#we'll have to see if i can weave it in

[nobodieshero-main]

i think i might add a new character to the main group

[sotc]

I've been thinking sooo much on making zevana in da4 cc in general but even potentially playing an au with 1) mila as rook but ALSO 2) zevana's kid as rook!!!

i have no idea what they'd be quite yet in terms of looks or name or anything like that BUT I am already set that they wouldn't be a crow or a warden faction. I cannot imagine Milana or Zevran wanting their child to have their shit circumstances or upbringings. lmao I am kinda leaning on lords of fortune rogue maybe?? hmmm. much to think about.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

WE GOT TURTLE BEANS AND LOVES LIES BLEEDING IN THE GARDEN FOLKS

[reitziluz]

the knight shirt

"it might end up too small, and i'll have to give it to someone else."

"maybe to me?"

nephew got his very own net shirt (without having to wait for my other project to fail), and it was dubbed a knight shirt!

considering i 1) used my own winged/in-progress pattern 2) didn't have basically any measurements, the fit ended up great! much more of a long tunic than intended, but honestly it just contributed to the knight look.

the fact he could pause tearing through the presents to put it on tells me he really liked it. couldn't get a better pic tho, because there were swords to open and test out. we'll see if i can get him to model it for me for more pics, but i probably won't post them here and just show them to friends.

i'm working on a similar shirt for myself from chunkier yarn. tragically lost one finished piece on the train. not too tragic tho, it doesn't take long to make.

[jadedbutler]

back when i'd first read dark rise, i'd written this little moody rescue au oneshot for Will & James (KempClair? What're we calling them lol),

I'd started drafting a James POV + continuation of it, which was left marinating in my gdocs until i read dark heir last weekend and had my brain chemicals once again reactivated.

below is a sample of that WIP which i am feeding you directly from my stupid little hands ;;

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

All draped in black and gold, crystal and white, wearing lavish masks over their eyes, unable to obscure their covetous little stares. Appraising James like he’s one of the cracked marble busts or stolen baroque oil paintings laid out on the lobby floor to be admired, but all too rich for their blood.

Another era, another gilded cage.

James St. Clair, on display again, an objet of virtu presented by yet another man drunk off conditional loyalty and borrowed prestige. Surrounded by vermin that think themselves his followers.

Well. Not untrue.

James tips his crystal drinking glass to his lips, itching to stain the crimson carpeted floors of the Hotel with a much darker red. It would be sooo easy; with a twitch of his fingers, he could turn this stupid masquerade into a massacre. But what he lacks in temperance and humility, he makes up for with patience. So he lets the wine soothe his nerves and sharpen his tongue instead. Biding his time.

Waiting. Always waiting. 

"Are you enjoying yourself, my jewel?" James' current "patron" whispers, close enough to disturb the pendant dangling from his earlobe. A diamond-encrusted silver cross, clamped painfully onto James' ear, since his invulnerability makes piercings impossible to hold. It's not a relic, but like most jewelry designed in his honour, the earring is... troublesome.

"Oh, positively euphoric," James drawls in reply, inspecting the cuticles of his free hand to showcase exactly how much fun he's not having. But his sarcasm is lost on his patron, the dleusional swine, who returns a satisfied hum as he swirls his own champagne glass thoughtfully.

"As you should be. After all, tonight will be the marking of a new era - a new king. And what is a king without his crown jewel?"

Hah. Derision peals out of James' throat before he can swallow it back. How violently laughable. It's like this every fucking time.

But his laughter falters a moment later, as a subtle murmur ripples through the throng of cultists surrounding him. No, not a murmur, no one has stopped talking, not for a second.

Not a flicker, either, the chandelier lights overhead glittering bright, winking starlight into his eyes.

A shiver, then. A sudden drop in temperature that only he seems to feel. And it was so sickeningly hot just a moment ago.

And then --

Found you.

Robbed of his breath and his heartbeat and every thought he's ever had, James lifts his eyes and finds himself pinned, under that dark endless gaze he's felt a thousand times in his dreams.

There, in the crowd, separated by a dozen or so false followers, a pale face looks regards him, shrouded in black lace.

James' lips part by a fraction of a centimeter, and he feels himself about to say. You found me.

The spell remains unbroken, even as James' patron pulls an arm around his waist, announcing his latest conquest to the thrall before him. "A toast--" he says, or maybe he doesn't. James isn't listening. He can't hear a thing.

He swallows back the rest of his wine, untangles himself from the unwanted grip.

"Where do you --"

"Breath of fresh air," he mutters, tearing himself away.

Away, away and up the empire steps to the mezzanine, up the next few floors of the Hotel until he reaches an empty hall, void of false followers and prying eyes. He's vaguely aware that he's shivering hard. Not because his thin white shirt leaves his back exposed. Not because of the wine in his blood.

Absently, he grabs a forgotten coat draped over the bannister, and pulls his arms through. But the shaking does not stop.

In the Hotel, his steps are muted against the carpeted floors. But as pushes through the glass doors leading to the balcony. the ground beneath his boot heels is more solid. Still, he feels as though if he takes another step, he'll fall right through.

Will is waiting for him by the marble-wrought railing, still and beautiful as a sculptor's depiction of Lucifer. God's beloved, fallen.

"You came for me," he breathes, bathed once more in Will's beckoning gaze. With impossible yearning, James reaches out, not with his hands but with his magic, to assure himself this isn't a spectre, a cruel trick, the kind that fate has played on him over and over and over -

"You can come closer,"

A gloved hand reaches toward him. Not begging to touch. Not commanding.

It's too much. James had spent this entire lifetime cultivating a wall of ice and iron around himself, only for it to melt from a single gesture from Will. He practically pours himself into Will's arms, pressing his cheek against his hand.

"I wasn't sure," he sighs, dragging his fingers, his real ones, along Will's armdf;lskdf;lka;lkfsdlkjdf idk to be conitniutend ?????? bY e

[percyjacksonfan3]

Okay I will admit I was nervous going into Chalice of the Gods but I did love it

[yeyinde]

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

[frownyalfred]

Since we believe the older Jason gets, the more he looks /acts like Bruce, if he attends a gala because of an obligation (i.e. Alfred guilt trips him and the others) how often does he get mistaken as his dad?

Does he take a little advantage and pretends with the more drunker socialites, and tricks them into donating to the lesser known charities that he knows get ignored and directly impact Gotham's poorer neighborhoods?

(Or does he just starts rumors to mess with them all about his dad's rich boy myth. He def makes shifts the hors d'eourves into almost small chilly dogs if he can)

"Mr. Wayne. There you are!"

Jason turned around, smiling wide enough his jaw hurt. With the slim-cut suit, the thin glass of champagne in his hand, and the angle of his shoulders, the whole move was practically a flourish. It was how Bruce did it, after all -- and frankly? It didn't feel too bad.

The true joy came, however, from seeing the faces of the two women as his identity registered. Their smiles tightened, but didn't disappear entirely. Not Bruce Wayne. Close -- but no cigar.

"Mr. Wayne is my father," Jason said, just a little lower than Bruce normally would. He let his eyes settle on the first woman -- blonde, thin lips, eyes narrowed -- and tilted his head, just a fraction. "But I get that all the time. It's flattering, really."

Was it?

"My mistake. You look just like him from behind," the blonde woman said, her strained smile returning. "Jason, yes? Truly remarkable."

Jason swapped his champagne glass into his left hand, holding out his right to her. "Jason Todd. And that's what I strive for at events like these -- remarkable."

The other woman laughed a little at that, breaking ranks with her friend. She was a little older, with more wrinkles on her face than she should have, at her age. A smoker, probably. "Jessica."

Jason shook her offered hand, giving her a smile. "A pleasure, Jessica."

"Anne," the blonde woman added, like an afterthought. Jason hadn't missed the way she'd avoided giving her name when they'd shaken.

Jason skipped right over that tidbit. "Are you looking for Bruce, then? I can point you in the right direction, but you might need to call a cab. He's at Wayne Manor tonight, unfortunately. A little under the weather."

If you can call three broken ribs and a concussion "under the weather."

"Oh, how awful," Jessica said, holding a hand over her mouth. She turned to Anne. "Did you know about this?"

"Of course not," Anne said, eyes narrowing in on Jason again. "Is he alright? It's not like him to miss an event like this."

Jason realized, idly, that was, in fact, Anne Regis. And that he was, in fact, standing at the Regis Charity night. Which meant Anne was -- in all likelihood -- pissed by Bruce's nonarrival. And disappointed in his replacement, if the way her lips pursed meant anything.

