#willow is writing

[thebestworstidea]

Take a Bite of My Heart

Participating in @tss-storytime as an author partnered by @soysaucevictim who drew me fantastic art (found here)

Tags: 

T+ Vampires, shapeshifters, sex (not graphic, but spoken about bluntly), adult language,  family, death, blood, violence, nudity, prejudice, patricide, murder, the Harkness test, 

Janus/Remus, Virgil/Roman, Logan/Patton, o/c

Summary:

Janus and Remus are incredibly well suited for each other, despite being an unlikely pair. Shapeshifter and Vampire is a classic recipe for tragedy. Fortunately neither of them are very good at following recipes, especially not under pressure.  

Read Ao3

[monstrousroommates]

Holiday Plans (Monstrous Roommates AU fic)

So the thing is: Fireworks go boom.

(on Ao3)

------

There were raised voices in the kitchen, which was surprising. Thomas rose up out of his doze and headed over, more or less sitting on the kitchen pass through. All four of his roommates were gathered around the table, which had lots of pieces of paper on it, and Logan’s laptop to one side.  The paper proved to be a map of the surrounding area, from the looks of things printed off Google and patched together.

“-this does of course, not include people who have just gotten them somewhere and will let them off whenever they please.”

“Yeah but those are quieter.” Virgil countered. Patton whined uncomfortably, leaning against Roman. Roman was perched on the counter, and kissed Patton’s neck in response.

Virgil glared down at the paper. 

“We can’t do anything about those. So planning for them is out.”

“Barring weather conditions they’ll start here at eight forty five on the second, continuing here and here until ten at the latest.” He drew points on the map, and after a moment’s study, Virgil drew circles around them. 

“Again, the weather’ll change it, but that’s about the range.”

Thomas moved past them, and brushed up against Patton and Roman, letting them know he was there with a chill.

“Hello Thomas.” Roman said brightly, but looking in the wrong direction. 

“Over here.” Thomas corrected, pushing himself to become visible. “Sorry, went through you a little bit.” 

“So that’s what that was.” Patton gave a weak smile. 

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked. Over at the kitchen table, Logan and Virgil had changed pen colors, apparently, and were discussing the third. 

“Fourth of July plans.” Roman explained. 

“Ah, gonna find the best place to watch the fireworks?” 

Before anyone could answer, there was a sharp echoing bang somewhere down the street. Patton jumped and whined, fingernails looking at little dark and thick where he was holding on to Roman’s arms. 

There was a pause, then another bang. Outside there was a flash of light. 

“... firework.” Logan said after a moment. “Not gun.” 

“You’re sure?” Virgil asked. Logan nodded.  Now that he was looking, Logan looked a little strained as well, and Virgil was chewing on the cord to his hoodie. 

“Not quite.” Roman smiled at Thomas. “My beloveds do not care for fireworks. Logan is bothered by the lights, Patton is bothered by the sound, and Virgil hates both of them. Our last home was in the city, and the fireworks usually were set off at the edges, or more lost to the city sounds.”

“And assholes who shot ‘em off early got caught by the police. All cops may be bastards, but at least they knew a fire hazard when they saw it.” Virgil said grumpily. 

“We weren’t quite prepared for how… enthusiastic the area was last year.” Logan explained. “This year, I have made some charts, and Virgil is helping me estimate how far the sound will carry.” He frowned down at his map. “We’re in an overlap for no less than three displays- and four on the fourth itself, oddly enough.” 

“So I’m guessing no barbeque?” Thomas joked. 

“We will probably be leaving tomorrow morning.” Roman confirmed. “I quite like fireworks, but I wouldn’t want to leave them alone.” 

“You don’t have to.” Patton mumbled. “You could stay and have a blast.” he gave a weak smile. 

“Thank you, no.” He kissed the top of Patton’s head. “If I want to see fireworks, I’ll take a trip down to Disney.”

“Disney.” Virgil and Logan groaned together, and Virgil made another mark on the map, down at the edge. 

