#worm on a string rise up

[tw1nl3s-th3-c10wn]

how do we feel about worm on a string supremacy? do we want them to take our spleens? do we want our livers taken and om nom nommed on? I vote for worm on string as president. will collect our organs and keep them safes.

I vote worm on string as president! we want them to take our organs and keep them safe and warm!! whos with us!!

[yourdarkcherry]

Is it casual now?// Ellie Williams x fem!reader

summary: you and Ellie had a “casual” thing until she decided to ghost you and replace you. your friends decide that the best way to get over her is to get under another woman.

warnings: jealous ellie, abby is the revenge, reader is barely surviving her first wlw heartbreak, she/her for reader.

a/n: if u cant tell im obsessed with chappell roan.

It was your fault. Sleeping with Ellie Willaims was your fault. 

Ellie was notoriously known as the toxic one, and you knew that. But you were like a moth drawn to a flame, you smiled at her when your eyes met hers too many times at the party. You allowed her to flirt with you, and encouraged her to make out with you at the backseat of the Uber. 

She told you she liked you, and that you were the sexiest girl she was with, but it was all casual and no attachments, it was just having fun.

You knew that deep in your heart, and you liked it because you weren’t looking for anything serious and simply liked the sex and the flirting without any attachment. You liked being able to sleep with anyone you wanted, you liked being able to flirt with anyone, no one blowing up your phone and no one requiring your time and care.

You liked it all.

Until Ellie wormed her way to your heart. It was truly your fault, all of your friends told you that a ���Casual’ thing with Ellie was a recipe for disaster. 

You didn’t care, you were happy to be the one occupying most of her time, you were simply happy to be the one that got to meet her dad or Joel as she liked to call him, you were ecstatic being the only one to know how much of a big nerd she really is, to be the one to hear her sing, to be the only one that knows how to make her laugh when she’s sad.

That is all until she decided to replace you.

The sight of Ellie with another girl, the two of them were on the couch, the girl sat on Ellie’s lap and giggling into her neck as Ellie whispered things you never wanted to hear in her ear. Just seeing them like that made your eyes burn, and your breathing turned short and despite wanting to peel away your stare from them.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes were glued to them, your vision turning blurry by the second and your stomach turning sick, you didn’t drink anything at this party so you cannot blame it on the drinks no matter how much you wanted to.

In your trance at them, Ellie turned to stare at you—must’ve felt your burning look. You wanted her to push the girl away, to stand up and walk to you and lie to you that it’s not what you think it is. You wished for her to tell you any lie, to pretend like she wanted you just as you wanted her.

You would’ve believed it all, you would have succumbed to her and allowed her to take you to her bed and you would’ve allowed her back into your heart.

But none of your wishes came true. While maintaining eye contact with you, Ellie pulled the girl closer to her.You could feel the bile rising to your throat, and you ran outside the house party and threw up into one of the bushes.

Some part of you is grateful that your wishes didn’t come true, that the next day you didn’t wake up naked in Ellie’s bed. Because it makes hating her a lot easier. 

“It’s a good thing you two ended that weird casual thing you had,” Leah told you on the way to the cafeteria after class. “I don’t know about you, but if the person I was fucking with no strings attached made me meet their parents, I’d run.” You sigh and roll your eyes at her words.

“It was never casual, maybe at the beginning but it quickly escalated to something very codependent. I’m glad it ended, though.” She added, taking the booth seat. 

“Okay, can we stop airing out my dirty laundry for once? I was wrong and you were right, is that what you wanna hear?” you scoff at Leah. The woman grins and nods, “that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

You sigh for the millionth time on this day. 

“I’m glad you admitted that I’m right, because from now on you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do.” Leah said, then her eyes falling to something behind you and waving. Before you could look over your shoulder to what she’s looking at, or more rightfully, who she’s looking at, she holds your arm and stops you.

“You’re going to flirt hard with Abby Anderson, and you’re going to dress as a slutty cop when you go to the party this weekend with Abby.”

You open your mouth to ask who the hell is Abby Anderson and why does Leah think she can boss you around like that, but she cuts you as she speaks urgently. “You are a whore, act like it.” before you get a chance to feel offended at her words, you hear Jordan’s voice as he greets, “hi babe”

He rounds the table to sit at the booth, he presses a kiss to Leah’s forehead. She grins into it, and from the corner of your eyes you see a new figure, you turn to look at a tall blonde woman. She pulls out a seat and then turns to look at you when she notices your look.

“Hi, I’m Abby, Jordan’s friend.” You blink, taking in the sight of the tall, blonde woman who just introduced herself as Abby. Her gaze is steady and confident, her smile is charming and polite.

“Nice to meet you, I’m (Y/N)” you reply, forcing a smile as you try to mask your confusion. Leah’s instructions echo in your mind, and you're not sure how to react. Who is this Abby Anderson, and why does Leah seem so intent on orchestrating some kind of encounter between you and her?

Leah’s so obvious as she says with a knowing look directed to you, “(Y/N), this is Abby Anderson,” 

“Hi Abby, Leah tells me a lot about you.” you lie. 

Abby chuckles, and nods, “she told me about you too. She has a knack for thinking all the lesbians on campus know each other.”

As you burst out in laughter at Abby’s comment, Leah feigns innocence as she asks, “y’all don’t? I know all the bisexuals on campus.”

Jordan leans back, his arm draped casually over the back of the booth, watching the interaction with a keen interest. "So, you guys ready for the party this weekend?" he asks.

Leah comments, throwing you another look as she said, “(Y/N)’s been looking forward to it,” she says, shooting a grin at Abby. “She never attended a frat halloween party.”

Abby nods, and looks at you, “It’s pretty fun, any thoughts for a costume?” Her voice is smooth, and it grounds you even when you glance at Leah that’s glaring at you. 

“Uh…” you hesitate, glancing again at Leah that kicks your leg underneath the table. You finally answer, “uhm…I’m going as a cop.”

“No way! I’m going as a prisoner.” Abby said with pure surprise, and when your gaze falls at Leah and Jordan that are pretending to not have known. You also stammer as you try to lie, “wow, I had no idea!”

“What a coincidence, truly.” Leah says.

“You two should go together.” Jordan comments, and Leah claps as she affirms, “oh yes that’s such a good idea! That way you two won’t look like single losers, no offense.”

“None taken.” Abby says with an amused grin, then she tilts her head to you and asks, “so, what do you say?”

“Sure.” You nod.

As the night of the party approaches, your nerves begin to bubble up, and it's not just because of the skimpy costume Leah convinced you to wear. The real source of your anxiety is the possibility of running into Ellie Williams. 

She attended all the parties, she never missed one. You on the other hand stopped attending them after the one you saw her at weeks before with that other girl in her lap. After that, you swore to never see her again. Which was easy, considering you had memorized her schedule like the back of your hand. 

The idea of seeing her at the party, mingling with others and having fun, twists your stomach into knots.

“When’s Abby picking you up?” Leah asks, her voice coming out of the speaker of your phone.

You stand in front of the mirror, adjusting the police costume's accessories for the umpteenth time, trying to focus on anything other than the potential encounter. “In five minutes, you on the way the party?” 

“Yeah, Jordan is in the car with me.” She answers. 

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Cool, I’ll see you guys there,” you say, forcing a smile that Leah can’t see.

“Hey, you'll be fine," Leah reassures, her tone softening. "Remember, this party is about you having fun and maybe getting to know Abby better. Don't worry about Ellie. If she shows up, just ignore her. You've got this."

You nod, even though she can't see you, and glance at the clock. Time seems to drag and race simultaneously, your thoughts racing ahead to every possible scenario that could unfold at the party. The memory of seeing Ellie with another girl, looking so carefree and happy, still stings. It was that moment that made you realize it was time to let go.

A knock on your door startles you out of your reverie. You quickly grab your phone, ending the call with Leah. "Abby's here. I'll catch you later."

"Have fun, (Y/N)!" Leah calls out before you hang up. You take one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your costume and taking a deep breath.

When you open the door, Abby stands there, a grin on her face. She's in her prisoner costume, complete with fake tattoos on her arms. She was wearing a short sleeved orange button down, the first five buttons left open and giving you a good look into her chest. “Hey, Officer,” she jokes lightly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please don’t arrest me just yet, I have a party to attend.”

You laugh, though it’s tinged with nervousness. “I’ll let you off the hook just this time.” you reply, stepping out and closing the door behind you. 

The drive to the party is filled with light chatter, Abby doing most of the talking. She seems at ease, excited for the night ahead, and her energy is contagious. You try to focus on her words, on the fun you're supposed to be having, but a part of you can't stop thinking about Ellie.

It’s truly the pinnacle of loser behavior as your friends always tell you, but you can’t help it. She plagues your mind, and everything about her haunts you.

As you arrive at the party, the music and laughter spilling out from the house only amplify your anxiety.You and Abby climb the steps leading up to the door, and enter through the wide door. Your eyes scan through the dim lit room with the red and green lights. The music pulses through the room, a steady beat that seems to synchronize with the thrumming in your chest. You scan the room, your eyes darting from group to group, hoping to spot familiar faces—or perhaps to avoid one in particular.

"Wow, it's packed," Abby comments, leaning in close to be heard over the music. Her presence is comforting, a steady anchor in the sea of partygoers.

You nod, your eyes still searching the room. Suddenly, you spot Nora and Mel in one of the corners, engaged in an animated conversation. They're dressed up too, Nora as a pirate with a makeshift sword at her side and Mel as a witch, complete with a pointed hat and a fake broomstick.

A wave of relief washes over you at the sight of your friends. You nudge Abby and point in their direction. "There are Nora and Mel," you say, a genuine smile breaking through your earlier anxiety.

Abby smiles back, nodding. "Let's go say hi."

As you and Abby approach Nora and Mel, their faces light up with recognition. Nora waves excitedly. "Hey, Abby! (Y/N)! Over here!"

Mel, grins widely, “there you two are! We were wondering when you'd show up." She gives you both a quick hug. "And look at you, Abby! Going all out with the prisoner theme, huh?" Nora hands you a drink that you down, hoping it will calm down your nerves.

Abby laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks” she says as she’s glancing at you, "and (Y/N) makes a pretty convincing cop, don't you think?"

Nora nods enthusiastically. "Absolutely! You two look great. Perfect match for the night." She takes the empty cup from you and places it somewhere else. Eager to find another drink, you take the red cup from Mel’s hands and down it too.

