#at least twice hes done so and like. no one has batted an eye

[tittysuckersworld]

why are you, as a man, bringing up a man thats not related to the conversation that youve only seen twice since he dissappeared for 4 years. why are you bringing him up? to angrily ramble about him? when hes not even in the conversation? when hes barely related to the topic? is it cause hes on your mind? huh?

[kamitv]

▷ Give You Whatever You Want

Synopsis . How watching a movie with your roommate going wrong. / Pairings . (Separate) Gojo Satoru x f!reader, Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Choso Kamo x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, non-curse au, unprotected sex, dry humping, degrading, praise, dirty talk, filth, pussy slapping, tw: spitting, tension, pet names, pining, men losing their confidence once they feel you, submissive men, cockwarming, manhandling, rough sex, etc. / wc . 7.8k (I got carried away with each one...)

A/N: Hope y'all enjoy -- this isn't proofread & I got a little caught up in Toji's bit... [MDNI]

★ Toji Fushiguro — "There's a sex scene comin' up."

The first thing you do is laugh at the man. He told you that as if you hadn't seen a thousand sex scenes before.

Rolling your eyes, you barely move in your seat, "So?" You huff back to your awfully smug roommate.

Now, you and Toji get along relatively well. The attraction between the two of you is noticeably mutual so it doesn't fully surprise you that he felt the need to announce the next part of the movie to you. The two characters were already slopping each other's faces up so it was pretty obvious where things were going.

As such, that doesn't exactly prepare you for the next thing your roommate decides to say to you.

"We should recreate it," Toji suggests, completely catching you off guard.

You and him have done… things before but, never sex. Or at least, you’ve never had his cock inside your cunt. Maybe you’ve sucked him off once or twice and maybe he’s returned the favor two or, six times but– who’s keeping track of all that? The point is, you’ve never had sex with the guy.

He was more of your roommate with benefits at the end of the day, if you needed someone to help you get off after a long and stressful day, Toji was offering himself to you and the same vice versa. 

So when he suggests recreating a sex scene with you, the last thing you expected was what the actual scene itself was…

“Well, what is it?” You ask curiously, turning your head to look up and the man who was already right beside you.

Toji tips his head to the side and keeps his eyes focused on the screen, “Watch it ‘nd see for yourself.”

Feeling slightly annoyed by how he suggested something to you only to not explain what it is he wants to do, you just turn back to the TV and do just that– watching as the movie plays out.

You think you’re turned on rather quickly once the two character on screen start fucking like goddamn rabbits– position after position, moan after moan, and noticeably rough sex occuring onscreen. There’s one position in particular that Toji nudges you at, to which your eyes widen and you tense up.

The man on screen has his partner in a headlock as they fuck them from behind. All you can do is bat your lashes as the scene with that position plays out far longer than the others, words of filth being muttered and the moans sounding awfully real.

Your mouth opens to ask your roommate something but he’s already in your ear before you get the chance to, “Yeah, I wanna try that with ya’,” Toji whispers.

A wave of heat flashes over your entire body and you’re squeezing your legs together at the thought alone. Toji behind you like that, shoving his fat angry cock inside you while his beefy arm constricts around your throat, limiting air from you and-

Yeah, you weren’t shying away from that offer, even though you had your fears.

“T-Toji, you wanna-, hah, you wanna put me in a headlock?” You sputter out in surprise, “We’ve never even had sex in a normal position… I don’t think I can take-”

“You can,” He cuts off rudely, “Jus’ gotta let me prep you. And I’ll be gentle,” He murmurs to you, even though you know that’s a lie, “…’Til you get used to me.”

You chuckle nervously, “I dunno… You-,” A sigh slips from your lips, “You wanna do this now?”

He nods, “Mhm,” Then his hand is moving to yours and he pulls your touch over to his crotch, “Got hard jus’ thinkin’ about it.”

Instinctively, your hand moves to feel around and your fingers shape around his erection, cupping his stupidly hard cock and feeling him throb beneath your touch. You gulp before you glance down at your hand and the way it looks sliding down along his length against his sweats, outlining his shape with your touch and pulling your lower lip into your mouth at the thought.

You remember how difficult it was to fit the guy in your throat so you could only imagine him stretching your cunt open, giving you long and deep thrusts just so you could get used to him, and the way he’d force you to feel every thick inch of his.

“You’re droolin’,” Toji points out suddenly as he brings a hand to your face and swipes his calloused thumb across the corner of your lips, bringing his finger to his mouth moments later, “Figured you’d like this jus’ as much as me but look atcha’,” He licks whatever taste from your mouth he got off of his thumb. “A mess already, tsk.” He teases.

You’re just sitting there with your eyes still on his cock straining against his sweatpants, trying to mentally prepare yourself to have that inside you. You swallow thickly, “Toji…”

“Hm?” He hums lowly with a slight cock of his head.

You bring your gaze up to him and his green eyes are already low on yours, “I wanna do it.”

Famous last words.

The smirk that stretched across his scared lips was probably one of the most sexy looks you’ve ever seen on the man. Not to mention the immediate jump of his cock in reaction to your agreement.

And in God knows how many minutes, your clothes were scattered on the floor and he had you bent over on the couch as he prepped you with his fingers. Toji knows how big his dick is– hell, he’s a little too aware of it, so he had to make sure you were extra soaked for him.

Talking to you in that rasp and deep tone of his, “I think you can take me jus’ fine,” He murmurs to you, fucking his fingertips deeper inside yo u with each passing second, “You’re already takin’ three of my fingers so, what’s the difference?”

You moan against the couch cushion your cheek is currently resting against, “Mgh, your cock i-is waaay bigger,” You admit in a horny little slur.

Of course he smiles at that, glad you can’t see his face right now because your words only stroke his ego more and more, “Is it?” As Toji asks you that, he drags his fingers out of you, moving to suck your most recent orgasm off of them before repositioning himself behind you. Then he shrugs, “I dunno, I don’t think there’s that much of a difference..”

He’s still talking but you’re refusing to believe a thing he says. You’ve had your fair share of studying his cock up close so you already knew how he’d feel inside you. Even so, you feel a glob of spit land on your cunt and it makes you flinch out of your thoughts. After that is followed by something fat and hard pressing in between your folds.

The arch in your back furthers and your lips part, “Toji?” You whisper.

A big hand comes down on your ass before he’s gripping onto you, “Mhm, tha’s me you feel,” He teases, his other hand busy rubbing his cockhead up and down your sopping slit.

You think a moan leaves your lips already at the mere tease of his cock, “I don’t think-”

“You’ve been doin’ a lil’ too much of that lately,” He huffs, lifting his tip from you before letting it smack against your pussy a few times and then smiling to himself at how wet you were, “Jus’ let me take care of ya’, m’not gonna hurt you unless you want me to, silly girl.”

A little mumbled curse is heard coming from your mouth but Toji’s only response to that is easing his hips forwards, squeezing his tip inside you slowly as he watches the way you turn your head to stuff your face into the cushion and your hands gripping onto the couch. Toji takes it slow at first, easing his tip in and out of you a few times until you relax a little.

Then he’s pushing an inch or two inside you and he can hear your muffled moans against the couch. Not to mention the way you move a hand back as if to push him away already.

Toji just rolls his eyes at that point, “Girl, I’m not even halfway in,” He chuckles, “Jus’ relax f’me.”

You try, you really do. It is a bit difficult but you try not to be so tense as he continues to push into you. It’s the first thrust that really had you gasping and holding onto the couch for dear life because after that, Toji repeats the action– drawing his hips all the way back before thrusting himself in fully, all the way to the hilt of your cunt. You’re practically clawing at the cushion below you and your eyes are tearing up from the sheer stretch of his cock.

You could feel him in every corner of your dripping cunt, his thick shaft leaving you gasping for air and his sharp hips clashing against your ass. You hardly register the groans he’s letting out or the curses about how tight you are.

His hands are everywhere on your ass as things start off slow, a few thrusts in and he feels your walls clamp around him before you’re cumming already. He hadn’t even gotten you into the position he wanted you in and you were already whining his name. Toji grips onto the fat of your ass, spreading you further for him as he watched his bulging angry cock ease in and out of you, your sloppy juices coating his veins and dripping all over the damn place.

The mess makes him smirk, “Fuckin’ filthy,” He hums. Then he’s leaning down and you feel your heart sink because after that, a surprisingly gentle hand is creeping around your neck before he lifts your face up. Getting a good look at you, he meets your gaze with a smirk before whispering, “You okay?”

The way he checks on you had your cunt squeezing around him again. “M-Mhm,” You mumble, mouth messy with drool and lashes coated with tears that’d yet to fall yet.

Toji tips his head to the side, still gently rocking his hips into yours and barely humping his cock in and out of you, “Y’ready to keep goin’?”

It takes you a second to agree to that but when you feel his tip brush against somewhere particularly sweet inside you, you nod eagerly, “Uhuh,” You murmur almost dumbly.

All he can do is smile and lean back up, “C’mere then,” Toji instructs. You follow suit and lean up with him. “Tip ya’ head back f’me, here,” He’s still buried inches inside you but he’s instructing you with no problem, moving a hand to your chin to tip your head back, “Jus’ keep lookin’ at me for a second, m’kay?”

You let out a shaky breath of air before keeping your eyes back on his, feeling and watching him lean closer to you and then slowly wrap an arm around your neck, making your breath hitch slightly.

“You sure y’er ready for this, doll?” Toji asks as he soon has you take your eyes off of his so he can lock your head into place, “Might break ya’,” He teases.

Your hands move to feel his arm around your neck, caressing his skin before you smile a little, “That’s okay,” You whisper in response, your excitement getting the better of you, “You can break me a little, Toji.”

His hold on your head isn’t the tightest yet, since he doesn’t literally wanna choke you out but, it’s tight enough to where you can’t move and his next thrust has you gasping again. And then it all goes downhill from there because Toji swears you’ve only gotten tighter since he’s put you in this position and you’re so soaked that you’re drippin’ down your thighs.

He can’t help but get a little rough with you. The first few movements were merely experimental but the second you’re comfortable and start moaning for more, Toji’s pouring out a heavy groan right into your ear as he starts to really fuck you. 

The couch creaks and your cunt is so loud and messy as his heavy balls smack against you with each bruising thrust of his angry cock. You could feel him throbbing and pulsing deep inside you every time you uttered his name in pleasure. The position had you weak, your legs shaking within minutes and your nails scratching at his arm.

All as he whispered filthy things in your ear, “So fuckin’ messy f’me,” He huffs, earnig a whine from you, “Y’like this, huh? Like bein’ my messy lil’ thing?”

“T-Toji, oh fu-uck, s’too much-,” You choke, feeling his arm tighten around you just to shut you up.

“Y’re takin’ it juuust fine, baby,” His tone is far to sweet for the way he’s bullying your pussy right now, stretching you and fucking you so full that it was getting hard to think.

His hips were harsh against yours, smack after smack, making your moans come out in a stutter and a slur as he murmured degrading little nicknames into your ear seconds later.

“Gonna cum f’me again? I’ve already gotcha’ folded up like some whore-, mgh… s’the least you could do f’me, doll,” Toji grunts into your ear, his swollen cockhead pounding right into where you need him most.

Your eyes practically roll to the back of your skull and you’re spasming, “Tojii, I c-can’t-, ah, hahh-, hnngh.. p-please,” You mewl, dewy slicks from your cunt glistening all over his fat cock that it even has him panting and losing his breath.

His lips are right against your ear, breath warm and dick throbbing wildly inside you with the way he doesn’t let up on you for even one moment, “One more, pretty. Jus’ gimme one more,” He whispers.

Your breath hitches and you can feel your orgasm building right back up, you were so close and he was fucking you just right. His hold on you gets a little tighter and he pinpoints his thrusts deeper against your sloppy pussy, the filthy squelches only growing louder and louder before you’re whimpering his name.

Toji kisses the tip of your ear softly– feeling the way your cunt just sloshes around his cock and making his eyes go back. You were squeezing him so tightly that it was almost hard to cram his cock into you. Your pussy was so damn heavenly that Toji felt lightheaded for a moment, despite you being the one getting choked out right now.

Before he knows it, he’s fucking a thick creamy load of cum inside you while grunting your name out through slightly gritted teeth. The way you were moaning and whining in return drove him crazy, the sight of your jaw dangling open, drool sliding down your chin, tears rolling down your face– the entire sight and feel of you had his head spinning in pleasure.

Which is exactly why he’s emptying himself into you while you milk him for all he’s worth. He doesn’t even realize he’s released you from that headlock until the sounds of your moans are muffled again. Toji barely remembers shoving your face down and pressing a hand into your arch before ramming whatever's left of his cum deeper inside you.

Then there was the way your legs were shaking and how filthy it was to watch his cum drip out of you as he pulled out. Oh, he was definitely having sex with you again after this.

★ Gojo Satoru — "Why're you sitting so far away?"

The moment you were hit with that infamous question, you knew things were going to go left. Of course, if anyone's hitting you with something so cliche mid-movie, it's Gojo freaking Satoru.

You give your roommate nothing more than a side glance from your eyes, noticing how all his attention is on you, "I'm not that far away, am I?"

Gojo weighs his head to the side, one muscular arm relaxed atop the back stretch of the couch as he cracks that annoying little smirk at you, "You're all the way over thereee," He whines before gesturing a hand to the distance between you and him.

The couch you were on could seat a total of six people and you were roughly an arms length away from the guy so you really didn't know what he expected from you.

All you can do is laugh at his childish antics, "Satoru, you said you wanted to watch a movie with me-- not cuddle and watch a movie with me."

He wets his lips before smiling at you, "Well, maybe I want a lil' more now..." To which you scoff and he scooches a bit closer to you, “Plus, the movies gettin’ boring.”

