the beginning is honestly depressing. Bare with it my friends, cause I’m really proud of this one!!!

cw: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! childhood friends to lovers, smoking and getting high on weed. Mentions of family members passing and reader is struggling with intense grief. Swearing, kissing, making out, 69ing, ejaculation and both f and m orgasms. Slight religious comparisons.

No one would expect what would happen tonight, not even you, who has been friends with Sam since birth. Your parents raised you together along with Sebastian and Abigail to always be by each other’s side, exploring your grandparents farm or causing trouble in the town square. But in the back of your head, you always had some strange, borderline inappropriate crush on Sam. Just a simple smile would make your heart flutter, and you spent many late nights crying over some new girlfriend he had for at most a week at your school. But it was wrong. You told yourself that a million times. He was like a brother, not anything more or anything less.

You find yourself at his on a Friday night, hair sprawled on his sheets and skin concealed by a skimpy top and shorts; far too risqué for a day out on the farm. You wore it just for Sam, hoping that it could indulge you in some fantasies you have long dreamt about. It was idiotic to think that anything could happen, but your high brain after smoking a joint together caused some delusional thoughts of childhood escapades to return.

What if something could finally happen between you? No, you can’t think that about one of your best friends. Fucking fool.

You couldn’t blame yourself though, as Sam invited you to have a sleepover at his after a night in the saloon. Since you inherited your Grandparents farm and moved back into your childhood home, it’s been difficult spending a single night there. No matter how much wood is in the fireplace or the volume of music you blast, you can’t escape the cold quietness that comes with that tiny cabin. You miss the times where the farmhouse was always bustling with community members and smelling of homecooked meals, wondering what the world looked like outside of your small town with outstanding naïve. At least you still have your friends, who will be there for you no matter what. You feel those same feelings arise when you’re with Sam though, watching him play his guitar while smoke billows out of your mouth picturesquely. His light blonde hair falls messily over his face, the freckles peaking out like splatters on a canvas. If you were to paint him, you could easily portray every detail, flaw and all. He’s perfect you think, wondering what his lips would taste like on yours.

He abruptly stops the song, sticking his hand out to you. “give me a puff.” You huff at him, handing it over. You can’t help the way your thighs clench when your fingers brush, and somehow you feel as if he is the same, as his eyes linger for a second too long on yours, pink lips enveloping the joint and taking a long breath.

Theres no way he feels the same, don’t be an idiot.

The room reeks of marijuana, something that you know Jodi would kill you for. She was always stressed out of her mind with the two of you, getting into trouble and causing a ruckus. And you feel like that same teenager all over again, doing something your parents would never approve of in a precariously hid secret.

They did know the truth though, and let it happen. You kept him safe, and he kept you sane. A symbiotic relationship. Jodi mostly thought her son was reckless. Unpredictable. Unadulterated. But around you, he became a man, ready to protect and be protected. On nights like this where you have no energy to fight the visions racing in your mind, he would be there, playing your favourite songs on his guitar and staying up to make sure your nightmares don’t get too tense.

As you battle with your subconsciousness to fight the intense guilt eating away at you for such childish caprices, tears start to leak out of your eyes. Sam immediately notices, snuffing out the joint and placing his guitar down. “No… What’s wrong?” He sits by you on the bed, hand brushing some hair out of your eyes. He immediately regrets it, pulling his hand away. This makes you cry even more.

He doesn’t even want to touch you, you’re insane for even considering he liked you back. 

Sam reluctantly shuffles down to lie on his side next to you, face opposite yours. You feel his eyes staring at you, but don’t dare to move. If you do, he might ask what’s wrong. What are you supposed to say? I’m crying because I’m so grateful you are here for me and all I want is to love you like you deserve but it will never be?

The two of you lie like this for at least an hour, frozen like statues, minds running wild. But at least your tears have dried, so you can turn to him and feed into impulses without looking like some hideous beast.

“There she is.” He smiles, crow’s feet appearing by his eyes. “Don’t do that Sam.” You plead, pain striking your chest at how his innocent worlds blush your cheeks. Unaware, he grins, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down. He straddles you, breath tickling your forehead as he peers over your shocked frame. To any other individual this is inherently sexual, but not to Sam. He starts air punching your face, eliciting a giggle to erupt from your throat. You push him off, and an all-familiar wrestling match ensues. You leap and he twists, you scream and he laughs. This is something you would do with your friends all the time previously, and it feels ever so natural to do it again after all these years. The two of you intertwine like gloves, dodging each other’s clumsy attacks and laughing like wild parrots. But you’re not the same little kids anymore, so you get tired quicker than you used to and the only sounds soon heard are your breaths amalgamating as you gasp for air when you stop, slightly embarrassed by your unfit states. Maybe it’s the smoke that caused your lungs to be this way, or the fact that you’re getting older. More likely, it’s the how close your faces are to each other, him once again on top of you, now pinning your hands up above your head as your core selfishly soils.

It's pathetic honestly, how malleable you are around him. After all these years you believed you could come back to Pelican town as a new person, capable of taking care of yourself after seeing the world. You thought you would be some mature, sexy woman standing in front of him, having her own escapades and somehow showing this clueless man your better than him. But that isn’t reality. When you saw him again, your eyes were puffy from grieving the dead, your hair matted and body frumpy in it’s baggy clothes, and not at all appearing confident or self-assured. What’s worse, you’re still a virgin. That may seem unimportant to the average person, but you always held yourself out in hopes for Sam. So the real world gave you an opportunity to let go of those immature ties, breaking free from what held you back.

None of that matters now, when he says the most unexpected thing you could think of, like a man out of your dreams. His words come out anxious and light, as if he didn’t even expect them himself.

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod, unable to get the words out. Because if you did, it may not be true. Nonetheless he leans down, pausing mere millimetres away from you. It’s tantalising, but your scared, so you don’t argue with it. This is something you have imagined for years, and it could finally happen. Your lips connect as he brings himself the final way down, a groan leaving his mouth in pleasure. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you already are, but he doesn’t seem to care as one arm slides down to your waist. Not a moment to goes by before his tongue slips between your shaking lips, raking along your teeth and intertwining with yours, saliva tasting earthy just like the cannabis you consumed. The shared kiss is inexperienced, wild and erratic, as if the two of you have been waiting for this moment for years. And you have.

Your hands take the moment to explore every inch of skin you’ve never been able to touch, his back rippling like waves and his chest heaving like a hungry shark. Even those warm eyes stare right at you like the deep blue when you pull away, both unsure of where to go from here.

“What are we doing Sam?” You ask, maintaining the tiniest sliver of mature so you can understand where his head is at. If he were to ask you the same thing, you would say you are doing what’s exactly right. Finally giving into love, surrendering to what you deserve and living as solely each other’s until your dying days. This is it, the first and final time you need to expose yourself. Because this should be your forever, as insane as it sounds.

“I don’t know.” He admits, in a statement far from what you want to hear. “But I’ve wanted this for a long time. So lets see how this goes.” He leans back down after saying this, pure passion drenching his kiss as he practically suffocated you. Your body takes over autopilot after his words, kissing him back while processing what he just said.

He wanted this for a long time? Does that mean he feels the same way? This can’t be real.

The realisation invigorates you, a side coming out nobody has ever had the fortune to experience. You flip him over to be on top, lips barely leaving his for a second as you explore his mouth in turn. His hard on now touches you, and you desperately try to conceal your moan as you realise what you’ve done to him. But you’re exactly the same, every and any bit of friction vibrating within you. You need it. You need him to do whatever he wants, to show you whatever you don’t know and finally leave those secrets only left for lovers behind. You start to roll your hips into his, the two of you making obscene noises as you struggle to keep your kissing going. His fingers dig into your ass, hands trembling at the lewdity the two of you have never experienced before. But you don’t know this yet, and neither does he. You need to break the news sooner or later.

“I need you” You concede, grinding into him with shaky breaths. Understanding the sentiment perfectly, he pushes you away lightly, the two of you now sitting together completely dishevelled but enraptured. “Me too. But I’m… A virgin.”

It’s almost as if your brain blocks out his words due to sheer disbelief, because you just sit there in silence, waiting for him to say something. Just as the prospect of innocence embarrasses you, it seems to also affect him, as his face turns a shade of bright red as he nervously rubs his palm up and down his leg. “Is that weird? Cause like, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want. I know some girls get grossed out by that and I-“ “Wait what?” You genuinely ask, ignoring his previous sentiment that brought you to this moment. “I-I’m a virgin.” He repeats, eyes bewilderly looking into yours.

“Oh.” You stutter, the exclamation coming out more judgy than you meant it to. Because you never expected this handsome man opposite you to be the same as you in this regard. In your head, he’s had hundreds of experiences like this one, girls basically lining up at his door for just one touch. But he’s just as awkward as you, head about to explode in hopes you still want him just the way he is.