A new song starts playing, and as you recognize the song from the beginning of it. Nora’s eyes widen and she pushes you and Abby to the direction of the dance floor, “this is (Y/N)’s favorite song! You two should dance together!”

It doesn’t take you long to figure out that Leah most likely roped Nora into it too. The mission of getting you to get laid by someone new to get over your weird feelings for Ellie.

It seems like your friends are determined to push you out of your comfort zone tonight. Abby, ever the good sport, grins and shrugs. "Well, if it's your favorite song, we have to dance," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Caught in a case of mild embarrassment, you let yourself be led to the dance floor. When you reach there, you kick out all the embarrassment out of your head, and then turn around as you bring Abby’s hands to rest on your waist from the back.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, but if your friends are so eager for you to sleep with Abby, you might as well do that. It’s probably the tell-tale signs of you being tipsy but the idea of making out with Abby seems like a good idea right now. You like her just enough, and she seems to like you too.

With that, you start grinding your ass on her. Abby leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. "You're a pretty good dancer," she says and you can hear her teasing grin. 

You smile back, feeling a flush of warmth to your cheeks and neck as one of her hands on your waist roams underneath your tits.

“Do you like my costume?” you ask, your hand resting on her own and you tilt your head to the side to allow her to press her face to your neck. She breathes in your perfume and whispers back, “I love it.”

You’re about to whisper the same line you used on Ellie when she saw you wearing that tiny scarlet dress she likes in that first party you met her. I wore it just so you’d sleep with me. But your eyes fall on the very same Ellie Williams.

Standing right to the side, and glaring at you like you were the one that cursed her with seven years of bad luck. Her piercing gaze sends a chill down your spine, and any playful mood you had vanishes instantly. The weight of her stare is too much, and instinctively, you pull back from Abby, the space between you widening in an instant.

Abby, sensing the shift, looks at you with concern, “something wrong?”

“I—I need to go to the bathroom.” you lie, and then take unbalanced steps towards the stairs to use the upstairs bathroom. Your mind races, unsure of what to do next. The party, the music, and the laughter all fade into the background as you enter the toilet.

You allow the cold water to sting your hands as you can’t really wash your face. 

But before you can fully collect your thoughts, the door swings open, and Ellie steps in, closing it behind her with a quiet click. The small space suddenly feels even smaller, the air charged with the unresolved tension between you.

Ellie’s eyes are a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and something else you can’t quite place. She takes a step closer, her jaw set. “What the hell was that?” she asks, her voice low but intense.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of her gaze. You rest your hands on the sink as you scoff, “why do you care?” then you push your weight back while turning around to face her, “you moved on, and I’m trying to move on.”

“Is that what it was? Moving on?”

You hesitate, the words sticking in your throat. You want to say yes, to tell her that you’re over her, but the truth is, you’re not sure. Seeing her now, the intensity of your feelings crashes over you like a wave, and you realize that moving on is much harder than you thought it would be.

“Actually, it’s not moving on. We were never something, it was never that deep between us.” You say.

You feel your heartbeat accelerating as you stare at her, before you stepped closer to the door and invade her personal space, “baby, no attachment.” you use the same words she told you that last night you slept with her.

Without waiting for her reaction, you turn and push open the bathroom door. You walk out, the noise of the party flooding back in, a stark contrast to the tense silence of the small room. As you step into the hallway, your heart races, the adrenaline from the confrontation making your pulse quicken.

Forcing yourself to keep moving, and trying to put as much distance between yourself and Ellie as possible. You promise yourself that night that you won’t allow her to take up one thought of your mind.

[thegnomelord]

Simon Ghost Riley

CW: SFW, GN reader

You're a tactile thing.

You're not satisfied with the occasional thickly veiled words of endearment Simon throws your way like scraps off his plate. You shouldn't be expected to be satisfied by the rare phantom brush of his gloved fingers against yours or his hand on your nape when you two are hidden in the far back corner of the changing room. You shouldn't be expected to have a partner who can never commit to the smallest crumb of tenderness (bloody fool), ready to shrug off your hand and brush past you at the barest creak outside the door, dozens of well rehearsed denials worming through his tongue; there's nothing between you two at all.

You're a tactile thing. Or perhaps you just lack that 'in' before the 'human' part of you.

He knows you want more — deserve more. Simon sees how your eyes wander to the passing couples while you two only pretend to be one for a mission, your fingers twitching with the restrained urge to replicate them. And when you do touch him to keep up the act, you don't have to force yourself to do it. Whether it is holding his hand like the couple passing you, or kissing him as tenderly as the two girls kiss on the corner, everything comes so naturally to you that it leaves him torn. One part wants to reach out, grasp you like the lifeline that you are. The other wants to pull away even more so you wizen up and leave him for someone better.

But you never do.

He can see it every time he looks into your eyes, every time you see him off to another mission and every time you greet him with a steady shoulder to hold his exhausted body up — the care. The affection. The need to hold. To kiss. To spell out with your fingers across his skin what otherwise falls on deaf ears.

You could do it so easily too; he has so many scars, he's sure your clever mind could find meaningful shapes in the static of pain etched into his skin. Shit, the half dead nerves in his skin tingle just from the fantasy of your tough, wondering if your fingertips would trace the upside down 'L' curving under his peck, the 'O' left by the meat hook, the shallow 'V' at the corner of his lip where the Glasgow smile starts, the scratchy 'E's all across his back made up of flogging scars.

You're a tactile thing. And you make Simon crave to be one too.

You make him earn for more than a quick fuck — that's the closest you two ever get to a real connection, bloody fervent and raw just like him. Simon wishes he could call it something else, but crowning that desperate clawing for release as 'making love' leaves him feeling sick to his stomach. There's no love in the act — not from him — just a frantic rutting of hips and a bruising hold, eyes shut and biting into the meat of your shoulder to chase away any softness you might try to bring in.

Ironic when it's his tongue that burns with three painfully simple words: I love you.

The inevitable release feels like like a punishment, like he's back in that dingy cell, orgasm torn out of him like Prometheus's liver. It makes his teeth dig deeper until warm blood fills his mouth and fizzles out the words he wants to say. He disentangles from you the moment he can feel his limbs again, putting only a few inches of space between you two but the empty area created feels as deep and wide as a canyon.

He lays there next to you, mind a low buzz of static. His own flesh doesn't know what it wants. One part wishes to pull you close and hold you tight until he grows moss, to remember what it's like to be held without it coming with dozens of strings attached. The other desperately claws to get away before yours becomes the next jaw he has to use to bash his way out of yet another coffin.

He can't bring himself to do either.

He lays like a statue next to you. A minute passes. Then two.

He can feel your eyes on his chest, your gaze burns his skin as you watch the slow rise and fall. The clock on the wall ticks along the many moments he takes to decide what to do, what action will pull him out of stagnation while your heat is right there next to him. He wonders, briefly, if this was Adam's true temptation, the fruit just a formality at best.

It's by the five minute mark that he thinks he's tricked you into thinking he's asleep, his theory confirmed when your fingers experimentally brush his bicep. You always become a little more touchy when you think he's asleep, when he doesn't have to prove to bygone ghosts that he's emotionless.

He's practiced this many times before with spare pillows and your clothes arranged in his best facsimile of you, your lingering smell on the fabric keeping the thoughts of 'this is stupid' and 'you're pathetic' from becoming too loud. But suddenly trying to put it into action has his pulse skyrocketing.

He breathes in deep like he's tired to try and calm his nerves. You retract your fingers like his skin is iron hot, afraid of 'waking' him, and he mourns the loss. He mumbles some slurred words he hopes you'll take as sleep talking, muscles tensing before he rolls over like a sleeping bear. He tries to make it as believable as he can, but his main priority is draping as much of himself over you as possible .

His first attempt is better than expected. Honestly it's perfect. His front almost perfectly aligned with yours, skin to skin so there's nothing to hide yet his masked head still ends up the crook of your shoulder. You two are chest to chest. He remembers why he doesn't do this when you both can feel his heart beating far too clearly.

He prays you can't tell how his heart beats for you and you alone.

You stay stock still under him, waiting, waiting, waiting, and when he shows no sign's of 'waking up' you relax under him. Your chest shakes with a shaky breath, you never believed you'd get this far, and ever so slowly your fingers curl around his hand that had so perfectly ended up over yours. He struggles not to smile when you squeeze his hand, just a little pressure in an attempt to see how far you can push without cutting this dream short.

The sweat on your body feels cool against his skin and it leaves him shivering. It gets you to carefully pull the sheets up over you two before slowly wrapping your arm around his firm waist, fingers experimentally trailing up and down the length of his spine. It's so hard to keep his breathing normal when you press your thumb into a tangled knot of muscle near his pelvis, the one that had been bothering him for a while now. He can't help the way his back arches under the tender care of your fingers, breath stuttering as he tangles his fingers between your own so neither one can pull away and squeezes your hand, biting his balaclava in an attempt to keep himself silent.

He thinks you're aware of his deceit, you hate to be with how you lazily seek out each little painful knot along his spine, caressing each vertebra when you pass it, fingers reverently tracing his scars without an ounce of pity or disgust. But you don't draw attention to it either, face angled to look straight at the peeling paint on the ceiling so you don't somehow meet his gaze and ruin this for the both of you.

His body feels like kinetic sand and his mind is filled with low tv static, so he doesn't think when he nuzzles his nose into your neck. It's a small and timid move, easy to miss or misconstrue as just movement in his 'sleep', but to him it feels like a massive leap in. . . some kind of direction. He doesn't want to think about it now, can't think about it when the smell of you curls so nicely in his nose; like a drug he wouldn't mind getting addicted to.

He feels you move your head enough to press your lips to his temple, the heat of your skin palpable through the fabric. He shudders, eyes shut tight like he's a little kid again, sharp tears burning his eyes when you whisper in his ear how you love him, as you touch and caress his battered body to show you love him, as you kiss his temple so tenderly it hurts.

God, Simon has never wanted to do something as much as he wants to return your affection now. Even the worms and maggots crawling beneath his fingertips urge him to do it. . . but he just can't.

He's not ready for that yet, it feels too fast, too soon, his chest feels so jam-packed with feathers that his ribs will shatter if he even tries to open his mouth. So for the moment he lets himself enjoy the comfort of your hold, the press of your lips against his head, the slow glide of your fingers and the easy happy beating of your heart.

You can call him unhappy (miserable, utterly broken) but for this single moment in time he feels alive.