“I never thought it was an option.” Patton told Thomas. “When I was younger I just had to put up with it, because no one else seemed to have a problem.” 

“If we can’t find a good place, it’s going to be noise canceling headphones and a lan party this year.” Virgil grumbled. “I mean, fun, but I’d rather not be forced into it. But we don’t want to go too far, and we need someplace to stay. So it’s tricky.” he sighed. “I remember I liked the fireworks when I was a kid, but now it’s just too bright and loud.” 

Logan reached out and patted Virgil’s shoulder, staring down at the map. 

“Why don’t you guys go somewhere else entirely?” 

“Well, I’m still concerned about the epidemic, personally.” Logan pointed out. “Of the four of us, I am the most likely to contract a disease. Beyond that…” he shook his head. “It’s not as if we can travel far outside the United States in any good time. So anywhere we went we would be faced with the same problem. I think preparation like this is as good as it’s going to get.” 

“Last year of highschool, Logan and I went camping. We hiked for miles out into the wilderness.” Patton offered. 

“The stars were lovely.” Logan remembered. 

“Yeah, but you were so sore you could hardly walk back.” Patton gave a whine of concern. 

“We perhaps pushed too hard.”

“It took us twice as long to get back.” Patton admitted. “We ran out of food and I had to hunt. So even if we were near a big enough park, I don’t know if I’d wanna risk it.” 

“I should hope I’m in better shape now, with all the effort I put into physical therapy.” Logan huffed. “But I suppose it’s better not to take that risk.”

“I mean, I could probably carry you back, but I’m not a huge fan of camping in the first place.” Virgil said with a grimace.

“It sounds like you need an off highway motel. Most of those are further away from towns.” Thomas suggested. “If you had more time, you might be able to find like an island rental in the keys.”

“I vote that!” Roman said excitedly. “No fireworks for you and a beach for me!” 

“Yeah, sure.” Virgil said sarcastically. “You find one and I’ll put up with being on a boat.” 

Roman pulled out his phone and started typing, and Virgil rolled his eyes, going back to his intense map-marking with Logan. 

“Are you going to be okay Thomas?” Patton asked suddenly. 

“Yeah, I’m used to being alone.” Thomas admitted, flickering a little bit. He didn’t like it, but really, being a ghost lent itself to being lonesome.  From the expression on Patton’s face he felt bad about it. Logan and Virgil argued quietly about locations and populations. 

They were still at it a half an hour later, when Roman’s phone pinged and he looked at it.

“Ah-ha! I’ve got it!” 

“What?” Virgil looked surprised. 

“I put out some feelers- okay, Remy helped, and he and his mind-witch want to come as well.” Roman smiled brilliantly. “We have, should we want it, a private island for the week. With a nice little vacation home.” there was another ping. “Ah-” Roman’s shoulders shook as he laughed looking at the message. “Apparently it’s a summer home of someone Remy knows, and they go north for the Fourth. And it’s no longer optional. Remy says he’s going to show up at our door tomorrow. With a minivan.”

“If Remy’s willing to drive a minivan, it must be serious.” Virgil said with a straight face. 

“Ah well.” Logan looked at the map. “It was a fun mental exercise.”   He began folding up the map, and putting the pens into a cup. 

“We should go pack, I guess.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. “Sunscreen time.” 

“I wish you could come with us.” Patton told Thomas.

“Yeah. Me too.” he smiled, and faded out.

[willowcrowned]

incredible how much housework you can get done if you take a chance and believe in yourself and also have fifteen other much more pressing responsibilities

[writingwillow]

O Holy Nights

It’s 1am and I remembered

24 hours late

Even though it’s circled on my kitchen calendar

So happy second night I guess

I’m remembering Lilah singing

The candle blessing

Lilting in her kindergarten voice

Less haunting than when you first sang it for me

You asked me to light the candles

I was honored

She asked me

Clutching her little sister’s hand

“Willow, do you have a special Christmas song? Do you have candles for Christmas?”