“Me too Sam.” You smile, an invisible barrier of worry breaking instantaneously as the two of you realise you are in the same boat. You lean forward to be on all fours to kiss him, his hand flying up to stabilise you at the jaw as you kiss, much more soft and caring than before. You pull his top up over his head, toned abs rubbing up against your stomach as your heat melds into each other. The two of you feel safe like this, alone in the four walls of his room exploring fantasies you have long thought could never be true. You know it’s true though when your hand brushes against his crotch, feeling how incredibly hard he is and the shivers he elicits after such a soft touch. Pulling away, you look in his eyes to see the daze you have placed him in. “Shall I?”

He nods frantically, and you sit back, pulling his pants and underwear down. His length springs out, precum dribbling slowly down the shaft as it hits his abs. It’s everything you ever dreamed of, throbbing and sore for your touch, as he craves the same thing as you. You spit into your hand and rub them together, before slowly going down the shaft as he moans. Although you would hate to admit it, you’re a tease, moving agonisingly slow as your hands twist and bob. Sam is acting as if you’re going as fast as humanly possible though, his head falling back and hand covering his mouth, attempting to not call out every swear word in the book.

Despite this, your determined to show him what he’s missed out on by never doing this earlier, so you lean down to swirl his tip on your tongue. He practically screams, and you need to pull away to shush him. “Shh, your mum and Vincent are in the house.” He wines, a frail hand grabbing your head and rubbing it possessively. “Please…” He mutters, almost a shell of his former self.

You obediently go back down, hot mouth enveloping his foreskin completely as he bites down on his hand to remain silent. It’s a surprise Sam doesn’t draw blood, because it takes everything in him not to call out your name at the way you envelop him. Your throat takes his member nearly completely as you push further down, eyes filling with tears as you battle against your gag reflex. His length hits the back of your throat soon thereafter, and you begin to pull back and forth, sucking as he shakes beneath you, his musk intoxicating. It doesn’t take long for him to push your spit soaked face away, looking down at you like he just had a religious experience. “Want to sit on my face?” He manages after a bit, and you don’t even bother to respond as you unbutton and pull your shorts and underwear off, revealing your soaked, sensitive cunt to him.

It's just what he dreamed of. Delicate and weak, absolutely begging for his touch. He leans forward to take your shirt and bra off, nipples hard in the air but soon softened as his hands hold them tight. He massages them, dazed vision staring at how they move in his influence. You stop him, pulling his hands away as fast as they came and pushing him to lie down in front of you as you crawl over. His hands hold your squishy thighs as you slowly sink down in a reverse cowgirl position onto his hungry face, and when as you’re close enough, Sam greedily laps up your juices, tasting the sweet nectar he so desperately wanted. Your back arches, groaning at how he satisfies your throbbing with eagerness you didn’t even know was possible. Although you know he is enjoying your squirming at his every move almost as much as you are, you cannot help but lean back down to his cock and envelop it once more.

The two of you suck at each other’s soft spots, desperate in both pleasuring and being pleasured as slopping noises are all that is heard. It’s hard for you not to stop what you are doing as his tongue quickly swirls your clit, threatening your internal explosion but the need to give him as much love as your getting takes over you, throat completely filled with his scent. Sam begins shaking, symbolising his climax taking over as he struggles to keep up his pace within you. “Let go.” You mumble as you pull away, before diving back in. As your mouth does it’s job so does your hands, Twisting and squeezing at the base until he cums right into your mouth. The warm, salty liquid shoots down your throat like a waterfall, Sam’s overstimulated body going completely weak as you take his load. Some of it clings to your lips when you pull away, but you wipe it off, getting to move off his face to give him a rest.

Clearly Sam doesn’t need it though, energy almost as high as his brain when he pulls you back down. “Beautiful girl.” He mumbles, kissing your folds over and over again. You readjust to be right on top of him this time, sinking down and rolling your hips. Your stomach tightens at the sensation, moaning as quiet as possible at how his tongue massages your clit. As he does so, his nose threatens to breach your entrance, wet juices leaking out from within.

“Oh Sam…” You moan, sensations being overridden by complete pleasure. The way his mouth rolls up and down you is like heaven, causing your vision to blur and your mind to go blank.

Sam doesn’t stop there though. Despite how close you are already, he is determined to treat you just how he dreamed it would be. His long pointer and middle finger slide into you, stretching your hole in a way you have never felt. Unexpected, but flawless. A moan comes out of your mouth much louder than you expected, head dropping down and your hands catching yourself before you fall on his toned abs. Your hips grind back and forth on him, as his hands and mouth move as fast as possible.

And that’s when it happens. Your first, true, all-encompassing orgasm. It takes over your body like a possession, sensitivity rising higher like never before. You practically slap your mouth with your hand in order to not alert the whole neighbourhood to what the two of you are doing, but the rocking of the bed as you thrust across his mouth may as well give it away. As it takes over you fully you collapse, quickly rolling off of him to lie at the foot of the bed. This overwhelming feeling is everything you missed out on, and to experience it with the man taking over your dreams for years is a paradise. Your mind runs itself in circles at this euphoric fact, exploring every possibility of the future you may have as he crawls over to you, arms enveloping your naked body. “Thank you.” He mutters, kissing your jaw.

Within his arms you feel safe, like everything is right and how it should be. You turn to kiss him back, tongue circling each other and tasting yourselves like you never have before.

Neither of you know where to go from here, or what the other is thinking, but one thing is certain. You wouldn’t complain if the rest of your life was spent like this.

[peachyfnaf]

Hello chatters. currently 8:30 in the morning, and I've been seeing a lot of Sun love going around (based btw) which reminded me that even though I don't yap about him nearly as much as I do Nexus, Sun was also given such a short end of the stick when it came to this arc.

I don't care for Monty, but I do love Puppet, but the way they both pressured Sun into choosing what to do with Nexus (New Moon at the time)??? that shit is so fucked. and yeah, because I am who I am (a Nexus apologist lol), I was mad and hurt when Sun was unable to tell them to not kill him. but unfortunately that tracks for him.

Sun's trauma response is, most of the time, to freeze. he's done it before when confronted by past Eclipse's, Bloodmoon's- if you're willing to use other dimensions as examples, Servant Sun quite literally froze and surrendered with his hands in the air out of fear when Old Moon first met him.

So, he did it again. he was put in a terrifying situation, and he froze. which led to Nexus freezing in space too amiright ahahahahhhhh

So, shit was already fucked for him at this point. because not only did he lose a close family friend (Solar), tried to help the other 3 through their grief and prioritizing their feelings over his own because he was- objectively- the least close with Solar, lose his brother to madness (which we now know there was like 10x more to that then just 'grief' makin' him act as he did. y'know. glares at Dark Sun and NSP), could basically do NOTHING as Earth was kidnapped by Ruin/Bloodmoon, and Nexus was blasted into space by Puppet.

And even though that was the end of that main arc, dude CONTINUED TO BE HANDED L'S AFTERWARDS. Old Moon being brought back by Monty (Monty.. >:[) without Sun even being asked about it first, Sun not being given the chance to properly heal from/mourn Nexus because O.M was now there, he filled his role, and O.M does not like Nexus. (chatters, I'm gonna warn you, ever since he came back, I've been an Old Moon hater. do not like that guy.) anD THEN EVERYTHING WITH DAZZLE/EVELYN??? july 16th of this year was like a very high peak in what's, to me, a very low-on-the-chart arc, but THAT DOESN'T MEAN SUN WAS OKAY DURING IT JFCCC. the TRAUMA he was reliving during that time HURTED

And even where he is now- he got his magic back, yuippee yayyy!!!

Because of it it seems like he's now intrinsically intertwined with NSP, and multiple people want to use him as a goddamn radar to find Wither Shards now. one of those people literally being The Creator, yaknow, like the stories Biggest Bad???

And another, "oooh, yaknow, that happeneddd, ahahahahhh.." was The Creator psychologically torturing him in one of the darkest SAMS eps' to date because of it.

AND. And, finally, the most recent episode that was Yapped to me about that well. 1, just made me hate O.M more, and 2, made me want to just wrap Sun in a blanket in front of a fireplace. The "Invaded By CRINGY FNAF in Vrchat" one. the way O.M spoke to Sun in that ep, the use of the gravely K.C voice that O.M only uses when making threats, I- I'll fuckin-

LEAVE THAT LITTLE GUY ALONE. I HOPE WHEN YOU AND NEXUS INEVITABLY FIGHT YOU GET CLOCKED IN THE JAW FOR THAT ONE. GOOD LORD.

...I've been typing this for like 50 minutes, apparently I had a lot more to say when it came to Sun than I first thought DGAIEPHDWGWLAH

Canon. canon, please, let Sun do something. let him be the one to free Nexus from NSP corruption, because of how much he's been shown to be resilient to it. let Sun be the one to stop The Creator's next big scheme instead of Moon. let him do things as important as all the others instead of just cleaning. the pieces for him to do so are right there. now put them in place.