[edenspoem]

i can so vividly see a music listening session taking place in jackson!ellie's garage–bedroom–thangg on her bedddd lying flat and gazing blankly at the ceilanggggg and like— she's got one headphone in, you the connecting one, and it'll just autoplay a cassette you brought n stuck in her chunky built walkman, and a certain song will play that you aren't all that into, least favored of the album— but her raspy voice sounds heavy in your free ear, "this songs' pretty good babe, like you got some fuckin' good taste." casually, and you reply monotone, "eh, ts' not really my favorite—", ellie instantly clears up, "yeah, it's not thaat great— like the, um— strings sound a bit awkward and the beat it's— yeah ll' just stop talkin'." being so fucking awkward about it, but you adore that weird part of her— and the fact she dropped her opinion dead like a fly for you. one, a.k.a you, can only imagine the jerk of her messy brows on each word spoken, and how flickery her pupils must be doing that silly little scratchy scratch beneath the rise of her bottom eyelid, n' a small shake of her head, cursing herself a, "fuckin' idiot." so so silently. goddess, i loave her. ♡

this is such an after–sex moment too like ellie going from dumb–in–love confessing how fucking deep you've plowed your way into her heart and changed the way her thoughts function for the better n' how she's gonna slip a gem of joy upon your finger one day with her groin pounding pussy 2 pussy— to being a fucking dork. oh yeah, n' i can totally visualize her worming back over cherry pout puckered to snog your mouth the moment a song about kissing comes on, "come onn, perfect song don't leave me hanginggg." so faeking corny bru

(img from grifynt on pinterest)

[hells-wasabii]

hii, hope you're doing well. May I ask for alastor x reader where reader is way more powerful than alastor? and weird thing for al is that r didn't sell their soul to anybody or make a deal, they just slayed and managed to become very strong overlord just by themselfs. Could be fem or gn reader, please

Thank you, have a nice day/night <33

A/N: I went with a gn reader, wasn't too sure how to incorporate a specific gender into this one, but i hope you enjoy!

Character: Alastor

Type: Headcanons (Alastor x stronger reader, General)

Now, this was certainly interesting! It seemed to Alastor that history really did have a way of repeating itself! Just like himself, a new soul had arrived in hell and stirred up quite the commotion! And during his seven-year absence no less! You were one powerful demon, quickly rising in the ranks of the overlords and eventually even making your way to Pentagram City. Only where Alastor had stagnated in power by himself, you kept rising. You were stronger? Than him? Now he really was interested.

But what intrigued the radio demon the most was the source of your power. Where did it come from? He had heard the rumors that you had no souls, but that just didn't make any sense to him. Not in the slightest.

Souls equal power, plain and simple, whether it means obtaining the souls of others or selling your own. but you had done neither. quite the anomaly you were. He just knew that he had to meet you!

The moment that he even stepped into the same room as you, the radio demon was filled with a sense of dread. He could feel the power radiating off of you. Alarm bells rang in his mind, he knew you were a danger. But this also meant that he knew exactly who you were when he saw you. The overlord with no souls, power with no strings attached. You certainly did not disappoint, that was for sure.

Now, Alastor was not a demon to form alliances, but one with you would he certainly wouldn't mind making an exception for. Whatever he could do to get close to you. He'd sniff out any possible opening and poof, suddenly the radio demon was ingrained in your afterlife.

He would be looking for any opportunity to worm his way in, trying to find out why exactly you were so strong. Trying to get you to make a deal. It didn't matter to him if he had to start small, as long as he could get in it was a start.

He knew one thing for sure. You were exactly what he had been looking for. He had to add you to his collection. And he would do anything to have you.

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] Kinktober Day 12: "Aphrodisiacs"

Summary: After Jio comes home "sick" from a mission, you're the only one whose able to handle the side effects.

Warning(s): Porn with little plot, Desperate / Whiny Jio, Dub-con(Kinda-ish?), Begging, Rough Sex-ish, Jio being whipped for Y/N.

Side Note(s): Lol this is literally just porn. (Mostly cause I haven't played his route in a hot minute so I need time to remember what his route was like 💀)

In the back of your head, you wondered exactly what suddenly made your husband so ill.

However, it was a little hard to think too much of anything when he was currently pinning you down on your shared mattress, his chest pressed firmly against your back as he feverishly fucked into your pussy as if it were the last thing he would do in his entire life. "J-Jio!" You panted, your arms pressed firmly against your sides as the elf currently had his arms wrapped around your torso, effectively keeping you from attempting to squirm your way out from underneath him.

"W-What's gotten into you—fuck!" You clenched tightly around Jio's cock, his length pistoning in and out of your cunt as strings of your slick began to stick onto his abdomen.

"Sorry..." He moaned into your ear, the raspy sound of his voice making you moan in turn at how feral he sounded. And he was, after he ran into a slight accident during his mission, mistakenly encountering a rare type of flower that was said to cause men and women to ever to their baser instincts. He almost didn't come home in fear of harming you, but...as he tried to seclude himself in the forest, waiting for the effects of the strange flower to hit him.

Slowly but surely, all his mind could think about was you.

Suddenly, the sound of your moans inside his mind wouldn't leave his head. The touch of your smooth skin underneath his hands...the imagination felt so real that he feared he was losing his mind. His cock ached so badly in his pants, no matter how many times he fucked his hand to completion within the woods. The thoughts wouldn't die down.

And that eventually led him home to you, where the final piece to his mind completely falling prey to his instincts was you welcoming him home so eagerly in that low v-cut shirt he loved. "Y-You fell so good my love," He moaned. "So fucking warm..." Moan after moan was being forced from your lips as Jio's cockhead pressed right against your g-spot after every thrust. You felt tears begin to well up in your eyes, feeling yourself being fucked dumb as if he had been fucking you for hours when, in truth, it's only been a couple of minutes!

"I love you...I love you..." He continued to babble, his green eyes slamming shut as he began to kiss and suck hickeys into your neck. Your mouth opened into a silent scream when you felt his hand worm its way under your body to begin rubbing at your clit, the tight clench of your pussy on his cock making him let out a delicious groan.

Jio sucked another hickey onto your neck, a broken series of moans escaping his kiss-swollen lips as he sped up the pace of his thrusts. His balls slapped against your ass, creating a lewd and loud squelching sound that made your head spin. Your lover was tempted to pull out a little, to see the mess that he was sure you were making on his cock but he was greedy.

Every instinct inside of him was telling him to remain close to you and aim to be closer. The warm feeling of your walls on his cock, your sweet moans, and the way you cried out for more.

It was so addicting that he couldn't help the needy whine that left his lips. "O-Oh my love..." He moaned as his head fell to the crook of your neck before shakily rising to where his lips glossed over your ear. "Please...pleasepleasepleaseplease, may I cum inside? Please say that I can..." He begged.

You struggled to look behind you at your husband. "C-Cum inside..." You moaned softly, your voice broken and shaky.

"T-Thank you—O-Oh Yoba...!" He cried out, trying to bury his face deeper into your neck, your cries turning into pleasured yelps as you felt his cockhead batter against your cervix. Jio pulled your body closer to you, using whatever strength he had to trap you even closer against his as his pace became more erratic. Faster, sloppier, all as his loud groans spilled from his lips like a fountain before both of your jaws suddenly fell open together as Jio's cum flooded your inside, the feeling of his hot seed pushing you over the edge and further sinking you into a pit of pleasure as he rolled his hips against your ass, your cunt milking him for every drop that he was worth.

"S-So full..." You whispered, wiggling your hips a little as Jio continued to pant behind you.

Before you could ask him to roll off of you, you squeaked when you felt his cock hardening once more inside of you.

"J-Jio!?" You gasped in confusion, soon being met with a pair of hungry green eyes as your elven lover smirked at you.

"We're not done yet, w-we won't be done allll night long my love..."

[sai-int]

Ophan!reader going to johnnies (bf/fiance/hubby) parents to meet them, and is like immediately accepted by his massive family (it’s cliche but cute)

the worms in my brain did a happy dance when I read this

fluff, established relationship, Johnny x reader

The jolliest of seasons had arrived with December’s first snowfall. Soft, fluffy flakes floated down, tapping against the windowpane before gathering in a thick, gentle layer over the ground. Outside, string lights stretched from one side of the street to the other, casting a warm glow that made the whole block twinkle like a scene from a holiday postcard. The snow caught in the lights, making it look as though the whole street was dusted in stardust, each flake reflecting the winter wonderland that was forming.

Inside, the cozy warmth made the contrast even sweeter.

You and Johnny were nestled on the couch, wrapped up in each other's warmth as you watched the snow drift quietly outside. The low hum of the TV and the soft crackle of the fireplace were the only sounds in the room, creating a comforting, blissful silence. His warmth beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, made you feel safe and perfectly content despite the winter chill just beyond the walls.

"Edinburgh's beautiful this time of year, ya know?" Johnny murmured softly in your ear, his voice a gentle warmth against your skin. Your back was snugly pressed against his chest, the thick blanket you’d crocheted wrapped around the both of you, adding to the cozy cocoon.

"Ah was thinkin'," he continued, his tone a blend of tenderness and hope, "since ah ken how ye get around these times… maybe ye should come with me this year… meet my mam, my family."

You knew what he meant. Christmas. Family, joy, love—the things you’d always kept at a distance. But with Johnny, Christmas had started to feel like something magical, like a season worth celebrating.

"You think so?" you asked, turning to meet his gaze. His cerulean eyes were filled with warmth and certainty, a soft glow in the firelight that made your heart skip.

"Aye, lassie." he whispered, his voice sure and steady, wrapping you in a warmth that reached deeper than the blanket around you both.

By the end of that night, plane tickets were purchased, dates were set, and his family was well informed.

...

It was Christmas Eve, and you and Johnny were pulling into his mother’s driveway. As he parked, you glanced over at him, nerves fluttering in your chest. You worried about what his family might think, unsure of what to expect, how to act—and especially not feeling ready to celebrate Christmas.

You hadn’t known what to get anyone, or even what made a good Christmas gift, but Johnny had guided you through it. What was meant to be a quick trip to Target turned into two hours, $500, and a sack of gifts hefty enough to rival Santa’s.

Sensing your unease, Johnny turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar warmth. He placed his hand over yours, his steady touch calming the anxious knot in your stomach.

"They’re goin' tae love ye, Bon. Promise," he murmured reassuringly, his voice soft yet certain.

You nodded, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. When Johnny saw that you were okay, he flashed you a reassuring smile and stepped out of the car, circling around to open your door. He pulled the massive sack of gifts from the trunk, giving it an amused look.