You roll your eyes at the guy, “No, you’re just impatient. It’ll pick up in a second, give it some time, ‘Toru.”

God, he loved it when you used that nickname with him. Neither of you remember when you first started using it but you know he likes it and he knows the nickname makes his heart race every time you say it.

“You were seconds away from fallin’ asleep before I said something,” Gojo argues. He’s still gradually scooting closer and closer to you but you don’t even mind it at this point.

He’s always been a man who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space anyway so this doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Before you know it, the side of Gojo’s thigh is brushing against yours and his arm is right behind you, fingertips dancing near your shoulder.

“I was not,” You protest before finally giving him your full attention. Okay, maybe you had been falling asleep on the movie but you really just wanted a regular movie night with the guy.

…Not whatever it becomes within a few minutes. Because of course the second your eyes are meeting his, his gaze is down on your lips and he’s lowering his voice as if everything was going according to his plan.

Gojo scoffs, “Yeah you were. There’s no need to lie, sweets. If you were gettin’ sleepy, I can think of a few things we can do that’ll keep you awake…”

You swallow and it takes everything in you not to shift away from him because the masculine scent of his expensive cologne is creeping into your nose and you can feel your body heating up simply because of how close he is to you. “Like what?” You practically whisper even though you knew where your question would lead.

And y’know what, you can’t even say you’re mad at where it leads because you’ve had your eyes on Gojo ever since you moved in with him. So when he bluntly offers himself to you with a swift hum of, “We could always fuck,” You’re left speechless for a moment.

Then he’s leaning in and you’re finally looking down at his lips, your breath stuttering with each inch of space that disappears between the two of you until his lips are practically on yours and you feel his skin brushing over you as he speaks.

“You can even keep watchin’ your lil’ movie while we do it,” Gojo whispers, “Jus’ say the word ‘nd I’ll-“

“Okay,” You huff out faster than you have time to think.

Because who on God’s green earth would deny Gojo Satoru of sex? Especially when he’s so stupidly close to you and staring down at your lips like the lack of connection is driving him to the brink of insanity.

So as soon as your agreement hits his ears, his lips are on yours, and your arms are moving to wrap around his neck to keep him close.

It’s hot, heavy, and even a bit sloppy as he tugs your lips apart for his tongue to slither in. Once Gojo gets that little taste of you, he can’t get enough. Letting out a low grunt into your mouth as his tongue swipes at the corners and crevices of your mouth, hands moving to your waist and then your thigh just to urge you to hurry up and get on top of him, and his body quickly yearning for more and more of you as the seconds pass.

Then you’re on top of him and he’s letting out a groan as you straddle him, your weight plopping down on his crotch and making his hips buck up against you instinctively. Gojo’s pale veiny hands are grabbing a hold of your waist and he’s deepening the kiss with you, feeling eager and almost starved for more.

Pulling away with a messy little cobweb of saliva hanging in between your lips, he grins, “Why didn’t we do this sooner, huh?” Before you can answer, his hands are sliding down to your hips and he’s quick to guide your body against his, making you grind against his growing erection, “‘Know how many times I thought about this?” Gojo huffs.

All you can do is let out a soft pant that fans over his wet lips, “No but, you should tell me all about it while we fuck.”

Then you’re pushing your lips onto his again and his brows are twisting up in pleasure. Things were moving a bit fast but that didn’t stop the wild twitch of Gojo’s cock as your words registered to him.

Tell you about how he’s pictured you like this while he’s buried inside you, huh? Well, whatever his cute roommate wants, she’s sure to get from him.

A few sloppy kisses and teasing grinds later and the two of you are undressing one another. The movie was almost long forgotten until Gojo told you to turn around for him, he still wanted you to enjoy the movie you suggested. As such, he soon has your hands on his knees as you held yourself up, your back facing him, and your body bare above him safe for the lacy blue panties hugging your lower half.

And lord knows Gojo couldn’t hold back his smile when he caught sight of your panites. They matched his eyes. Surely that was no coincidence? Surely you put those on with the intention of this very scenario later playing out, right?

Gojo’s behind you shirtless by this point, his sweatpants messily tugged down just enough so that he could pull his cock out from the confines of his boxers— his blushing pink tip grazing your noticeably soaked panty clad cunt as he does so. He’s got one hand on your hip and the other tightly gripping the base of his thick cock, angling himself just enough so that he can caress your clothed pussy lips with his tip.

His bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as he watches himself slip in between your folds against the wet fabric of your panties. The slick from your cunt was leaking from that pretty lace you had on, glazing and coating his tip with a sexy mix of arousal soon sliding down his cock and causing you to let out the most heavenly little sound he’s ever heard leave your lips.

The noise snaps him out of his daze and he looks up to see your head turned to the side as you look back at him with a gaze of pure need. Gojo’s fat tip slips as his eyes meet yours and you feel him brush up against your clit, making your jaw drop slightly and your hips roll instinctively.

He wasn’t even touching you raw yet and you were already a needy mess. Gojo’s slow to glance down at where his cock is leaving sloppy kisses against your cunt, smirking at the sight all over again, “So wet,” He whispers, “Fuckin’ soaked f’me…”

It sounded as if he were talking to himself, his mind in some sort of daze the longer he rubbed himself against you. The tease of it all was driving you crazy. So much so that all you could do was arch your back a bit more for the man and attempt to grind yourself against his tip.

Your movement makes him groan and you watch as he slowly retracts his hands completely just to watch you lather his cockhead up with your arousal, the small squelches from the movement making his face and ears flush with red. 

“S-Shit,” Gojo breathes out. It was like all his confidence and cocky demeanor had flown out the window and, again, he wasn't even inside you yet.

You soon grow tired of the teasing and lift your hips a little, earning a whine from Gojo as your warmth is pulled away from him for less than a second. Then, his eyes were glued to your hand and the way you tug your soaked panties to the side, revealing that pretty pussy of yours to him and making his cock jump in reaction. 

Gojo couldn’t even try to lift his hips up to make his cock meet you once more because he was stuck in awe as you lowered yourself once more. Watching your pussy part over his tip was one thing in itself but then how fucking soft and wet you are makes his head fall back against the couch and a groan pour from his mouth.

You watch him move an arm to hold onto the back of the couch and his other hand grips onto the cushion beside him. His abs tense as you wiggle your hips against him, his cock just barely kissing your leaky entrance.

Hell, it almost makes you flinch when he moans, “Put it in,” Gojo pants, his entire body failing to move as the need for you overwhelms him, “Please,” He lets out a whine as you inch down on him ever so slightly, “F-Fuckin’ sit on it, baby-, sit on my cock, please? Wanna be inside you s-so bad.”

His hips twitch and he nearly lifts them just so he can sink the rest of his inches deep inside you— especially when you torture him and lift yourself, causing a brush of air to graze his tip where you two had previously been connected.

“Satoru…” You utter, watching his eyes flicker up to your face. “Did you just whine for me?”

Gojo’s quick to swallow whatever weak sound was about to leave his lips again due to the sultry tone of your voice. “N-No,” He huffs, trying to play off his moment of begging for you, “Course’ not… Just,” He gulps, “Jus’ wanna feel you, c’mon.”

Now you’re the one smirking at him, “Beg f’me again,” You whisper, to which a groan gets caught in the middle of his throat.

“What?” Gojo rasps, his body going rigid at your sudden command. Yeah, sure, he just begged for you but it’s different when you tell him to.

The way you chuckle at his confusion makes his body so unbelievably hot and flushed in embarrassment, “You heard me…” You purr, easing yourself back down and riding only his tip for a few seconds, “Beg for me, ‘Toru.”

Gojo’s jaw falls and his eyes drop to his cock again— precum was dripping all down along his veins and he was twitching to feel all of you, “Please?” He breathes out as his brows twist up, “I just…” His hips lift again and he tries to force himself up inside you, “Need it, sweetheart,” Gojo grunts before tossing his head back.

At that, you find yourself satisfied and you’re finally sinking down on his cock just like he wanted you to. Your eyes remain back on his face and the way his eyes roll back as an airy groan leaves his throat. 

“Fuuuck,” Gojo moans into the air, his bottom lip quivering at the way your pussy sinks down around him, your sloppy walls making the filthiest squelch the further down you go, up until you stop when he’s only half way in.

Which makes his breath hitch. All he can do is roll his head back into place and look at you, catching the gape look on your face, and the clear struggle your cunt was having. You’re so wet around him that your moisture is just oozing down what’s left of his cock that’s yet to be inside you. 

“Sweetheart, please,” Gojo pants, “Need you to sit all the way down,” He hums before moving his hands to your hips.

You let off a moan, “S’big ‘Toru…”

Every fiber of his being almost snapped his hips up into you at the sound of that. You had no idea the things you did to this man— letting out a moan like that, telling him how big he is, and using that goddamn nickname…

He can only nod, “Uhuh, I know, I know,” Then, Gojo’s attempting to collect himself because everytime he speaks in that low tone of his, your cunt is gripping onto his fat cock tighter, “J-Jus’, hah, take your time, sweets.”

That’s the last thing he wanted you to do because half of his cock was feeling absurdly neglected at the moment but, he couldn’t help but want to take things slow. After all, the sex was just to keep you from falling asleep, right?

As such, Gojo tightens his grasp on your hips and helps you ease down another inch or two— a hiss leaving his lips with the way your walls squeeze down on his cock.

“So fuckin’ tight,” He breathes, “R-Relax, sweetheart… gonna make me cum before I even get all the way in.”

You start to lift yourself again as if to escape his thick inches squeezing into you, “S’too much, I-I can’t-“

He’s cutting you off and pulling you right back down with a groan, “Shhh, yes you can-, fuck, yes you can,” Gojo coos, leaning up and helping you sink onto him once more.

A moan of his name leaves your lips at the stretch of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut. Gojo’s steady to ease you all the way down until your cunt is meeting his heavy base, and both of you moan once he’s fully inside you.

You’re both panting in sync as you sit there with his throbbing cock inside you, his hardened tip kissing your sweet spot, and your walls clamping around him with every subtle movement of his hands or your hips.

You end up leaning back against his chest and Gojo buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing hotly against your skin. His arms wrap around you and it was like he didn’t even need you to move yet. This was perfect for him. Just relishing in the warmth of your pussy for a few minutes, feeling every twitch and every squeeze whenever he kisses you was simply perfect.

The movie that’d been playing in front of the two of you is soon remembered as you return your attention back to it and keep Gojo’s cock sitting inside you with little to no movement for a while.

He was okay with that because, hell, part of him never saw himself even getting this far with you. Although, at some point, without him even saying anything, he feels your hips roll forward and a grunt is ripped from his mouth immediately.

Given his sound, you only grow encouraged to continue and barely lift your hips to bob your cunt up and down a few inches of his cock. The movement was minimal but it was enough for both you and him. Gojo’s hands dance up and down your sides. One moment he’s holding your waist and the next he’s slumping back against the couch and holding onto your hips, watching his cock disappear in and out of you as you ride him in earnest.

“Fuck me,” He ends up moaning. That alone has you bouncing on his cock within a few minutes.

Gojo’s usually so confident and suave with his words and actions but here he was moaning so prettily into the air due to the way you were riding him in reverse. Every roll of your hips and the way your sheeny slick made his cock glisten under the dim living room lighting had him gasping at some point.

He’s pretty sure even you forget about the movie at some point because you’re just throwing your ass back on him over and over again, the constant thwack of your rear against his toned pelvis as you plopped down on him was making his moans come out in a stutter.

You’re pretty sure that if you listened closely enough, you could hear the man choking out some small whimper at some point. But he masks that by giving your cunt one experimental thrust, earning a delicious moan from you.

And of course, it doesn’t stop there. He only continues after that, matching the way your cunt sinks down on him with heavy thrusts as he holds onto your hips for dear life.

“‘T-Toru, fuck, m’close,” You soon whisper.

He hardly hears you because he’s too busy trying not to cum inside you, “You feel so fuckin’ good-, God-, fuuck… s’too good,” Gojo babbles, completely pussydrunk at this point and struggling not to finish before you.

Your pussy’s just gushing around his shaft and he swears he can hardly think at some point. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had sex in a while, or maybe it was just you in general and the way you have the nerve to look back at him again and purposefully clamp your goopy walls down around his cock but, either way, Gojo can’t even warn you before he’s shooting a thick load of cum deep inside you.

One look from you and he was losing his damn mind, throwing his head back in both pleasure and embarrassment, fingertips trembling as his hips stutter, and a shaky groan slipping out from his lips while you just keep going.

Then he faintly hears your voice, “Did you jus’ cum?”

All he can do is give you a hard lucid lil’ nod, “Uhuh,” He breathes, still cumming inside you like he had no care in the world.

His cum is warm against your insides, making his cock a creamy mess as you slide your pussy up and almost all the way off of him just for him to catch sight of the filthy mess he’d just made.

Gojo doesn’t even care at this point because all he does is slam you right back down, the squelch louder than ever and one of his hands snaking around you. He’s quick to bring two thick fingers to your clit and lean up to your ear, “Need you to cum f’me now, p-please, m’so fuckin’ embarassed,” He admits right against the shell of your eat hotly.

You can feel his desperation in the way his fingers roll messy and needy little circles around your sensitive bud. Then he’s whispering plead after plead into your ear, his cock throbbing and twitching against your pussy, cum forming a ring of filth around his base, and your mind going blank with how eager he is.

You think you cum after he says something along the lines of, “Need it-, shit, need it sweetheart, need you t’cum on me,” through slightly gritted teeth and his voice cracking somewhere at the end of his words…

★ Choso Kamo — He's too attentive.

You're too focused on the way your favorite actor's busy on the screen going down on the love interest of the movie to realize that Choso's got his eyes everywhere except the TV.