"Well, I'm sure he'll make the next one," Jason offered, shrugging one shoulder. Bruce's suit pulled a little, reminding him that silk and satin had less wiggle room than spandex and Kevlar weave. "Fear not, I did bring his check. And his checkbook, if the one he wrote wasn't...satisfactory enough."

It was telling, how Anne's eyes didn't light up at the idea of a larger gift. It meant that this event wasn't really about raising money -- it never was. It was about seeing and being seen. And Anne Regis had wanted to cash in on Bruce Wayne's presence, not his money. His social standing, his charm, his glamor -- not his checkbook.

"That's lovely, dear. What a thoughtful son." Anne glanced over her shoulder, indicating she was about to excuse herself. "Jessica, it looks like Roger is back. Why don't we excuse ourselves--" heh "--and say hello?"

Jessica gave Jason a warmer smile than Anne. "Stay sharp, kid."

"Tell Bruce I said hello," Anne said, with a nod that might have been charming, several decades ago. "We'll have to do brunch soon."

They left, disappearing back into the sea of people. As soon as they were out of sight, Jason diverted to the back bar, setting down his glass of champagne.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked him, taking the glass before Jason could even look for a discard tray.

Jason glanced at the impressive array of bottles, suddenly understanding why Bruce tended to stick to soda water or seltzer at these events. Every single word he'd traded with the women had been like a spar of its own. He needed to stay sharp. Sharper than he did, normally.

"Diet coke, lime, please," Jason said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a crumpled twenty. He put it in the tip jar, not missing the grateful spark in the bartender's eyes.

"Right away, sir."

[winxanity-ii]

FOXED IN [1/2]

ship: fem!fennec fox!reader x various!beastar warnings: non-explicit ( maybe cursing/profanity; sorry y'all I gotta loose mouth) word count: 1.7k a/n: heheh, I got back into beastars so idk might dabble with this more in a full fic way, we'll see I got so many running in my head 🤣😩 Part 2

★·.·´🇧‌🇪‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇦‌🇷‌🇸‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The summer sun was hot as it shone down, beating relentlessly on the over-crowded public pool.

You sucked your teeth in annoyance, shifting on the edge of the pool where you'd been perched for what felt like an eternity.

Kids ran wild, yelling and splashing without a care, their tiny feet pounding on the slick concrete, almost slipping every time they turned a corner too sharply.

You couldn't help but flinch each time one of them ran too close, kicking up water that sprayed in your direction.

The constant nudging and the unending splashes were starting to grate on your patience.

You felt droplets of water continuously flicked onto your legs, each one colder than the last, and it took everything in you to not growl under your breath.

You were here because you'd bitten your tongue earlier and agreed to babysit your niece and nephews while your sister went grocery shopping. Free of charge, might you add.

It wasn't even that she asked nicely—it was more like you felt the weight of her tired eyes and the desperation in her voice, and before you knew it, you found yourself nodding and watching her rush out the door.

The one thing that made it bearable was the promise of her buying your little snack list as payment, but the longer you sat there, the more those snacks seemed not worth it.

The sound of another big splash brought you back to the present, a wave of water washing up over your legs, some of it splattering onto your shorts.

You sucked your teeth again, this time louder, and decided you'd had enough.

"Yup, I'm about to dip," you muttered to yourself, pushing off the pool's edge.

You weaved your way toward the crowded pool chairs, squeezing through the narrow paths between towels and bags until you made it to your family's little space.

Your aunt was watching from under an oversized sun hat, and one of your nieces sat beside her, eyes glued to your phone screen as some YouTube video blared.

"Hey, sweetheart, can you hand Tee-Tee her phone real quick?" you called out, trying to keep your voice as gentle as possible despite your growing irritation.

The little girl looked up, blinking at you, and then obediently handed the phone over.

You smiled at her, genuinely happy she listened.

She was one of the good ones, you thought sourly, the kind of kid that didn't make you want to rip your hair out. If it had been any of the others, they probably would've thrown the phone into the pool in a fit of rage.

With the phone in hand, you quickly shot off a message to your sister:

𝐋𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐈𝐒 Sorry, too many kids around, my ass is starting to itch. Deuces.

You didn't even bother waiting to see if she'd read it. Whatever she had to say, it could wait until you were far, far away from the chlorine and chaos.

Pocketing your phone, you told your aunt and niece bye, promising you'd see them tomorrow for family dinner.

Your aunt waved you off absentmindedly, ogling at some shiftless, buff lifeguard on duty through her binoculars; from where she got them, you had no fucking clue.

You rolled your eyes, grabbed your stuff, and began making your way out.

A moment later, you were nudged by a running kid, and you nearly fell into the pool but caught yourself just in time.

You called after the child, "Slow the hell down, you fucking crotch goblin!" huffing before turning back to leave, only to slip on someone's wet croc and fall backward into the pool.

The cold water hit you like a slap. For a second, everything was a blur of chlorine and light refracting through the surface.

But what should have been a normal kick and push back up to the surface was delayed, not only by the overcrowded surface but by your waterlogged bag tugging you down, dragging you deeper.

You opened your eyes underwater, the sharp sting of chlorine burning them instantly. Panic set in as you struggled to pull off your bag, your arms flailing in the heavy water.

Your lungs burned, screaming for air, and you kicked harder, almost breaking the surface, almost tasting the chlorine-soaked air.

But the chaos above—the kicking legs, the waves—pushed you back down, the pressure growing in your chest.

The muffled shouts and splashes from above seemed distant, distorted by the water, like you were in some other dimension entirely.

The pressure on your chest grew, the heavy weight of your bag pulling you deeper, and you kicked harder, desperate to reach the surface.

But no matter how hard you fought, the surface seemed just out of reach—so close, yet the world above felt like it was slipping away.

The chlorine-soaked water filled your senses, sharp and chemically, burning the back of your throat as panic set in. You thrashed, trying to tear off your bag, your arms sluggish and heavy.

And just when your vision began to blur with darkness, something changed.

The water's cold grip vanished.

Your lungs didn't burn. The pressure in your chest evaporated.

You blinked...

... and opened your eyes.

The light came back.

The sound, taste, smell, and touch—it all came back.

The sound hit you first—not muffled and distorted anymore, but sharp and loud. The blare of honking horns, the distant buzz of conversations, the whoosh of a passing bus.

Your eyes adjusted to a new scene, sunlight flickering through tall buildings instead of the pool's glistening surface.

You were on the curb, your body pressed against warm pavement that was a far cry from the frigid pool water.

The smell of chlorine had been replaced with something foreign—a mix of gasoline, hot asphalt, and street food.

Your damp skin clung uncomfortably to the fabric of your clothes, but it wasn't the soggy, heavy sensation of being underwater.

It was just... hot. Sweaty. Real.

You blinked again, trying to take everything in—the movement, the noise, the overwhelming presence of this place.

A yellow cab zipped by, honking loudly at a pedestrian. Your head jerked back, face scrunching up in confusion.

A cab?

The air here was different too—thick with city smells, far from the sharp, sterile bite of chlorine.

The ground beneath you wasn't cool and slick like the pool's edge; it was rough, heated by the sun, and every nerve in your body screamed that something was wrong.

Your eyes scanned the scene around you. The towering buildings, the bustling people, the blur of colors as everyone moved with purpose.

Okay... this is definitely not the pool.

A strange sinking feeling began settling in your stomach.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you like that, didn't see you there, haha!" a voice cut through your thoughts.

You looked up, your eyes focusing on the person in front of you—a blond boy, maybe in his late teens. He had warm, honey-brown eyes that seemed to glint playfully in the sunlight, and honestly, he was kind of cute.

The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled made him look approachable, even charming.

But what made you falter were the two fluffy ears on top of his head—golden Labrador ears.

He was dressed in casual clothing and spoke with a friendly smile, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

You stared at him for a moment, trying to understand what you were seeing.

At first, your instinct was to put as much distance between you and the strange hybrid Labrador in front of you as quickly as possible. But you hesitated, not wanting to make a scene.

Your mind raced, trying to calculate if you could get away without drawing attention—maybe find the nearest phone booth and dial up the US' Area 51 unit or something.

Instead, you gave—what you hoped—was a sweet smile, saying, "No worries, I'm fine." All those years laboring away as a server had finally paid off in moments like this.

It seemed to work because the Labrador's tail began wagging happily from side to side, his whole demeanor brightening. "Oh man, I'm so glad you're okay! You really took quite the tumble there," he said with a nervous chuckle. "Here, let me help you up," he added, reaching out a hand.

Before you could even decline, the dog-boy easily picked you up, cradling you in one arm like you weighed nothing.

Wait...

Horror struck you as you realized just how small you were compared to the hybrid-man.

You were nearly three times smaller than him. His arm felt like a steel beam against your back, and his strength was undeniable, his tail wagging all the while.