So I sang O Come Immanuel in Latin

Told her of my Advent wreath

The candles I light each Sunday in my kitchen

I looked at the presents stacked under

The construction paper “holiday tree”

You asked if it offended me

I said, “Christmas is pretty secular these days”

And I gave the girls Hanukkah presents

Wrapped in blue with silver ribbons

You gave me a Christmas gift

Covered in red and green

She asked me at bedtime

To sing the song again

And if I knew it in English

So I sang and sang and sang

(There are so many verses)

And she fell asleep

I still don’t know the words to the first night blessing

Or what it means

But I think about it on the second night each year

Think “I should text her”

Think “it’s been too many years”

Too many missed birthdays and occasions

But I still think of the wild curls of your hair

So different from the curls in mine

Still hear you ask me if I’m going to mass

Tonight or in the morning

“Isn’t it a holy day of requirement or something?”

“I’m not quite that practicing anymore,” I laugh

I help you string blue and white lights

Draw out six-sided stars for cutting out

Bring chocolate coins and hide them

In tiny shoes for St. Nicholas Day

You use them for gelt instead

I’ve still never spun a dreidel

“Are you sure the tree doesn’t bother you? Christian appropriation?”

“Hey now, I’m Catholic, not Christian. Don’t lump me in with them.”

“Goyim,” you mutter as you kiss my cheek

I snag another piece of challah

And grin at you as little voices ask me to sing

Happy second holy night

[jestergirlbosom]

Goth music will have a rhythmic bass guitar with spooky synth that makes you want to walk at a steady pace and fucking get someone

[willowser]

katsuki is sitting on the couch in the living room, holding his new little baby in his arms, and you notice that he's just been staring at him for the longest time. adjusts his little hat so his head doesn't get cold, pulls his small hands away from his face so he doesn't scratch himself.

and they're both quiet for a while, aside from the occasional squirmy baby noise, but katsuki eventually speaks up to ask—

"why's he lookin' at me like that?"

not only is the question itself funny, but the way it's voiced — tone deep and gruff, almost affronted — pulls a true laugh from you, has you shaking your head as you come around the couch to stand beside him.

and sure enough — your new little bean is frowning. even his little hairless browline is furrowed, hard.

you laugh again, sharp enough that your son wiggles in katsuki's arms. "because you're looking at him like that."

katsuki tch's, before turning to give you his son's exact same expression. "no 'm not. this is just my face."

"well, maybe that's just his face."

his frown deepens, hilariously enough. "ain't his face with you." and then he looks back down at him, like he's checking to see if he's still being glared at. he is. "looks like he's pissed."

"maybe he is."

you don't bother to correct him, to inform that your son does, in fact, give you a stink face every now and again — just like his father — and instead you watch katsuki lean down close to him, until their noses are nearly touching. watch the way little fingers squeeze around katsuki's thumb.

"the hell do you have to be pissed about, huh?" katsuki asks, voice quiet and low and small, enough for the boy in his arms. "far as i'm concerned, you're livin' the life."

you only laugh, smile while running a hand through katsuki's hair.

you'd say you are, too.

[cauldronblssd]

“𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯?”

“𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴,” 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩. “𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦, 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦?”

“𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵”

@moonpatroclus and I fell in love with the fic, A Blaze in the Dark by the brilliant and very talented @the-lonelybarricade.

We sent our idea for the dreamy, sexy scene from chapter one to Oexas and she could not have captured it more perfectly.

Thank you to LB for sharing your beautiful work with us and to Hannah for bringing it to life!

Read A Blaze in the Dark on AO3!

Full steamy NSFW version also on AO3 here.

Please do not repost.

[beesbiteandwillowrites]

DP x DC Prompt: "Rematch"

Back when Jason was still a wee baby Robin, Bruce was in business negotiations with some company from out west. Jason wasn't paying attention to whatever it was that Bruce did during his day job, CEO is a boring job anyway, he wants to be a doctor or something so he can help people.