He notices the way you're shifting in your seat, the thumb you bring up to your lips and the nail you nibble on anxiously as the sex scene ahead continues. Choso zones out from the fake slurps and forced moans from the TV, his eyes and ears completely focused on you and you only. Even when you let out a sigh as your thighs squeeze together, he notices.

And he doesn’t mean to stare at you but he couldn’t help it. What about this particular sex scene had you so squirmish? He’s watched them with you before but it was obvious this one was different. Was it the actor? Choso can’t help but glance at the TV to remind himself of who was in the movie, wondering if the big muscular pink-haired man on the TV was your type.

You were practically drooling at this point, hanging off of every word the man said all while Choso quickly put two and two together.

Clearing his throat, you flinch as if you’d been caught doing something you had no business doing, “You alright over there?” Choso hums.

You slowly turn your head to him and your lashes flutter as you pull your thoughts away from where they’d been previously, “U-Uhuh, yeah… Why?” You respond hesitantly.

You were far too caught up in the movie to have noticed how much Choso was paying attention. 

He shrugs, “You keep moving,” Choso points out before looking at the TV, “Is the scene making you uncomfortable or something?”

Your brows twist up, “What? N-No, not at all! It’s actually uh,” You had to pause for a second before you decide to tell him the truth, glancing back at your favorite actor on screen, “Well, that’s one of my favorite actors and the scene is pretty hot.”

“Oh,” Your roommate responds, nodding in acknowledgment, “You like guys like that?”

You snort, “Guys like what?”

“Tall, muscular, face tatts….” Choso lists carefully as he narrows his eyes on the actor ahead, “...Pink hair?”

You roll your eyes, “N-No, I just… Well, okay maybe that is kinda my type.” You’re slow to admit that because as soon as the words leave your lips, you’re looking at your roommate and realizing that aside from the hair color, he pretty much fits that description.

Choso turns his head to you and lifts his brows, “Yeah?” He huffs, smirking a bit, “You do know I basically just described myself, safe for the pink hair…”

“O-Okay… so?”

“So, I kinda resemble your type and your favorite actor.”

“Y’know, now that you mention in,” Your head tilts and you lean a bit closer to Choso, studying his facial features closer, “You two do look like you could be related.”

“Wait seriously?” Choso lets out a laugh, “If so that’s kinda funny since, just like him in this movie, I’ve never given anyone head.”

“You’ve never-,” You choke on whatever it is you were about to say as you realize what he just said. “Huh? You’ve never given anyone head?”

He shrugs, “No?”

And your curiosity practically spirals from there, “Have you had sex before?” You ask.

“Yeah,” Choso smirks at the immediate questions you have for him. “I’m not a virgin. But, well, my mouth is, I guess,” He explains steadily before looking to the TV again.

Your eyes remain fixated on his face, “Do you want to?”

“Want to,” His eyes trail right back over to you, “What?”

You lean in again, “Give someone head?”

“Are you offering?” Choso replies casually, licking his lips seconds afterwards. 

A smile spreads across your face and you try to flip it back onto him, “Nono, are you offering.”

He stares at you for a long moment, trying to figure out the right way to go about all this. Every muscle in his body was telling him to say yes because, technically, he was offering. He’d been offering silently ever since he first said something. You looked so focused on the damn TV that it almost irritated Choso, he could do whatever that actor’s doing ten times better.

…Even if he’s never done it before.

“Yeah,” Choso breathes out, not wanting to pass up on this opportunity in the slightest.

You gulp, “You-”

Before you get to finish, Choso’s shifting against your bed– maybe movie night in your room wasn’t the best idea. He’s moving closer to you and soon placing his hands on the bed at your sides as he brings his face close to yours. Your eyes are all wide and you’ve sat up completely, heart thumping in your chest at how close he’s gotten.

“Cho,” You whisper, watching the way his gaze changes, “You actually wanna-”

“I can do it,” He utters carefully as he places one hand on your thigh and slowly parts your legs for his body to fit in between, “I saw the way you’ve been looking at the screen anyway so, I know you’re worked up.”

“I-I’m not-,” You’re cut off yet again when Choso leans in and his lips brush over yours for a split second before he shifts to kiss your cheek.

Then he trails those soft little kisses over to your ear, “I’ve always wanted to try, y’know…”

“Try what?” You breathe, feeling his breath caress the crown of your ear.

“Pleasing someone with my tongue,” Choso explains, one of his legs sliding up in between yours up until he brushes against your core and you instinctively move a hand to hold onto his arm. To which he smirks, “And you’re needy for it so, jus’ let me try.”

“I’m not needy for anything, I-” Again, he cuts you off. This time he just pushes his leg forward a bit so that he’s fully pressing against your clothed cunt, earning a pathetic little gasp from you.

“You were sayin’?” Choso taunts as he tips his head down to your neck.

You scoff, “Shut up.”

“Shut me up,” He huffs back before kissing your neck.

“Fine,” Is the last thing you said to him before the two of you started acting on your whims.

He doesn’t even remember what he was thinking or how he got to this point by the time he’s got his face buried between your thighs. He can hardly think of anything else aside from the glistening slick drooling out of your exposed cunt moments after he’d tugged your panties down. Choso swears he’s never seen anything this wet in his life, his eyes hungry as they study your pussy closely before he even thinks about touching you.

All while you lay before him, your legs held open by his big hands and your eyes low on the way he looked, staring at you so lewdly. For someone who’s never even done this before, he damn sure looked as though he were about to devour you like you were his last meal. 

“Shiiit,” Choso whispers as his head tilts along with the excessive dripping from your hole. He’s just watching your cunt twitch and ooze without him even touching you yet. Was his staring doing this to you? (It was). 

You gulp, “Don’t jus’ stare, Cho…”

“But she’s so pretty,” He mumbles, almost in awe at the way your cunt only gets wetter, “And responsive… haven’t even touched her yet ‘nd she’s leakin’ f’me.”

He feels the way your thighs try to closer together out of embarrassment but the steel grip he has on you wasn’t allowing that to happen anytime soon, especially as he finally leans in and does nothing more than plant a sloppy kiss against your even sloppier pussy. The wet little mwah that emits into the air as he pulls away slightly makes both you and him gasp.

“Choso,” You practically whine, “Please don’t tease.”

He licks his lips and glances up at you, “You gotta remember, I don’t really kno’ what m’doing,” Choso mumbles in response while he presses his lips against your cunt once more.

Then, his tongue lulls out and he keeps his eyes on yours as he gets that first raw taste of you. His brows immediately twist up and his tongue slicks upwards as his lips shift to cup your cunt. Choso has no idea what he’s doing but you spasm a bit when he slurps your taste into his mouth and lets out a groan against you.

Completely clueless, Choso just does what he thinks would feel good for you after that and for whatever reason, it fucking works. He swears he’s never given head before but the way his tongue was lapping against you said something entirely different. He swirls the slipper pink muscle upward and he’s at your clit within a few moments, flicking the tip of his tongue against it before just toying with you using his mouth.

All as his eyes remained fixated on you and the way you moan whenever he does something right. It’s so sloppy the way he fucks his tongue inside your drooling hole, digging more and more of your taste out of you so he can get it all inside his mouth. Muttering small, “Tastes s’sweet,” against you as he works his lips and tongue.

Even whenever he pulls away for a few seconds, he just spits on your cunt to watch it get messier, smiles at the filthiness of it all, and then dives right back in. Your hand is soon to get lost in his hair and his usual messy ponytails come aloof with the way you tug and pull at him.

Choso worships your cunt, kiss after kiss, lick after lick, and groan after groan. At some point his hands move away from your thighs just so he can feel your legs close around his head as he shoves his tongue in deeper and the tip of his nose rubs against your clit.

“Mmmgh,” Choso grunts against your sopping hole, his eyes flickering back for a moment as you lifted your hip against his face.

He soon tugs his face away for a second just to slap his tongue against your pussy, making you whine in pleasure and call out his name, “Cho, oh fuck… y’sure y-you’ve never-”

“Uhuh,” He’s cutting off as he latches his mouth right back onto you, slobbering all over your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him sane and moaning against you. 

It’s a filthy mess in between your legs– hickies you hardly remember him leaving decorating your inner thighs, a bite mark or two spotted, sweat and saliva left just everywhere, a few splatters of his spit mixed with your juices, and most importantly, a very disheveled Choso feasting on you with not a care in the world.

You don’t even know if you cum, or how many times you do so because Choso doesn’t stop until you’re trembling underneath him. And because it was his first time, that took quite a while but he didn’t care. His jaw had started to hurt and he thinks his tongue was going numb for a second with how long he’d been in between your legs, slurping your pussy, and using nearly all of his face to please you.

You may not have known if you came but Choso did– swallowing everything you gave him down without a care in the world, letting out a whiney moan every time the slick slithered down his throat, and groaning in pleasure each time you came for him.

He wasn’t even talking as much as he thought he would be because he was too focused on your taste and getting more and more and more of it from you. 

Maybe next time you let him do this he’ll be a little more talkative but, for tonight, he had a secret intention of making you squirt– no matter how many hours that may take.

[theonewiththefanfics]

Homecoming (one-shot)

Synopsys: When Y/N goes missing during a simple supply run, she comes back with world-shattering news for Astarion. News he never thought to hear, and now he has a decision to make, one that will shift his life on its axis once more.

Set after the main events of BG3

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, a bit of SMUT, but nothing explicit

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit, kidnapping

Word count: 8397

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Part 2(ish) - Love Conquers All (one-shot)

A home was not something to ever be taken for granted, that much they had learned during their adventures.

A home was a fire slowly crackling in the hearth, warmth expanding through the living room. A home was Astarion sitting on a loveseat, a book in his hands while he waited for his love to finish puttering around in the kitchen. A home was drying tea leaves and making preserves for the coming winter as she shooed him out, saying that his fussing would only hinder her process.

He’d huffed, puffed and whined, trying to make Y/N pull away from her plans just so they could curl up and read together, but she was adamant.

“I’ve already started.” She dropped an orange peel and pressed some lemon juice into the steaming pot. “It’ll be wasted produce if I just leave it now.”

“But it will take you hours!” Astarion whined like a child and even stomped his foot, making her snort.

“And it will take me twice as long if you don’t stop annoying me.” Y/N threw him a saccharine smile over her shoulder, batting her lashes at the pouting vampire. “Now, be a good boy, and quit pestering me. We’ll have all the time in the world, once I’m done.”

Astarion just groaned, going up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, the incisors he usually sank into her neck now nipping at her lobe. “I can be a very good boy if you only let me prove it.”

“My love, you will be getting absolutely no sex from me, if you don’t let me at least finish this batch.” A shiver rushed down her spine as he licked at her neck, so close to that sweet spot he always used as a place to bite and drink from. But she had to be strong. The jams wouldn’t make themselves. “Every additional minute you keep me from this will be an additional day of your dry spell.”

The vampire spawn jumped back from her as if he’d been scalded, scarlet eyes narrowing in on her. “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t last an hour!”

Y/N turned around, crossing her arms as a devious smile bloomed on her lips, a brow raised in challenge. “Would you like to test those waters?”

Astarion stood, staring her down. His crimson gaze was blazing from underneath his lashes, but she didn’t budge. They’d played this game for close to three years as a couple now, and she’d learned very quickly – Astarion was very much so a cat. But especially – he was a cat that liked to knock things over while keeping direct eye contact with you, though the second you placed a palm underneath whatever it was he wanted for to fall, all his need for chaos disappeared. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

For twenty long seconds, Y/N and her pale elven lover didn’t break, hoping the other would crumble and be announced as the loser, but part of what he loved about her, was her stubbornness. It was because of that part of her personality, she’d stuck by him when his doubts had crept in, when his own mind called him worthless and not good enough for her, almost as if to spite those vicious words in his mind. She didn’t give up on the people she loved, and as luck would have it, Astarion owned her heart.

But Y/N also knew how to handle a cat like him, so just after a few more tense moments, his eye twitched, and he huffed in defeat.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “But if you are not done by sundown, I shall have no other option but to drag you away from the stove. Kicking and screaming preferred.”

Y/N simply shook her head, and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the man into a deep, breathless kiss, but not before nipping at his bottom lip, dragging the piece of flesh between her teeth and making him let out a desperate moan. “I’ll even let you tie me up if you wish to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils almost swallowed the red irises in a matter of seconds, as he threw his head back in a groan. “My love, you’re absolutely killing me here.”

“Then I hope whatever punishment you deem fit for me, will be just oh, so sweet.” Y/N stepped back, untangling herself from him, but the mischievousness in her eyes didn’t lessen.

She could see how the words tortured him, how it took every single last piece of his fraying self-control, to not rip off her apron and the clothes underneath and just lay her down on the kitchen table, legs spread with his mouth licking into her until she orgasmed.

With eyes holding nothing but pure lust and hands clenching and unclenching, Astarion retreated. Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t hot and bothered and absolutely dripping between her thighs, and the thought of finishing those jams was the last thing on her mind, but she did have to do it. If only to keep him waiting longer, knowing whatever his beautiful brain was cooking up would leave her screaming and shaking for hours.

They’d been growing their own vegetables and fruits, Y/N tending to them during the nights to spend more time with Astarion as he fussed over his flower gardens, so it would simply be wasteful to leave their berries to rot. The year had been very generous and offered a variety of things to gather, so a while back, she’d decided to pickle some of the tomatoes and cucumbers, turn another batch of peppers and tomatillos into sauces while the sweeter things would be turned into syrups and jams.

Y/N shook her head, trying to clear it from the haze of lust, as the aroma of lemons and cranberries, raspberries and oranges wafted all around, encasing her in the scent. She was just about to add the sugar when the tin rattled with the sound of the last grains left.

Her brow furrowed as she opened the lid and looked inside. Sure, enough it was empty.