The man's golden Labrador ears fell slightly, his tail going still as he noticed your horrified expression at being picked up.

He hastily apologized, setting you down as gently as possible, his face flushed. "Oh geez, I'm really sorry about that. It's just—second nature, you know? My roommate's a fennec fox, and he's always needing a hand," he rambled, clearly nervous.

His words were abruptly cut off when you heard someone call out, "____!"

Your ears twitched, and your head swiveled towards the sound. The voice was a bit deep, carrying a warmth.

Before you knew it, a small tan figure dashed over and crashed into you in a tight hug. The impact almost knocked the breath out of you, but the boy's jolly laughter softened the surprise.

"I missed you so much, cuz! I can't believe you finally transferred to Cherryton!" he exclaimed, excitement radiating off of him.

When he pulled back, you took in the sight of a cute, tan boy. He had dark, curly hair, and his crooked teeth were visible as he smiled broadly. On top of his head were two large light brown ears, twitching slightly.

You blinked, staring at him, unsure how to react.

Then, your gaze drifted over his shoulder, taking in the numerous human-animal hybrids walking around as if everything was normal.

Slowly, your eyes lowered to your own figure, and you finally noticed—felt—a small, rhythmic thump against the back of your upper thighs.

Turning your head slightly, you saw a small black tail.

What the fuck...

[moonselune]

Hi, would you consider writing about some of the guys (Gale, Halsin, Wyll, maybe Rolan?) reacting to their partner/tav telling them they're pregnant?

oooooo I like this a lot

Gale

The cozy warmth of your home library wrapped around you as you approached Gale, who was immersed in the glow of an arcane tome. He looked up from the pages, his eyes softening as they met yours.

"Gale, dearest" you begin, trying to steady your voice. "There's something I need to tell you."

Concern flashed in his eyes, and he closed the book, giving you his full attention. "What is it, my love?"

You took a deep breath, placing his hand gently on your abdomen. "I'm pregnant."

For a heartbeat, Gale simply stared at you, his face a mix of shock and dawning realization. Then, an elated smile spread across his face. "Truly?" he asked, his voice brimming with joy.

"Truly," you confirmed, smiling back at him.

Gale pulled you into a tight embrace, his happiness radiating from him. "By the gods' grace, this is wonderful news!" He released you and began pacing excitedly, his mind clearly racing. "I have been ready for this since the day I met you. I know exactly what spells will help them sleep, which bedtime stories will ignite their imagination… Oh, and we must start their magical education early!"

You blinked, astounded by his readiness. "You've really thought about this, haven't you?"

"Of course," he said, grinning. "I have so much to share with our child. Imagine teaching them about the Weave, guiding them through their first incantations, and watching them discover the wonders of magic. Oh it's going to be extraordinary!"

Gale's excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh. "You already sound like the perfect father."

He pulled you into another embrace, his voice softening with emotion. "And you, my love, will be the most incredible mother."

Astarion:

The night was quiet as you approached Astarion, who was lounging by the fire in your underdark estate, a book in hand. He looked up, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as you sat beside him.

"Astarion," you began, your heart pounding, you could tell that he could tell that something was wrong but ever the charmer, he let you speak, "I have something important to tell you."

Astarion raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He snapped his book shut and looked at you gleefully "Oh? What might that be?"

Taking his hand, you placed it on your stomach and looked him in the eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Astarion just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. "You must be joking."

"I'm not joking," you said firmly, your eyes locked on his.The disbelief slowly melted from his face, replaced by a look of bliss and panic.

"You're serious," he whispered. "We're going to have a child?"

"Yes," you said, "We are having a baby, my love.... is that okay?"

"Is that okay?"Astarion's eyes sparkled with joy, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "This is incredible!, my darling We're going to have a miniature me running around! Oh how delightful."

His excitement was infectious, and you couldn't help but laugh. "That's what you're excited about?"

"Of course!" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "Just think of it – a little one with my charm, my wit, and of course, my good looks."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled with happiness. "You are incorrigible, Astarion."

"And you love me for it," he teased, kissing you softly, you felt yourself melt into it, relief and love poured into it. He then slowly pulled away, "But truly, this is rather excellent news I could have... have ever received." Aatarion, rested his forehead against yours, and you can see his eyes begin to water." We will have a family, all ours, and I will make sure they have everything they need."

Your heart melted at his words, and you hugged him tightly. "I know you will, Astarion, my love. We'll make sure they have a wonderful life."

Wyll

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the garden as you approached Wyll, who was sparring with a practice dummy. You tried to tell him that the practice dummy did not compliment your peonies and roses but he argued otherwise. His movements were fluid and precise, but he stopped immediately when he saw you approaching with a radiant smile on your face.

"Wyll," you called out, trying to keep your excitement in check. "Can we talk for a moment?"

He sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow, giving you his undivided attention. "Of course, my heart. What’s on your mind?"

"Well, it's not so much on my mind rather than on me.." You murmured before taking a deep breath in. "I'm pregnant."

For a second, Wyll stood frozen, his eyes widening in shock, and you panicked, was this too soon? Was he not ready? But then, a brilliant smile broke across his face, and he let out a joyous laugh. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Yes, I am," you confirmed, your own smile growing wider as you rested your hands on your stomach. "The healers confirmed it this morning."

Without warning, Wyll swept you up into his arms and spun you around, his laughter ringing through the air. Your skirt billowed in the morning sun and you wished you could hold onto this moment forever.

"This is the best news I've ever heard!" he exclaimed, setting you down gently but keeping his arms around you. "We’re going to be parents!"

He kissed you deeply, joyfully and when he finally pulled back, he was beaming. You laughed, cupping his cheek, relishing in the delight of it all.

"I can't wait to tell everyone," he said, practically vibrating with excitement. "We're going to be parent! Parents!" Wyll then turned away from you and cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling into the sky. "We are going to be parents! I'm going to be a father!"

"Slow down, Wyll," you laughed, your own heart swelling with happiness as you walked over to him, pulling on his arm.. "We should probably tell the others, first, - and gently! No shouting.."

"Of course, of course," he agreed, but you could see he was barely able to contain himself, oh he was so going to shout. "Oh, my father – he will be so thrilled! I am so thrilled! I am going to be a father!"

Wyll's joy was infectious and you both immediately set off to share the wonderful news, by the end of the day Wyll had completely lost his voice, though that did not stop him from holding up a piece of parchment that declared he was going to be a father.

Halsin:

You found Halsin in his study, the warm glow of candlelight illuminating his broad frame as he poured over ancient texts. His healing skills often had him delving into herbal remedies and nature’s secrets, but tonight, you had something far more personal to share.

"Halsin," you called softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, his eyes immediately softening at the sight of you. "My heart, what brings you here at this hour?"

Taking a deep breath, you approached him, your hands resting on your belly. "I have some news. I'm pregnant."

A warm smile spread across Halsin's face, and for a moment, you thought he looked almost... knowing. "Pregnant, you say? That's wonderful news!"

You narrowed your eyes playfully, placing your hands on your hips, you pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You already knew, didn't you?"

Halsin chuckled, reaching out to pull you into his lap, you allowed it but included some mock resistance. Halsin pressed a tedded kiss to your neck.

"I might have had my suspicions," he admitted, his large calloused hand coming to rest on your stomach. "As a healer, certain signs are hard to miss. That and the fact you keep stealing my honeycomb when you think I am not looking, and the constant throwing up and nausea and the-"

"-Okay! Okay, I should have realised sooner, I get it." You playfully scolded him, tapping his chest. "But you didn't think to tell me sooner?"

His eyes twinkled with amusement and affection. "I wanted you to discover it in your own time, to have that moment of joy for yourself." He now kissed your forehead tenderly. "And now that you know, we can share in this happiness together."

You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he was looking at you with such love and admiration. "I suppose I can forgive you," you said with a mock sigh, resting your head against his broad chest.

Halsin's hand gently caressed your stomach, his touch filled with reverence. "You will be a wonderful mother," he whispered, his voice filled with certainty. "Our child will be blessed to have you."

"And they will be blessed to have you as their father," you replied softly. Halsin's embrace tightened around you, his love and warmth enveloping you completely.

"We will raise this child together, with all the love and care they deserve."

As you nestled in his arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and joy. The future seemed bright and full of promise, with Halsin by your side.

Rolan:

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over Sorcerous Sundries as you found Rolan sorting through a stack of spellbooks. His brow was furrowed in concentration, but he looked up and smiled when he saw you approaching.

"Hey, what brings you here?" Rolan asked, setting the books aside and giving you his full attention. "Isn't there trouble you should be getting yourself into so your darling lover can come and save you?"