“Ah think ye overdid it, lass,” he chuckled, his smile so warm it felt like it could bring world peace.

Your cheeks flushed, wondering if maybe you had overdone it. You’d picked out gifts for everyone expected tonight—his parents, grandparents, three sisters, two brothers, and all six nieces and nephews.

“I just hope they like the gifts…” you murmured as he took your hand, balancing the sack over his other shoulder.

The door opened to reveal a petite woman who could only be Johnny’s mother. She had the same deep blue eyes, filled with that unmistakable kindness and warmth.

“Seven hells! Johnny, where ye been hidin' ‘er? Right bonnie lass, ain’t she?” his mother exclaimed, grinning as she stepped aside to welcome you both inside.

“Don' go scarin' 'er away no', Ma,” Johnny laughed, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as your cheeks flushed. His mother shut the door behind you, mumbling something about keeping the house warm.

The moment Johnny spoke, a lively hum broke out from the living room, where nearly every face you’d bought gifts for was gathered. You braced yourself, expecting everyone to greet Johnny first while you stood awkwardly in the background, but reality couldn’t have been further from that.

Small children, all under ten, dashed over and hugged your legs as three beautiful women (Johnny’s sisters, you assumed) moved to embrace you, pressing warm kisses to your cheeks. They immediately pulled you into the family circle, showering you with questions and heartfelt compliments. It was as if Johnny wasn't even there.

Johnny’s mother could have left the door wide open, letting the winter winds blow through and settle into the bones of the house, and still, nothing could have cooled the warmth spreading through your heart.

mlist

[princess-of-the-corner]

Nah nah nah

It's at the hero ranking of the new year. So in front of everyone, of Endeavor finally officially becoming #1 hero. The reporter asks after the rankings and Touya reveals that in front of the huge crowd of people. THEN all hell breaks loose, Enji seeing the losing battle excuses himself (retreats). Japan is shell shocked.

Wait wait wait I'm seeing

So this wouldn't be the ranking we see in canon but the next Hero Rankings post-canon

(Not that Enji cares but this is technically the first time he wins the #1 Hero spot on his own and not just in an 'All Might quit so you get it by default' way. Then again the public is fresh off the War and all and would see Deku as the face of that but he's still a student and doesn't qualify for a ranking yet lmao)

Anyway! Obvs Toya is there because this is with him coming back as Phoenix and having the most dramatic rise from the ashes yeeting him into the top 10.

Then you have other top 10s including Hawks still in the #2 spot and then BJ is also still on there and hopefully Edgeshot has recovered from being a worm on a string and ofc Miruko. And idr who else at the moment

idk how it would even come up? Like just something during the speeches portion and some host/interviewer asks a question and Enji just says something casually in-passing not even intending to 'come out' but the line of questioning quickly turns it into that.

And yeah when asked it's just

Interviewer: "So what was the reason behind your decision to become bisexual?"

Enji: "I didn't 'become' anything I certainly always was that's not- "

Toya, shouting from down the line: "He literally just learned about gay people this last year!"

The entire line of top 10s: \*immediate bafflement at how he didn't know and a lot of accidentally outing themselves because they make anecdotes of their own experience kinda forgetting they're on live tv*

And it's just a MESS

Also a bonus that I know I said before but is still hilarious:

Interviewer: "How do you feel about a.... 'bisexual'.... replacing you as the #1 Hero?"

All Might, having learned to embrace chaos: "Well the country dealt with 'a bisexual' as the #1 Hero for the last 30 years so I think y'all can manage!"

*even more chaos ensues*

[strange-little-spy]

Tickle Fight ~ Gentle!Winter Soldier fluff

Summary: You have a hard day at work and Bucky tries to make you feel better, but it just winds up turning into a tickle fight

Content: FLUFF, FLUFF NOTHING BUT FLUFF, implied married couple activities but not mentioned.

Word Count: 4159 words

a/n: So there is some French in here, but it’s translated. I am personally not yet fluent in French, but I know the phrases used. Anyway, this was inspired by @ebbarnes’s fic called Gentle Hand and part of @buck-star’s writing event

Strap in for some good old tooth rotting fluff…

You didn’t mean to slam the door, but it came out as you dropped your jacket on the floor, absolutely drained from the day.

“Hey, baby-“ Bucky called from the kitchen as he sat with his laptop, still working on his paper for his degree. You and Sam had convinced him to go to college for a bachelors at least. So, he picked New York University. It took some pulling of strings, but they finally accepted him into the classes, but only online. 

“Hey, whoa, whats wrong?” He stood up, closing his computer when he noticed your expression and quickly came to your side like a clingy dog. 

“I’m okay, Bucky.” You tried to sound okay, but those blasted tears welled up in your eyes, betraying your troubles.

“Doll..” He looked hurt, he always did when you were sad. He hesitated before hugging you close, his real hand rubbing circles into your back. “I’m glad your home, baby.”

You nodded, your arm wrapping around his shoulder, feeling his metal arm under the shirt he wore. The tears spilled over at his affection, staining his shirt. 

“I’m so-sorry, Bucky,” You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “I feel so stupid-“

“No, no, honey,” He ducked to meet your eyes, his hand cupping your cheek and wiping the tears away. “You’re beautiful and amazing, and I love you for it.”

“But I can’t do anything right!” You fussed, stomping your foot. Bucky paused, his expression wavering at your outburst.

“I- I’m sorry, James. I didn’t mean to shout-“

“Shh,” He pulled you close to him again. “You could never hurt me, doll. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“But you’re my world, Bucky. I have to worry about you.” You frowned, feeling like absolute trash.

“Look,” He placed a kiss on your cheek before looking at you. “How about you go take a long shower, wash your hair and then we’ll have diner, okay? I’ll make your favorite.” He flashed a warm smile, making you smile(with difficulty) back. You took a breath, wiping your eyes and sniffing. 

“Okay, bear.” You nodded. “I may be a second or so.”

“Take all the time you need, love. I’m not going anywhere.”

You decided to keep the light off while you showered for multiple reasons.

1. You didn’t want to see yourself in the large mirror

2. It was soothing for some strange reason

3. Plus why not

The hot water washed all the sweat and tears from you as you sat down on the tile, worming your fingers through your scalp and scratching at the roots. The steam cleared your sinuses out along with your lungs. You felt as if you could breathe clearer as you stepped out onto the mat, wrapping a fluffy towel around yourself. You could smell the scent of meat rising through the vents. Bucky couldn’t bake to save his life,  but boy, he could grill like a champ. So his steaks were the ones you practically lived for. You smiled and took a long breath, feeling lightheaded as you let it out again. You giggled as you remembered when he tried to make you a pie for your birthday the year you two had met. It was a failure to say the least. 

You turned on the blow-dryer, but also the string lights above your sink just to see what you were doing. But on the mirror, there was a square sticky note.

You leaned closer, reading the handwriting. It was definitely Bucky’s.

“You are beautiful, enough, worthy, lovely, and chosen.”

You had to laugh to keep the tears from overflowing again. He left notes like this, but never with this message. He must have really thought it out before putting it up.

Ah, you loved him.

You finished drying your hair and let it hang loose over your shoulders as you tugged on your warm leggings and one of Bucky’s hoodies. For some reason, his were way comfier than yours. And he never minded when you confiscated one.

You could here the timer going off from the kitchen as you moved into the living room. Bucky had already turned on the soft lights that emitted from behind the furniture and behind the TV which was already set for your favorite movie. But before you sat down, Bucky came running into the room telling you to hold on before you sat down.

“Don’t move. Do not move a muscle-“ He ordered before running back into the laundry room, just as the dryer buzzer went off, and tugged out your queen sized blanket, immediately wrapping it around you, scooping you up, and gently dropping you onto the couch. 

“Bucky!” You squealed, his grin making you smile ear to ear.

“Not a word,” He said before handing you your phone, now charged mostly.  “Dinner will be served shortly, madame.”

“Merci bea coup, mon mari.” You smiled back at him as he gave you another forehead kiss and then went back to the kitchen. The smell of steak wafting from his wake. You hummed and snuggled deeper into your blanket, he had stuck it in the dryer on high heat for at least 15 minutes, making it a burrow of warmth and comfort. You had an obsession with soft and fluffy things, blankets were no exception. Bucky had given it to you as a wedding present last year.

Your phone pinged in your hand, Natasha’s ringtone sounded. You unlocked the device and found the text. It was a selfie of her and Steve next to the Effiel Tower, a grin plastered on each of their faces.

“So good!!” You replied, typing quickly. “Happy honeymoon!! <3”

“Thank you!” She was quick to respond, surprising you. There was a large time difference from Paris and New York, easily eight hours- “Hope to you see you and James soon!”

“Sameeee!”

Natasha was your bestest friend ever. Not withstanding the factshe introduced you and Bucky, but she was kind otherwise. 

“Dinner has arrived,” Bucky said from behind you as you sat up and began to tie your hair back so it wouldn’t get in your way, but he sat the plate of steak, mashed potatoes and kernel corn into your lap, taking the hair tie off your wrist and whipped around to your back, gingerly pulling your hair into a low bun.

“James!” You giggled, trying to turn to look at him, but his metal arm reached around and tapped your plate. 

“Eat.” He ordered with a smirk as he finished off your hair. 

“You’re the most wonderful man I ever knew.”

“I should hope so,” He leaned against the couch. “Otherwise methinks I got some questions.”

You giggled through a mouthful of potatoes. “Oh, salt please.”

“Yup.” He pushed himself off the couch, speed-walking into the kitchen. When he returned, he carried your salt and his own plate, flopping down next to you, taking in the blankets warmth for himself. 

“Oh, c’mon, James.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re a personal radiator, why do you need the blanket?”

“Because I’m your husband and I wants blanket. Now gimme.” He practically growled, but there wasn’t a trace of gruffness in his tone. You snickered as he shoveled a forkful of steak into his mouth, still holding eye contact.

You shook your head, amazed that he hadn’t broken into laughs same as you. “Your steak is amazing, as always, bear. Thank you so much.”

“Anything for my girl.” He genuinely smiled, making your heart soar and speed up at the same time. To see him smile meant the world to you. After everything he’d gone through, he deserved to have a reason to smile. “Feeling better than the little cloud of rain that walked in here earlier?”

“Much better,” You finished off your plate, setting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I’m sorry I was so upset earlier..”