The woman huffed. She was absolutely positive she’d gotten the right amount during the last trip, but somewhere along the way it seemed a miscalculation had happened, and now she had to get more. Y/N would have asked Astarion, and had the sun dipped below the horizon, he would have jumped at the request, but alas his little vampiric predicament forbade him from walking during the day, the sun still high in the sky from what she could see through a tiny slit in the shutters.

Quickly, Y/N snuffed out the flame below the pot, untied her dirtied apron and grabbed a basket from the pantry, tying a pouch of coins to her side. She only needed sugar, but maybe she would grab some other necessities as well. They were low on Astarion’s favourite wine, one he claimed didn’t taste like vinegar at least.

“I’m off to the market really quick,” Y/N announced as she peeked into the living room, taking in Astarion as he flipped a page in a book. “Do you want anything?”

“No, my love.” He looked at her like a love-sick puppy. “Just your darling self back as quick as you can. I have picked up some… inspiration for your punishment if you will. Just as you suggested, of course.” He closed the book, showing the cover to her.

Heat crawled all over her body as she read the title, one of her smuttier romances she had started to read, and when she could do nothing but gulp and nod, his smile turned from a sweet one into a wicked-fanged thing. It was all she needed to know whatever awaited her once she was done would leave her unable to walk. Gods, she needed to finish this whole thing up as quickly as she could.

Y/N was out the doors like the wind, the usual stroll to the market cut from half an hour into a brisk fifteen-minute jog, the thoughts of the man waiting back home for her at the forefront of her mind.

The needed sugar, some coffee beans, a loaf of fresh bread, Astarion’s wine and some sour cream were all bought in quick succession, Y/N didn’t even try to haggle. Her eyes drifted across various stalls and merchants and she almost deemed it done when her gaze caught onto a rose seedling. It was a beautiful bloom with blood-red petals that whitened at the very tips. She smiled and went to buy it. Astarion would love the symbolism even if a bit too on the nose.

Once satisfied with everything, Y/N marched across the market and was back on the road to home. It was a humble little house they’d purchased with whatever had been left in their pockets after all was said and done with the tadpoles, but Astarion had bigger plans. This was only a temporary situation.

“I want a whole room full of books. Nothing but books from one end to the other and then some,” he’d confided in Y/N one night after both were panting and spent from multiple rounds of bringing the other to ecstasy.

“And a large ballroom,” he continued, and Y/N couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped her.

“A ballroom? And what will we do with that?”

“Why, have grand balls, of course!” He threw his hands up in the air as if her question was preposterous.

“Star…” Y/N tilted her head to look up at him from where she was lying on his naked chest. “You hate people. A ballroom full of them – it would be your literal nightmare.”

“I don’t hate people.”

“I don’t count.”

“Alright,” he conceded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Y/N placed her palm atop where his heart was and rested her chin on it, looking deep into his eyes. “I hate most people, simply dislike them, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a get-together, from time to time. Maybe… maybe see our friends. Catch up on how they’re doing. I absolutely despise to admit this and will say you are lying if you ever mention it to anyone, but I – I miss them… even Gale…”

A gentle smile lifted her lips as she brushed a wild curl out of his face and tucked it behind his pointy ear. “I think I’d really like that too.”

His eyes were so soft and full of love, that Y/N swore she could feel his heart beating once more in his chest, thudding against her palm in a confession of adoration.

She was almost out of the city by that point, already on the small, secluded road leading to their house which lay on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate right by the edges of the woods, so Astarion had easier access to game in between feeding on her when her attention was drawn back by someone calling out.

“Miss!” the voice, male she made out, yelled after her. “Miss, please wait!”

Instantly, her guard was up, but when a breathless man, looking to be in his late sixties appeared from behind a copse of trees, she somewhat relaxed. Y/N was still cautious, but if anything, she had a dagger holstered against her thigh. She was always prepared.

“Miss,” he gasped out, leaning his hands against his knees to catch his breath. “Miss, you are a quick one. I’ve been calling for you since by the rose stalls."

“Oh, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you!” Y/N said but didn’t move forward. “How can I help?”

He huffed, as if regaining her breath, before fishing out a piece of fabric from his pocket, and extending it towards her. “You dropped this by the flowers.”

When she took a closer look at what he was holding, it seemed to be some sort of a silk scarf. She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t own silk scarves and definitely hadn’t worn one on such a warm day. “You must have mixed me up with someone, as it’s not mine. Sorry, for you to have troubled yourself like this.”

“No.” The man furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. “I am fairly certain I saw you drop it. Such a fine piece… didn’t want you to lose it.”

Y/N took a step back, angling herself in a defensive position with the basket in front of her. She didn’t like the tone he was speaking in, nor the way his eyes seemed to be appraising her. “No,” she asserted. “It’s not mine.”

His back stiffened, eyes growing cold, the grip on the scarf tightening as he hummed. “Well… a pity then.”        

She took another step back, but he was already lunging at her.

Dropping the basket to the ground, she reached for the knife strapped at her thigh, but he was quick as a viper as she hadn’t even noticed when a rope appeared in his hands, lashing it at her. Years of having fought had kept her agile and aware, but years of domestic bliss with Astarion had dulled her senses a bit.

The rope caught and wrapped around her ankle, knocking her to the ground. Y/N’s teeth clattered and snapped, her tongue almost in between them, but as he rushed to pin her down, she twisted her leg around the rope and pulled, making the man lose his balance and stumble.

It was enough for her to swipe her leg underneath his, and send him sprawling. It was enough for her to untangle her legs and roll away as he snapped it at her head. Her clothes were dirty as was her face, but it didn’t matter. She’d cover herself in blood if needed.

It was almost animalistic how she pounced – teeth bared, a snarl ripping from her throat and hands forming claws as if she would gouge at his face with just his nails, but as her palm brushed her thigh, unclipping the holster for her dagger, Y/N didn’t see the man had crouched on his knee and swung the cord.

It knocked the air out of her, as it wrapped around her chest, and he pulled her down, hard. Her ribs were screaming as the tether tightened and tightened with every pull, but as she thought this would be it, something strange happened – instead of offering her the killing blow, he opened a palm, now covered in a leather glove, and blew the contents of it onto her face.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, but whatever it was, was fast-acting and her lungs, still incapable of proper breathing due to the rope couldn’t expel it. In just a few seconds, the bright day around her turned into darkness.

She didn’t know how long she was unconscious for, but enough time had passed to dry out her throat. Or was that a side effect of whatever was blown into her face? In any case, as she slowly came to, Y/N noted there was a soft mattress under her body, which was an oddity for someone kidnapped. She could even tell the dagger was still by her thigh, the comforting weight of the blade pressed under her. Even weirder, if you asked her, to not disarm your victims.

Darkness still encompassed her, but the soft cloth against her cheeks told her she hadn’t permanently lost her vision, but with her sight obscured, she had to rely on her ears. That’s when voices invaded her senses.

There were three people somewhere further away, most likely in a different room if taken by how muffled the words were. She focused harder on what they were saying.

Two men and a female, Y/N differentiated, when the woman spoke.

“This is not what we agreed upon!” she hissed, and a grumbly-sounding man scoffed.

“You said to get her to you. I did. You never specified how.” It was the same man who’d knocked her out.

“We want her to help us!” A different male voice, this one softer, even kinder, rebutted. “I highly doubt kidnapping is a good incentive for that!”

“Look,” her assailant said. “I fulfilled my end of the deal. She is unhurt, maybe she'll sport a couple of bruises and a headache, but that is her own fault. She could have come willingly but didn’t. Other than that, though – she is completely fine. Now you do your part!”

As the trio argued between themselves, more angry whispers than shouting, Y/N started to shimmy her hands which had been bound, out of the restraints. She had a good inclination they needed her alive but had no want of staying as a prisoner.

Though her fighting skills seemed to have mellowed, which she was not happy about, even a couple of years without mortally dangerous adventures, hadn’t changed how quickly she could slip her wrists from their bindings.  Astarion might need to get more creative during their debauchery.

Y/N froze the second she heard a door open and shut, two pairs of footsteps moving closer and closer to where she was. Her breathing was shallow and almost imperceptible, as she tried to make it look like she was still unconscious.

She could sense two bodies enter the room and one move to stand where she faced, the other going to her back.

Y/N tensed. In just a few moments, whoever was behind her, would notice her undone binds. But she’d be ready.

“Darling, please be careful,” the woman said, a tremble in her voice.

Good. Let them be scared.

“Don’t worry,” the man replied. “I’ll just make sure she’s – what in the -”

But Y/N was already up, the blindfold off and ready to pounce. This time, she’d have the upper hand.

For a second, the light in the room blinded her, but her sight refocused fast enough to take in her captors’ faces.

The woman was beautiful, with high rosy cheekbones, and jade green eyes so vivid they looked like actual gemstones. Her hair was long and dark, down to her waist while grey strands seemed to have invaded the brown tresses in some places, but she was still ethereally gorgeous, her pointy ears covered in piercings.

Y/N snapped out of the shock quicker and using this to her advantage, she was behind her in a matter of a blink, her dagger pressed tight against her throat.

A gasp entered her ears, but she just pressed the blade harder, making her whimper.

“Please!” the man made her look at him, but instead of bracing for an attack, he had his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t hurt her! We just want to talk.”

“Funny way of having a conversation you’ve got there.” Y/N tightened her grip on the knife, surveying the man. Again, those same pointed ears, but his eyes were the most brilliant blue she’d ever seen and his face was marred with more age lines than the woman’s, yet he still was as gorgeous as she. “Typically, only my enemies would knock me out and tie me up before spilling their grand plans. But I will be kind and give you a choice – what would you like to be – friends or foes?”

“Friends! Friends! Please! We – we’re looking for our son!” the elven man pleaded. “And we – we heard a rumour that you might know him. Have even seen him.”

Y/N narrowed her Y/E/C eyes, piercing his with her gaze. “I’ve known and seen a lot of people. Usually, others just ask me about them, they don’t have someone kidnap me.”

“And we’re sorry, we’re so very sorry, but we had to make sure you came. It went too far and we apologise, but please…” He took in a deep breath, worried eyes flipping between his partner and her. “Our son – his name is Astarion. Astarion Ancunin. Have you – do you know of him?”

Hearing his name, knocked the breath out of her as if they’d snapped a rope around her chest again, making her stumble back. Her grip on the woman released, and she used the moment to leap over to her partner, using the bed as a buffer. He instantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her half behind his back, but not before checking if Y/N’s dagger had pierced the skin.

Tears brimmed in the eleven woman’s green eyes as she looked at her, not even caring that just a moment before she was so close to having her blood dripping on the floor. “Please,” she whispered. “I – I know we didn’t go about it the right way, but please… is it true he’s alive?”

"I,” Y/N stammered, her gaze snapping back and forth between the two.

Astarion.

They were Astarion’s parents.

Even after all this time, they were searching for their missing son.

Y/N should have noticed the details – how the woman had a small mole on her cheek right where Astarion did, how the shape of the man’s eyes was the exact same as his son’s. Astarion even had the same high cheekbones as his mother while his sharp jaw was that of his father.

What had his eyes been like before? Green like his mother’s or the sky blue of his father's? What had he been like as a child? No doubt as mischievous and scheme-prone as he was now, but who had he gotten it from? So many different questions rattled through Y/N’s brain as she kept glancing back and forth, before shaking her head and pulling her out of the shocked stupor.

“You – you’re Ancunins?” She had to ask. Had to make sure she hadn’t overheard them or maybe hallucinating because of the powder she’d inhaled.

“Yes.” The woman nodded, brushing tears from under her eyes. “Our son has been missing for more than two hundred years, and we almost lost hope until… until we heard about you and your company a few years back. How one of the party members resembled our little Star so much.”

They hadn’t been inconspicuous, though they had tried, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that tales of their adventures had gone far and wide, especially after saving Baldur’s Gate, killing Cazador and the absolute, and Gods know how many other evils along the way. But she never thought Astarion’s parents would have heard of it.

In fact, Astarion had barely even mentioned them over the years, and, for whatever reason, Y/N had concluded they must have passed, despite knowing elves lived extremely long lives. Had he maybe tried to find them on his own and couldn’t? Or had he forgotten about them?

Until Astarion and Y/N had become an official couple and she’d commissioned a portrait of him as a gift on an anniversary, he hadn’t even seen himself in two centuries. He’d forgotten what he looked like. It didn’t seem too crazy to assume, the memories of his parents’ names or their faces, might’ve slipped away as well, or even the love they had for him. Especially knowing how deeply Cazador had ruined that notion for him.

She needed to get home. She needed to see Astarion, and then she could figure out what to do.

“I need to go.” Y/N nodded to herself, muttering under her breath. “I need to think.”

“No, please!” the woman lunged, trying to grasp at her, but she had a knife pointed at her chest in an instant, making the elf shrivel back, but still, she pleaded. “Please help us. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate! If you can’t help, who will?”

“I promise I will do my best,” Y/N said. “But I need time… I – I need to figure all of this out.”

Her mind was swirling like a hurricane, but the man interrupted her breakdown as she realised how pretty much her in-laws, had kidnapped her. “At least tell us this – is – is it true he is alive? Or have we travelled across Faerun under the pretences of false hope?”

In truth, Y/N wanted to take them by the arms and drag them to her house, but whether Astarion wanted to reach out and reconnect, was up to him. That sort of a choice was not hers to make, but she could grant them this one request.

“He is.” Y/N nodded.

And then she left as quickly as she could because if she had to stand there and watch as the elves crumbled into one another, cries of relief and joy escaping into the slowly setting day, she would crumble too. Their faces were already permanently burned into her mind, and she needed a moment to process everything.

By a stroke of luck or fate, Y/N instantly recognised she was in the woods on the other side of Baldur’s Gate, so retracing her steps to the market was fairly easy even though the whole way back home, she was pretty much stumbling around in a daze, knocking into people and tripping over her own two legs.