"For once, trouble found me- well us, and it's all my darling lover's fault." You smiled nervously and crossed your arms.

His smile faltered slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. "What is it? What did I do?"

You uncrossed your arms and reached out and took his hands in yours, looking into his eyes. "I'm pregnant."

For a moment, Rolan just stared at you, his face going pale. "Pregnant?" he repeated, his voice shaky. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, squeezing his hands gently. "Yes, I'm sure."

Panic flashed across his face, and he started to pull away, running his hands through his hair. "But… how? I mean, I know how, but… are we ready for this? What if I'm not a good father? What if I mess everything up?"

You stepped closer, taking his hands again and holding them firmly. "Rolan, listen to me. You will be an excellent father. You are kind, compassionate, and intelligent. Our child will be lucky to have you as their father."

He looked at you, his eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. "But what if I can't do it? What if I don't know how to be a father?"

You smiled reassuringly, cupping his face in your hands. "We'll learn together. We have each other, and we'll figure it out. You're not alone in this."

Rolan took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "You're right. I can do this. We can do this."

You kissed him softly, feeling the tension in his body begin to ease. "Yes, we can. And we'll be a wonderful family."

Rolan finally smiled, though it was still tinged with a bit of nervousness. "I guess I should start reading up on parenting then, huh?"

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Yes, but we have plenty of time. Right now, let's just focus on us."

Rolan nodded, pulling you into a warm embrace. "Thank you for believing in me," he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," you replied, holding him tightly. "And I can't wait to start this journey with you."

I can picture Rolan just freaking tf out, bless him. Hope you all enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

[muddyorbsblr]

curiosities

See my full list of works here!

Requested by: Anonymous | view request here

Summary: Loki's interrogation tactics left you curious about his powers, and he's more than happy to give you a little demonstration while you worked on your reports.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning/s: 18+ | slightly smutty (think limes not lemons…but still, minors & pearl clutchers leave right now); thigh riding; hand necklaces; naughty use of Loki's powers; semi-public [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship

Dick-tionary: nothing explicit but proceed with caution starting from "Quiet, darling"

"Darling? Are you alright?"

The sound of Loki's voice broke through the hazy thoughts you'd found yourself lost in for the last few minutes, making you realize that your fingers hovered over the keyboard for so long that your computer screen went on Standby. And the text fields of your interrogation report remained blank.

"Sorry what?" you mumbled, realizing too late that the reason you lost yourself in your thoughts in the first place was from recalling the events of the interrogation from earlier. Specifically the way your lover's voice and overall aura darkened as he threatened a variant of reminding them specifically what kind of person he was on the once Sacred Timeline.

Of showing them a sampling of the terrible awful things that he could do, especially now given that the magic barrier had been switched off. You had only the slightest whispers of an idea, given what you'd read from his file and the files of multiple variants of him.

Shadow casting. Duplication casting. An entire pocket dimension filled with who knows what. And then there was the telepathy. The telekinesis. The illusion projection. The mind control.

Which powers did your Loki have, you wondered. And which ones would he utilize in the name of those terrible, awful things?

And why did the prospect of him using those powers on you stir something in you that currently had you struggling not to squirm in your seat from the arousal?

"You look as if you keep drifting off, darling. Are you feeling alright?" Loki reached out to cup the side of your face in his large hand, the contact hitting him with a barrage of the thoughts that had been swimming through your mind since the interrogation. "Oh…" he rasped, moving his hand to weave his fingers through your hair. "I see now what has stolen your ability to focus on this…simple tedious task."

"Hmmm?" you replied absently, soft whimpers escaping you once the god leaned in and started pressing kisses from your temple down to your neck. This wasn't helping your wandering thoughts in the slightest. And then he wrapped his arm around you, lifting you up from your seat and maneuvering you to straddle his thigh. "Loki," you whined, a sharp gasp escaping you when he nipped at the spot between your neck and shoulder.

"Quiet, darling," he told you in a low teasing tone. "You wish to know which powers I possess? I'm more than happy to give you a little demonstration." He brought a hand up to your neck, squeezing ever so slightly at the sides. "I've cast an illusion wherein our colleagues are none the wiser to our…current predicament. All they see is us, sitting side by side, your lover patiently waiting for you to finish your report."

He flexed the muscles of his thigh, the motion causing a delicious friction between your legs. You let out the start of a moan before his fingers tightened around your neck for a fraction of a second.

"Much as I would adore to hear those beautifully filthy sounds from you, my love, I'm going to have to implore you stay silent. See, if you make any noise that could draw people's attention to us, the illusion breaks. And we'll be disciplined." With a wave of his hand, your jacket disappeared and reappeared neatly folded on the table in front of you. He kissed at your now exposed arm. "Can you breathe alright?"

Butterflies fluttered violently at your stomach at the question, choosing to nod instead of voicing your answer.

"Good girl." A rush of arousal pooled between your thighs at his words. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from making a sound when he nipped at your skin. Another wave of his hand and you suddenly felt cool wispy tendrils grasping at your waist and moving you to grind on your boyfriend's thigh. "I must admit, dear Y/N, I rather enjoy finding these more…pleasurable uses of my abilities. Especially with how deliciously responsive your exquisite form is under my touch." He kissed his way up to your ear. "I look forward to using them all with you. Perhaps later tonight, in our home."

The tendrils held you tighter, pressing you down harder against his thigh before proceeding to undulate your hips. The increased friction, along with how he was kissing and nipping away at your earlobe, had you letting out a strangled moan before his hold tightened on you again, your head swimming from the pressure.

"What did I say about breaking the illusion, my darling?" he growled, the gravel in his voice making you even wetter. "Do you wish to give every soul in this library a show of how desperate and wanton I can make you? Is that it?" He flexed his thigh again the same time that the wispy tendons ground your hips harder against it, a barely muted whimper coming out of you before you bit down hard on your lip and shook your head. "Then stay quiet, sweet mortal. Lest you wish for me to find something within my pocket dimension to stuff that beautiful mouth of yours with."

You did what you could to look down at what was moving you, your mouth forming in an 'O' when you saw that it was his shadows. You let out the tiniest whimper of his name, the pressure on the side of your neck lessening when he stroked at your skin with his thumb.

"I'm going to lift this illusion and then you shall finish your report so that I may bring you home and we can move on to a more…thorough demonstration," he rasped, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "With a little help from a few friends of mine." A flash of Loki's green magic from the corner of your eye caught your attention, his shadows grinding you down even harder on his thigh once you caught sight of two duplicates of him waving and smirking at you. One was wearing that ruffled tuxedo that on paper looked unremarkable on the average man.

But Loki was no average man. He was a god. Your god.

And the other duplicate was dressed exactly as such. With the gold horns and the black and green leather, his usual obsidian curls straightened and slicked back with a menacing look in his eyes as his gaze roamed your body.

The feel of his thigh flexing against your slit had you bringing back your attention to the Loki that held you in place. Your Loki. The real one.

"But first, I want you to soak my thigh."

A/N: Anon, whoever you are, I hope you're having the absolute best day because getting this in my asks had me staring at the ceiling and immediately typing down a lil note in my writing schedule to make this 🫠 Hopefully I did your thot justice

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist

[nanaarchy]

Hey chat !!!! I'm going insane.

Ever since my first listen to TMA, I've had a huge question that NEVER got answered.

Never. Not in the whole series, not Q&As or the wiki or anything. I thought I would never find answers. I thought it would be forgotten. I thought it was a small insignificant detail and I'd have to live with never knowing the truth about it.

Now with TMAGP 19, I might finally know the answer.

Maybe. Maybe maybe. But It Could Be. And now I'm losing my mind at the implications.

((For the record, I know that the stories and worldbuilding are inherently separate - hell, there are even timeline differences in the cases I'm using as evidence. But the overlap might be important, especially when it comes to the Web.))

Spoilers for both shows below!