“Whatever is was, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.” He reassured, mimicking you and then wrapping his arm around you so you were only separated by the thick, fluffy blanket and his hoodies. “Do you want to tell me about it now that you’re all cleaned up and feeling better?”

With this atmosphere and his adorable way of being with you, how could you not?

“Okay,” You sighed, getting comfy -er. “Well, I don’t think you’ve met my boss, Mr. Carmichal.”

“I’ve heard you mention him once or twice, but I don’t think I’ve met him.”

“Alright, well, if you’ll pardon my language, but he’s the biggest suka I have ever met.”

Bucky snickered at your choice of words. “Go on.”

“So today he demands to see me on work hours, and secondly, he’s refusing to grant me that raise that’s been coming to me for the last three years.”

Bucky’s expression hardens, someone was neglecting you? He would be ‘meeting’ this Mr. Carmichal…

“Alright.” He said, urging you onward.

“And you’ll never believe what he wanted to see me about.”

“What?”

“Apparently, I am using too many coffee stirrers at work, so I am now being fined for each second stirrer. And apparently he knows all and sees all, so I owe the company—“ You raised your palm to see the scribble on your arm that didn’t completely come off in the shower. “—1456 dollars and 98 cents.”

If you weren’t so serious, you would have snickered at Bucky’s shocked expression.

"One thousand, four-hundred fifty-six dollars and ninety eight cents???” He repeated. “You could by a car for that much.”

“Well, probably a hot-wheel. But nothing bigger.” You sighed, rubbing the figure off your skin. 

Bucky was silent for a long moment as you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand fingering through your scalp, soothing you.

“Do you have your boss’s number?” He finally asked. 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Give it to me.”

“What? What are you going to do, James??” You sat up.

“I’m going to call this guy, and you’re going to quit your job.” He held out his metal hand. 

“Are you insane? I can’t quit just like that!” You objected.

“Why not?? You can work with Potts! I bet she and Stark wouldn’t mind having you! You’re one of the best hackers I know of!”

“Software programmer, James.”

“Baby, I watched you track down HYDRA using this—“ Hetouched your forehead. “—And a laptop. I think you can work for Stark. I’d really don’t like the idea of you working for a guy like this Carmichal for four days a week.”

You sighed through your nose, looking at your phone. “But what will I say? He’ll have me to a contract.”

“Does your piece of paper say you can leave whenever you want and they can fire you whenever they want, with good reason?”

“Sure, down at the bottom. I had to ask Pepper about it before I signed it.”

“Then you’re not forced to finish that contract.” He held out his hand again.

You looked at him and then at your phone. “I hope you know what you’re doing, bear.” You said as you handed him the phone.

His lips turned up in a smirk before he unlocked your phone and scrolled through your contacts.

“Here we go.” He hit the number and held the phone up to his ear. 

“He may be at home by now.” You reminded, noting the time.

“Do I look like I give a darn about this suka?”

You held back your chuckle as the other end picked up.

“What do you want, Barnes??” Carmichal snapped. “It’s 9 o’ clock at night!”

“I have a working clock,” Bucky shot back, maintaining his eye contact with you. “This is (y/n)’s other half. I’m looking for a Mr. Carmichal.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware Barnes was married.”

“Where do you think she got her last name?”

You held back your giggle by burying yourself into the blanket. 

“Look, you,” Carmichal snapped. “What do you want!? Its late!”

“Well, aware, mister.” Bucky continued without missing a beat. “Its what happens when the sun goes down. Anyway, my wife has been coming home after work with the worst case of an inferiority complex I have ever seen. It seems to me, someone has been treating her like a piece of garbage.”

“She doesn’t work like she’s getting paid for!”

“Oh? I thought she had a raise coming too.”

“Get to your point, man! I’m about to hang up.”

“I called you, mister. Lets not get sidetracked. As I was saying, no one treats my wife like that. Understand?”

“She’s a lousy worker!”

“She tracked down HYDRA and now works for the Stark Industries.”

Silence on the other end.

“She hasn’t informed the company—“

“Isn’t there an item on the contract she signed that explained in detail that she could terminate her employment with your company at any time?”

More silence and more giggles from the lump of blanket that you were. Bucky was working him like a champ.  Maybe you should give him all your scam calls…

“There is, but—“

“Then she terminates it.”

“And who the hell are you to quit your wife’s job???”

“Oh I dunno. An agent for SHIELD and part of Avengers, but nothing too important.”

Your hand reached from the blanket and flipped the bird, only to be smacked by Bucky.

“Wait- Barnes… NOT THE WINTER SOLDIER—!”

“`Bye.” Bucky hung up, dropping your phone on the couch. You let out a peal of laughter, throwing the blanket off you. 

“There, was that so hard?” He shrugged, also unable to hold back his own grin.

“You were beautiful, Bucky.” You squeezed through your giggles. “I’m gonna make you answer all my scam calls from now on.”

“Please no, I’d better not quit my day job.” He smiled as he pulled you onto his lap. 

You couldn’t stop smiling and snuggled close to him. “Love you, bear.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” He brushed his metal hand against your cheek, his touch feather-soft. You were always fascinated with his arm, the way he could rip metal apart like paper, but he could also thread a needle like he’d done it before eighty times before. His fingers were cold against your smooth skin, a contrast to his other hand which was just as warm as yours. He’d always run hot.

But his flesh hand trembled under your arm, tickling you. You giggled, squirming away.

“Bucky—“

“Who me?” He smirked devilishly. “I didn’t do anything.” He ticked again, making your squeal.

“James Barnes,” You tried to sound sincere, but there was little fight against his attack. “Stop it-“

“I’m not doing anything, doll.” He leaned closer, reaching to your legs where your most ticklish places were. You squirmed and squealed, feeling rather trapped as he continued to tickle you.

"James!” 

“Who??”

“James Bucky Barnes!” Your legs railed inside the blanket as you kicked to get away. And when he finally let go, you bolted like a doe to the bedroom, his loud footsteps following close behind.

You let out an excited squeal as you hurdled a pillow at him which of course did nothing but it made him grin as he chased you. His eyes bright as he nearly caught you but you rolled over the bed, landing with a flop on the carpeted floor with a grunt. 

He jumped around to pin you to the floor, but you were ready.

When he leaned over you, you grabbed his right underarm and relentlessly tickled, laughing in triumph as he let out a laugh as well, his face turned up in a grin. 

“WHO’S GOT WHO NOW, HUH SOLDIER??” You heckled, still tickling down his torso. He would have collapsed on top of you if you hadn’t of wriggled out of the way and planted yourself on his knees.

“I fight back, Bucky.” You warned, your fingers curled as you held your hands above him. His eyes sparkled with his amusement, his metal arm laid to the side so he wouldn’t hurt you by squeezing too hard. 

“Terrifying little thing,” He smirked, shaking his head and sitting up on his elbow. “I’m so scared.”

“As you should be,” You slid off and eased yourself closer, giving him a slow kiss.

He moaned when you pressed your lips to his, he practically melted onto the carpet. You could feel his trembling under you, making your heart miss a beat.

When you broke apart, he gasped for breath, completely flushed. 

“Holy smokes,” He whispered, still breathless. 

“I’ve kissed you before, baby.” Your brows knitted together. “What’s so differ-“

But you couldn’t finished as his metal hand slithered to your neck, pulling you gingerly toward him. He met your lips with his, his warm breath making your cheeks red along with the blush that filled your face. You had only been married a year and he STILL did this to you. But you weren’t complaining. 

“Love you, angel.” He whispered, his lips brushing your cheek as he took in your scent. You knew he could feel your heart rate speed up through the layers of fabric that separated you. It wasn’t as if they were about to come off either, cuddling was all you needed.

“I love you too, James.” You smiled, your eyes meeting his. You could never really read his eyes, but you knew he was so, so down to the ground over you. Literally and figuratively.

You pecked a kiss on his lips again, making the appropriate ‘mmmwa’ noise to follow it. 

“You taste like steak.”

“Ya think?” You raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. “Huh, wonder why, you smart man.”

Bucky rolled his eyes as he nudged you off so he could sit up. “So are you fine with working for Stark?”

“Personally I wanna work with you and the Avengers.” You titled your head, your mane of hair was now loose from the bun Bucky had styled it into, so it tumbled over your shoulders. You recalled when Bucky had long hair. But he rarely let anyone touch it.

“We’d distract each other.” He scrunched his brows together.

“But your a pretty distraction!” You countered, trying to look innocent.

Bucky chuckled and flopped back on the floor. “I’ll talk to Steve when he gets back.”

“Oh-!” You bolted from the floor to the living room and snatched your phone off the floor from where you had kicked the blanket. You heard Bucky’s firm footfalls as he followed you. 

“C’mer-“ You waved him over trying to find the picture Natasha sent. “Look!” You held up your phone.

“Ooh, thats a good picture.” Bucky nodded. “Clint still owes me ten dollars.”

“What- why?”

“Him and I made a bet that it’d be a lot more dates before that punk would marry Nat.”

“Ha!” You snickered, setting your phone down. “He’s just old fashioned, James.”

“I’m older than Steve!”

“I know, but do I look like I care?” You touched your bottom lip and tugged on it, making doe-eyes at Bucky. 

He sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Do that again and I just might climb all over you.”

You squealed and fell on the couch again, absolutely elated. He smiled and eased next to you, his eyelids dropping sleepily. You took a breath and tunneled your fingers through his hair, giving small scritches. He seemed to melt under your touch, his small moan making your heart twinge. He adored the little moments of affection you could spare him, anything. A hug in the middle of the night, head-scratches, the rubs you gave him after his intense workouts you so cheeringly encouraged him with. Everything. He relished it. He couldn’t live without you.

“I love you, Bucky.” You soothed. 

“Love you too, doll.” He rumbled, his metal arm resting over you while his other one roamed behind your back and rested on your hip, taking in your warmth. You intertwined your fingers with his metal ones as a hum escaped your lips as you nearly fought to stay awake. Whenever he cuddled with you was enough to send butterflies into a hurricane, but tonight was softer. After a crappy day, you merely wanted affection and fluff. 

And no one could give better affection than one mister Bucky Barnes. 

“We should really put the Christmas stuff up soon.” You mumbled as your hand burrowed under his shirt so your warmth could sooth where his metal arm met the flesh. 

“Tomorrow, sugar.” He replied, sounding just as sleepy as you. 

“Tomorrow.” You nodded.

It wasn’t long before you were both sound asleep.