Her discarded basket was right where she’d left it, gold coins scattered around it. The pouch must’ve broken during the struggle. Y/N made sure to pick every single piece up and was more than relieved to see, that the rose bloom was still intact.

By the time she arrived, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and as the last rays warmed her back, she extended her palm to open the door, though she didn’t even get to touch the handle as it was ripped open by a visibly distressed Astarion.

His eyes looked like he’d been crying, his hair as if he’d been relentlessly raking his fingers through the locks and his lower lip so bitten, there was a small hole where one of his incisors had gone through.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Astairon instantly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in a bone-crushing hug, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “Thank the Gods!”

Y/N dropped the basket over the threshold and closed the door with her foot, her own arms weaving around his middle, a palm soothingly brushing along his side, as he soaked her in.

“I’m alright, Star,” she said, kissing his temple and didn’t even make a noise as he gripped her waist tighter, right where bruises were forming. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, but I’m alright.”

“What happened? You said you’d be quick, but you were gone for hours! And you know what the worst part was – I couldn’t even go out looking for you because of the damned fucking sun!” Astarion cupped her face, turning it this way and that way, trying to find any injuries, but the biggest one would be in her head as she tried to figure out how to explain to him what had happened. “Gods, I am never letting you out of my sight again!”

Y/N indulged the vampire in the hug he pulled her in, holding him against her chest, trying to comfort him, but she was way too consumed with her new findings. Too quickly, as evident by the frown on Astarion’s face, she untangled herself from the embrace, anxiety immediately flashing over his handsome features.

She slid her arms from around his waist to take his palms into hers. “I – I don’t even know how to say this… How do you say something like that?”

Worry instantly marred his brow, and Y/N pressed a practised thumb between them, trying to soothe them away.

“Shit…” he muttered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!” She cupped his cheeks. “Astarion you’ve done nothing!”

“Then – then what?” He was tentative, still, scared Y/N might be angry at him. Or worse – wanted to leave, but her next words erased all that doubt.

“I…” She took in a deep breath. “Astarion, I met your parents today.”

Whatever he had expected, clearly that hadn’t been it. Probably a confession she’d met a past love, that their feelings were reignited and she wanted to go with them. But definitely not that.

He blinked once, twice, trice, completely and utterly stupefied before a small whisper of “What?” passed his lips.

“It’s why I’m so late,” Y/N explained. “They’d heard a rumour, that I knew you and had travelled with you during our tadpole situation, and came to me. Astarion, your parents are looking for you…”

A million thoughts seemed to swirl in his head, but Y/N held onto his hand through all of them.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “what did you tell them?”

“That I’d find them once I figured out what to do?”

“Which means?”

“Which means I would come home, give you this information and let you figure out what you’d like to do…”

So many emotions flashed across his face, but Y/N no longer needed that mind flayer tadpole connection it created – Astarion was an open book for her to read.

Joy. Such indisputable joy shone in his scarlet eyes before being consumed by confusion. Then anger and disgust and love, but by the end of it all his heart settled on one feeling – fear.

It’s what it knew best, though Y/N had tried her hardest to reduce it to ashes, yet still it lingered. She understood it, despite not being happy he ever had to feel it.

He feared what to do, what would be the right choice to make, he feared their reactions and what they would say of his disappearance or of his newest… condition. Would they accept him? Or would they be repulsed by him?

“What – what would I even say to them?” Astarion searched her Y/E/C eyes as if they held an answer, but when one magically didn’t appear, he hung his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I can’t even remember what they looked like. Their names, the house we used to live in… it’s all a fog.”

Y/N tried to give him an encouraging smile. “Well, your mother – she has the most beautiful green eyes. Like that dress you made for me for Summer Solstice, that same shade. And – and she has a little beauty mark on her cheek.” With a gentle thumb, she brushed over the mole. “Right in that same spot.”

His brows furrowed in concentration; his lips pinched tightly. “I – I remember blue eyes. Not green.”

“That might be your father's. His are azure I’d say. Like the summer sky. Gods, Astarion,” Y/N breathed out. “You look so much like them, but… honestly, the only thing you need to know right now is that they looked relieved.” Her voice was soothing as he tried to find lies in her words, but there would be none. “I didn’t tell them anything apart from the fact that you’re alive, and all I saw was complete and utter relief.”

Y/N placed a strand of hair behind his ear as he pondered. His carmine eyes slid to hers. “Do they want to see me?”

“Yes. It was the whole reason they sought me out because I might have a single scrap of information on you.” She’d mention the kidnapping later. Or maybe never, depending on how everything went. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Is it,” he hesitated, as if ashamed to be asking such a question. “Is it alright if I think this over for a bit? I’m just – there’s so much going on in my head…”

“Of course, Star!” Y/N cupped his cheeks and placed a reassuring kiss on his forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, his shoulders dropping, but she just shook her head.

“Nothing to thank me for. Not for this.”

And so, they continued on like that for a few days – Y/N didn’t bring the subject up, but she made sure Astarion knew, she’d be there whenever he needed to talk. Yet her mind couldn’t help but worry about the two elves in that little cottage on the other side of the town. How horrid it must be to wait for an answer that might never come, but her love was her first and only priority. When he decided it would be time, she’d support him no matter what.

It was a week after the revelation (and subsequent freakout on Astarion’s part when Y/N had removed her clothes before him, and he saw the raw skin and bruises on her ribs. She spent the whole night convincing him it was fine and talking him down from hunting the mercenary and bleeding him dry. She didn’t mention it had been his parents who’d hired him but rather said it had been an unfortunate coincidence), when Astarion awoke with a certain determination, shaking her awake.

She swatted at him like an insect buzzing by her ear. “Leave me be, you blood-sucking, elf!” Y/N grumbled, burying herself under the duvet. “It’s too early. And stop hogging the covers!”

She was just about to elbow him in the ribs if he didn’t let her sleep more, but what he said was like cold ice being poured over her, waking her up completely.

“I think I want to see my parents.”

Y/N was sat in a second. The sheet dropped down, exposing her naked chest, but she didn’t even feel the chilly air biting at her skin, even though Astarion’s gaze immediately dropped down to her breasts, eyes blazing with want.

Rolling her own eyes, she pulled the cover so that it obscured her indecency. Though it was his favourite outfit of hers, they needed to focus on the important things. “Are you sure? You can take all the time you need. There is no rush to this, and it’s a huge decision to make.”

“I’m sure,” Astarion sighed, running a hand through his moon-white locks and dropping back onto the pillows. “It’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about.”

Y/N worried her lip before sliding back down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around her body. She knew in moments like these, Astarion needed reassurance, and he craved being close to her. Holding her grounded him, and made his scattered thoughts into something solid.

She kissed right above where his heart lay. “If, you’re sure.”

“I am… I just… Will you be there?” Astarion looked down at her.

The woman gave him a smile. “Nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.”

Gently, he brushed a finger against her cheekbone and leaned to kiss her, thankful he’d found someone to walk the world with, especially during the moments he feared he might break.

The day before they’d decided on meeting, Y/N ventured out to the cabin to inform the elven couple of Astarion’s decision. Once they’d seen her walking up through the window, they were out before she even managed to get to the door, faces full of hope.

“Astarion, he wants to come and see you, but there are some… conditions…”

His mother’s brow furrowed, the grimace so familiar it sent a pang through Y/N’s heart, but she swallowed it. “Whatever he needs. Whatever you both need. Anything for our little Star.”

“So… please just don’t question this, but umm… physical contact – I know I can’t possibly understand how you feel, but let him come to you first. It might not make sense, but it’s important that he is the one to make that step.”

“Of course,” Astarion's father nodded, his mother eagerly agreeing.

“And umm… he’ll be different. He might not look like the elf you remember him being. The world wasn’t kind to him for a long time… Please don’t mention this.”

Pain flashed across their faces at her words. They must have assumed something horrible had happened to him, but to have it confirmed was a different kind of agony. But as Y/N had asked – they didn’t question, simply nodded, holding onto one another a bit tighter.

“Alright.” Her heart was somewhat settled. “Thank you. We – uh- we’ll see you later tonight then.”

And with that, she left only to find Astarion pacing the inside of their hallway upon her return.

“Is it sundown already?” He snapped his neck to her as she removed her cloak, visibly upset when Y/N shook her head.

“A couple more hours, I’m afraid,” she said, taking his hand and kissing his palm, placing it against her cheek. “Please stop worrying. It will all be alright.”          

“But what if I’m making a mistake?”

She raised her brow. “Do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“N-no?” Astarion huffed. “I don’t know. I know I want to see them at least once, but what if it’s best to leave the past in the past? Why torture myself and exhume it, so to speak?”

“You can leave it all behind if that’s what you wish. But, Star, you also have the rarest of opportunities people get – a second chance.” She stepped close to him, pulling his head down by the nape of his neck so they could rest their foreheads against one another. “But you can always leave. You can always say “no.” And if someone doesn’t get that, no matter who they might be, I will gut them navel to throat.”

Astarion chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. “My knight in bloody armour, always ready to ride into battle for me.”

Y/N pecked his lips in response. “As long as I get my kisses at the end of it – without a second to spare.”

They spent the couple of hours waiting until the sun went down cleaning up around the house and then it was time to go.

As Astarion took a deep breath before closing the door, Y/N squeezed his hand. “We can turn back whenever you want to.”

But he seemed determined, only giving her a reassuring smile and twining their fingers together, her hand in his solid hold.

They walked slowly, enjoying the warm night gracing Baldur’s Gate, and soon enough they were through the city and past the woods, a small log cabin coming into view.

He stopped them a few feet away, taking in a moment to gather his thoughts and emotions.

Y/N glanced at him encouragingly. “Are you ready, Star?”

Astarion took in a deep breath, held it in for a moment and then exhaled, nodding. With this confirmation, she released his hand and ventured to the door, gently rapping her knuckles against it, immediately returning to stand beside her lover.

Instantly his palm was back into hers, as if he needed her to ground him, reassure him everything would be alright as nervous energy coursed through his veins while they waited for the inhabitants to come and see them. And though it was probably no more than ten seconds since she’d knocked, it felt like time had stood still. Once the doors opened, even nature quieted down.

The breeze shushed the tweeting birds and seemingly even the worms digging underground stopped their burrowing as finally, after two hundred years, the lost Ancunin son returned.

They stood like that for what seemed like ages, just taking one another in, before a small sob of Astarion’s name from his mother’s lips broke the spellbound silence.

It’s when he rushed for her, the elf already on her feet, meeting him halfway. Her arms wrapped tight around his body, hands smoothing down the back of his head as all the while she kept whispering “My Star, my little Star, you’re home.”

Y/N was on standby, ready to rip her away if Astarion became overwhelmed. She’d asked them to allow him to be the one to make the first step, and they had, but with such all-encompassing feelings, she just wanted him to be safe.

Though all that anxiety dissipated like ice under the blazing hear of the sun when Astarion practically melted against his mother, his fingers digging into her shoulders and back as if he never wished to be let go, both of them crumbling to their knees, still in each other’s embrace.

Tears welled along Y/N’s bottom lashes and when his father joined them, wrapping his arms around his family, they fell like rain on an autumn evening. She had to press a hand against her mouth to not sob out loud, but it didn’t seem like anyone would care, as Y/N noted Astarion’s shoulders shaking while his mother and father were freely crying, all the while touching and caressing his face, trying to ingrain the memory of having their son back in their arms.

She couldn’t imagine that feeling, didn’t ever want to, of finally being reunited with a family which you were so brutally ripped away from. Y/N almost wanted to resurrect Cazador, just so she could drive a stake through his heart again, but that might’ve been a bit too morbid of a thought in such a tender moment.

“You’re home.” His mother pulled back, cupping Astarion’s cheeks and smiling from ear to ear. “Our little Star is back home.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he choked out, but his father shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here. That’s enough for us.”

Y/N watched as he took in the people who’d searched for him relentlessly. He never knew they’d never given up. She wondered if there would be a time, he’d believe he was worth all it. She certainly hoped so.

“Thank you,” the elf with eyes like jade said, snapping her eyes towards Y/N. “You have no idea what kind of a gift you’ve bestowed upon us. We will never be able to repay you.”

She could only wave them off, a knot in her throat. “You owe me nothing. Seeing this – this is enough for me. I’ll – uh – I’ll leave you to it then.”

Just as she was about to turn around, Astarion jumped to his feet, untangling himself from the limbs of his parents, eyes full of concern. “What? Why? What’s wrong?” He was by her side in an instant, pulling her hand to rest against his chest.

“Nothing!” Y/N shook her head. “I just – I just think maybe I should take my leave. I can be back in a few hours if you’d like, but this just all seems like – like a private family reunion.”

Astarion scoffed, his free arm weaving around her waist, completely offended. “And what exactly do you think you are to me if not family, my love? Arguably, you might be the most important part of it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that -,”

“Hush now!” he scolded her. “You promised to be by my side through everything. Are you breaking that promise?”

“No, I just,” she stammered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave you to it? This just feels awfully personal.”

“My love, you are the keeper of my heart. You are my true home.” Astarion cupped her cheek, resting his brow against hers, chest against chest, not caring who might see. “Without you, none of this would have happened. I could still be on that beach with a mind flayer tadpole wriggling behind my eye.” He took her hand, and kissed her knuckles, sighing as they brushed against his jaw. “I don’t want to do this without you. I want to relearn who my parents are, and I want them to get to know me, but a non-negotiable part of that is you. That is if it’s alright with you?”

A tear slipped down her cheek, as she looked deep into those ruby eyes that once held nothing but fear and pain, only to now show love and compassion and happiness. When she smiled, her grin could have rivalled the sun itself. “I’d be honoured.”

When they glanced at the two elves by the threshold of the house, they noted the horrified looks on their faces. Astarion’s guard was immediately up, but his mother beat him to it.