[stormywanderer]

Tricks of an Ex-rogue

Summary: Balor decides to use his old skills with rope for more explicit purposes. This is smut. Rated: Mature Author Notes: Y/N reader, p in v sex, bondage, over stimulation. This is just a oneshot, not really edited. Above art is official concept art from the game. Art and characters property of Fields of Mistria developer group. Plot/writing my own.

Falling for Balor had been easy. Like slipping fine satin silk over one’s hand. All it took was a sudden rainstorm and you were done for. Running like chickens past the drop box he intended to stop at, right to the house. An offer of mulled wine, some left over tart, a fully stocked fireplace, and soon he had your thighs pressed all the way back as he fucked you slow and sweetly in the fire light. Neither of you were sure when the storm had passed. Only that he had a sudden appreciation for a sweaty body splayed out next to a hearth.

Ever since, you both had been at it like rabbits. Every trip of his to your farm to pick up goods is another excuse to have you alone. Neither of you could trust being caught at the inn, not after the kids had walked into his room for that prank. Instead, the soft double bed, or your couch, or the fireplace hearth, or any other surface in your house had become his preferred place to see you.

Today wasn’t much different, only it was especially different.

“What’s that? I’m not sure I understood.”

Balor damn well understood, you know he did. With the blasted vibrating stone pressed unforgivably against your clit, he knew what he was doing.

You jolted at the electric sensation the flashed through you from your clit. The vibrating stone was relentless and being hung from the ceiling while tied up like wild game in a snare meant there was nothing you could do about it. Except for whine and beg while your thighs begin to shake.

“I-I can’t take any more-“you gasped. Every muscle tensed against the ropes; sensation long gone in your toes though you’re sure they’re curled too. It was all you could do to keep breathing, panting heavily as your chest heaved against the rope that was strapped both under and over your breasts.

He had your legs bent, calves folded behind you and tied to your thighs. The rope made a suitable enough harness, but being suspended meant that you couldn’t close your legs in retaliation if you tried. Arms? Those were also useless now. Folded behind your back and restrained at your forearms, all you could do was clench your fists to manage the onslaught of pleasure.

The only thing free, really, was your head. Which was currently tilted back as the wave of pleasure crested higher, and higher, and-

“Oh- OH - I can’t- I can’t-”

“You can,” Balor promised, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You can, and you will.”

With that, the intensity skyrocketed. The magic stone in his hand pressed firmly to your wet pussy far too much for you to handle. Your thighs shake and hips jolt against the restraints, as another electric flash of pure mind blowing ecstasy shoots right up your center to your chest. Your mind shorts, a shrill shriek breaking through you as your vision flashes white.

And it doesn’t stop at that, pussy clenching around nothing as your orgasm releases on to Balor’s nimble fingers.

“That’s it pretty girl. Look at you doing so well for me.”

Balor slows the intensity to near nothing, a small mercy, as he rubs small soothing circles with it against your clit. It’s several moments before your muscles can relax, aftershocks convulsing through you as you pant. When you do finally fall limp, head rolling forward to rest of Balor’s shoulder, he uses his free hand to stroke your hair.

“I’m so proud of you, you know? That was impressive.” The merchant coos soft praises against your ear. “Such a good girl for me.”

Balor pulls away then, gently cradling your head in his hand still as he looks down between you. Soft, plush, peaks of skin bubble between each cross section of rope. Your breasts are heavy as they bulge out in the makeshift harness. His eyes roam the landscape of skin created by his own hands till his gaze lands on your pussy. Between your thighs, everything is absolutely drenched. The sight is mesmerizing as he plays with you by massaging the still stone between your thighs still. Watching the way it slips between your plump lips.

His distraction is short lived, the sight reminding him of how painfully hard he’s been and that he wants nothing more than to have it be his cock slipping through those perfect lips.

Balor takes your chin in hand, nudging your mouth open.

“Here, hold this for me?” Balor says as he takes the dripping stone, still faintly glowing where a rune etches across one side, and places in your tongue before pressing your mouth shut. Its fills your mouth, completely stuffed. Unfortunately, the act of having skin contact on both sides of the magic item reactivates it and it starts to buzz back to life in your mouth.

Balor pretends to not notice the muffled moan that escapes you. At how readily you take in your own essence as it dripped off his fingers over your lips. Instead, he leans forward to whisper in your ear again.

“Before I continue, are you still okay?”

You nod twice, remembering the explicit instructions he had asked you to follow to be sure you were okay. Two nods to continue.

“Perfect-“ Balor said as he trailed down to kiss your neck.

His kisses become sloppier as he lowers himself to lave over one of your nipples before sucking the pert peak into his mouth. He’s as unrelenting at this. Suckling and mouthing over your nipple till the skin blotches purple, before switching to the other side. His patience comes in spades, still having yet to pleasure himself as you squirm till your breasts bounce against his mouth. Its only when he’s suitably fished with the second, slowly pulling his mouth back with your tit bouncing back with an soft ‘pop’, that he finally pulls away to grip squeeze your hips in his hands. You’re ready too, have been more than ready, dripping slowly on to the rug below you in anticipation.

“You look so good like this-“ Balor hums.

Balor wraps one arm around your waist to support you as his other deals with the knot behind you quickly. You tilt forward, weight no longer supported by the rope as he holds you up. Despite his slim stature Balor is more than able to carry you to the bed. He lowers your gently, before using the rope to turn you around so that your face down on the bed and ass up.

His skilled hands leave your body briefly to relieve himself of his own clothing. First his white shirt, tossed aside, then to his blue pants where his bulge visibly strains for release. He makes quick work of his belt. Without breaking his ministrations across your chest, he whips the belt out and shoves his pants down allowing his aching cock to spring free. You can only hear the shuffling of fabric and the clank of his belt as it drops to the floor.  Next thing you know, he grabs the rope at your hips and yanks you back to the edge of the bed where his cock slips up against your ass as your thighs slip over the edge to frame his own.

There is a brief separation from him as he pulls back. His slips the tip through your folds twice before pressing forward, followed by the slow ache of him filling you to the brim. Practically over spilling from your metaphorical cup as your breath escapes you. You can help the way your muscles flutter around the length of him at his pulls back once again. Only this time, he leans forward to take a fist full of your hair before slamming himself back home.

“Bmmmff!” Or Balor, if your mouth was gagged on the blasted stone.

He chuckles behind you and pulls your hair back more, lifting your front off the bed and arching your head back. “You’ll need to be a little clearer darling, I'm not sure I understood you.”

He sets a purposeful pace. Precise as always as he take’s his time thrusting at just the right angle. Its deepened by your position, your tied bad legs pulling muscles in just the right way for him.

“Fucking perfect,” he breathes out.

It’s barely audible over the slap of your skin against his. Each thrust punctuated by how he pulls you back to meet them.

You’re babbling around the stone, eyes tearing as you feel your body turn to molten lead. Hot in your lower belly as he hits the perfect spot over and over. As his pace slowly increases, so does your panting resulting in the stone slipping from your mouth and landing wetly on the bedding.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” Comes your subsequent response to having your mouth free again. Babbling every time he fills the void only he can. “I’m so close, please~

It’s a small plea, a beg for mercy, He chuckles behind you as the pace quickens, his free handle snaking around your middle to massage firm circles into your clit. Its still far too sensitive, earning a cry from you as you clench around him. Its not long before your gushing around him again, the sound of each wet thrust growing louder and the molten lead of your belly flushes forward to seize you. Your eyes roll back, mouth open sluttily as you welcome each thrust that grows sloppier than the last.

“Need you to fill me, please fill me Balor.”

“Mmmph~ what-whatever my darling wishes~” Is all he can manage now, his skin slapping yours so loudly your happy you don’t have closer neighbors. Your muscles are still fluttering around his cock when he finally reaches his own climax with a soft groan before driving himself home and rutting in small movements inside your plush walls. He slumps over then, releasing your hair as his heads falls to rest on the back of your shoulder.

In the minutes afterwards,  still stuffed and catching your breathes, its like coming down from the sky. Your racing heart flutters back down to a normal pace, breath still a bit shaky put slowing as well. He rubs soothing circles in your hips with his thumbs before slowly leaning back up to appreciate the mess he made of your pussy. His seed spills form between your lips as he retreats

“Beautiful.” He murmurs softly, undoing the knot at your thighs and bringing circulation back to your lower extremities. Then your arms, helping you to bring them forward again despite the ache and massaging the blood flow back into them. Once satisfied that you could lay more comfortably, he gently pulls the red cord from the many twists around your body till your freed from its constraints. The moment he does so, he climbs back onto the bed to wrap you back into his arms where you melt into a relaxed puddle within them. A soft little nest made of your favorite ex-rogue.

[keiko-cornetto]

Contrary to what “catphiles” think, for most people cats are bad, egocentric, individualistic and completely insensitive animals. In fact, the film industry has been saying this for years, as the world is the world and Disney is Disney. However, there are some approaches, like the film The Aristocats, in which the good guys are (incredibly) THE CATS! OOOOOOH! And this is actually the only exception, because in all other cases felines are the cruel ones in the movies.