But he notices when Bruce starts acting strange.

It's subtle, yes, and Jason doesn't think most people would even notice something amiss, but he's Robin, he's Batman's partner, he knows Bruce better than anyone except maybe Alfred or Dick, but Alfred is on holiday in England for a week or two, and Dick is on one of his "no talking to Bruce unless the world ends" binges, so Jason really is the only one in a position to do anything.

It's up to Robin to save the day.

Jason investigates Bruce's comings and goings and the CEO of this potential new business partner of WE is kinda shady. He's slimy. Definitely keeping secrets. Jason dislikes this Vladimir Masters right away. Especially when it becomes apparent that he's doing something to Bruce during one of their business dinners that makes Bruce's eyes glaze over in a very worrying manner.

Jason is so not going to let this guy mess with his dad's mind.

It ends with Vlad being beaten up and chased out of Gotham by an enraged Robin. Bruce turns out to be fine and doesn't remember the incident. Jason doesn't tell him, just types up a report and files it in Bruce's archives. Alfred comes back from England, and Dick drops by again to steal Jason away for some brotherly bonding, and everything is fine.

Jason never forgets Vlad Masters and how he tried to manipulate Bruce. Not even a resurrection and a Lazarus pit swim will make him forget that guy.

So naturally, when he starts coming around the manor more and more, and hears that Vlad Masters is sniffing around Tim in hopes of manipulating WE's CEO, he is ready for round two. He's got a bone to pick, and he's bringing the big guns (All-Blades)

And if this round two happens at a gala where Sam Manson is present to see and capture the whole thing with her camera, well, Jason has gained a couple of fans back in Amity Park.

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

Forbidden Crown - V

Summary: During a sleepless night, you stumble upon Kit alone in the garden. After making up from your fight, discussions of your future lead to a night of confessions and heated passion.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: smut!!, oral, light fingering, kissing, first time, outdoor sex, nipple play, confessions, forced marriage trope, nightmares, making up, 18+

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: It’s finally here!! This is not the end. There’s gonna be 2-3 more chapters after this. Also, is this intimacy lowkey beautiful? I had such sappy little feelings writing this.

Not speaking to Kit after your fight was agonizing. Each morning, you woke up and spent the day assisting your mothers with wedding planning while avoiding each other at all costs. You had to admit, you missed her terribly; there were nights you lay awake, wondering if you should go find her and apologize, until you replayed your fight in your mind and anger washed over you once more.

One morning, you had woken up slightly later than usual, and descended the stairs into the Great Hall to find Kit sitting with her mother, accompanied by two men you didn’t recognize. Sorsha chatted with the men excitedly, while Kit sat quietly, wearing a pained and bored expression.

One of the men, identifiable as a diplomatic envoy by his fine garments dyed in Galladoorn green, reached into his satchel, pulled out a document, and slid it over to Sorsha. “I can assure you, your highness, the kingdom of Galladoorn is in high spirits over this alliance. I trust the contractual negotiations are to your liking?”

Sorsha scanned over the document, humming in approval. “Everything seems very fair, yes. My daughter is immensely grateful for the opportunity to marry Prince Graydon, isn’t that right Kit?”

Kit scoffed in response. Sorsha (not-so-gently) nudged her under the table, causing her to stifle a groan and reluctantly nod. With one final nod of satisfaction, Sorsha dipped her quill pen in ink and signed the bottom of the contract, sliding it back across the table.

“All we need is a notarization,” the envoy stated, looking towards his partner. The notary, donning a modest tunic and a feathered hat, took the quill from Sorsha and signed his own name just underneath. He passed it to the envoy to tuck into his satchel, and handshakes were immediately exchanged around the table.

“Prince Graydon is quite eager to make your acquaintance, Princess,” the envoy assured Kit as he shook her hand. “And who could blame him? I would be too if I were betrothed to such a beauteous young maiden.”