Its branches were exquisite, and delicate, swaying slightly from small eddies in the liquid, and they shone with every spectra. I must confess that to look upon it, one was – (sigh) filled with profound wonder at its exquisite elegance. [...] Even I, steeped in worldly matters as I am, recognized The Lord’s words to Adam, and was much dismayed at the implication. Isaac then plucked the delicate fruit with ungloved hands and held it before me. [...] The creature was taking root. Strands of its mottled brown hair were extruding downwards between the floor, seeking the dark earth below. Then, too, its back began to sprout, radiant branches unfurling and thickening before me, reaching upwards towards the sunlight with a seemingly insatiable desire. [...] I tell you here, Robert, it saw me, and it knew me. (TMAGP 19 - HARD RESET)

It was an ornate wooden thing, with a snaking pattern of lines weaving their way around towards the centre. The pattern was hypnotic and shifted as I watched it, like an optical illusion. I found my eyes following the lines towards the middle of the table, where there was nothing but a small square hole. Graham noticed me staring, and told me that interesting antique furniture was one of his few true passions. Apparently he’d found the table in a second-hand shop during his student days and fallen in love with it. It had been in pretty bad shape but he’d spent a long time and a lot of money restoring it, though he’d never been able to figure out what was supposed to go in the centre. He assumed it was a separate piece and couldn’t track it down. (MAG 3 - ACROSS THE STREET)

Re: Magnus Institute Ruins. By RedCanary on Saturday April 23 2022 12:17pm. The photos from the spelunk seem properly gone, but I did find an old wooden thing with a bunch of similar symbols on. Some kinda empty box, not really sure what for, though. Gonna see if I can get the light right for a decent pic. Edit: No dice, I’m afraid. Must be something up with my phone camera. Really not helping the whole paranoia thing either. Anyone know anything about photographic distortion? Gonna see if I can borrow my dad’s SLR tomorrow. (TMAGP 1 - FIRST SHIFT)

Adelard Dekker stood in the corner. He was straight and motionless, his lips moving rapidly, though no sound came out of them. In the centre of the room, stood a table carved from dark wood and wrapped all over with a sprawling, intricate pattern. And in front of that table was the thing that had said it was my cousin. It was long and thin, the tops of it bent against the ceiling and its stick-like limbs flailed from too many joints and elbows. Wrapped around it were thick strands of what I think was spider’s web, stretching back into the table, which I now saw pulsed along its carved channels with a sickly light. The face at the top of that gangly frame was like nothing on earth. (MAG 78 - DISTANT COUSIN)

Now... Now I get it. I get it. I finally gave an answer. Or, at least, I think we'll get a concrete answer soon. But I think I get it.

I think I get where the web table comes from. I think I know what it's made of. why it glows. why it had a hole in the middle. I think I might know how the web gained control and sentience so much faster than the other fears. and, if it still manifests in the same way in the Protocol universe, how it also quickly became "the manager" of other fears, as theories suggest.

More importantly, I think I know what was up with the mysterious tree from so, so long ago.

Now I have an answer.

Why was there an apple buried in Hill Top Road?

I opened the box and sitting inside was a single green apple. It looked fresh, shiny, with a coat of condensation like it had just been picked on a cool spring morning. I picked it up. I wasn’t going to eat it, I’m not that stupid, but more than bleeding trees or phantom burning, this confused me. As I took it out of the box, though, it began to turn. The skin turned brown and bruised and started to shrivel in my hand. Then it split. And out came spiders. Dozens, hundreds of spiders erupting from this apple that was rotting right before my eyes. I shrieked and dropped it before any of them could touch my arm. The apple fell to the ground and burst in a cloud of dust. I backed away and waited until I was sure all the spiders had left before retrieving the box. I smashed it with a crowbar, and threw the remains into a skip. (MAG 8 - BURNED OUT)

And now I have an answer. Maybe.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I've had a fantasy/medieval AU in mind for ages and I will write it one day, but the idea just wants out now. So have a brief summary.

Steve works in a small town in the middle of nowhere, he's doing odd jobs and helping to tame the local children. He's very protective because he knows the world outside is dangerous, and yeah, maybe their town is borning, but at least it's safe. Ever since his former fiancées friend got dragged into a river and drowned by a water demon, he's been even more protective of the children (and has saved them from a bunch of close calls too, even though they hate to admit it).

Eddie is a travelling bard, and Steve wants to tear his hair out and weave it into a basket or something. Because where he's trying to make sure the six kids get to grow up, Eddie is filling their heads with adventures, dragons, treasure and all that beautiful stuff that gets people killed one day. But the kids love him and Steve can only stay nearby and pray they don't run off one day with makeshift swords.

He just wants the kids safe. That's why he always accompanies them when Eddie is in town. So what if he sits nearby when Eddie spins his stories, it's just to protect them all from wolves if they decide to come. So what if he inches closer when the tale gets more tense and the protagonist is in danger. So what if he holds his breath until he knows whether the adventurers lived to see another day! It's all for the children, he says to himself.

And Eddie? Eddie sees the wonder in Steve's eyes. He sees a young man who has been walking in circles for too long, who has given up all of his future to give one to these six children. He sees in him what he sees in all of the adventurers and heroes he sings about, whose tales he carries with him. He sees all he wants to give.

So Eddie comes to the town more often than to the other ones. But whenever the children start raving about going on adventures, he just throws his head back and laughs. "You, going on an adventure? Please. Can you hold a weapon? Can you dodge an attack? Hm? Show me." The kids fail, of course. And Eddie says: "Do you know what the adventurers I sing about have in common? They came back from their adventures. And why? Because they were prepared! No one is going to sing about you if you drop dead during your first fight."

It doesn't take long for the kids to come to Steve for advice and training. And Steve knows somewhere deep in his heart that he can't protect them forever. He talks to the captain of the guard, Hopper, and he actually gets someone to train with the kids - and himself. He watches with pride as the children pick weapons best suited to their strengths, all too heavy for them, but that doesn't curb their enthusiasm.

He also asks his ex-fiancée, Nancy, to provide some basic training regarding edible herbs, remedies and poisons. He goes to Robin for a geography lesson, so that the little shits at least know where they're going and where their kingdom ends. He asks Jonathan to speed up their reading and writing lessons, and Argyle prepares a bunch of easy recipes from things that grow around them, and teaches them how to start a fire in almost any conditions.

When the kids turn fifteen, they are ready to go on an adventure with Eddie. Steve has done all he could, but he still feels they aren't ready, that he isn't ready. He'll die of worrying, he knows it. What is he even going to do now that the kids are gone?

But Eddie just smiles at him. "What, you put in all this work for them and now you don't even get to see them in action? Don't be stupid. Go and pack, we'll wait for you."

If Steve keeps thinking of Eddie's smile the whole time he's packing, it's only his business.

And that's how, with much of the kids' grumbling, Steve also leaves on adventure.

[tinydefector]

Transformers kinktober Day 1

Exhibitionisn (ROTB Mirage)

Mirage/reader/ Noah

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: smut, nsfw, valveplug, Feeling up, cumming from touch.

@tf-kinktober2024

Day 2

The next fic should be the update to the marine centre tomorrow night.

__________________

Car shows had always been something that fascinated Mirage, he had seen them a few times but never taken the opportunity to visit one himself. But trying to convince Noah to go with him to one was hard enough. He needed a human to enter into them even if it was just one of those ones where he sat there and got to look pretty.

"Oh come now, Nooooaaaaahhh" Mirage nearly whines out, draping himself artfully across the beat up car Noah was currently working on restoring for some cash. "You know you want to! All the shiny cars, you can look around and chat up some people." 

Optics cycle wide in an exaggerated plea, glossa clicking cheekily. “Don't you want to show off your pretty Porsche?. I'll make it worth your while, hmm? Give you a ride you'll never forget..." He moves to lay across the cab, a soft purr vibrating in his intake. "Come on, it'll be fun! Live a little " 

"Mirage I'm not taking you to essentially a car porn show" Noah calls out while moving around the Garage looking for different tools and parts. " not to mention I still haven't finished half the work on you, cause you won't sit still, you paint looks good but ya insides!" He huffs out while fidgeting with a touch and spark plugs.

"Awww, Noah, don't be such a bore! It's not car porn, it's car appreciation."

 "And besides, you know you love fine-tuning me - I'm your favourite Porsche to tinker with, admit it!" Revving his engine in a playful chuff, Mirage moves over the car leaning down to try and press himself against Noah's back. 

 "We can make a date for it! bring baby with us and everything. Please? Pretty please?" glossa flicking Noah's cheek in a cheesy fight to gain his attention. "Ewww don't like me!" He shouts at the cybertronian. Jumping back to try and keep his distance from the mech. "You're a pest, why do I even keep you around!" He shouts, had the two not known each other well someone would have assumed Noah was angry. 

Mirage reels back with an overblown gasp, aervo flying to his chestplate. "Noah, how could you wound me so! I thought what we had was special." His expression crumples into one of utter devastation, lip quivering theatrically as optics begin to shimmer with nonexistent tears. "All I want is to spend quality time with my boy. Is that really so much to ask?"

Collapsing onto the floor in a dramatic sprawl. "You might as well sell me for scrap, if I mean so little to you! See if I care, I'll - I'll just..." Noah is quicker than Mirage with his own comeback. "Keep it up and I just might, got someone who'd pay good for you" he shot back while rolling his eyes as he moved around to find the spanners and socket wrench he needed. It was playful teasing. 