While dogs participate in films filled with love, cats in cinema are generally associated with villains.

Disney

Dogs are by far the population's favorite animals. Due to the ease of acquiring and maintaining at home, they have become ideal partners for anyone who has a pet at home. Cats come next in this dispute and associating a “rivalry” between animals (very associated with films), created this duel between pets and naturally those who have fewer fans end up being the “villains” of the story, in this case the cats

I can mention here several cartoons, books and films with the figure of the cat associated with the villain. Obviously, it's not just the same ones that tend to be associated with the villain, just look at the wolves that are also widely used. The thing is that it has even become a culture to create a production and place the cat as the villain because it is easier to associate and less complicated, even in several cartoons, such as Sylvester being less of a villain than

Sincerely? I have NOTHING against dogs, they are all beautiful, intelligent animals and deserve respect for their feelings, but the whole world has a wrong view about the personality of cats, aaaah yes they do!

So, let's get to the point: Another photo gallery, featuring the best-known feline villains in the history of cinema and television.

You've seen her in every Sylvester and Tweety cartoon you've watched. In them, Sylvester is always shown as a malevolent and stupid cat, whose only objective in life, to eat Tweety, is frustrated at every attempt by the canary's supposed superior intelligence. Sylvester and Tweety, who already existed separately in cinema, were coupled in 1949 by a Warner Bros. designer, Friz Freleng. In other words, for 51 years, children all over the world

Jerry the mouse, from Tom and Jerry, is perhaps even worse. Alone or with his minion, the mouse Spit, Jerry tortured the honest, sincere and gullible cat Tom in no less than 160 cartoons for the cinema, from 1940 to 1967. The creators of the duo were Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera (in fact, also responsible due to the impoverishment of cartoons with the "simplified animation" technique, which they invented when they started producing for television in the 60s). The latest designs were already delegated by Hanna and Barbera to bagrinhos, but the initial concept of the series never changed; While trying to protect his home from the presence of the parasitic and disgusting Jerry, Tom is electrocuted at the socket, set on fire in the fireplace, drowned in the sink, crushed by pianos and blasted through the ceiling. Insensitive and perverse boys watch this laughing in front of the TV - and probably repeat such violence with their cats.

There are no cat heroes in these powerful opinion makers that are cartoons. The heroes are always dogs, rabbits, ducks and, incredibly, especially a muddy mouse who hasn't made a film in 47 years and, even so, remains a symbol of a cartoon empire – have you ever heard the sound of Mickey Mouse? Walt Disney himself, although always careful that his studio did not offend anyone) was unable to hide his prejudice: in his films, the dog is the noble animal (see Lady and the Tramp and 101 Dalmatians, not to mention the 44 drawings of Pluto and 42 of Goofy made between 1940 and 1965). Nothing against that and Walt could like whatever animals he wanted. It turns out that almost all of his most famous drawings are also Anti-Cat

In Pinocchio, one of the villains is a weak and filthy cat who helps the fox deceive the doll. In Cinderella, the fat and treacherous cat Lucifer is a frightening threat to the mice Gus and Jaq. (clean rats that do not transmit any danger to humanity) In Alice in Wonderland, the Cheshire cat is far from being a sympathetic character – he knows that Alice could get into trouble and does nothing to stop it.

(I particularly love this cat)

In Lady and the Tramp, Si and Am are the two Siamese who destroy the curtains, attack the canary and the goldfish and attack the family's baby, causing the chaos that will send Lady to the cart.

And even in The Aristocats, which is supposed to be a pro-cat film, there are a handful of nasty stray cats on the scene, and the hero turns out to be, in fact, a mouse named Roquefort. And it's worth remembering that, in Mickey's very first cartoon, Steamboat Willie, from 1926, he tortures and executes a cat by turning it by its tail and throwing it into the sea. Come to think of it, Disney couldn't really like cats - he got rich building human mousetraps like Disneyland and Disney World.

It is normal that cinema has never done for cats what it has done for countless dogs, since Lassie and Rin-Tin-Tin; cats refuse to be actors and it is impossible to train them to do things that dogs, seals and even elephants accept naturally, such as climbing stools, doing somersaults or balancing balls on their noses - the intelligence, dignity and independence of cats does not allow them to play these humiliating roles. It is only possible to make a film like Stuart Little, in which the cats seem to "do" things, by filming them naturally and adapting the scenes to the script, when not altering them electronically

but remember that all cinema portrays cats like this

as a cartoon that really disappointed me because it was one of my favorites, it's Shaun the sheepwhere the cat is shown as a villain and is evil in every episode

There are people who say that cats in cartoons like Lady and Tramp are villains because the story is portrayed through the eyes of dogs where cats will always be the villainsbut because when the cartoon is about cats, dogs are never villains, since dogs don't like cats, cats are afraid of dogs and in cat cartoons their friends are dogs

For those who love cats, don't be sad as there are many, many animes that don't portray the cat as a villain

In fact, cats have more space in anime than dogs, there are hero cats, there are villain cats, there are all types of catsCats are everywhere, it doesn't matter if the cat isn't there there will always be something that reminds you of the cat like clothes or cat ears in anime

44 cats and superkitties and they're really good

another very good film coraline:

and as always, those who don't like cats have theories that the cat was the biggest villain in the film

but I disagree since the cat always helped Coraline, even at the end when she wanted to open the door the cat went ahead because he knew she was in danger

This was the post about the poor cats, this post is not originally mine, I just added some things and I also didn't make this post with the intention of offending anyone.bye Bye

EDIT:

and the Oscar for most disturbed people goes to: Lim Yirang & Heo Sunhaeng two soulless South Korean directors

these two together directed a ridiculous and disturbing crap animated short film is a colorful and lively animation that takes place in a garden, it seems to be a type of children's and educational cartoon for children, where there are several cute stuffed animals and elves and even a princess everyone spends the seasons happily every day, until one day a huge evil CAT comes into action and kills everyone in the garden except the ''poor defenseless girl (the protagonist)'' what was supposed to be a beautiful and enchanted cartoon turned into a horror film, that's the kind of thing they want children to watch a scary CAT Everyone knows that most people who have a phobia of cats are because they only see them in films as villains or hear people who hate cats saying how dangerous they are. And the worst part is that this stupid cartoon actually takes place in a potted plant and they are all stuffed animals and die because the evil cat killed them, and the biggest destroyer of stuffed animals is man's dear best friend, that is, the puppy. but how these two Koreans probably fuel this rivalry between dogs and cats so something bad that the dog does they go and make a cat do it instead because the only villains in this world are cats Just like Mr Walt Disney (Koreans also show their huge preference for puppies) this animation should be remade and the big planes being two giant South Korean men with enormous evil in their hearts, children watching this later become afraid of cats and this even contributes to animal abuse these two men should be arrested

This animation could be beautiful but with a very low budget and stupid ideas the big villain should be a human since the biggest destroyer of nature is humans themselves, an animal would never destroy nature These two and Disney have a lot to learn from the great studio Ghibli, there are only good films for people of any age to watch

the biggest villains are humans and not cats

[rip-regulus]

random things I associate with the marauders + reg

james - the sun, cooking in an apartment with warm lighting, summer road trips specifically in a beaten up truck, red converse, the beach, wired ear buds, laying in a flower field, climbing trees, lighting mcqueen, the laurie love confession, a cd collection, pasta bakes, crying in the shower, treehouses, shotgunning a beer, forgetting to wear your glasses, singing on top of a table, large houses that are still really cozy, smiling really wide, frat parties, your mom jokes, slushy machines, doodles in the margin, polaroids

sirius - the stars, electric guitar, messy black sparkly eyeshadow, making snow angels, rings, having a bonfire, black chipped nail polish, a back pack covered in pin badges, drawing on a car window, smoking after sex, the arctic monkeys, motorbikes, david bowie vinyl, leaning out of a window, hickeys, zippo lighters, men walking the runway, bootcut jeans, setting off fireworks, mummy issues, blasting the radio, talking to the sky, leather jackets

remus - the moon, reading by a fireplace, black coffee, gatekeeping music artists, messily stacked books, really loud booing, grandpa sweaters, smoking in public, mars bars, scars, bed head, a swear jar, mismatched socks, playing chess, crisp autumn air, covering things in stickers, falling asleep in random places, writing a letter, anger issues, listening to records, studying for a test, leather book satchels, high alcohol tolerance

peter - the earth, telephone booths, potted plants, cobblestone streets, knowing secrets, tripping, crossword puzzles, not strong enough by boygenius, digital camera photos, gaming, decorating with picture frames, the end credits of movies, barbed wire fences, sleeping on a mattress on the floor, being exasperated, breaking your arm, big ears, fish eye lens, not being the first choice, welly boots, gambling, hardwood flooring, crayons

regulus - the ocean, paintings with a blurred face, smashed ceramic/glass, winged eyeliner, black cats, the story of icarus, reading poetry and classic literature, graveyards with overgrown grass, piano, religious trauma, bloody knuckles, freshly fallen snow, abandoned churches, nihilism, the movie coraline, gothic architecture, ballet, art museums, being at a crossroads, those windy staircases, the smell of rain, driving gloves, daggers

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Requiem of Grace

a short one shot

Grace visit's Tommy in his caravan. Requiem Definition. +(especially in the Roman Catholic Church) a Mass for the repose of the souls of the dead. "a requiem was held for the dead queen" +a musical composition setting parts of a requiem Mass, or of a similar character. "Fauré's Requiem" +an act or token of remembrance. "he designed the epic as a requiem for his wife"

All seem fitting to Grace Shelby's Character.