He shot her a sly wink, prompting her expression to crumple in disgust. You couldn’t hold back the audible gag that left your throat at his comment, causing Kit to turn in your direction. She met your gaze, finally noticing your presence in the doorway and froze in place.

The finalization of her betrothal should have left you emotional. Normally, you would cause some sort of commotion, or rush over to the envoy to attempt to destroy the contract. Instead, you simply offered Kit a curt nod as you turned away and calmly made your exit.

That night was spent tossing and turning as a recurring nightmare from your fifteenth year overtook you. Familiar fears revisited your subconscious, using recent events to transform into a new horror.

The dream began as usual, with you and Kit making flower bouquets in the Tir Asleen garden. This time however, instead of leading you astray, she offered her bouquet and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. You closed your eyes as you savored the familiar warmth of her soft lips, almost pillowy against your own.

When you pulled away, expecting to see Kit’s shining face, you gasped when Airk suddenly stood before you. Glancing down, you found that once again, a wedding gown had replaced your everyday clothing, and the bouquet Kit gifted you had wilted in your hands. Faceless guests lined chairs in rows, the weight of their stares falling upon you as you stood at the altar.

Behind you stood a priest, wearing a stoic expression as he spoke mechanically. “We are gathered here today in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen,” chanted the guests in unison, their monotony making your skin crawl.

“Do you,” the priest eyed you. “Take Prince Airk Tanthalos to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

“No!” You shrieked, but none of the guests reacted. You tried to break away, but found your hands had been chained to Airk’s. “I cannot take him, please forgive me! I don’t love him!”

You felt someone nudge your shoulder, and turned to see Kit standing behind you. She wore a wedding dress eerily similar to yours, and her hands were bound to another faceless character presumed to be her own groom. Any previous color had been drained from her features, and she spoke with a tone as lifeless as her facial expression.

“Marriage isn’t about love, Princess.”

Once again, you shot up in bed, gasping for breath as you clutched your pounding heart. A quick glance out the window showed a still-black sky, with no indication of the morning sun. You grabbed your pillow and buried your face in it, the linen helping to muffle your frustrated groans.

Fearing a repeat of the nightmare, you decided sleep was futile. Abandoning your bed, you quickly donned your nightrobe and prepared for an insomnia-induced stroll through the castle.

Cool January wind pricked your face as you ventured outside. Usually, you would wrap your nightrobe tighter around yourself, but tonight, you welcomed the cold air as a distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your mind.

You wandered the castle grounds with a lantern in hand, your feet inadvertently guiding you towards the Tir Asleen garden. Yielding to your subconscious, you sought solace among the shrubs and snowdrops. Just as you reached the gated entrance, a soft rustle echoed from within the garden. You froze as you saw a shadowy figure shift in the distance, fearing you had stumbled upon an intruder.

With a trembling hand, you raised your lantern to reveal the figure. Your heart skipped a beat when Kit’s face came into view, sitting beneath the tree where you shared your first childhood kiss. Neither of you dared to speak. With a sigh, you turned to leave, reaching for the gate latch.

“Wait…” she called out.

You paused, hand still on the gate. Kit looked at you with pleading eyes, hugging her knees to her chest. “Please don’t go…”

Pity washed over you, overriding any lingering anger. Kit appeared like a wounded bird: fragile, frail, a fragment of her former self. You approached and settled opposite her, facing but keeping your body pointed away.

Silence enveloped you both. You continued to study Kit’s newfound decrepitude as she rested her head on her knees. The lantern you had set aside highlighted her dark circles, shadowed like bruised fruit yet to ripen.

“I have so much to apologize for,” she murmured eventually, her voice coming out soft and meek. Lifting her head, she tucked her chin between her knees but avoided your gaze. “I really, truly do. I’ve been so… angry, and I took it out on you.”