“My Star, I am so sorry!” She put a hand over her mouth. “We swear we didn’t know you two were lovers! We just...” She glanced at her husband in desperation, but it seemed the little scene they’d put on had rendered him speechless. “Had we known, we would have never…”

Astarion squinted at her, a dangerous note appearing in his voice. “Never would have what?”

“Oh Gods, we had your partner kidnapped,” his father finally got out, eyes only widening in more shock as it settled that Y/N wasn’t just a travelling companion or a friend, but just what she really meant to Astarion.

“You did what?!” His head snapped to Y/N who now retreated to stand between the two shocked elves, and her quite furious boyfriend.

“Astarion, it’s alright,” she tried to calm him down. “They didn’t know! Besides, I heard them arguing with that mercenary. They didn’t hurt me. In fact, I,” she let out a nervous chuckle, “I held a knife to your mother’s throat. So, call it even and let’s move past it?”

His gaze was hot like the flames, as it burned into her. “We will discuss this later.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “This is absolutely not how I ever imagined a family reunion to go, let alone the introduction of my partner.”

Y/N’s shoulders dropped as he broke the settled tension, but something in his eyes told her she’d pay for her omissions. And oh, how delicious that punishment would be.

His mother still seemed to be all nerves as she invited them inside, spouting apologies in Y/N’s direction, but when she took the elf's hand in hers and gave a comforting embrace, she relaxed a little. “Let’s let the bygones be bygones.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled, and wrinkles of age and time appeared around her eyes.

It was awkward at first, two centuries of hurt laying between them, two centuries of torture on Astarion’s end, of lost love and people, but slowly they opened up. And when his mother mentioned how he always used to bury his nose into strawberry fields, because it reminded him of his mother’s hair care products, it was like a damn had been opened.

The memories were still there, buried under layers of pain and horrors, but there. Maybe a little jumbled up and out of sorts, but with every hour spent together, locks were being broken and a light long lost lit up again.

Astarion had changed, but so had his parents. He let them know of his adventures, how he met Y/N and how she had turned his world upside down but abstained from the more gruesome parts. He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but if he so wished, she knew his parents would be there to listen and welcome his vulnerably with open arms.

An hour before the sun resumed its place in the sky, Y/N nudged Astarion, telling him it was time to leave. She had little doubt in her mind, his parents had caught onto what he was, even if they hadn’t mentioned Cazador. If not for the shape of his elongated canines, or the colour of his eyes, which Y/N had found out had been a beautiful shade of pale green, then because of the brutal scars on his neck. But they still pulled him into a hug with such vigour, it was like they feared they’d never see him again, which was probably a thought always haunting their minds.

“Would – would you like to come over to ours?” Astarion asked, still holding onto his mother’s hands. “It’s a bit of a mess, our place, but if you come after the sun’s down, I’m sure we can have it proper enough to take on guests.”

It was an odd request, but thankfully, neither his mother nor father said anything about the specific time request, simply hugged him once more and promised to be by their door the second the sun dipped, wine and lemon cakes in hand.

As they waved their goodbyes, Astarion slipped his palm into Y/N’s and made sure they walked all the way back like that. Once behind a closed door, he pulled her into his chest relishing in the way their bodies melded together – two puzzle pieces finally connecting and forming the most magnificent picture to exist.

“What is it like to be finally home?” Y/N asked as he swayed them to a tune only, he heard.

Astarion shook his head, pulling slightly back so he could cup her jaw. “My love, I have been home for a long time now. I’ve been safe and cared for, all thanks to you.” His eyes were so full of love and adoration, she almost choked on a breath. “Now… now it just feels complete. So thank you… thank you for being my home,” he muttered that little confession against her skin, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Always, my love.” Y/N didn’t hide the tears rolling down her face and he brushed them away with a soft thumb. “Always.”

When their gazes locked, all she could see was excitement for what the new day had to offer, and she knew whatever was in store, as long as they were by one another’s side, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome.

But for all that, there was an important thing she was unaware of.

As Y/N entered their living room, talking to herself and making a list of what they had to do before his parents arrived, Astarion stood and watched her, leaning against the doorframe, all the while his hands rested in his pocket, where in one of them, a beautiful ring was being twirled between his fingers.

Before they’d left, his mother had slyly pulled it off her own hand, pressing it into his palm, and whispering to him while hugging that she didn’t want to see Y/N without it the next time around.

Astarion had no intention of living his life without Y/N as his fiancé for a second longer.

When she turned around to find him on one knee, he didn’t even get to ask the question before she responded with a shout of “Yes!” and jumped on him, pulling him into a kiss he swore breathed life into his still chest.

He couldn’t wait to reintroduce Y/N to his parents as his intended.

Now all was as it should be. He was finally home. And somewhere in the garden, a rose bloomed in full.

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: This idea was inspired by that one post of a painting Astarion's parents probably had of him, but had put away somewhere just so they didn't have to look a the son they lost, so I rectified it (Link to the inspo pic :) :( Now they have a portrait of Astarion and his love right above their fire place :)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don't plagiarise or repost on other platforms.

[astaroth1357]

Oh God, What Have We Done??: Father!Solomon Headcanons

You know what? I'm a Solomon love-hater but I'll go to bat for him too. You could pick worse.

Contents: Unhinged Ms. Frizzle-style parenting, the horrors of human biology, possible pregnancy implications, fluff

~♡♡♡~

So. I can see this happening intentionally. Solomon craves a happy family, so I absolutely see the thought of rasing a kid with MC coming up once or twice.

That said, I think zero planning actually went into making it happen. This is a spur-of-the-moment decision made by two lovesick dolts. Not a damn thought was spared for the consequences, and it shows.

For starters, MC and Solomon both agreed to raise a child together while they were in the human world and told NOBODY ELSE. So from the outside looking in, they just left the Devildom for “training purposes” and returned with a random infant!

No call ahead. No fanfare. They both stepped out of the portal with a flying stroller and bottomless diaper bag, grinning from ear to ear like it all was just souvenirs from Disney World!

Naturally, all hell broke loose. The brothers were collectively hyperventilating, Simeon almost fainted, and Diavolo noticed that Barbatos wasn't moving or blinking, so the Little Ds had to carry him away like a malfunctioning android...

Does Solomon having a kid make him a grandfather…? He is not ready to ponder that thought. No one is.

Despite Mammon and Belphegor’s insistence they had to “Put it back!” after MC made it clear that raising a baby was what they wanted and that Solomon was there to stay, the brothers made peace with it… to varying degrees.

Asmo was the only one thrilled that his favorite humans now have an even cuter mini-human to take around because he'd get to try his hand at baby fashion design! The least happy was probably Belphegor because a baby means that MC is going to be way too busy to nap now. Plus, he had to deal with a lot more Solomon in his life, which very few people ever ask for...

The crew's reaction to the baby's development is actually pretty funny to see. Humans age much, much faster than their supernatural counterparts so, from their perspective, the new baby is growing at lightning speed!

Mammon was with them when they were teaching the baby to crawl and he started freaking out because, “How’re they movin' already!?” The first day their child came running, physically running, into the HoL without any help actually made Levi scream in fright.

The House had a complete meltdown when Beel was watching the child one day and they lost a tooth while eating some hard candy. They all thought that MC and Solomon were going to burn the place down, so imagine their surprise when the overjoyed parents kept congratulating their kid for losing a baby tooth...

And don't get any of them started on the growth spurts...

The one to take to the kid the most as they grew was, funnily enough, Lucifer. Most likely because their various milestones reminded him of when his brothers were doing the same things.

The child is more than happy to tell “Uncle Luci” anything, which he acts like he only tolerates, but in reality he loves being their favorite brother.

Barbatos is EXTREMELY protective of them. Nearly as protective as he is with Diavolo.

Their kid, of course, has no clue. He's just nice Uncle Barbie (he refused to be called Grandpa) who makes them sweets and watches over them in the Castle. But anyone who get too close while they're playing gets a stare down worse than all of Cerberus’ heads combined...

Mammon swore in front of them once and Barbatos strung him up so tightly that even Lucifer thought it was overkill.

Luke seems to enjoy having a baby sibling of sorts to look after, but he is going to be so upset when they get taller than him in the blink of an eye. He’s going to be their guardian angel for sure, btw.

As a father, Solomon is… spirited. Anyone can see that he’s ecstatic to be a parent, it’s just…

Well, years of isolation on top of being a once-in-a-lifetime prodigy may not have made him the most “in touch” with children these days, you know? MC has absolutely come home to find Solomon has propped up their 6-month-old with a stack of books to start teach them how to play chess.

Daddy-Baby adventure always end in spectacular fashion. Solomon is a very “hands-on science teacher” kind of guy with unwavering confidence in his abilities to keep his child safe. This, to be fair, isn’t unwarranted, however...

Does that mean you should make a plans to take your child to forbidden places for some sightseeing? Or let your child touch, paw at, and gnaw on any magic item that suits their fancy in the name of a making a new teaching experience...? Probably not, but it’s also how he learned so…

It must be assumed that whatever kid these two have, biological or not, will be a magic powerhouse of destructive proportions. All that training from Solomon himself since infancy? They'll have a wand in their hand before they can even work a fork!

I like to imagine that Solomon's kid would have a very, very hard time controlling their magic and it would get uncontrollable at times. Like, a sneeze could knock over a bookshelf or getting angry makes things go flying. But Solomon would never ever scold them for it like it’s they're fault.

He'd never make them feel the same isolation and shame that he did at their age.

It would be very, very sweet. But it also means that MC could come home to a flooded house and, instead of cleaning out the water, Solomon would teaching their child how to snorkel in the living room.

Pure chaos, but MC could never find a prouder father. Solomon would devote his entire being to giving their child all of the love and happiness they deserve. Their kid almost never sees him without a grin on his face, just ready to just wrap them a bear hug for no reason.

On quiet nights, he'd cradle them or rock them to sleep while holding back tears. MC has found him over their crib like he’s still trying to convince himself that they're real, that he's gotten this lucky.

He's not a conventional father. Hell, he's not a conventional human either. But he’s grateful for day he gets to be a parent... Every. Single. One.

[spacedace]

Damian doesn't know who Santa Claus is and Danny tries to gaslight him into believing in Santa

Okay but, like, wouldn't even be gaslighting! Santa canonically does exist in the DC universe, I think I remember reading something about him fighting through an army in hell to give Darkseid a single piece of coal once?

So like, Danny doesn't have to gaslight Damian into believing Santa's real, he just has to pull out the proof (Danny has a binder of everything he knows about the Spirit of Christmas for the purpose of when he eventually goes to war with him, Danny hates Christmas so fucking much haha) and show him evidence that Santa is real.

Probably ranting the entire time about how much he hates the guy & Christmas and it's obvious that this is Danny's arch nemesis. His one true villain above all others. Pariah Dark? A nuisance. Dark Dan? Just a tuesday. Santa? That motherfucker is the bane of Danny's existence and he will pay for what he's done (spread Christmas cheer).

And Danny's the newest member to the family. Damian's been encouraged to get to know his new brother and try and bond with him a bit, make him feel like part of the family. So, obviously, the best way to do that is to help Danny in his quest for vengeance.

And of course Tim & Jason end of getting roped in on this. Damian's grown since he's first came to live with his father. He still is a little brat to his older brothers - he's the baby of the family it's his right - but he doesn't actively hate them anymore and can admit when their particular skills would be useful. Tim is the best at strategizing, and Jason is a combat master with access to all sorts of weapons. With all of them working together Santa has no chance, they will destroy him.

Which all just makes me think of something like this happening lol:

“What…uh, what are they doing?” Duke glanced between the chaos unfolding in the family room to where Dick was calmly seated in his favorite chair, sipping idly at a cup of coffee.

“Sibling bonding.” Dick said. There was that specific aura of calm around him that said that he’d already gone through several crisis and all the stages of grief at least twice. Considering the calamity and chaos the eldest batkid had seen over the years - and especially the last few months since Bruce officially adopted Danny and brought him into the fold - it was a bad sign that he’d reached this particular state of Done (TM) before noon. The earliest Dick even woke up was two in the afternoon.

Duke contemplated turning around right then and there - the particular combination of people all excitedly feeding off each other’s feral energy on the other side of the room was a catastrophe in the making he didn’t want to be anywhere near when it finally breached containment and spilled out into the wider world - but unfortunately he was cursed with the curiosity that afflicted all members of the bat clan.

“It looks like they’re plotting to try and kill Santa Claus.”

Dick turned to look at Duke fully for the first time since he’d entered the room. He had the eyes of one that was deeply haunted by the horrors they had witnessed. On the other side of the room Tim was ranting about anti-magic tech while Danny, Damian and Jason argued over what weapons would be most effective against a demi god. There were schematics of what looked worryingly like a rocket launcher looking device that - if the scribbles on the whiteboard someone had drug into the room where to be believed - was going to be rigged to shoot ecto-grenades.

“Danny hates Christmas.” Dick said, and Duke noticed for the first time that his hands around the coffee cup were faintly trembling. “He’s declared Santa is his arch nemesis.”

Duke blinked, glancing over to the others long enough to see Danny start frantically scribbling the words Christmas Nuke on the whiteboard. No one else was trying to erase it. Tim looked worriedly contemplative. Damian and Jason where both nodding in agreement.

He was going to regret this. “But Santa isn’t real?”

Dick’s eyes gained a faintly manic glean, and Duke could faintly hear the sound of porcelain creaking warningly beneath the desperate hold he had on his coffee cup. “That’s what I thought!” Dick said, with enough cheer to make Duke flinch back instinctively. “But apparently he is.” A distinct crack appeared in the cup, coffee dripping down into Dick’s lap. “And apparently they’re going to war with him!”

Well, Duke considered, at least that explained why he caught the four of them burning down the giant Christmas tree in the city center last night.