The scent of toast woke you from your light sleep as you crawled out from your cocoon of the blanket and blinked. You had no idea what the time could be but based on the scent and the cold light coming in through the closed blinds of your bedroom, you guessed it was early morning. You yawned as you slid out of the bed. You remembered falling asleep on the couch so you assumed Bucky had placed you and the blanket back in your own bed. When he did, you couldn’t have guessed. True, he had habits of waking up and taking a short walk around your house just to calm down from a nightmare, and neither of you could really time them in order to make them less worse. But he never complained. That was another thing you loved about it.

You shivered slightly and looked at the time before you pulled a discarded hoodie off the foot of the bed and tugged it over yourself. 6:47. Not bad. That gave you enough time to shower�� 

wait, no,

Bucky had quit your job meaning you were going to the Avenger’s compound today to ask Pepper about a job. 

“Right,” You mumbled sleepily as you pulled your socks on and ambled toward the kitchen where Bucky was looking at his computer as a mug of coffee cooled down next to him. You carefully stepped over the squeaky spot on the floor and began to pull the French press out of the cabinet. But cold fingers quickly slipped under your hoodie and pierced your skin as you let out a surprised scream.

“JAMES!”

He laughed behind you before he drew his metal arm away and hugged you from behind. “Good morning, angel.”

“You are naughty, James.” You tried to sound stern but not with him.

“Hmm, do tell.” He nodded as he buried his face in your hair. 

You smiled and shook you head as you heated up the water for your coffee. “How progress on your thesis?”

“Slow and excruciating.” He grumbled as he let you go, (with evident objection) so you could finish your process. “They want something done exactly how everyone else does it and I don’t understand why it has to be done just that one way. I can think of two other easier way to get it done in twice as less time.”

“Poor Bucky.” You stuck out your lower lip. “But I know, its hard to have to conform to their standards. But thats how society judges people. So what if so-and-so has a doctorate? That just means they went to school longer and can regurgitate the right information onto a piece of paper. Big whoop.”

Bucky just watched you and smiled as you went on your rant while you poured the steaming water into the French press. He loved it when you went on a tangent. It was cute in a way to see you get worked up over something.

“What?” You asked as you pushed the small plunger down. 

“You.” He smirked. “You’re cute when you’re pissed.”

“James,” You sighed and smiled at same time, resting your free hand on the counter, but you were quick to facepalm to hide your blush. “Why are you so adorable right now?” 

“I was about to ask you the very same question.”

You shook your head again. “Will you get me the cream and sugar please?” You pointed to the place where the items were kept as Bucky reached around the set them in front of you. “Danka.” You said before adding just the right amount to your morning coffee. Clint’s wife, Laura, had taught you a perfect combination of sweetness and the bitter flavor of the coffee beans for a soothing and yet invigorating drink. That reminded you to get a girl’s night together after Nat got back from Paris.

“Any suggestions how to approach Tony about a job?” You slowly took a sip of coffee.

“Uh, nope.” Bucky deadpanned. “He’s not hard to approach, baby.”

“Guess I’m too used to Carmichal.”

“Our friendly neighborhood suka.”

“Oh yes.” You snickered. “We need to get Tony to get him a nickname.”

“Nah,” He shook his head as he finished off his own coffee and shut his laptop. “I’ll drive you to the compound.”

“Thanks, Bucky.” You smile and go off to shower and change for the day.

-------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! Dividers by @strangergraphics

<3 Sandy

@oh-to-be-a-murderer, @fictionalmenjusthitdifferent

@crazyinlovewithmarvel, @teafangirl

If you want to be tagged(or removed!) Whenever I post fics or one-shots, send me an ask and I tag you! :D

[tavvles]

[Act I, Scene III: Victor’s Basement]

TW: Death, decapitation, zombies, skeletons, mentions of murder. May include disturbing imagery.

(The basement is cold and silent.)

(VICTOR enters from stage right. He carries a handheld lantern which gives flickering light. He produces a match to light the candles around the room. A voice emerges from the darkness, interrupting him. Accompanied by deep bass, it is dark and haunting, and shadows seem to sway with the words.)

[THE WARNING]

THE NARRATOR Child of dust, hewn of bone Here you play with fate Grasping at where the veil is thin Rousing those that ought to sleep

VICTOR (startled) Who hides in the gloom and speaks in riddles? Step forth and reveal yourself!

(The lantern flares as THE NARRATOR emerges from the darkness. VICTOR takes a step back.)

THE NARRATOR I am THE NARRATOR, the held breath The hand that writes, the one that waits I give warning to those close to the line The line that should not be crossed

(VICTOR looks up defiantly at THE NARRATOR.)

VICTOR So you are Death, here to kill me?

THE NARRATOR Not at all. I do not take lives, I merely warn. You walk a path paved in bone A path devoid of light or warmth Choose wisely, Wakefield, or you’ll find That the price is steep when the dead won’t die

(A look of understanding begins to dawn on Victor’s face, and along with it, renewed hope. He walks past THE NARRATOR.)

VICTOR What have I done to warrant a warning so grave From a being of a higher natural order? If you are here, then surely it means That what I pursue is within reach!

THE NARRATOR and VICTOR (overlapping) Foolish man, do you not see / Could it be that I’m onto something That you are headed for doom? / Could it be that I’m close? What you seek cannot be done / Nothing now can convince me to Turn back the way from which you came / Turn back the way from which I came

(THE NARRATOR shakes his head, resigned. He bows and steps backwards, fading once again into the shadows.)

THE NARRATOR So be it then, Victor Wakefield. Your choices are your own. I hope for your sake I need not return.

(VICTOR does not react – in fact, he doesn’t even notice the leaving. He stands, eyes wild, exhilarated.)

VICTOR This is my moment, my time to push And hold nothing back For if I at last succeed The grave will be silent no more!

(The music rises, triumphantly. VICTOR dashes to his workbench. All around him, the candles flare to life, illuminating the space.)

(He begins to work. The clock behind the workbench spins rapidly, showing the progression of time. As he works, three coffins emerge from the darkness. They open, spilling fog over the ground, and three figures step out.)

[THE DEAD THREE]

(In the candlelight, one figure steps forward. The strings are played in pizzicato, except a solo violin slithering through the melody.)

MONTGOMERY (growling, bitter) In life I was a rogue, a gambler, a cheat Although some have said I was a fine lover too But one night a poor sap took offense And shoved a dagger straight into me!

Oh, how I screamed and swore and cursed But nothing reversed the blood that left me And then I was buried where the worms ate me But now I’m back, though I’d rather be dead!

(The score changes to strong, declarative brass – a fanfare accompanying a grand entrance.)

SANTINO (boldly) In life I was a strongman in a circus I could lift a horse, or crush a tree But one night I picked a fight with gravity And the tightrope hit my neck on my way down!

Then my head rolled away from my body Or was it my body rolling away from my head? Now I sing with half a windpipe In this life more frightening than death!

(The brasses fade to forlorn woodwinds.)

THEODOROS (swaying, wistful) In life I was a poet of the dreaming kind Bathed in absinthe and candlelight But the world did not care for my words And let me fade to the hunger and cold

Now all that remains is bone and dust And still I am starved for food and love Why must I continue on this way Beyond the rest of the dark night?

TRIO (MONTGOMERY, SANTINO and THEODOROS) Now here we are, we didn’t ask for this But snatched from death we were nonetheless

MONTGOMERY A rogue

SANTINO A strongman

THEODOROS A forgotten poet

TRIO Playing our bygone roles again!

(VICTOR pays no heed to the lamentations of his creations. He kneels next to a coffin towards the back of the room. The orchestral score fades away. A music box on his workbench opens and begins to play ELESSA’S THEME.)

VICTOR (softly, almost a whisper) I am so close, Elessa my love Until I hear your voice I will give anything If only I could see your smile again…

(The music box winds down. The curtains fall.)

Beginning | Previous | Next

---

Hi everyone! I’ve moved to Australia this week and I’m starting a new job on Monday, so I’m not sure if I can keep up my weekly posting schedule. Also BG3 patch 8 drops this week (i.e. date night with Astarion). I will make an effort to keep posting as usual because I find it really hard to pick up momentum if I lose it, but if I suddenly disappear into the aether, that’s why!

Thank you all for reading, always ❤️

[venomvalley]

personally i think overstimulating id leon. thank you for listening.

OH?????? OH WORM UR SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE!!! i miss writing smut so have this lil subpar treat while i take forever to write more substantial things :3

nsfw/18+ of course

—

You found out quite early into the relationship that Leon loves kissing—bold, italicized, big red letters type of enthusiasm.

A coincidence, then, that you love kissing him. He doesn’t know how to stay still, can’t keep his hands in one place, can’t keep his noises down. Reactions that he always denies afterward, every single time.

Except this one, in light of your own stubbornness.

With a hand down his pants and your tongue in his mouth, he’s been reduced to action and reaction. Instinct. Putty. Head lolled against the back of the couch, fingers steadfast in their mission to massage away the swell of your hips. He needs you closer, pulls you further onto his lap.

You free him from his underwear and there—there it is. The relax of his jaw, the relieved moan that you swallow with a grin. You pull away and he blinks, eyelids heavy, lips pink and wet and a string of spit connects then breaks upon your retreat. So pretty, so good, so relaxed. Always like this after all the kisses, enjoys the intimacy of your affections.

Already, he’s made a mess of himself, sensitive and slick. Could probably cum untouched if you kept your lips on him. You curl a fist around the head, spreading precum with a long, twisting pump all the way down to the base. His thighs tense beneath you, breath stuttering, hands roaming the bare expanse of your back. Can’t stay still when you touch him—a response that always stokes your ego.

Usually, you have a penchant for teasing. Soft touches, ghosting kisses, sweet whispers. But he’s been gone so long, returned to you a little more unraveled at the seams. You need to pull him apart, rip at his strings in order to piece him back together again.

The stretch is your favorite part. The fill that takes your breath away. Something to be said about pleasure, give and take, and the body that gifts it to you. How your love belongs to him.

He’s worked up enough that just a few kisses and the rise your hips leaves him shuddering. Groaning into the curve of your shoulder, stubble scratchy against your skin. Filling you sticky and hot, and a filthy squelch aids each rise of your hips, and a mess of cum spills down his cock.

But you don’t stop and he doesn’t ask you to. Instead, grips hard to your waist, cusses under his breath, rocks his hips up into you. You muffle his groans with your lips, a punched-out sort of sound each time you seat yourself in his lap over and over and over again, and he begins to soften inside you. The groans turn to whimpers. His fingers at your waist start to hurt.