“Why me?” You asked sincerely. “Have I done something to offend you? Because if so…”

She shook her head, cutting you off. “There was no order, no reason. I was hurt… and I wanted someone else to feel that hurt… and you were there. That’s all.”

You continued to stare, resisting the urge to reach out and soothe her tousled hair. Instead, you remained still, waiting for her to speak again.

“I was so lost in my own despair, I neglected to consider your distress,” she continued. “I’ve been so contrite, but I don’t expect your forgiveness. I’d understand if you were to loathe me.”

She didn’t need to beg; you crawled over and wrapped your arms around her. “I could never loathe you.”

Kit looked up, her big blue eyes brimming with tears. “You couldn’t?”

“Of course not,” you reassured her. “I love you.”

The word slipped out before you could stop it, the one word neither of you had uttered to each other before. You froze, feeling her tense in your arms. Those brilliant baby blues, the ones you had fallen for, continued to stare up at you, but you refused to meet them.

“You do?” She asked, disbelief coloring her tone.

You bit your lip, nervously playing with the ends of her short locks. She studied your features for a moment before a sly smirk spread across her own. Reaching behind her neck, she grasped your hand and pulled you into a captivating kiss. Your lips immediately melted into hers, engulfed in the familiar warmth you craved during her absence. She snaked her free hand around your waist, and you reciprocated by clutching the fabric of her nightshirt, both of you desperate to draw closer.

It was her who finally broke the kiss, pulling away with a sigh. “I love you too, if that wasn’t clear,” she chuckled lazily.

“It was,” you giggled, still a bit dizzy. Unsure of what to do next, you made a feeble attempt at a joke. “Such a pity marriage isn’t about love, isn’t it?”

Kit’s smile vanished instantly, guilt returning to her widened eyes. “I didn’t—“

“No, no, you were right,” you cut her off, repositioning so your head could lean against her chest. “Marriage isn’t about love…” you admitted sadly, regretting your jest. “Though… it should be…”

The last sentence was murmured under your breath, but Kit heard it anyway. She stared off into the distance, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she contemplated her next words. “I’ve heard whispers…” she began.

You glanced up at her, curious. “Whispers?”

“Of other kingdoms, far more… advanced than ours. More innovative. More… accepting.”

Turning to face her, your expression twisted with confusion and disbelief. “Kit… what exactly are you suggesting?”

She took your hands in hers as she carefully surveyed your features. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to watch you walk down the aisle to my brother. I don’t want to marry Graydon, or any man, or anyone else but you…”

“Kit…” you interrupted gently, urging her to get to the point.

She sighed, squeezing your hands. “I want you to come with me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted with a smile. “Somewhere that will allow us to be together, somewhere that isn’t here.”

“Kit…” you began, shaking your head in disbelief. “Surely you’re not suggesting we… run away?”

“Not immediately,” she assured you, brow furrowing in thought. “It will take some time. We’ll need a plan. Some essentials. Research on different kingdoms and villages. We could even flee to an African country! I’ve read of societies that encourage the union between two women…”

“Kit,” you cut her off with a chuckle as you tried to be the voice of reason. “How could we possibly get to Africa?”

“We’ll devise a way!” A crazed smile crossed her face as she pulled you closer. “In the worst of perils, we’ll retreat to the Wildwood and live as simple woodswomen!”

Your expression turned serious. “But our kingdoms. Our responsibilities. Even if we were to flee to a different kingdom, we wouldn’t be princesses. We would be common villagers. You wouldn’t harbor the same power you do here, Kit.”

Kit simply sent you a lopsided grin. “Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.”

A defeated sigh left your lips as you searched her expression for humor, but found none. “You’re truly serious about this?”

All the love and admiration in the world couldn’t compare to the way she gazed at you. “I’ve never been more serious about anyone my entire life.”

There was nothing you could do to stop the way your heart lurched at her words. You nodded. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“The weddings aren’t until next month. We can use that time to plan and leave the night before.”