[podcastenthusiast]

Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Mostly payneland <3 I will update as I find more fics.

“I don’t like this, mate,” Charles muttered.

The Things We Can, and Cannot, Do by MDJensen

Paul Rowland is dead. It's not just that, though.

Oh, Lonely Bones, Have You Forgotten? by DontOffendTheBees

“No,” Edwin agreed, gravely. “Nor do I.”

Frankly, taking this case was probably an unwise decision. The meagre payment offered by the sickly-looking ghost of the old groundskeeper would fall far, far short of the emotional cost of the expedition. And yet when Edwin had looked over to Charles and met his eyes, there had been no doubt, no hesitation. Perhaps it was the notion of unfinished business; that mysterious force that compelled ghosts to sites of personal trauma as sirens compelled sailors to the unforgiving rocks. Perhaps they were both mere gluttons for punishment.

Either way, they were here now. It was with heavy hearts and wary eyes that on the evening of June twenty-sixth, Edwin and Charles – along with Crystal – set foot once more on the grounds of St. Hilarion's School for Boys.   In which a very, very old case is re-opened.

Mom Says It's My Turn to Jump on the Grenade by RoseGanymede95

Charles tried to pay attention, because Edwin was really upset, and Charles still didn’t understand why, and it seemed like this might be important. It was just, they’d been at this for a while, and Edwin kept asking him the same questions and not leaving him time to answer, so. His mind may have wandered a bit to how he would reinforce the next cricket bat. His attention snapped back to the present when Edwin said, “This can’t happen. You can’t risk this, I can’t be the reason you risk it. You have to move on.” “Move on?” Charles repeated blankly. “Move on from what?” “From here, Charles!” Edwin shouted, suddenly furious again, suddenly shouting even though his eyes were filled with tears. “You have to go with Death! You have to leave!” “I don’t want to go with Her,” Charles said, nonplussed. “Fine, that’s your business, but you can’t keep hanging around me!” Edwin snapped. Charles’ world suddenly tilted on its axis, sending everything askew. “I can’t?” he asked, his voice small, his heart wide open and exposed.

Let me bleed instead of you by mellxncollie

The question rang like a cracked bell in what had only just become someplace Edwin had started to contemplate calling home. “What was Hell like?” - Charles and Edwin keep secrets from one another. The list isn't long, but it's not empty. Eventually, they start tumbling out in soft whispers, in tear-reddened eyes, in shocked expressions, in choked up phrases.

Or, 40 years and 8 secrets.

Indelible by Arisprite

Charles is feeling a lot and also not much at all in the immediate aftermath of returning from Hell. He also can tell Edwin is wearing thin from holding himself together. Who wouldn't be, after that? It's okay, though. Charles can take care of him, and he always always will.

Done Running by Asidian

Charles has gone a peculiar off color, all the blood blanched from his cheeks. He glances to the arm, and then back up to Edwin's face. "Any break's a bad break, innit?"

"Some have more drawbacks than others," says Edwin, detached and scholarly. "For instance, unless the nerves are compromised, it is possible to make use of the injured arm in cases of extreme –"

"Bloody hell," breathes Charles.

Joi de Vivre by olympus_mons

Edwin Payne crawls out of Hell twice. Somehow, his problems begin in the aftermath.

so many ways to give in by piilu

“I think there’s something really wrong with me, mate,” Charles sobs, the remains of the bat falling from his hand. ---- Charles struggles with his anger issues. Again.

A Room of One's Own by DarkStars (Worlds_Okayest_Goalie)

Crystal is so tired of watching Charles and Edwin stare longingly at each other. OR 5 times Crystal tells Charles and Edwin to get a room and 1 time they do.

Shape Me by dearheartdont

At least twice a year Charles and his mum packed their cases and caught a train to Birmingham, leaving his dad behind with a freezer full of carefully labelled Tupperware.

Charles Rowland and his relationship with his extended family and heritage.

(Part of a series of snapshots of Charles’ life in the 1980s.)

half of my soul, as the poets say by thegirlofthorns

Edwin existed, just as Charles had. Charles, who occupied a space in loving memory. A much-deserved space – Edwin would have wanted it no other way – but the core of him wanted to scream that he had been here, too. He never would be again, but he had lived, and he had breathed and laughed and moved with too much frippery and frill to continue on breathing, and he had been a whole person, once. And it had not mattered. So looked at CHARLES ROWLAND through tears, allowed himself to. Even Charles's hammer on metal on stone was not enough to dull the pain, but it was enough to remind him that he was still here, even if he was no longer living. It was an awful sound, a jarring sound, and tears shone in Charles’s eyes as he focused intently on carving out the A in his surname, but it was something. They were there, together, and they were feeling.

- Or, Charles finds Edwin's unmarked grave and will, in the lightest of terms, not be having it.

Terrible, Horrible, No Good, and Very Bad by hibye

It was about the torture. The torture he was experiencing presently, and also every minute of every hour of every day, standing alongside Edwin Payne and saying nothing out of the ordinary at all.

O Spirit From The Great Beyond! by InTwainFiction

Edwin is ignoring Charles.

They haven't spoken in almost twelve hours, and all because of a little incident involving some puppies. Yes, said incident may have been Charles' fault, but he has apologised a million times.

Charles is getting desperate to find a way to get Edwin to talk to him again, and a little walk away from the office provides just the thing Charles needs.

He hopes it will get Edwin to talk to him, but at the very least it will be a laugh.

a beautiful day to say goodbye by ofstitches

“The house is… sad,” the client responds.

“Again, we can’t help with selling the house. Maybe try some decorations. That’ll brighten the old place up,” Charles suggests.

“No, you misunderstand. The house doesn’t look sad. The house is sad. It is depressed.”

“How do you figure?” Edwin says, sitting up in his chair now that the client has said something potentially interesting.

or A new case brings up old feelings, and maybe something more.

A Heaven Like They Talk About by LikeMmCookies

After managing to piss off yet another witch, Edwin and Charles are cursed as punishment. Bewildered, powerless, and lacking answers, they face their greatest challenge yet: being human again.

With Edwin doing novel things like picking out shampoo and wearing different pants, Charles finds his body reacting in strange ways to his best friend. He questions if these are new feelings, or if they'd been there all along.

But the biggest question remains - do they stay alive or do they find a way to go back?

being unknown by The_IPRE

Edwin does know Charles, or at least he likes to think that he does. He knows that Charles is far better with the clients than he is, quick to offer a smile or extend sympathy while Edwin is far more interested in delving deeper into the details of the case. He knows that Charles has a wicked swing with his cricket bat, but prefers to leave that as a second resort when he believes there's a way for them to come to a compromise. He knows that Charles chooses to hope for the best from people, even after having seen the worst they have to offer–and in fact, having been killed by it.

As Charles sits in front of him, the strain in his shoulders at odds with the easy grin on his face, Edwin wonders how much of his friend he is failing to see. -- 5 times Edwin didn't press the issue, and one time he did.

The Kind of Light That Means Just Love (When My Baby Smiles at Me) by DontOffendTheBees

“Charles,” Edwin admonished, gently closing his book with a finger tucked between the pages to hold his place. “I have asked you to stop fooling around with that contraption and get some work done.”

“I have been!” Charles defended, gesturing broadly at the higgledy-piggledy array of items around him. Evidently, taking stock of the contents of his bag of tricks was an expansive task. “Taking a break.” He snatched the small square of paper from the Polaroid camera and began to shake it with abandon.   In which Charles partakes in some amateur ghost photography, and Edwin (fondly) bemoans the futility of the exercise.

The Good Left Undone by plutosheaven

Help comes from unlikely places when Edwin is once again faced with a threat worse than death.

the phantoms here will never have their fill by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)

Poltergeists are created when a ghost experiences extreme emotional distress. Poltergeists are notoriously hard to reign in, and they almost never gently move on. Neither Edwin nor Charles ever imagined it would happen to them.

Basically, five times where the Dead Boy Detective Agency dealt with the threat of a poltergeist.

XXX

“Once you choose to go down the poltergeist route there is no coming back,” Edwin said. “And I will have no choice but to follow you.”

“You can’t do that mate,” Charles said. His voice had cleared up some, his form less wavy.

“Then do not go where I cannot follow,” Edwin said.

Form 239, Schedule L by sanctuary_for_all

At the top of a small pile of papers was a copy of Form 239, Schedule L, filled out with achingly familiar handwriting. At the top, the word "Approved" was stamped in large red letters.

This Darkness, Enduring by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone,” they tell her. “It was… an Act of God.”

She cannot think of a single thing to say for a very long moment. And then she has many things to say, most of which are not at all appropriate for polite company. --- Edwin Payne's mother, before and after.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by kickingtheladder

“Your son is gone," they tell her. "He ran away." She doesn't say anything. --- Charles Rowland's mother, afterwards.

dreaming of the things you said / hoping that it's meant by ohmyfuckinggod420

Edwin turns away with a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach. His non-existent, ghostly stomach. It seems so ridiculously cruel and on theme for his current situation. Not only is he in love with his best friend, and not only does his best friend not love him back, but he’s feeling things that he shouldn’t be feeling on top of things that he physically should not be able to feel. or

The gang is back in London. Niko is gone, Crystal is on the cusp of a breakdown, Charles is still a flirt, and Edwin is... trying his best.

Oh, and he keeps feeling his pulse. As a ghost. A very dead ghost.

The trouble really never ends.

the ghost of the past that you live in by ObsessedWithFandom

It didn’t start as much. As anything, really. Charles noticed him in the hallways only because he was new, which was rare in Year 11, and because he smiled shyly whenever Charles said hi. Aysar, he’d introduced himself, and Charles liked the way the syllables formed in his mouth. He wanted to be Aysar’s friend.

Or: five boys Charles didn't date, and one he did.

Aftermath by sophisticatedyet

“What are you humming?”

Charles’ polo muffled his question, and the pause before Charles answered was so long that Edwin wondered if he hadn’t heard him at all. But then he said, "A lullaby.”

The answer made Edwin smile bemusedly. “Why? I can't fall asleep.”

“Yeah, duh, I know. It's just meant to soothing.”

“Oh.” Edwin rested his head back against Charles’ chest. “I suppose I do feel quite soothed.”

Dance the Night by Gruoch

“What is that?” Crystal asks, looking Edwin up and down with an expression of abject befuddlement that borders on disgust.

“It is my disguise,” Edwin replies a little stiffly in response to her tone. “You told me to wear a disguise.”

“You look like Margaret Thatcher,” Crystal says flatly. “You’re going undercover at a nightclub, not a library. This—“ she plucks at Edwin’s long tweed skirt, her lip curling— “is not appropriate nightclub attire. You’re gonna attract too much attention.”

“I thought attracting attention was the point of this ludicrous exercise,” Edwin snaps back.

“Yes, the right kind of attention,” Crystal stresses. “This—” she waves a hand broadly at him—“will get the wrong kind of attention.”

~~

In which the gang returns home to discover something sinister stalking London’s party scene after dark, Edwin lets his hair down, Charles’ confidence is shaken, and Crystal pursues a new lease on life (and hopefully doesn’t die in the process).

Everywhere, Everything (wanna love you) by WildCookieKeef

Freedom, as it seems, is suffocating. Decades spent running away from death herself and yet now more than ever does Edwin feel restless. Hell is behind him for the second time. He might’ve escaped his fate of eternal torture, but rabidly approaching are revelations he would’ve kept buried for far longer.

He’d never be so flustered and disorganized if it hadn’t been for Crystal or the Cat King or Monty or the Night Nurse or that horrible witch Esther or Simon, god not Simon, or practically reenacting old Greek tales with his best mate or. . .

No. It’s no one’s fault but his own. If he could sleep he’s sure he’d have nightmares.

Of what? There’s lots to choose from, but he can just feel it. Maybe some spirit malady has taken root in his body. He can sense the tension under his skin. Aches of pain that he knows aren’t physical.

He never should’ve told Charles. What was he thinking?

or After the end of S1, Edwin reasons that Charles rejected his confession and fears the worst while trying to suffer silently. Charles is very bad at letting Edwin suffer in peace.

the eight layers of hell, reversed by Zairielon

There's a lot that Edwin and Charles don't talk about. Frankly, after 30 years together, you don't have to say much for the other person to get the point. But Port Townsend and Crystal and Niko knocked their dynamic off-kilter, and by the time they return to London and finally get back to "normal," "normal" has changed. "Normal" is now Crystal's bright laughter, Niko's earnest affection, and Edwin's faint smiles. "Normal" is an unnameable ball of emotions tangled up in Charles' chest. "Normal" is Edwin looking at him, and Charles hearing those words all over again.

Charles, I'm in love with you.

OR, Charles figures out what it means that Edwin is the only person in the world he'd run into Hell for.

When We Walk Together We Tend To Walk Alone by UneducatedAuthor

She’s never unexpected, but she’s always a surprise. And when Charles meets her, it's nothing like the nightmare he's built up in his own head, being split away from Edwin and cursed to an afterlife without him. She's kind and gentle and familiar, and she gives him a chance to say goodbye to his mother.

Or, the one where Charles meets Death. They have a lot to talk about. But it's okay. They have time.

it's you that i hold on to by lrvzender

A pair of lips press shakily on his temple. Charles Rowland’s blood definitely runs hot, Edwin decides, definitely.

“You’re not asking anything, mate. But you have to understand that you are worth saving, a thousand times over. You are worth knowing, Edwin.”

Something bigger than the whole, wide sky. Something bigger than death, perhaps.

(where Edwin does not ask to be known, but Charles knows anyway)

and your song, it haunts me like hunger does the crow by kay_cricketed

After they return to London, Charles notices an escalation in people approaching Edwin with their attentions. Which is fine! It's not that Charles is jealous. He wants Edwin to be happy and to have a chance at a fulfilling relationship, yeah? The problem is, Charles is aware that Edwin is unpracticed with these kinds of emotions and other people, and it would be very easy for someone to take advantage. And that’s not going to happen, not on Charles’ watch.