The fake sobs cut off with an indignant squawk at Noah's quip. "You wouldn't dare! I'm a Porsche, not some rusted beater!" 

"10k Take it or leave it Noah" their lover calls out as they walk into the garage. "Hey handsome" they coo while walking up to Mirage. He sits up hastily, batting away nonexistent tears to throw them a dazzling grin scooping them up into his arms. " light of my existence! Tell this sparkless fleshie he needs to take me to the car show this weekend."

Revving his engine playfully. "Besides, 10k? I'm worth twice that, easy. Make it 20 and we've got a deal." It earns a laugh from them as they move towards mirage.  "Ahh but 10k would be a steal for me" they hum while pressing a kiss to his lips. "Hi baby missed you"  It earns a groan from Noah. "Don't work him up he's a nuances already, keeps pestering me about car shows" Noah calls out.

Mirage trills happily at the kiss, Weaving his arm around their waist, Mirage pulls them in close. "I'd be on my best behaviour, promise! We'll check out all the sweet rides and get to sit pretty for you two, come on I want to do something where I get to feel special outside of being an alien on your planet”

Mirage whirs and clicks pleadingly. "One little car show?" 

"Come on Noah! Look at that face, you can't say no to that face" they whines, walking up and slumping against the human man, Pressing a kiss to his cheek "Come on it will be fun, unless you have something else you'd rather do" Noah sighs deeply, giving his love a look. But he has to admit, it was getting harder and harder to say no to those faces. 

"Alright, fine! You win." He throws up his hands in defeat, though a small smile plays at his lips. "We can check out the car show this weekend."

Mirage lets out an ecstatic whoop, scooping Noah and Baby up in a hug that has them dangling off the ground. 

That's what had led up to the show and shine. Mirage sat in line with his hood up with Noah working on his engine, doing little tuning and checks. Mirage's other lover hat in the passenger seat handling Noah tools when he asked for them. "Easy Raj, don't get too excited" they hum while their fingers dance along Mirage's interior teasingly.  

Mirage revs his engine impatiently as Noah putters around under his hood, not at all accustomed to staying still for so long. Mirage lets out a plaintive little whine barely above a whisper. "You're killing me, baby!" he pleads. 

A couple stop to talk with Noah for a moment but neither Mirage or his other lover pay much attention as their hands begin to teasingly trace over the gear stick and centre console. 

"You're the one who wanted to come here now you have to suffer" they call teasingly. Mirage revs his engine in protest, though it comes out more like a stalling sound. “sorry, still doing a lot of work on this beauty,  going to have weird noises till we can get them fixed or tune them out” they call out casually to the people who take interest in watching Noah work. 

He grumbles softly as Noah pats his hood with a quiet chuckle, as he shows Mirage's engine and equipment off. "Really starting to regret begging you slaggers to bring me. This is torture!" Mirage whines through the radio hoping it isn't too loud for anyone to hear. 

Mirage stifles a needy groan building in his intake. His plating buzzes wherever Noah's hands dig deeper into the engine bay looking for different areas, but never fully working on another.  "You two are pure evil, I hope you know that," he manages, though his tone holds no malice. If anything, it's downright desperate with want. 

His entire frame vibrates to contain the urge to transform and pounce on them both right then and there in front of so many humans, they were doing it to spite him kneoing full well he couldn't do anything. 

more. "You going to overload huh?" They teases, enjoying watching the mech suffer as both themself and Noah tease. “hmmm might have to play with these vents a little” they coo while fingers dance over them. A squeal like a fan belt leaves Mirage onto for a stalling sound before his enough settles again. 

"You both know exactly what you're doing," he gasps softly, intake heaving. His engine races, Whining needily. Their hand moved much slowly along his interior, working him while Noah played with his engine. It makes his spike ache in need as trans fluid leaks from him.

They've wound him so tightly to the brink that all he can do is tremble helplessly, unable to move or even grab them to interface with. “So close, don't stop..."  It's an exquisite agony, being restrained without being status cuffed. "Mmm good boy, is that an overload for us?" Noah purrs at him. Mirage's vision whites out in bliss as waves of ecstasy wash over him, cresting higher than he thought possible. Locked in the throes of release wrung from him by his human's adept hands. 

His trembling fades slowly, Rebooting lazily, Mirage lets out a pleasured sigh, every nerve singing with afterglow. "Raj you alright, you haven't short circuited?" They ask softly, running a hand over his steering wheel. Mirage can't help but purr lazily in reply, humming engines struggling to reboot after such an intense pleasure crash. 

"Give me a klik, I'm still rebooting," he mumbles, Shuddering one last electrical aftershock, Mirage slowly flickers back to awareness. "You absolute glitches! Springing an overload on me" He huffs out only for his little lovers to laugh in amusement.  

 "Aww Raj, don't be like that you wanted to go to the show and Shine, you got your little moment to show and shine. Noah told you it was a car porn show" they tease, Noah makes a choking noise in amusement as he finishes up by giving mirage a quick under crage wipe. 

"Don't remind me, I should've known better than to trust you!” He gives them a final huff. "Let's get out of here and blow. I need to blow off some steam after that” he grumbles but no malice is in his voice.  He's rather content and weightless in his own sense. 

______________

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

@averysillylittlefellow

@rosielecktor

@shurushurubanban

@wosemoose1

@strawberrydutchling

@azuragalaxya

@dumpster-fae

[iovebarca]

Shared Revelation - Marc Guiu

Authors note: now what the fuck was that match

Warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, just fluff!

WC: 1000+

Summary: On a vacation with friends, a booking error has you and Marc sharing a bed. As night falls, conversations lead to mutual confessions of long-held feelings. The moment culminates in a kiss, marking the start of a promising romance.

The anticipation for the annual friend group vacation had been building for weeks. This year, you were headed to a picturesque mountain retreat, nestled among towering pines and overlooking a pristine lake. Everyone was thrilled at the prospect of a week of relaxation, adventure, and bonding.

As the group arrived at the vacation rental, excitement filled the air. But as the door swung open and everyone piled inside, there was a collective gasp of dismay.

"We... we booked a house with five rooms instead of six," Héctor, the organizer of the trip, announced sheepishly, staring at the floor as if hoping it would offer a solution.

Panic bubbled up within the group as they realized the implications of this oversight. With six people on the trip, someone would have to share a room. Amidst the chaos of sorting out sleeping arrangements, you exchanged a nervous glance with Marc, your friend and longtime crush.

"It's fine, we can make do," Marc said with a reassuring smile, though you could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you followed Marc to the designated room, heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

The room was cozy, with a rustic charm that matched the rest of the house. A large, comfortable-looking bed dominated the space, its crisp white sheets inviting you to sink into its embrace. You couldn't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks as you realized what sharing a bed with Marc would entail.

"We'll make it work," Marc said, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

You nodded, unable to trust your voice as you busied yourself unpacking your belongings. The tension in the air was palpable as you and Marc avoided each other's gaze, both acutely aware of the intimacy of the situation.

The mountain air was crisp and cool as you and Marc settled into the warmth of the cabin after a day of exploring. The fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows across the room as you both laid on the bed, lost in conversation.

As the night wore on, the conversation drifted from one topic to the next, weaving through memories of childhood and dreams for the future. You found yourself opening up to Marc in a way you never had before, sharing secrets and stories that you had kept hidden for years.

"It's funny how things change," Marc mused, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. "I never would have imagined we'd end up here, sharing a bed in the middle of nowhere."

You laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of the cabin. "Life has a funny way of surprising us," you agreed, feeling a warmth spread through you at the realization that Marc was opening up to you too.

But as the conversation lulled and silence settled between you, a tension hung in the air, thick and palpable. You could feel Marc's gaze on you, intense and searching, and you swallowed nervously, unsure of what to say.

And then, without warning, Marc's words spilled out in a rush, tumbling over each other in a jumble of emotion.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed, his voice raw with vulnerability. "Every moment we spend together, every laugh we share, it just makes me want you more. I know it's probably the worst timing, but I can't keep pretending that I don't feel this way."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and for a moment, you were frozen, unable to process the whirlwind of emotions that swept through you.

But then, before you could overthink it, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, silencing his words with a kiss.

The world fell away as the kiss deepened, passion igniting between you like a flame catching fire. In that moment, there were no words, no doubts, only the overwhelming certainty that this was where you were meant to be.

"Since when have you liked me?" you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath against his lips.

Marc's eyes softened, a fond smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Since the day I met you," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I just didn't realize it until now."

"How long... how long have you liked me?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the question, the weight of his words sinking in as you realized the gravity of what he was asking. How long had you liked Marc? It was a question you had avoided answering for so long, even to yourself.

And yet, as you met Marc's gaze, you knew that there was only one answer.