__________________________________________________

“Hello Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Tommy’s smooth voice echoed off the wooden walls of his caravan. He was seated near the fireplace with his back to her. He sighed when he felt her arms wrapped around him tightly. She was seated next to him leaning in. Her face nestled deeply in his neck as if inhaling him. He doubted she was breathing. He knew she wasn’t.

His seizer had come on strong and he’d just been able to pull himself up into the bench and stroke the fire. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there. He smelled of wood smoke. A small comfort to him. Like the ghost of his beloved deceased wife.

“It’s not good for you to be alone right now Tommy.” Her soft voice gently scolded him. He knew that medically he shouldn’t be alone. He ended the quiet. Needed to still the voices of his family in his head. The Caravan helped with that.

“I’m not alone Grace, you're here.” His deep voice rumbled through the living space. He could smell her perfume, soft and musky. He inhaled grateful for the reprieve from everyday life.

“Where’s your family, why isn’t Arthur with you? What's left I mean.” she asked.

“So you came to remind me of that huh?” He shifted and took her frigid ghostly arm into his. She was tucked more comfortably into him now. He needed to feel the weight of her, assure himself that on some level she was actually present with him.

“No, I came to keep an eye on you. Four years sober now. I’m proud of you.” His breath hitched to hear that. How many people would be proud of him? He had worked himself to the bone for those he loved and felt he needed to care for. Family, friends and neighbors and for what? Who was here for him now to be angry, proud or to scold him like Polly. It was just him and the ghost of her.

He didn’t know how long they’d just sat there in comfortable silence, his hand rubbing small circles unto hers. He heard the rumble of a car knocking him out of his peace. Only one person knew where he was right now.

He waited until she opened the little wooden door flooding his tight lavish space with frigid autumn air. The blast sent leaves scattering in. Tommy looked down, like the leaves Grace too had been scattered in the wind gone back to wherever she came from.

“I brought you groceries, Karl is out feeding an apple to your horses.” Ada rushed around placing down the brown paper bag and looking around. Tommy glanced at her. He appreciated her check ins. He knew she wasn’t staying long. Just long enough to fuss. He didn’t mind the peace.

“One apple for two horses, that’ll end well.” He commented and smiled. His sister stood, hand on her lip glaring at him. He dared to say anything about Karl Thorne. Ever the protective mother Ada was.

“I only bought him one. I forgot. Give him a knife, he'll sort it out.” she said flippantly and she unloaded the vegetables and crackers.

“No Ada.” He shook his head. “I remember you with a pistol by the water shooting at Rats. I’m not giving the son of Freddie Thorne and Ada Shelby Thorne a knife.” They both laughed, the tension settling for a bit. It felt good to feel even if it was fleeting. He was so exhausted.

“Geez, Tommy! What happened? Did you have a fight?” Ada had spotted the blood by the fireplace where he’d seized and smacked his head on the iron hearth. “Let me see” She stood in front of him ruffling his hair looking for small traces of blood. Her fingers pulled back crimson. He looked at her hands and admired the glistening violently red blood. This was his physical curse. The brain seizures and the bloody aftermath.

“Just a seizure Ada.” He heard the dullness in his voice, the ache of his loneliness embedded in his tone. She gave him a sad small smile.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now.” It was more of a plea than a statement. She said it every time she found him in this state, the aftermath of the violent little episodes.

“I wasn't, grace was with me.” He really looked at his little sister to gauge her emotions to his statement. Ada looked startled. “Didn’t take me with her. So apparently I'm going to keep living, for now.” he added. She scoffed at him and placed her hand on his shoulder giving a firm reassuring squeeze. He hated the look of empathy she was giving him. She knew his heart too well.

“Keep it up brother, it'll happen sooner rather than later at the rate you're going.” She knew better than to scold him about it again and say the family needs him. They both knew that. They both knew he also was ready to go, his peace had been made with all that he had done in this lifetime. He needed the rest.

“Didn’t you have a visitor last week too of the apparition variety? “Ada asked. She came and sat down next to Tommy where Grace had been moments before her arrival. Grace's scent assaulted his nose and quieted his head. Ada wore no perfume, for that he was grateful for. He didn’t need his two favorite womens scents mingling about.

“Hmmm.” He poked the fire, unable to retell the encounter. He still couldn’t understand why she had come. To ask for forgiveness? To seek her own comfort? A warning? His brain was too muddled by it to think clearly.

“Linda is pregnant again.” Ada offhandedly changed topics. Tommy was grateful, he knew she had caught on quickly that he didn’t want to talk about their mother. A long pause filled the caravan prompting his sister to continue in discomfort.

“Arthur keeps saying he’s too old to be a father.” she rattled on.

“ He’ll be fine. He's a good dad, yeah.” Tommy already knew the answer. Arthur was gentle and kind hearted in spite of doing what Tommy had asked in the past. “Far better father than ours.”

“Seems to be. Don’t know how strong his boy will be if he keeps bowing down to Linda’s every whim.” She and Tommy locked gazes. Both silently agreed that Linda had far too much influence on the man. Arthur never came to visit, Tommy understood why. He and Linda had enough power struggles in the past and she hated the brother for it.

“They’ll manage. The world is always changing Ada, always changing. Doesn’t need our help anymore.” He mused more to himself than her. She bent her head down to capture his gaze and raised a disapproving brow at him. He smirked. It was true and they both believed it whether or not she’d admit it yet. He honestly thought Ada was enjoying the break. Getting back to her mostly carefree self, worry for him aside.

“Enough! Come outside while I clean up. I'll deal with you in a minute.” she scolded and shooed him toward the door.

“Alright, alright, I’m off.” Tommy stood and slowly made his way to the door testing his steadiness. Sometimes he was drained after the little head trauma he suffered. He felt alright enough, tired and his head felt a little tight. Nothing that wasn't normal.

“Banged yourself up real good again huh uncle Tommy?” Karl's’ confident eleven year old voice rang out through the tree’s echoing off the hills. Tommy had tied his horses to a strong tree nearby. He was grateful now he had them close.

“Yes Karl, hand me the apple.” Tommy produced a knife and held out his hand. The boy sheepishly grinned up at him.

“Oh, it's gone” Karl laughed as he spoke. He had Ada’s cheekiness for sure. Tommy rolled his eyes in exasperation, of course it was.

“Who's the lucky horse?” His strength regained in his voice. Karl grinned and turned around. Pointing to a small clearing near the horses by a rocky trail.

“I smashed it to bits on the rocks over there. They each got pieces. My hand is covered in horse slobber now.” Karl looked down disgustedly and wiped his dry hands again as if to remove the memory of horse saliva off on his pressed trousers. His uncle laughed heartily. Ada and Karl would never know how much he appreciated their presence in his life.

“Alright, let me see that noggin of your Tom.” Ada approached with a hot damp cloth, the cold air causing steam to rise from her palms. Tommy bent down so she could get a better look to clean him up.

“I hate when mom cleans my face. Get it all up my nose and my hair.” Karl's complaints earned him a stern warning from Ada and a suppressed laugh from his uncle. They would never understand.

After a while and a good full supper Ada left and asked Tommy to drop by soon. She’d asked him to stay a few days making up small outdoor choices she wanted him to do. He knew Ada had the money to pay a contractor to help, but he accepted for the company and to keep the peace.

He found his gramophone and placed his favorite record on. Grabbing a hot drink he sat down in front of his fire again as the music flooded the trailer and his ears gently.

Requiem in D minor by Mozart.

“Here you are Grace, wherever you are. A requiem….a requiem of Grace.” He sat back and closed his eyes. Grateful for the day's events.

END

[hard-boiled-criminal]

A Witch Adrift

Chapter 4 - There Should be a Word for the Specific Feeling of Uneasiness Caused by the Uncanny Valley Phenomenon

< Ch 3 | Ch 5 >

>Ch 1<

Masterlist

Ao3 Mirror

The next morning you’re woken up to the sound of Grim screaming. “The ghosts are back! Hey, (y/n), up and at ‘em!”