But he keeps going. Draws out the lighting-strike sensations as long as possible until the stimulation breaches pain, and he tugs you down then forces you still. Finds comfort in the slope of your neck, breath heavy against a bleating pulse.

You think for a moment. What little you can from a fog-ridden head. He’s never done this before. Never could take the post-orgasm sensitivity.

“So.” You clear your throat, rest a cheek against his hair. “What was that about?”

He pulls you to him, chest-to-chest, then steadies a hand between your shoulder blades. “I’m a selfish man, I guess.”

You lean into his warmth and the bubbling, euphoric laugh that jolts his body. “And that means…?”

“Not sure. Still trying to get the feeling back in my legs.”

He pins your hips in place, and the clench of your insides leaves him hissing through his teeth.

“I guess there’s gonna be a round two?”

“Oh, you can count on it.” His arm tightens around you, lips pressing to the curve of your jaw. “I might need another kiss or two to get the motor running again.”

(There isn’t a round two. He starts snoring on the couch shortly after.)

[haveyoureadthismcytfic]

Summary:

“hey how’s treebark zine going?” you ask. i look up from where i’m shoving two worms on strings together and making kissy noises. “huh?”

Author: @martynsimp69

Note from Submitter: "It’s the most beautiful written piece of literature I have ever been blessed to read"

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

the hardest part of writing is cutting very good passages simply because they don't fit the narrative in a cohesive way. ok remember this part?

He expected Gao Jianli to appreciate the story in the same way. But the look on the musician's face made him stop short. He had taken off his blindfold, there was no awe in his eyes, only pity.  "It must have been very painful," Gao Jianli whispered. "What's a little pain in the grand scheme of things?" the king replied with a laugh, amused by this girlish sentiment. "One suffers for a brief moment and earns a lifetime of benefits from it. Besides, I hardly remember it now."  The musician did not answer. He plucked a few notes on the zhu, and they sounded like raindrops falling on a hot terracotta roof. A gentle pitter-patter followed by the hiss of rising steam, like a tiny, sorrowful sigh.

Here's what was suppose to come after it:

The king frowned, not knowing if he liked this strange sound. It made something ache deep within his chest, a totally alien sensation. Like he was a bronze chime being rung with a mallet. Like the feet of one thousand ants marching across his skin. Like a cool, soft hand slipping under his clothes, tracing his fever-hot skin, and slotting itself between the bones of his ribs, worming around the fragile, blood-red membranes of his spleen and liver, so wrong and so, so gentle, higher and higher, until it reached his chest and laid itself softly over a bruise--  "That's enough!" King Ying Zheng's voice rang out harshly in the large, austere room. He had stepped backwards impulsively and almost tripped over the long train of his coat. It was a jerky, undignified movement, like he had been burned. Gao Jianli flinched at the king's voice and silenced the strings with press of his hands. His head was bowed like he was expecting a blow, yet his small, bright eyes were still focused intently on Ying Zheng.  The king stood there glaring at the musician, his chest heaving like he had run a mile, his mind all mist and jagged rocks. There was a gnawing at the back of his throat, the ghost of a memory of a boy who had been screaming for a long time, the wound torn afresh by the sight of a door opening twenty-three years too late, which was worse than never opening at all.  "Did that not please you, My King?" Gao Jianli's voice was rough. His tongue, small and pink, darted out and licked a bead of sweat from his upper lip. Ying Zheng itched to strike him, but could not force himself to get close enough to do so. The alchemy of Gao Jianli's music had not yet dissipated, the trembling coward was transfigured, in that moment he was half a sage and half venomous snake.  With great effort, the King of Qin collected the scattered pieces of himself with an imperious thrust of his chin. Qin men never show fear. In the bare light of day, the king could clearly see that the musician's hands were in fact very calloused. The tips of his fingers were armored in a thick yellow carapace, forged by decades of constant practice. Of course they're rough. The king reminded himself uneasily. Why had he assumed those hands would be soft? 

cutting this was the hardest decision in my life, but it just didn't fit. i cranked up the emotion too high without enough build-up, or any way to balance it out on the other end. (to put it frankly, there's not enough foreplay.) also gao jianli is suppose to be passively suicidal right now, and they've only just met. it would be a 180 for his character.

[edenspoem]

╒═✰❝how the shadow shrouds❞

⋆' a smut teaser

⋆' . subtop/loser!ellie x dom!reader

⋆' content; drabble, blurbs, mature themes, smut, loser ellie, reader has a borderline dominatrix moment(at least in the actual fic), degrading (g), subtop ellie, painslut ellie, hair grabbing (g), voyeurism (e. aware + consenting), edging (g), slight dacryphilia, begging kink

⋆' a/n; this is merely a teaser piece for volume 2 of my tps series, so expect this to be short and not fully detailed. I just couldn't go without writing a teaser specifically for this chapter cuz it's such a hot idea.. this will be much more erotic in the actual fic.

"u're such a fucking loser, ellie williams."

those words wormed parching on her ear, the tepid cider staining your lips carrying a warm scent into her nose that made everything so woozy in her senses.

her ears parched because now, her boxers were sappy with arousal. pretty pussy pulsing on the couches' padding by your signal.

"am i?"

her reply duels you. pomegranate cheeks dulcified in brown sugar spots, hot to the touch, grazing against your own, limpid of any redness. you found esteem in the newfound control your voice held. ellie's pupils read like a palpable message, 'i want you, that bad.'

that bad. that bad being the way you gathered the short burnished hair of her scalp between your folded knuckles, tossing her down to a kneeling position with one gripe tug, her chin pressing the plush of your belly pouch. glossy pup eyes praying for that fierce grip you bear.

ellie us limited to the floor, and your looming shadow shrouds her.

yet, you would only give her half of what she longs for.

a stammer of her whispers stick a film of hot breath over your womb, "please– please, let me fuck you.." her slobbering lips shine, snailing strings of spit that tether to her tongue.

"what did just I say? hands in ur' fuckin' pants."

her mild adams apple bobs with a hitched swallow, hesitant tears brinking the shoreline of her bottom eyelids.

"yes ma'am," muttered ellie breathily, plopping her head down to observe her large hand undoing her pants.

"ey-" you wrap and pull her jaw up, forcing her to gaze up, sternly adding, "fucking look at me." your fingers dimple her skin and drag with reddening ripples.

now, her flexing hands halfway submerged in her unzipped jeans, rubbing discoid motions under her cotton boxers. the slick pools over her fingers, causing raw wet sounds to slosh from beneath the fabric of her boxers.

you could barely hear that shit, though.

the fingers tangled in the thicket of her rusty locks thrust her head back, stretching that elegant neck of hers even more. a choked 'guh.' bubbles from her chords.

"i wanna hear how wet y'are, show me." your cold request capers your throat and wisps out like a gravelly snarl.

the suffuse of blush clots her facial features, skin fermenting with a heat. like wildfire, her arousal spreads infinitely, spilling a heap of moisture to prune up her fingers more than they already were.

a gruff gulp is heard, "uhuhh~" and her other hand peels the waistband of her boxers forward, sounds of smacking wet folds carrying into your ears so deliciously. fuck.

"love it when' y'uh watch me.. mhhgmm, fuck baby, fuhhckk." moaned ellie, verde rings rolling halfway behind her dreary fucked–out lids, red puppy eyes.

the ravine between your upright stance and her pitiful kneeling one immerse your eyes in a beautiful perspective. balled paw messily stroking her achey, strained clit brings a bang of toe–curling pleasure to lash over her cunt, rising up her body.

she wasn't going to cum. not on your watch.

"stop."

her heavy eyes puff and shut, scrunching her brows, gently swaying her whole body up on her knees with each long rub to her clit. she doesn't listen to you. she keeps going. mumbling incoherent 'fucks' like an invocation over her purrs. what a greedy fucking loser.

"said' stop, d'ya hear me?"

the mitt in her hair heaves her crown up harshly, shoving her face plumb to your exposed navel, meek hands grip your thighs.

the tugged tenderness elicited in her scalp excited her further, confessedly – lewdly.

"can't come till i tell you to, kay?" your fingers wane from her scalp, caressing a beeline down her face 'till your index and middle nudge her lips, slipping the tips in, "suck, 'n finger yourself."

"baby, i chn't –" her whine pitches up, spitting your fingers out, "please put ur' hands on me – shhit, fuck!"

hard rubber tip of your boot found itself hiked up against her entrance clad in the jeans inseam, rolling your ankle in circular oscillation.

her entire body rattles, trembling at the mercy of your foot. eyes drowned out. mouth slack agape. soaking slit swallowing up the boxer fabric your foot pushed up. back arching convexly, plowing her rapacious clit on the bulbous edge.

"y-yess.. yesyesyes–" chanted ellie, fucking lost from consciousness.

unluckily, you chuck your foot away.

"no- nono, mhhn– i need'ju.." her mouth latches forward and hungrily nips at your thigh, frustrated at the loss of pleasure with salty tears dripping off her jaw, "I'll make you feel good– please.. nghh-"

so fucking hot.

you chuckle, "see? a pretty fucking loser, poor baby."

ellie just nonscensically rambles, ignoring you, "could fuck you s'good – scchlp," she sucks drool from her spluttered lip, "fuck eachother.."

this girl is antsy as fuck.

♡

that's all y'all get for now 🤣 wait for the rest!!

[baldurs-gape]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Oh crikey. Five?! I'm usually shy to yell about one, let alone five. How about a compromise? I'll say I'm proud of Shores as a finished fic and Adopt, Don't Shop! as a WIP and then write something a little silly to make up for the fact I am but a socially awkward worm on a string.

All's Fair In War, Not Love

Breaking up had been rough. Initially Gale hadn't been able to afford to move out and the divorce was taking so long to finalise, all assets and funds were tied up in that. Mystra was the breadwinner in their relationship so he had picked up the housework, making sure there was a good meal on the table each evening, the house was neat, tidy and presentable. All while still working where he could. It used to be that he'd be at the university, lecturing and pushing the limits of research but Mystra had trashed those dreams, wrecked his career. Without money, he couldn't move out. Without moving he couldn't get a job in his field again. So he was stuck, working in a gaming cafe. It was how he met his new friends.

Quite how Gale got adopted into the odd bunch who came to play boardgames once a week was beyond him. Somehow though they went from 'oh it's that lot' to 'I am so glad they're here' which was unusual in and of itself. Even more so when they started inviting him out for other forays in their world. Karlach was definitely the most enthusiastic and welcoming of the lot, thrilled at the smallest of things. She had all but squeezed the life out of Gale when he finally accepted an invite for drinks one evening. However, it wasn't actually Karlach who had convinced Gale to go along. It was Astarion who gave Gale one look and smirked.