"Since forever," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I've always known, Marc. I just... I just didn't know how to say it."

There was a brief pause, the air charged with anticipation. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, you and Marc leaned in simultaneously, closing the gap between you with a tender, heartfelt kiss.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the crackling fire, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the windows, the distant sound of the wind outside. There was only the warmth of Marc's lips against yours, the gentle pressure of his hand on your cheek, and the overwhelming rush of emotion that flooded your senses.

It was a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent affirmation of the feelings you had both kept hidden for so long. And as you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful, something real.

With a smile that echoed the joy in your heart, Marc whispered, "I'm glad we finally said it."

And you couldn't help but agree, knowing that from this moment on, you and Marc would face whatever challenges came your way together, hand in hand, hearts entwined in a love that was as deep as it was undeniable.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

idk if ur asks are open but PLEASE MORE LOGAN X READER X KURT

also... belly dancer reader if u want (why? because every chubby reader is either fetishized, insecure, or it has nothing to do w the plot/character)

if you want it to be the same story go off but also if you want it to be seperate go off do what u wanna do

~For Fear That You Find Out How I'm Imagining You~

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader x Kurt Wagner

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: oral (f receiving), Kurt and Logan run they MOUTHS, implied sex and a bunch of sexual advances, Kurt is super nervy

Genre: fluff, & some smut

Summary: Logan and Kurt can't keep their eyes off of you when they see you through a window I won't deny I've got in my mind now // All the things I would do // So I try to talk refined for fear that you find out // How I'm imagining you ~ Talk by Hozier

A/N: Honey my asks are always open xoxo gossip girl lowkey all my readers are plus sized because I am and write with myself in mind but I'm happy to write one that says so explicitly!! Thank you for the request darling. This took much of my brainpower but man did I enjoy writing it

***

You walk around the room as your students practice their hip control.

"Remember everyone, belly dancing is a combination of sharp and smooth. You wanna make it easily distinguishable when you stick something versus milking it. Luckily, the music will absolutely guide you through where to hit things." You say correcting people's posture as you weave between them.

"Can you show it to us again? Like can we see you do it?" One of your students, Max, asks.

"Yeah sure!" You say walking to the front again. You show an example of the moves you've been having them practice. Caught up in your class, you don't even notice the duo whose attention you manage to capture through the large glass windows of your studio.

"Logan, look." Kurt smacks his friend on the chest.

"What? You wanna take a dance class or something?" Logan quirks an eyebrow at him.

"No! Well- do you think that's the way to talk to her?" Kurt's brows furrow.

"Talk to who man?" Logan frowns.

"That woman. The one teaching the class. She's gorgeous don't you think Logan?" Kurt says. Logan looks through the window curiously to check you out. You're wearing a cropped shirt and a pair of shorts that sit low on your wide hips. As you do your choreography at the front of the room Logan notices the cutest little pale streaks on your sides, like tiger stripes decorating your exposed middle.

"Well yeah of course she is, you wanna meet her?" Logan asks him.

"I- I couldn't. What would I say to her?" Kurt shakes his head.

"We could start with hi." Logan shrugs.

"But she's teaching a class."

"Yeah we hang out til she's done, ask the receptionist how long she'll be in the class." He says.

"Would that not be weird?" Kurt frowns.

"Maybe but how else are we going to get a chance to talk to her?" Logan drags Kurt into the dance studio and walks up to the receptionist.

"Hey quick question, how much longer is that dance thing going on? I wanted to- talk to the instructor about what other classes she offers." Kurt is impressed with how easily Logan can come up with a lie so believable.

"It'll be over in about 10 minutes." The guy at the desk answers.

"Cool. We'll just- hang out here." Logan says taking a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting room.

"I can't believe you did that." Kurt whispers.

"Well it was that or watch her like creeps for several weeks until one of us finally works up the courage to speak to her." Logan shrugs.

"Okay but we don't have a plan, what do we say to her when the time comes?"

"We don't need a plan we just say hi and tell her the truth, that we saw her and think she's gorgeous. It can't be that difficult." Logan says.

"You say that but she might hate us."

"If she hates us we leave. She also might like us but we can't know without speaking to her. Either way we should at least give it a shot so we can be sure."

"I guess that's one way to see it." Kurt frowns.

"That's the spirit. Kinda." Logan claps a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Logan turns his attention to his phone, leaving Kurt to his thoughts.

"I can't speak to her." Kurt says suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" Logan frowns at him.

"I'm having thoughts that would require more hail marys than I can count in order to repent for them. I can't speak to her." He shakes his head.

"Why? You think she's a mind reader?" Logan scoffs.

"You can't prove that she isn't!"

"Okay well for the sake of not sounding like a paranoid set of weirdos, let's assume she's not because we have no evidence to support that she is. In which case, most days you won't even say a curse word you're not gonna get in there and start spouting all the dirty dirty things you want to do to her. You'll be fine." Logan says.

"I can't think of anything else." Kurt says, eyes wide.

"Fine then I'll do most of the talking all you have to do is stand there. Looks like the class is over, show time." Logan pulls Kurt through the group of people currently heading out of the building and slips into the studio where you're organizing your things while you drink your water.

"Excuse me?" You turn at the sound of someone's voice. You know it's not one of your students before you even turn around.

"Hi, can I help you gentlemen?" You ask the pair.

"Hi, I'm Logan and this is Kurt."

"Okay, and what brings you into my studio Logan and Kurt?" You tilt your head.

"We saw you through the giant window and we hope this doesn't read as badly as it could but we just had to come in here and tell you how gorgeous we think you are." Logan says.

"You came all the way in here to tell me you think I'm gorgeous?"

"Well yeah, why not." Logan shrugs.

"Hm. And uh, do you speak, Kurt, or does Logan do all the talking for the both of you?" You turn your attention to the silent one of the duo.

"I speak. Hi." Kurt says quickly.

"Are you nervous?" You ask him. Kurt glances at Logan. "Don't look at him, I asked you. I know he's not nervous."

"I'm- a little nervous. I wouldn't normally do something like this." He admits.

"Well what's different today?" You ask.

"Logan sort of dragged me in here."

"So then which of you thinks I'm gorgeous?" You cross your arms.

"Both of us." Kurt says.

"Hm. Well, thank you. Although I don't often find myself the subject of interest for a pair like this." You say grabbing your duffle bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

"First time for everything right?" Logan says.

"I guess so. Anything else you boys need or did you just want to throw a compliment at me and be on your way?"

"What's your name?" Kurt asks.

"Y/n." You smile.

"Beautiful." He practically sighs.

"Thank you."

"Would it be hubristic to ask if we could take you out?" Kurt asks.

"The both of you?" You ask and again Kurt looks at Logan who this time looks at him too as if they're discussing something unspoken.

"Yes." Kurt says.

"Well, it's- certainly a bold thing to ask which I guess is worth appreciating. Which of you has a phone I can put my number into?"

"Here." Logan hands you his phone and you quickly input your number and call yourself so you have his.

"Give us a couple of hours to plan something and we'll give you a call." Logan says.

"Well you'd better. Or I'll be pretty disappointed after all this." You wink at them and leave the studio.

"What are we gonna do?" Kurt asks.

"Plan a date, and quickly." Logan says.

The two boys call you in under an hour.

"Hello?" You say when you pick up the phone.

"Hey it's Logan." Logan says.

"And Kurt!" Kurt says.

"Hi boys." You chuckle. "Have you planned something already?" You ask.

"Yes. When are you free?" Logan asks.

"I teach dance classes Monday through Wednesday for most of the day and Saturdays too but only til 4."

"We'll pick you up on Friday 6 o'clock. If you're not comfortable with us coming to your place, we can meet you in front of the studio instead." Logan says.

"My place is fine. I'll text you my address. Where are we going?"

"You'll find out when we get there. Attire is casual."

"Very well. See you Friday." You say and hang up the phone.

Friday comes along and at 6 on the dot, you receive a text that Logan and Kurt are downstairs. You take a moment to double check your makeup and gather your belongings before leisurely making your way out of your apartment building. Outside, Kurt is standing by a car and he opens the door upon your arrival.

"Hello Kurt. You look nice this evening." You say, winking at him as you slide into the car. You're sure if his skin wasn't a deep shade of blue, he'd be blushing bright pink. You wonder if he can blush.

As you get into the car you realize it's vintage, it's got those old school bench seats from the 60s that fits 3 people in the front.

"Hi y/n." Logan says.

"Hi Logan, you look nice too." You tell him. Kurt gets into the seat next to you.

"It's good to see you again liebling." Kurt says.

"Liebling?" You ask.

"It means darling, it's German." Logan says.