You slowly sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes to see Grim at the edge of the bed with his fur all puffed out, facing off against the same three ghosts from last night. ‘I swear to god if I’m gonna be woken up by a battle with these ghosts everyday, I’m gonna exorcise them myself.’ Not bothering to get out of bed, you simply pick Grim up once again and aim him at the, ironically, bone-thin ghost. “Grim, just use flamethrower.” 

A torrent of blue flames left Grim’s mouth, blasting the ghost dead-on. He didn’t even bother complaining about being commanded this time. Perhaps the ghosts were still worn out from the battle the previous night because it only took a few hits from Grim’s magic fire before they conceded. This time however, after defeating the ghosts, they stuck around. 

‘Of course you can’t exorcise ghosts with fire. Then again, this world doesn’t go by pokemon rules; at least, I don’t think it does… Maybe you need a psychic or something? If magic exists, then psychics should also exist, right?’ You sighed. Of course nothing was ever simple.

“So, I hear you’ll be living here from now on?” One of the ghosts spoke to you. “Hope you like pranks as much as we do! Hya ha ha!” With a laugh, the three ghosts faded out of sight, leaving only you and Grim in the room, wide awake.

“We gotta get rid of those things for good!” Grim complained, clearly unhappy with being scared awake, as would anyone.

You mumbled an agreement as you slid out of bed and set Grim down on the ground. You winced as you stood up, a horrible pain shooting through your feet and legs. You took a moment to take in your appearance staring back at you from the mirror above the fireplace. You looked just as bad as you felt. For the first time you were actually taking in just how disheveled you were. You had soot and dirt smeared across your face and clothes, the odd leaf or blade of grass in various places. You were still wearing the ceremonial clothes from yesterday; the hem of the robe was torn, frayed, and singed, speckled with small holes where the fire had completely burned through. Your pants, on the other hand, were much worse off, thoroughly burnt, with most of the cloth below the knee completely gone, the remaining parts stuck to your shins. Now, you could see the extent of your injuries.

Physically, you felt so much worse this morning than last night, probably since  the adrenaline was temporarily numbing the pain yesterday. You grimaced upon seeing the ugly sight of your abused legs, the skin of your shins not covered in stuck fabric were littered with first and second degree burns. Luckily, you weren’t standing in Grim’s fire long enough to get any third-degree burns. It seems that magically produced fire doesn’t need to reach extremely high temperatures to turn blue–probably the only reason you weren’t practically burned alive. Your hands didn’t make it out scott-free either. Your palms were rubbed raw in places from when you made the poor choice to try out parkour, not to mention the prevalent ache in both your shoulders. Perhaps you should have asked Crowley for some bandages.

You reach down to peel the pants away from your shins, the texture of the burnt fabric irritating your skin. You grab at the burnt end of a piece and begin to pull but flinch back at the sharp pain. You stared at the cloth, eyes wide and perturbed. The pants were synthetic or semi-synthetic. The fire had made patches of the fabric melt and fuse with your skin. There was no way you were going to be able to remove all the fabric without severely hurting yourself and permanently scarring your legs. Luckily, it wasn’t the entirety of that pants that melted, only coin-sized chunks scattered around the circumference of your lower left leg. You stand up, close your eyes, and take a breath. Lips pursed, you slightly open your eyes, head tilted back to face the ceiling. 

“Congratulations, me, for doing such a good job at taking care of ourselves… We really should’ve paid more attention to ourselves and asked Crowley for immediate medical attention last night.”

“Good morning, (y/n)!” Speak of the devil, Crowley just walked into your room. You don’t know how he figured out which room you were in, but you were going to assume it was because of magic. “Did you sleep well?”

Seeing as you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, you’d say you slept reasonably well, all things considered, but now wasn’t the time for that. About to say as such and bring up your need for medical attention, Grim answered before you could  speak, “Not at all! When I sprawled out on the bed, the mattress fell right through the frame!” Grim was bristling. “Exactly how ramshackle is this dorm? And worse yet, we got woken up by ghosts!”

Crowley looked from Grim to you, seemingly to ask if this cat was simply being dramatic. You shrugged, “I mean, he’s not wrong, but also–”

“Well, I suppose this dorm is a little run down, but nothing a little elbow grease cannot fix, I’m sure!” Crowley didn’t allow you time to say anything as he promptly walked out the door. “Come along now, I’ve brought you breakfast and such.”

“A-ah, wait–” You quickly put your shoes back on, lest you risk stepping on the stray nail to add to your list of injuries, before you and Grim followed Crowley downstairs to the lounge, a single take-out box and can of tuna waiting on the coffee table. Grim’s eyes lit up, almost as bright as his ear flames, when he saw the tuna waiting for him. You tried to keep the grimace off your face with each step down the stairs you took, a spike of pain shooting through your legs with each one.

“Thank you, Mr. Crowley, but–”

“Tunaaa!!!” Grim leapt down half the flight of stairs in one jump, rushing to grab the tuna.

It was times like these that made him seem like a regular cat. A magical talking cat, yes, but still a cat nonetheless. Shaking your head in mirth, you continue, “Thank you, Mr. Crowley.”

“Think nothing of it, (y/n)-san,” Crowley said with what seemed like pride. “My, I truly am too kind.” You were sure that if he actually had feathers, they would all be puffed up.

Your eyes were honed in on the food on the table, your stomach rumbling at the thought of eating. Maybe it’d be fine to eat first. You slowly sat down on the striped couch, wincing at the short moment of increased stress on your legs. You relaxed again once all your weight was off your legs, a long breath of relief leaving your lungs, having not realized you had been holding your breath for a little while from the pain. Whether Crowley noticed or not, he kept silent as you began to eat your breakfast of a few simple pancakes and some syrup on the side if you so wished to have it. 

About halfway through, Crowley cleared his throat, causing you to look up at him. He sat in a rocking chair that you hadn’t noticed before, placed on the opposite side of the coffee table. He held a decently sized cloth bag in his hands and set it down next to him.

“I have brought you a few sets of clothes, as well as other basic necessities, as you have requested.”

“Oh, um, thank you, Mr. Crowley,” you said after quickly swallowing your mouthful of food. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course. Now, about the contract. Seeing as classes won’t start for a few more days, how about we go to my office and meet with a few other teachers to draft up your contract? Or, perhaps we should visit the infirmary first,” Crowley glanced down at your legs.*

“Oh, okay,” You weren’t expecting him to take action so quickly, especially not bring up your abysmal state before you did; he seemed the type to put things off and push them onto other people for them to do instead. “Can I finish breakfast first?”

“Of course.”

Grim had already long finished his tuna before you polished off your own breakfast. Quietly thanking Crowley again with a nod, you picked up the bag and went back upstairs to the room you claimed. You placed the bag on your bed and carefully removed its contents. Crowley had provided you with three sets of clothes, which looked to be two school uniforms and a basic white t-shirt and track pants, complete with a set of coveralls. ‘I suppose it would make sense for the only clothes he had on hand to be school uniforms.’ Besides those, you found basic toiletries, a toothbrush and toothpaste, multiple pairs of socks, towels, and the like. You grabbed one of the uniforms, a towel, and the toiletries and walked down the hall to the dorm bathroom you had stumbled across last night when looking for a place to sleep. You placed your things down on the long bench across from the row of showers before heading over to start the water, hoping to give it a little time to warm up. Standing to the side to not get wet, you twisted the shower knob… Nothing. In case this one might have simply been a fluke, you tried the other showers, one by one, but to no avail. It seemed the dorm had no running water.

“Well, shit.”

You grabbed your things and went back to your room. Hoping that Crowley could take you to someplace else to shower (you didn’t expect him to know how to turn the water back on, so that option was out for now), you packed your items back into the now empty bag and headed back downstairs.

“Um, Mr. Crowley?” You quietly spoke from atop the stairs, drawing Crowley’s attention from the thick book he was flipping through.

“(Y/n)-san, why are you back so soon, and still not cleaned up?”

“Um, well, about that; it seems there’s no running water. There wouldn’t happen to be anywhere else I could shower, would there?” You asked sheepishly.

“Oh, I suppose that does make sense,” Crowley put his hand up to his chin and nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, well, I suppose there is the gymnasium locker room. It’s a bit of a walk from here, but it will do. Now,” he stood up and magicked his book away to who knows where, “let us be off!”

You didn’t get the chance to look around last night, but now, in the daylight you could take in the campus as you followed Crowley. First you passed by what looked to be a botanical garden, enclosed within a giant glass dome. If you had time (and were injury-free), you’d love to walk around in it. Passing what you assumed was the tool and storage shed for the garden, you crossed a bridge across a small ravine with a river running through the bottom. You walked by a tall, curved wall; the only thing you could see past it was a small point, probably the top of whatever building the wall was protecting. Going up a steep flight of stairs, which wasn’t kind on your legs at all, you saw a clocktower, but turned left at a hairpin turn before reaching it. Going up one more flight of stairs, you passed one more building on your left before making it to Main Street, which was more than twice as wide as the paths you had been walking down up to this point. At the end of the street to the left was a large, elaborate metal gate, the main entrance to the campus, no doubt. To the right, you couldn’t see much, as the path curved and whatever was beyond was obscured by trees. Across from you, where Crowley was headed towards, was a fairly large building.