"Dress to impress and your drinks will be on me for the night, I can't imagine it happening though."

Never one to not rise to a challenge, Gale did his best. Mostly because his wages were just about enough to cover rent of the shitty little flat he'd found but he didn't have a night out factored into his budget. True to his word, Astarion footed the bill for his drinks for the whole night and Gale couldn't remember getting home.

Perhaps he should have been more careful around his new friends. The next time they saw him, they were much more subdued, almost respectful but in the way one is quiet around the bereaved.

"Darling, you live in a shithole," Astarion informed him none too gently.

Words were frozen in Gale's throat, tray with drinks trembling in his hands. Shame coursed through him. He hadn't thought the others would judge which made it sting all the more.

"Gale." Minthara's voice drew him back to the table. "We simply wish to understand better. A man of your education is wasted in an establishment like this."

Clearing his throat, Wyll added, "What we're trying to say is, are you okay?"

"We looked you up," Lae'zel butted in. "You had a career, a future, then you didn't. Why?"

"It's all there in the articles. What more do you want me to say?"

It was Astarion who leaned forward with a cold, calculating smile.

"You forget, I'm a lawyer, Shadowheart a journalist, Wyll has a career in politics. And that's just scratching the surface. Do you really want Lae'zel to go all PI on you? Or Halsin to put his therapy hat on? Maybe Karlach could sit on you while she does all the paperwork for her gym."

"It's an ugly divorce."

Minthara regarded him with renewed interest.

"You say that in present tense. Are the courts looking to rule in her favour for assets?"

The ugly truth came tumbling out. How Gale couldn't bear to live with Mystra when she was already bringing home a string of new men before the divorce was finalised, before they had fully separated. How everything was still an intertwined mess and he was too worried to take anything in fear of being accused to trying to steal. Lips pursed, Minthara listened before nodding.

"It is a story I have heard before, at the women's shelter. We will sort this out. Meet us on the next Sunday."

Whatever it was that took over Gale in that moment, he was both grateful and mortified as he agreed to it. Come Sunday, he was greeted by the eclectic mix of Halsin, Karlach, Minthara and Astarion. They took two cars to his old house and Gale almost lost his nerve. Especially when it wasn't even Mystra who opened the door but some random man.

"Who is it, Lor?" Mystra's voice drifted through.

"I think they're, hm, either Mormons or JWs?"

"Lor, was it?" Astarion pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into a pocket, pulling out a business card. "We're here on behalf of my client, Mr. Dekarios. There has been some miscommunication about the divorce proceedings which we're here to set right. My valued colleague is here to talk to Mystra about it while the others will help Mr. Dekarios retrieve his belongings."

Lor's eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder towards the living room door. Nervously, he ran a hand over his long hair, twisting the ends a little.

"Look, I knew nothing about this. You can go in if you let me leave."

"You have yourself a deal, Mr-" Astarion looked far too smug and stepped in, making way.

"Lorroakan. But you don't need to remember that, do you?"

"Not at all, Mr. Lorikeet."

Only once the man disappeared did Karlach let out a snort and punched Astarion in the shoulder playfully. However, before either could say anything, Mystra appeared.

"Lorroakan?" Eyes narrowing, she glared at Gale. "What are you doing here? I took your keys."

"I assume you're Mystra." Minthara strode to meet her, looking imposing despite being a whole head shorter. "I'm here to help clarify the law's standing on divorce proceedings with you. Meanwhile, Mr. Dekarios will retrieve what is rightfully his in this household with my associates."

"Fine. Take whatever's yours. The courts will only rule you return it all anyway."

"Allow me to disillusion you," Minthara rasped with bloodthirsty glee.

As they disappeared into the room, it left Gale with the other three. He had no idea where to start. Thankfully, Halsin clasped a warm hand on his shoulder.

"We'll get you through this, it's not our first rodeo."

"Halsin and Karlach can to the heavy lifting. It wouldn't do for me to pull a muscle or break a nail hefting things around," Astarion announced breezily and pulled out a carefull folded bag from his pocket. "I'll meet you at the cars."

Just like that, he was off. It was easier to forget about him when faced with the insurmountable task of moving essentialy his whole life with the help of friends. Clothes were bundled into bags, books piled and carefully balanced as they were carried downstairs. It all went surprisingly quickly. All too soon, Gale was back in Karlach's truck which was stuffed with his belongings, similar to Halsin's car in front of them. Last to get in was Astarion with his mysterious bag that was bulging. He held onto it until they were back at Gale's house.

"She said take whatever's yours," he announced and grandly passed the bag to Gale.

Pulling out items from it, confusion sat heavier and heavier on Gale's chest. First was a roll of toiletpaper. Then another. And another. In fact, he would have guessed it was all the toiletpaper in the house. Under those was a pile of lightbulbs. All carefully wrapped in mismatched socks to keep them from breaking. At the bottom of the bag was quite the collection of batteries.

"Why?" Gale was at a loss for more words.

"You said you'd been in charge of housekeeping so technically those are all yours. But I wasn't sure about the socks, half of them were yours but I didn't know which half. One of each pair seemed like a sensible compromise."

Behind Gale, Karlach began snickering. It evolved into a full on snorting laugh.

"What?"

"Just imagine her this evening. It goes dark. The lights don't work. Can't turn the TV on because the remote is dead. And when she goes to the loo, there's no toiletpaper." Another giggle left Karlach. "She'll curse and grumble but think it's over. Until tomorrow morning when she tries to find a pair of socks to wear."

Slowly, a grin formed on Gale's lips. It was quite the image to consider. He turned to Astarion. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"Darling, I'm wonderful from all sides, thank you."

Annoyingly, he was right.

[solidshrimplet]

I love your fic series! Could you explain what some of your inspirations are for Vash's alien biology? Why you gave him certain features or the biological purpose behind some of it. A lot is clear in the text but I wanna hear it from an author perspective. Also, are there more biology headcanons that have little to do with reproduction that you just haven't been able to show?

An excuse to ramble! This one's gonna be long, so readmore below.

In terms of inspiration, I guess I was just thinking about how there's always fics about heat (especially in the Trigun fandom since Vash isn't human) but it's always just an excuse for characters to fuck nasty without considering the wider implications. I mean, most animals that have seasonal reproductive cycles don't really go for that outside of a particular window. And then if you combine that with literal plants from our world, not only is it dependant on the season, they physically don't have the parts for reproduction the rest of the year. And, well, Trigun plants have very malleable forms (in the manga at least, stampede hasn't explored that yet). So… that gave rise to the general idea I was going for with weird sort-of ace Vash.

In terms of how it all looks, I was imagining a mix between flowers and sea anemones. I wanted it to be strange. Mostly people just tend to write a pussy with petals or a plant dick (no hate, that can be plenty fun!) but there's so much room to explore other ideas. It's lowkey hilarious to me that Vash describes it as ‘noodley’. Like… Sir, that is not what a bowl of noodles looks like. (Although someone else described him as being full of worm-on-a-string and that's infinitely more hilarious).

Making it so physically different, it only made sense to me to make the behaviour different too. Plant sex, I think, is slow and tender - they just go in for a weird kind of hug and stay like that while everything moves around internally. It looks very static from the outside, particularly since plants communicate telepathically. Then they lock together to make sure there's time for those filaments to properly coat the corresponding parts with pollen and for that to start absorbing. I didn't need it to be sexy, it's the intimacy that matters.

I do want to explain what the whole deal is with Vash getting weird about lights, but that'll either be covered in ‘bad timing’ or another side fic. I don't think I've said anything about the feathers though? I like the idea that plants grow a decorative kind of ruff over their shoulders/upper back when they're in season, and that's appealing to other plants? Vash would be incredibly embarrassed about it but if you put a feather boa on Meryl or Wolfwood at that time of year he'd think that was hot.

And the other thing I didn't go into too much detail on was the dependant plants views on gender. Vash was obviously raised by humans and is very comfortable ‘being a dude’ (although I don't think he'd really care if someone used different pronouns for him) but the dependant plants don't really ‘get’ it. To them, a physical sex is something they only have for a few days a year, and might be different the following year. It can alter their behaviour but they don't have much attachment to it, and don't understand how it corresponds to things like gender roles / stereotypes, or how someone identifies.

To them I guess it's sort of... what meal you order on the rare occasion you go out for dinner. Some people have a preference, some people like to switch things up, maybe environmental factors get in the way (the kitchen is out of your first choice) and you have to order something different. But you wouldn't consider it a significant part of your identity.

Human's baffle them. Men like cars and women cook? Wtf does that have to do with anything? But that's not actually true and some men cook and some women like cars? And long hair is for women but men can have it too? And some women have male parts and vice versa? Some people skip out on the gender nonsense but still have a physical sex? Vash has never been able to explain in a way they understand.

But I also think they're happy to be referred to with female pronouns, but for them it's more like… the way you'd call a ship ‘she’? As a mark of fondness/respect and not in the literal sense.

Honestly, for this au, Knives probably doesn't bother with the whole gender thing and considers the notion that he might vaguely insulting (yellow_caballero wrote a role reversal where Knives prefers to go by ‘it/its’ and that's so valid to me).

Other headcanons… I think plants make sound outside of the human range of hearing quite a lot? But it's not speech, more sort of… an indication of mood? They're not as facially expressive as humans and wouldn't be able to read expressions if they're curled up in bulb form, so they hum. Vash does it too sometimes if he's feeling a particularly strong emotion, but he's also usually careful about doing it around the dependant plants if it's a bad one (doesn't want to worry them). He's been humming various notes of ‘I am miserable’ and ‘I want attention’ for a good portion of ‘bad timing’ though.

There was probably a bit of confusion early on in their life before him and Knives finally twigged that Rem couldn't hear them, and it's not something humans do. Definitely got huffy at her if she was 'ignoring' the mood they were broadcasting and not answering what they were saying to her telepathically.

Although they're usually kept separately on No Man's Land, plants are a pretty social species, it's just that a lot of the ways they communicate/interact isn't stuff that humans notice. They like to live in groups. It's kinda sad that most of them don't get the opportunity.

Hopefully some of that was interesting to you? I'm thinking I should probably do a post rec-ing the three (?) other trigun fics I can think of that do something weird with the plant biology? I really, really wish there were more than that.