Kit grabbed your face and pressed her nose to yours with an excited giggle. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered joyously before crashing your lips into hers. She eagerly reciprocated, grabbing handfuls of your hair in an attempt to draw you closer. Your arms encircled her, fingernails clawing at the back of her nightshirt as if you were underwater, desperately seeking a surface.

She moved atop you, swinging her leg over until she straddled your hips. The tree bark pressed against your back, scratching against your nightclothes like a scribe’s quill on parchment. Her lips traveled to your jaw, rolling your sensitive flesh between her teeth and eliciting soft moans from deep within your throat.

“Kit…” the name fell from your mouth in short gasps. Her hands were everywhere, roaming your body with the urgency of a desert traveler seeking water. Each brush, every gentle caress burned at your core, causing your body to tremble under her touch.

Desperate for release, your hips instinctively bucked against hers. You expected her to pull away, as she had when you were teenagers. She didn’t. Instead, her moans filled your mouth and vibrated against your lips.

You were the one to pull away, panting heavily as you pressed against her shoulders. “K-Kit? Are you… I mean… is this alright?”

Kit seemed to be lost in a daze. Her pretty pink lips were slick with spit and parted slightly as she fought to catch her breath. “I love you, Princess,” she began. “I long to share the remainder of my days… every fiber of my being with you. But only if you’ll allow me.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to. All you needed to do was sit up and pull her into a tender kiss to convey your agreement. Her hands wandered to your midsection, untying your nightrobe and slipping it off your shoulders. All that remained between you and her was your thin nightgown. She traced the hem with her fingers, looking to you for permission. You nodded, shifting to allow her to pull it up over your shoulders before casting it aside.

Kit gazed upon your naked body as if it were a work of art sculpted by the Greek gods. She layed you back down, gently lowering your head unto the base of the tree as the cool grass tickled your bare skin. Her visage could only be defined as lovesick. “Will you tell me if I should stop?”

A breathless sigh escaped your lips. “I can’t imagine I’ll want you to.”

“Promise me,” she insisted, and you saw her request for what it was. Behind her hungry stares, amidst her growing need was a real, genuine pursuit of consent. You nodded, agreeing, and she was on you again.

Her lips traversed beneath your jawline, leaving a trail of kisses before stopping at your chest. “Continue?”

“Please,” you purred.

She took one of your breasts in her hand, pinching the erect bud. The soft sounds that elicited from your throat could have been enough to cease her heart’s beating. Her mouth found its way to your other breast, suckling at your swollen nipple with careful curiosity.

You groaned as your hand flew to the top of her head. “Kit… please don’t tease…”

Removing herself from your bosom was a task that Kit was initially reluctant to do, but soon complied after your hips began rolling into her once more. She resumed peppering kisses down your torso, pausing just above your mons. “Surely you’d like to stop now?”

You gave her a small laugh, shaking your head. “Far from it.”

With a serious determination, Kit dragged her index finger up the length of your wet folds, noting the way your breath hitched when she came in contact with your clit. Lowering her head, she squinted to observe the pink pearl, barely visible in the dim lantern light, which seemed to sweeten your sounds. She experimented with her fingertips once more, gently encircling your clit with the fascination of a honeybee drawn to a blossoming flower.

“Kit…” you growled, hips chasing her touch.

Your novice lover couldn’t help but marvel at the way your juices glistened on her skin. Overcome with intrigue, she stuck her slick-covered finger in her mouth, moaning at the taste.

“Is it pleasing?” You asked.

“Very,” she replied. “Like a salted peach.”

It didn’t take long for Kit to dive into you like a woman starved, using her tongue to explore every inch of your wet slit. She didn’t know what she was doing, but she was a determined and fast learner, each breath, each shift, each guttural cry from your throat helping her to gauge your needs and proceed from there.