“This is the gymnasium,” Crowley spoke over his shoulder to you. “The locker rooms are only accessible from the inside, so do follow me.” He led you through the open interior of the gymnasium, showing you to a door on the right towards the back of the building. “Here we are. I shall be waiting out here for you, so do be quick,” he said as he ushered you towards the door.

“Okay, um, thank you. I’ll try to be quick,” you wasted no time and headed in, looking for the showers. Luckily, this locker room had separate shower stalls, all with walls and doors as opposed to just curtains, along with a decent amount of space. 

You hung your bag on one of the hooks against the wall by the door, far enough away from the showerhead to keep from being wet. You placed your toiletries atop the small bench on the wall to your right. Now you had only to undress yourself. You slowly and carefully peeled off your clothes, starting with the robe, which slid off your shoulders quite easily. You placed it on the bench next to your soaps; it would probably get wet, but it was ruined anyway, so there wasn’t much point in trying to keep it safe. Plus, you weren’t about to stuff it in the bag with your clean clothes. You then carefully removed your upper garments, of which the only problem you had was the slight pain in your shoulders. You could now see your stomach, where a dark bruise spanning the width of your midriff had formed. Your shoes and socks were next: you wrapped the shirt and socks with the robe on the bench, but the shoes were placed against the wall under your bag. 

And now the part you were dreading the most. You hadn’t checked if your burned pants had fused with your thighs earlier, whether by blood or by heat, and you wouldn’t know until you removed them. You were in the clear until you reached the end of the pant legs, the parts that had been burned the most, as you had noticed earlier that morning. Unfortunately, if you didn’t want to hurt yourself more, you’d have to rip the cloth apart, leaving the parts fused to your skin alone. You undressed yourself as much as you could, leaving only the left pant leg on before you sat on the bench and began your work, carefully ripping around your injuries as best as possible. It took a good few minutes, but you were now left with a few scraps of cloth stuck to your leg.

“Now, that that’s taken care of,” you stood up, heading towards the shower knob, “let’s see… I’m pretty sure that in the case of burns you’re supposed to only use cool water…great.”

You turned the knob and, unlike at your dorm, the water came rushing out from the head right away. Staying out of the stream, you held your hand under the water and adjusted the temperature to be a bit cooler than room temperature. Reluctantly, you stepped under the water, hissing through clenched teeth in both shock from the temperature and from the discomfort of it no-quite-gently pelting against your wounds. Going through a basic shower routine, the first thing to actually give you a sense of familiarity in this place, you made sure to gently and carefully wash your burns, not exactly sure how to treat them. Even with how light you kept your touch, each brush of your fingers against the burns and blisters hurt, making you clench your jaw tightly every time.

Keeping the shower quick, you hurried to dry off, save for your legs (you didn’t want to touch your worst burns any more than necessary), you dressed in the fresh uniform, rolling the pant legs up to above your knees. The only part of your previous clothes that you wore were the shoes, everything else now being placed in the bag alongside your towel and soaps.

Hefting your bag onto your non-dominant shoulder, you headed out of the showers, glancing at your reflection in one of the mirrors on the way out. You still looked exhausted and a bit gaunt, but all the soot and grime was gone now. Deeming your appearance good enough, you exited the locker room and saw Crowley sitting on a chair–you don’t know where he got that from as it certainly wasn’t there before–and reading the same book he had at the dorm. Upon hearing the door open he looked up at you, his gaze lingering on your legs.

“Hmm, yes, a trip to the infirmary is most definitely in order,” he nodded to himself and stood up, the book disappearing once again and the chair floating across the gym, presumably to wherever he got it from. “Let us not delay any longer.”

Silent, you followed him back out to mainstreet, this time going up the path towards the huge castle that you were most likely in yesterday. As you walked you made note of a seemingly unnecessary archway standing above a branching path to the left that looked like it led to a tower and a coliseum.

 And then you saw them: Seven statues, all on pedestals. From a distance, you couldn’t make out the figures, and you weren’t expecting to recognize them once closer. 

But you did.

“Oh, you must be wondering about these statues, yes?” Crowley asked you, having caught you looking at them with wide eyes. “These are the Great Seven, the most influential and powerful figures throughout history. How about I regale you with their stories as we walk? Hmm?”

“Oh, no need,” you dismissed. “I think I already have a pretty good idea of who they are.” ‘I can’t believe Disney managed to branch their franchise across time and space. How does one even attempt to do that?’

“Shall we start with–wait, what do you mean ‘you already have a good idea?’” Crowley was about to start a story but quickly doubled back in disbelief at your response. “How could you already know? Did you not say that you are not from this world?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know how this is possible, but these figures are all characters from a movie franchise back in my world,” you explained. ‘Wait, should I have said that? Well, I hope this information doesn’t snowball into something with dire consequences, like breaking the time-space continuum, but it’s too late now…  I’m sure it’ll be fine.’

“Well, that is quite interesting, even if unexpected. Perhaps their stories were transported into your world, just as you were to ours,” Crowley’s thoughts slipped out from his mouth; perhaps this man had little more going on in his brain than you initially thought.

“I do have one question though.”

“Yes? And what would that be?”

“Why do the plaques say their titles, but not their names?”

A moment of silence passes. Afraid you said something wrong or offensive, you opened your mouth to apologize, but Crowley broke the silence first.

“Come again?” Crowley looked shocked, or at least as shocked as he could with his mask on.

Now feeling perturbed yourself, you hesitantly repeat your question. A quiet uneasiness spreads through your body at the silence that follows once more.

 “Did I…did I say something wrong?” you meekly asked.

“Hmm, what? Oh, oh no, not at all,” Crowley assuaged your concern. “To answer your question though, we use their titles out of respect for them and their deeds and accomplishments, “Crowley explained quickly. “Now, no more time for dilly-dallying; we must be off.” With a swish of his coat, Crowley started back on the path towards the castle. “Hmm, yes, I’ll have to discuss this with…” Crowley mumbled, his voice getting too quiet to make out his words at the end.

The feeling of a specific kind of uneasiness, almost the same kind you get from things with an uncanny valley feeling, welled up inside you. The feeling that something isn’t quite right. Whatever you said affected Crowley for reasons unknown to you. At that moment, you felt as if you had made an irreversible decision, one that would forever change the course of your life here.

A/N: Heyyyy, so, long time no see. As of 9/22/23, I’ve edited the previous chapters and changed some very minor details and such, so it’ll hopefully read better now. If you began reading this fic after said date, then ignore that; you’ve already read the edited version. For the people who have continued to comment on my work, I wanna say thank you. Your kind words motivate me much more than you can imagine. I’ve written out the outlines for the next chapter or two or three, depending on if I decide to merge them or not, so hopefully I’ll get those done soon. 

*I’m changing the timeline a wee bit to make room because with all the extra stuff I put in, cramming it all into one day was just unreasonable. Also, what kind of school has orientation and move-in day the night before the first day of class? Especially if the students don’t even know what dorm they’re going into before orientation? Yes, there’s magic and stuff, but still.

Next Chapter >

[echantedtoon]

Twelve Days Of Kny Day 2 Stockings Hung By The Fire

(Tanjiro x Kanao)

Tagging: @lavenderdropp

The colorful lights flashes amongst the nearly decorated tree that was placed up only an hour ago. 

Silence embraced the small home as a soft cold wind blew amongst the snowflakes outside. A cold shiver ran down her spine at the sight of snow at falling against the windows from the outside despite the warm pink wool sweater covering her top and her body standing so close to the fireplace. 

Despite it all, the pink eyes running over the selections of colorful soft fabrics gazed back up at her from being slung over on her arms. Silver and gold. Red and white. Green, red, and white. Blue and sparkly silver. All Christmas colored and festive ready for the holiday they represent. Now all waiting to be put up over the fire.

The loud creaking of the front door temporarily caught her attention from the stockings to the quick gust of cold air blasting from up the hallway. 

"Kanao?", a male voice called out from the same hallway. A silent moment passed by with nothing but the crackling fire and the shuffling noises before footsteps echoed up from down the hall towards her. "Kanao? Shinobu said I could find you here." A second later another figure came around the corner and red eyes blinked at her. "Oh there you are!"

A boy with red eyes and a large warm smile stared back at her. A green sweater draped over himself with the last few remaints of snow gently falling off his legs. He must've just arrived here. 

"She told me you were finishing up the decorations." His head tilted towards the large Christmas tree out up and smiled wider. "Wow. Is that the tree Ms. Kanae put up?" She nodded. "She did a great job! It looks amazing!" He then looked back to her, tilting his head down at the stockings in her arms. "Oh. Are you not done?"

"They are the last things," her voice softly spoke holding up her arms with a small frown. "But I don't know which one goes first."