"You're German?" You turn to Kurt.

"I speak it." He nods.

"That answer feels evasive." You muse.

"My history is complicated." He shrugs.

"And what about you, Logan, is your history 'complicated' too."

"We're mutants, complicated comes with the territory." Logan says.

"Well- it'll certainly make getting to know you two something interesting at least." You shrug.

"That's a cute outlook." Logan chuckles.

"I mean, when you get asked on a joint date by a pair of- friends? Boyfriends? What is your relationship to each other actually?" You ask.

"We have known each other a long time. I suppose friends is accurate." Kurt says.

"You suppose?" You probe.

"Logan likes to pretend he hates everybody so he never admits we are friends but he's a big softie in secret."

"Oh hush Wagner." Logan rolls his eyes.

"In secret? I'd say it's pretty obvious." You laugh.

"Alright that's enough you two. We're here." Logan rolls his eyes. You look out the window to see that you're at an arcade.

"An arcade?" You smirk.

"We thought it would be best to pick something generally enjoyable, since we don't know anything about you besides that you're a dancer." Kurt says as both he and Logan get out of the car.

"You made a good choice. I hope you're ready to get your asses kicked though." You say climbing out of the car after Kurt.

"Competitive are you?" Logan asks.

"You have no idea." You wink at him.

"You are so on pretty lady." Logan chuckles.

"Bring it big guy."

You spend a couple of hours at the arcade with them, every game you play with Logan is competitive and every game you play with Kurt is just for the fun of playing. Kurt's focus is mostly on getting to know you, and staring. All he wants to do is stare at you. It's a wonder he can manage to focus on anything else. 

If he were honest, he's not been able to shake those unholy thoughts he's been having since first seeing you. As you race Logan in some snowboarding simulator, he wonders what you would taste like. When you challenge Logan to skeeball, Kurt can't stop thinking about how you'd feel wrapped around him. When you and Logan play some zombie shooter game, he imagines your lips against his or teasing kisses down his neck. When you play one of those dancing games he can't keep his eyes from wandering over your curves in your lowcut crop top and your tennis skirt. His eyes catch the part of your tummy peaking between where your shirt ends and your skirt begins and all he wants to do is cover the area in kisses and love bites.

"Dude, what's up with you? You've been more quiet than usual." Logan asks Kurt quietly when you slip away to refill your drink.

"Hail Marys." Kurt says.

"You're doing hail marys?!"

"If only. I should be. How can you manage to hold a conversation with her when she looks so-" Kurt trails.

"Trust me man I am no saint but it's much easier to ignore that urge if you actually try to divert your attention. Play a few games that'll maybe help you dispel some of that pent up frustration you're feeling." Logan suggests.

"What are you two whispering about over here?" You ask.

"You know you've been kicking my ass all night, I think it's time for you to take down Kurt at a few of these." Logan shoves Kurt forward a little bit.

"Okay. Pick your poison Kurt." You say.

"Can I pick you?" He asks.

"Not in public." You wink. "I meant a game hon."

"That one." Kurt points to an air hockey table.

"Air hockey?" You quirk an eyebrow up.

"What? No good at that one?"

Oh no, I just thought you'd pick something else." You shrug walking over to the air hockey table. You wrap one hand around your paddle and Kurt can't help but wonder what it'd feel like for those same fingers to close around his dick the same way. You place your other hand on the edge of the table and lean forward with a smirk.

"Don't take this personally, but I'm gonna wipe the floor with you darling." You say.

"Can't wait to see this." Logan says placing the puck onto the table. It darts quickly back and forth as you both hit it across the table. The first point is yours and you clap your hands when it slides by Kurt's paddle. The next three points are also yours and Kurt hasn't scored once. The game only goes to 7 points so at this rate you'll completely sweep. Logan walks over to Kurt as he grabs the puck from under the table. You can't quite hear their hushed conversation but you watch them whisper for a few moments.

"Aren't you good at air hockey?" Logan asks Kurt.

"I made a mistake here I can't possibly focus with her bent forward like that I can practically see down her shirt." Kurt says.

"Yeah, my view isn't half bad either but I don't have to pay attention to the game here." Logan shrugs. "Focus man."

"Are you two done co-conspiring over there?" You ask.

"I'm giving a pep talk, you're crushing him." Logan defends.

"You asked me to." You say.

The final score ends up being 7 - 4 in your favor. You're surprised Kurt managed to score any considering how obviously distracted he's been.

"Not bad especially since you're barely here." You muse.

"What?"

"You're distracted. It's pretty obvious. Is something wrong?" You ask.

"Uh-" Kurt's eyes dart away from you.

"You're doing that again? I thought we were beyond looking at Logan for answers. Just tell me the truth. Whatever it is I'm sure I can handle it I'm a big girl I promise."

"It's nothing." Kurt shakes his head.

"Oh I find that hard to believe." You hum. "Logan, do you believe him?" You ask although your eyes stay on Kurt. He looks nervous enough when you ask Logan that you're sure Logan knows exactly what's going on with him.

"Well- if he says it's nothing." Logan trails.

"You're protecting him. Cute. But I expect the truth when I ask a question. So again, Kurt, what's on your mind?"

"I don't think I can say."

"Why not?"

"There aren't enough confessionals in the world to compensate for the thoughts occupying my mind at the moment and I- I would never want you to believe that's the only thing I want from you."

"A confessional?" You frown.

"No." Kurt says and you take a moment to dwell on his words before it clicks.

"Ooohh. Naughty boy, imagination running away with you is it now?" You ask.

"You could say that, yes."

"I appreciate the sentiment of being gentlemen but neither of you is particularly subtle enough with your staring for me not to notice. It's quite clear you're both... influenced by your third leg for lack of a better phrasing. Don't look at me like that I'm not a nun. Although if you're hell bent on the whole confessional thing I'm sure I can absolve you of your sins."

"W-what does that mean?"

"I think we've spent enough time at the arcade. Now the question is, how far do you two live from here?" You turn to Logan.

"About 15 minutes." Logan says.

"Perfect." You say grabbing Kurt by his collar and pulling him towards the exist. "Come along Logan." You throw over your shoulder and he does so with a chuckle.

The drive to Logan and/or Kurt's place is quick. 15 minutes isn't by any means long but you're almost certain Logan broke a couple traffic laws to get there in 10. He leads the way to the apartment and once inside the living room, you face the boys.

"Now, I've never gone to a confessional but tell me your sins so that the gods may forgive your transgressions." You say to Kurt.

"I don't speak because it's all I can do to control myself around you. I find myself consumed with thoughts of how you would taste, feel, sound, the faces you'd make in the heat of passion."

"We'll start with taste then." You tell him. With a hand on his shoulder you push Kurt to his knees in front of you. Kurt looks up at you in pure disbelief, hands on your thighs.

"You- want me to, you'll let me-" Kurt trails off as you caress his face.

"I've already asked you to. Isn't that what you want Kurt?"

"Yes please." He breathes out.

"Good, so go on, taste me." You say dropping your skirt and panties to the floor, exposing yourself to Kurt and Logan.

"Christ almighty." Kurt says before burying his face between your thighs. His tongue slides between your folds and you sigh at the pleasure it brings you.

"Don't worry Logan I haven't forgotten you, come kiss me." You say.

"Thought you'd never ask." He says placing a hand at the back of your throat as he kissing you fiercely. You slip one hand up his shirt dragging your fingers over his abdomen enjoying the way his muscles clench under your touch. Your other hand slides into Kurt's hair, holding him against you as he laps greedily at your cunt. Kurt wraps his lips around your cilt and sucks harshly at the bundle of nerves. The sharp waves of pleasure make your knees buckle slightly and Logan's arm winds around your waist holding you against him as he trails kisses to your throat.

"Oh fuck." You moan, tilting your head to give Logan more room to cover your neck in blooms of red. "Don't stop Kurt." You say, fingers tightening in his dark hair. You feel Kurt slip a finger into your entrance, sliding in and out so his tongue can focus on your clit. Logan's hands run under your shirt and when his fingers begin to tweak your nipples your orgasm hits you and your shaky legs are only supported by Logan and Kurt holding you.

"You two are a dangerous pair." You breathe out.

"You haven't seen danger yet gorgeous." Logan says nipping at your ear in a way that makes you shiver.

"Well, there's plenty of hours left in the evening. And Kurt's vices are not yet relieved."

"I hope you don't have much planned tomorrow liebling. We're rather- tenacious." Kurt says kissing along your abdomen as he rises to his feet.

"I can take it sweetheart. Don't you worry." You say. You feel pretty confident in your words, and Kurt and Logan are forever up for a challenge. If the walls could talk they'd have a novel of stories to tell.

***