Soon, amidst your labored breaths and electric shocks of pleasure came an unfamiliar sensation deep inside your pelvis, as if someone had wound a spring tightly around your muscles. “K-Kit…” you sputtered. “It feels quite tense…”

Kit groaned in recognition, murmuring something akin to ‘the lewd literature.’ She spoke while her mouth was still on you, each word vibrating against your core and adding to the stimulation. “Breathe, beautiful. You’re doing so well. Trust me, lean into it, it’ll feel so good.”

You did as you were told, relaxing your muscles and leaning into the powerful sensations. The way Kit looked up at you as she lapped at your folds only spurred you forward, nearer, closer to wherever you were going. It wasn’t long before a burst of warmth exploded in your abdomen, causing your legs to tremble and your vision to blur. You squeezed your thighs together against her head, ragged breaths pleading with her to stay right where she was as you rode out your climax.

Kit lifted her head up once your breathing evened out, grinning up at you with a mouth coated in your slick. “Was that alright?”

“More than,” you assured her, still panting. “Much more than.”

She crawled back up to you and tenderly brought her lips to yours. Hints of your arousal still lingered on her tongue, irrefutable evidence of the events that just transpired. You hummed as she pulled back, goofy, embarrassing grins spread across both of your faces.

“Shall I return the favor?” You asked, trying to be seductive but your eyelids were drooping heavily.

Kit chuckled, taking your face in her hands. “At a later time,” she responded, thumbing the dark rings under your eyes. “It appears we both could use some sleep.”

Too tired to argue, you let your head fall back onto Kit’s chest. She smirked, reaching for your discarded nightrobe and draping it over both of you. Her arm settled upon your shoulders as she nestled into your hair, planting a kiss on your head. “Sleep well, Princess.”

That night, you both slept in the Tir Asleen garden, intertwined under the tree’s protective branches until the first light of dawn crested the horizon.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @lovinglynny @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sofi4v13 @detmarmalade @at1nyzen @ikyk-leeknow

[ashanimus]

Fanart from @carpisuns's seriously adorable fic, the Death Defying Flirting Methods of Willow Park!

[thebestworstidea]

of course I did sketches for my own story 'What Sweetness you Can' half of the damn story was me getting cool visuals.

[monstrousroommates]

Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders Shorts Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Sleep | Remy Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Characters: Sleep | Remy Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, October | Toby Sanders, OFC, OMC, The Critic (Sanders Sides) Additional Tags: Past Relationship(s), Blood, Violence, monster au, Vampire Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Vampire Sleep | Remy Sanders, mid ninetys fashion, Casual Sex, Scars, we respect sexworkers here sir, 90s goth Virgil is a gift, Horror Elements, Sex Work, Sort Of, Pizza, Claustrophobia, Buried Alive, Temporary Amnesia, Casual Drug Use, Gaslighting, prolonged flashback, Dehumanizing Language, Genderfluid Character, in the 90s economy?, Alcohol, Attempted Sexual Assault, Vampire Sex Series: Part 4 of Before they were Roommates, Part 24 of Monstrous Roommates Summary:

Remy is back in New York after some time away, and gets to introduce two of his favorite people to each other. Neither Virgil nor Roman is particularly pleased about this, at least at first.

---

I’m so glad I got a chapter done this month.

Added a couple new tags!

[clovariia]

we can finally post our pieces for @huntlowfanzine!!! this project was so much fun. i was the beta reader mod, i wrote a fic, and i drew spot art for several people's fics/poems. thank you SO MUCH to @skeptical-rainbows for drawing such beautiful spot art for my fic!!! 💚💛

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/59088022

you can see more of the spot art doodles i made for other people's fics and poems below the cut.

thank you to the many authors who allowed me to work with them! i'm so glad i got the opportunity to beta read and draw art for so many fics. :)

[willowcrowned]

the reason they tell you to keep your writing concise is because if you make a sentence with too many clauses, victo hugo comes back from the dead reanimated by pure carnal desire for you

[hecateisalesbian]

made this in like an hour

Lilith doesn’t like writing on walls doors

[ticklingtimetickstotest]

Just wanted to share this song with you.🤍