"Do you want some help?" He slowly reached up a hand, pausing to allow her to say no if she wanted to before grabbing two to hold them up to her. "I don't think they have to be in any order but if it matters to you then I'll help you with it! Which one do you want to put up first?"

Pink eyes widened at him with a blink before looking at the four stockings in thought. "...The red one."

"The one that's candycane striped?" She nodded and he smiled. "Then we'll put it up first.-"

"It reminds me of your eyes."

He paused in the middle of hanging it up looking back to her side eyed.. before he just smiled softly. "Really? That's really nice of you to say so. Hey. Nezuko is going on those sleigh rides. Would you like to go on one when we're done?"

Pink eyes widened at him before she smiled and nodded. "Yes. That sounds fun."

"Great! We'll go right after this. Take your time picking the next one."

[alastor-simp-page]

The Deal/Chains Prompt Charlastor - A little peek

I feel so bad. I wasn't able to finish it in time but I gotta put something out. I'm scrambling to finish it. Yippee! It's definitely interesting...I'm trying out a new writing style.

They're a bit OOC but I was inspired. And well, you all voted for Charlie owning Alastor's soul so that's what I'm trying to craft. This is for sure steering into dubious territory.

You walked into the room as anyone does. With such a simple action as that, I can glean enough information to know what I’m walking into. Gait, pace, smile or lack of, the way your chest rises and falls. Your eyes looked everywhere but me. Curious. You were the one to ask for me after all. And here you were, rubbing your bare arm and practically stumbling over your feet. 

Wearing a dress shirt with suspenders? Quite a curious thing for a lady of your stature. The way your hair falls over your shoulder tells me you had your nails digging into your scalp not even seconds ago. 

I suppose being the Princess of Hell was no small feat. And meeting the Radio Demon? No wonder you’re a wreck. A beautiful mess if that’s what I could call you? 

I stand, as it's the gentlemanly thing to do and put my arm out for you. I grin, “Why, hello there, darling. You must be Princess Charlotte! Correct?” You simply smile up at me, that sort of nervous one where the smile doesn’t quite reach the eyes.

“Yep, yep!” You say and quickly take my hand. Your hand is soft and warm, something that would melt in my grip if I grasped it too long. You let go far too soon, letting my hand fall back to my side. “But I go by Charlie. Just Charlie now,” You insist. I arch a brow. A name either meant to deny her parents wishes or to establish some sort of dominance in the hierarchy with a male name. I don’t pry, it's rude, after all! 

The fire in the fireplace roars in agony, tinting your blonde waves in a crimson glow, the same hue of those naive eyes. “So…um,” You kick your feet, something to distract you from your words. I understand, darling. My finger swirls around the sphere of my radio cane. An unfortunate habit I’ve contracted. “My Dad set up this meeting and well, I’m sure you know what it's about, right?”

Not simply your Dad…the King of Hell, the Little Guy downstairs as those upstairs liked to call him. Of course, I knew what it was about. It didn’t take a genius to ask around with that ever so charming (and sinister) smile of mine. Your little passion project: that ridiculous hotel. Redeeming the damned! There’s a reason why Purgatory was disbanded. 

I decided not to tell you that. See if you slip up or leave a few details out. I’m sure you will or you may blabber on for an eternity. “No, I have not, Charlie” is what I answered. 

You let out a little squeal and start pawing through your bag. Oh dear, this may have been a mistake. My ears perk up at that sound unwillingly, those blasted things. However that little squeal, that little sound, it's so enticing. I wonder how many sounds I can entice out of you by the time I’m done with you? Don’t you think so, dear Charlie? Make you scream? Cry? Moan my name? 

No, no, no. I’m getting quite too far ahead of myself. I haven’t even seen what you want. What our relationship pans out to be! Hah! Not that it isn’t hard to guess: help. Something a darling little damsel in distress needs I suppose?

You started to ramble on, “So…the Happy Hotel is all about redeeming sinners and I really…” I’m half listening to you. The rest of my senses devoted to the way you practically danced as you talked. The way you swirled and twirled, gripping the papers in your grasp, pictures drawn from the likes of a 4 year old high on Coca-Cola. It was your drawings, I knew, crudely crafted and having the right to be hung in a modern art museum. Still adorable nonetheless. 

However I’m sure no drawings, no art pieces, and no paintings could ever fully illustrate you. The artist would never pick the right color for the rose of your cheeks nor capture the flow of your hair. And certainly never capture that bubble of happiness you became. 

You cared. Care, love, cherish, what alien words in a world such as Hell. And no more, the daughter of Sin itself. Spawn of the Devil and of the treacherous first woman: Lilith. You wanted to help sinners. The worst of the worst. It was almost laughable, downright absurd. You? Daughter of the deviled goat man who offered the apple. Leading to sin taking a hold of the world? Guilt must be gnawing at your soul, the weight of your father’s actions falling onto your shoulders, the burden of family. Or simply because you cared? Because you wanted to help the worst of the worst have a chance to knock on the pearly gates? You’re a strange one, dear.

“So! What do you think, Alastor,” You ask. My name rolls off your tongue like it's etched there, like it belongs there. I rather like it.

I roll back my shoulders, hands twisting my bowtie into place. “It doesn’t matter what I think, dear.” It truly doesn’t. “Your father asked me to offer my services to you. So…do you require them?” Please say you do. 

That bubbly demeanor of yours drops and flips your smile into a frown. “Well, I need to know if you believe in me or not.” You say. Fair enough.

I stand and cross around the coffee table. Your crimson eyes widen at the movement. I aim to surprise, I suppose. I plop myself down beside you and you simply stare at me, shifting an inch. There’s no need to be afraid of me, darling. Well, I suppose it's fair.  

“Darling, what I’ve seen so far is a woman who deeply believes in her dream.” I mince my words, cutting them up in tasty pieces for you to devour. “There’s nothing more powerful than a person who cares. Truly cares about their cause. About their passion. And you seem to do just that.” I tap you on the shoulder. A small touch, nothing too much from stranger to stranger. I can see you’re listening, intently. Oh, you poor dear. Your eyes are wide, surprised. Has no one believed in you before? “Of course, I believe in you, Charlie!” I land it home, driving the stake in deep.

Oh, I can just see it through your glass porcelain face. You want someone to believe in you, don’t you? The way your rosy cheeks deepen in color tells me all I need. Hah, you’re desperate, aren’t you? Letting the Radio Demon of all people to encourage you?

“Thanks…” you say sheepishly. You’re bursting with joy. I know you are. You’re simply too ashamed to admit it. I can see it in the way you shift, look away, and how your chest heaves. You’re excited. Someone! Finally someone! You must think. 

“Again, I’ll offer my services again. Your father wanted you to meet with me for…well, my popularity with my radio station, correct? Get the word out to folks?” I tell you. It is what your father had told me quite stiffly. I guess it must have been your idea, no doubt. 

You rub your neck. You’re…unsure? I tilt my head. What are you about to do, dear? “Well, I said that at first but meeting you…I have a different idea.” I grin. You’re an interesting gal, aren’t you? Changing things up? Perhaps you’re less predictable than I previously thought.

“And what is that?” I lean in close and you lean away. My, my, my, you’re still a skittery little thing, aren’t you, darling? 

“I think you’re a nice guy but my Dad doesn’t really like you at all. And well, he only trusts someone if they're on a leash,” You say. Oh dear. This is going in a direction that I would not go in. A leash? That only meant one thing and it wasn’t something I was willing to bargain for today.

“You are aware there’s little trust if one must be put on a leash for there to be trust,” I say. It’s true. A leash is a walking prison. Move from place to place, try as you will to stretch it and it will still yank you back.

You murmur to yourself, “I know…” However your eyes sparkle. “But I think you’re going to like my offer! A deal if you will!”

Deal? Now that’s what I wanted to hear! My specialty! My hands weave together, cracking a knuckle one by one. You stare. You’re unsure. That seems to be a theme which always etches your face. The way your eyes crinkle and how your lips twitch. 

I have you just where I want you. I stab my cane into the floor, you flinch, and I rub my digit on the sphere where my good old mic blinks idly. “So, what are your terms, dear?” Words I plan to switch into: what are my terms. 

Something flashes within your crimson eyes. Something beyond that naive little princess you are. I couldn’t catch it in time, it slipped just as quickly from my grasp. What was that? Perhaps nothing. I hope nothing.

You stare back. I can feel the pressure of your gaze seemingly pressing into the space between my eyes like the cold barrel of a rifle. You’re getting bolder by the minute aren’t you? You clear your throat and fold your hands neatly in your lap. How princess-y of you.

“My terms are that…” Your eyes dart away. Good. You’re nervous again. Just how I like you. “...you can assist me on a much more personal level if…” Well, go on! I’m listening, darling! We may have all eternity but all this stalling is getting rather out of hand. “...my Dad said I can only make you my hotelier if I own your soul,” You say.

(Subject to change)