To make matters worse, the admirers are getting a little too intense. And Charles is starting to suspect there's more at work than everyone realizing his best mate is brills.

(Or: In which the damage to Edwin's soul across years of torture has had an unusual effect, and Charles needs to fix it before he's compelled to violence. Again.)

trína chéile, le chéile, claochlaithe / entangled, together, transformed by theroyalsavage

Edwin Payne and Charles Roland are not Orpheus and Eurydice. They are not tragic figures of myth, children of gods and spirits, immortalized in verse by the poets of old. They’re nothing special at all – just two boys too stubborn to move on. With that said, however… Edwin must admit that there are certain similarities.

Came up from that lake of fire by ghostinthelibrary

"Are you a zombie?” Niko peers into Edwin’s eyes. “Because the Night Nurse told me zombies exist. Do you hunger for brains, Edwin?”

“Hardly.” Remembering being splattered with gray matter in the not-so-distant past, Edwin shudders. He cannot imagine consuming it. “I’m not a zombie.”

“What about a vampire?” She almost looks excited by the prospect. “We’re only a couple of hours from Forks. It would be perfect!””   When they’re caught during their escape from Hell, Charles and Edwin have no choice but to make a deal: they have one hundred days to find and entrap a powerful, malevolent spirit, or both of their souls are forfeit. But when they’re both temporarily restored to living bodies to aid in their search, being alive brings with it a host of new feelings, which neither of them know how to cope with, especially as their deadline looms closer and their quarry proves increasingly dangerous.

Unbreakable by Asexual_Enjolras

Edwin feels as though he owes Charles an apology because he cannot offer support to his best friend in the same way that Crystal can. And Charles tells him exactly where to stick that apology the moment he does.

Or, Edwin feels like he is broken and Charles does not agree.

after the insects have laid their claim by lolotr

“Where are you buried, do you’ve any idea?”

“My body was never found,” he replies softly. “There is a memorial marker next to my parents’ graves, but my remains are not there.”

The idea is so horrifying that it stuns Charles into silence for a couple seconds. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?”

Edwin’s shoulders tense. “The whole thing is bloody tragic enough as it is.”

Grabbing his wrist, Charles begins marching them back in the direction of the pond they used to get here. Edwin doesn’t resist, but he does argue, because of course he does. “Charles, where are we going?”

“St. Hilarion’s. We’ve got a new case, don’t we?”

Hold This by RoseGanymede95

“Alright, listen,” Charles said, after trying not to think at all for at least five minutes. “Hear me out.”

“Any ideas?” Edwin asked, not looking up from his page.

“It’s just. What would actually happen if you cut my hand off?”

Edwin jerked his head up so fast, Charles wondered that he didn’t brain himself against the stone wall. He looked more offended than he had when he found out about the live snake in Charles’ bag.

“What the hell kind of a question is that?” He hissed.

“I’m not saying we should do it!” Charles backpedaled. “I’m just curious! These cuffs make us proper solid, don’t they? We could probably lop it off and get me out.”

“No,” said Edwin emphatically. “We are not discussing this. I don’t want you getting any ideas and chewing your own arm off like a trapped weasel.”

“Not my whole arm, just my hand.”

the start of something beautiful (the spoiler-free remix) by KiaraSayre

Four cases from the Dead Boy Detectives casebook, featuring amnesia, corporeality, a time loop, and a chill hang sesh.

If I'm Batman, You're Robin by ahyperactivehero

Charles misses a lot of things from life. One of those is the movies. Edwin volunteers to go with him.

XXX

“Batman Returns?” Edwin asked, reading the title. “What sort of creature is a Batman?”

Charles couldn’t help the bark of a laugh he let out. “No, he’s not a creature, mate. He’s a superhero.” At the totally blank look on Edwin’s face he tried again. “He’s like a detective. But he fights crime with his fists, too.”

“Ah,” Edwin said with a knowing look. “One of your heroes, I see.”

offer me that deathless death by websters_lieb

It takes the better part of two days for Charles’s body to even be found, and in the end, Edwin is forced to turn on all the lights in the gymnasium attic where Charles had died in order to get a janitor to come upstairs. No one had even been looking for him, yet. - or Edwin and Charles attend a funeral, look for a gravestone, and decide to become detectives.

Edwin's Payne tolerance by RabidWatermelon

Charles knew Edwin had a high pain tolerance. How could he not, having endured the tortures of hell? He just didn’t expect it to be so… useful.

AKA I want to write drabbles about Edwin's pain tolerance because I think it's something that would come up over thirty years together and be mildly concerning to someone who went through abuse in life. No fixed plot or posting schedule. Will update tags as chapter come out w new content.

The Case of Edwin's Missing Notebook by thewalkingstone

Edwin forgot his notebook at the office.

Not a problem. He prided himself on having an excellent memory. He certainly liked to jot down notes as he worked, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t work without it. He would just have to remember things until they returned to the office.

It was fine. He was a professional, and professionals did not delay an investigation because they forgot their notebook. OR Just months after escaping Hell, Edwin accidentally forgets his notebook on a case. He does not handle it well. Luckily, his new best mate is there to help him out.

The Scenic Route by DontOffendTheBees

"Cheer up, Edwin," said Charles, brightly. "Might never happen."

Edwin gave Charles a look so haughty it had its own title. "It very much has happened, Charles." He sniffed and straightened out his newspaper with attitude, the rustle of it loud and sharp as a whip crack. "I don't see why we couldn't have simply hopped through the mirror and met Crystal there."

"At this point, Edwin, I'm in total fucking agreement," said Crystal, not opening her eyes. She was burrowed under her coat like a blanket, doing her best to make the uncomfortable upright seat look like a cosy bed. Fortunately this train car was basically empty, so she had space to stretch across two seats – and no one close by to comment on the floating newspaper across the table and the fact she was having a barney with it. "You're like, the worst person to travel with."   In which the agency takes the scenic route to their next case; and Edwin finally receives some answers he's been waiting for.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

For a magic-user intent on siphoning pain for power, both Hob Gadling and Edwin Payne represent unique opportunities. United in dire circumstances, a man incapable of dying and a boy long dead forge an unusual friendship--and try to survive the experience. --- “When you died,” Hob said. “How old were you?” “Sixteen.” “That,” Hob said, “Is awful.” Edwin shrugged. “Life is, I’m afraid,” he said. “Can be wonderful, too,” Hob said. “I promise.”

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | when they have a shopaholic girlfriend

Synopsis ✰ head cannons of the boys when they’re dating a girl who loves to shop

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ suggestive, blushing boys, slight teasing, semi-public (implied), cute content of the boys being boyfriends, tiny amount of spice?

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

♡ you drag this man to the mall at least twice a week

♡ he personally hates shopping and finds it to be boring but never complains since it’s an excuse to spend time with you

♡ secret confession: he thinks your wasting money but is way too afraid to face your wrath to say it out loud

♡ whenever he asks why you spend so much money on clothes and make up he gets hit with a “there’s a price for beauty”

♡ after he seeing how cute you look in your new outfits he most definitely learns that there is a price for beauty

♡ he will become a blushing mess when you pick out the most revealing outfits

♡ “what do you think?” you asked picking up a skimpy dress and pressing it against your body. his only response is a huge blush that spreads from his nose, cheeks to the tip of his ears

♡ he loses it once you drag him into victoria secret

♡ “don’t you think this would look nice on me?” you teased while picking up crotchless underwear

♡ you absolutely will be the death of this man

♡ he feels like the worlds biggest boy toy carrying all your pink shopping bags and following you into every clothing store

♡ you reward him for being so nice and patient with your shopping by taking him to one of his favorite stores and buying him whatever he wants

♡ wetzel’s pretzels pit stop is a must

♡ you reward him even more by trying on every scandalous outfit you purchased at home in private

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

♡ acknowledges that your shopping addiction is a problem and tries to help without making you feel bad

♡ he mostly tries to help you through budgeting, thanks to him you’ve cut down shopping to twice a month

♡ Umemiya personally loves your style, especially with how confident you are in your clothes

♡ he always suggests that you should try on your clothes before committing to the purchase

♡ don’t be fooled, it’s not because he wants you to make sure they fit you, he just loves seeing how cute you look in the new outfits

♡ on some occasions he goes around the store himself picking out the cutest tops and skirts he can find for you

♡ once he picks out the cutest pieces he can find you do him the favor of trying them on while he gets to admire your beauty

♡ you manage to get the very lightest blushes from him when the skirts he picks out happen to be shorter than he originally pictured

♡ once your done doing a number on all the stores he carries all your bags

♡ it always surprises you how no matter how many bags you have ume carries them with a startling amount of ease

♡ ofc you offer to carry some but he insists you shouldn’t lift a pretty finger

♡ every cashier compliments how adorable you two look together

♡ “how cute! you two look like a match made in heaven.” a comment you two often receive a lot

♡ depending on your guys mood you might end the day with a movie night

♡ no, Ume can’t help but keep his hands all over you in the dark theater once he finally has you to himself

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

♡ will always offer to pay for your items

♡ fortunately enough for his wallet, you almost always decline since you prefer to use your own money

♡ has no problem carrying all your bags, does it with a smile on his face

♡ almost every girl who sees you at the mall is raging with pure jealousy

♡ so many of the girls wished they had a boyfriend as sweet as yours

♡ you couldn’t help but glare at every girl in the mall who was checking him out

♡ he quickly noticed your glares which had him gushing on the inside

♡ he was so flattered to know you could be so possessive over him

♡ once you noticed every cashier you got were lingering their eyes on him longer than they should, batting their eyelashes at him, smiling harder at him than you, one of them even winked at him when they thought you weren’t looking, you lost it.

♡ “i want to go home. im done shopping.” you pouted. Suo knew exactly why you didn’t want to shop anymore but still asked “why not love?” “everyone keeps falling in love with you!” you whined before putting your head on his chest. his heart fluttered at the action before he opened his mouth, “don’t pay any mind to them. i’m all yours” reassuring you with a soft kiss

♡ Suo made sure to reassure you with kisses more after the conversation

♡ you made the mistake of leaving him alone while getting a jamba juice drink, you came back to find a girl asking him out

♡ before you knew it your feet were moving up to them, completely ignoring the girl. you grabbed your boyfriends head by the back of his neck and yanked him down to a deep kiss. you pulled away while saying “hey babe”, the girl instantly walked away embarrassed

♡ Suo blushed after the incident while you continued walking to the next store as if nothing happened

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

♡ the absolute sweetest boyfriend about your habits

♡ he’s so incredibly supportive while also making sure you aren’t going to overboard

♡ he helps ensure that you’re only buying what you need and not things you’ll get over in a week

♡ he has no bad opinions, tells you everything looks nice since in his head everything does look nice on you

♡ he gets a little nervous whenever you drag him to the fitting room so you can get his opinions on the clothes

♡ he sits in the lounge room anticipating the moment you walk out of the changing room

♡ you treat this as if it were a fashion show making him tell you what he likes about each article of clothing

♡ whenever you get near any lingerie he gets incredibly shy trying not to look

♡ he won’t even look at the mannequins if they’re wearing risqué clothing

♡ such a sweet innocent boy who you can’t help but tease

♡ one of your favorite things to do were joke about buying lingerie for him, holding up a black lacey set you ask “can you imagine me wearing this for you? would you like it?” with a sweet smile

♡ he could never give you a proper response due to fighting back any suggestive thoughts, just blushes

♡ you let out a giggle and made your way to the cash register making him freeze in shock before quickly making his way to you

♡ you purchased it, Nirei was furiously blushing when the cashier smiled at you and then looked up at him

♡ Nirei’s thoughts were going absolutely wild the entire way home just wondering how soon you’d be willing to wear that for him

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

♡ he carries all your bag with a significant amount of ease, doesn’t even let you touch a bag before he already has it in place around his arm with the others

♡ Togame doesn’t get shy, jokes about suggestive clothing won’t work on him if anything he’d ask you to wear it for him

♡ this man is holding your hand 24/7, if he has too many bags to hold your hand, you settle with wrapping your arm around his bicep

♡ he loves having such a pretty girl on his arm

♡ he will glare at every man who has lingering eyes on you fighting the urge to go over there and punch both their eyes out of their sockets

♡ he’s the one who drags you into victoria secret, his favorite thing to do is pick out underwear for you to wear later

♡ “these would look so nice on you… while i push them aside to touch your cute little cunt” he whispers in your ear making your face beat red

♡ he’s gotten so used to all your habits and all the stores you go to

♡ he’s mesmerized where all your favorite stores are at so if you ever forget he can easily lead the two of you there

♡ you’re so thankful for Togame’s height whenever there’s an item that’s the last one and is too high up to get he comes to your rescue

♡ he loves to ‘rescue’ you since you always reward him with a kiss and a small “my hero” he loves to hear your praise

♡ you’re a gorgeous girl, ofc there’s always a guy who wants to ask you out

♡ before any guy can even make their way to you they meet Togame’s eyes that holds a dark threatening aura to them

♡ consider every man in existence to be scared off

♡ he personally doesn’t care about your shopping addiction as long as your happy and safe

♡ he ensures that your safety by always being there by your side

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

♡ he loves your shopping addiction, he thinks it’s a cute habit of yours and figures if you can afford it why not?

♡ he finds it absolutely adorable to watch you gush over every item at the store

♡ you both always go to miniso first, it’s a must

♡ especially since it’s the main store that provides items you both like

♡ you guys are fascinated by the alarming amount of blind boxes miniso provides

♡ you do some blind boxes unboxing and he always gives you the one he gets if it’s the one you originally wanted

♡ when it comes to clothing shops he loves watching you try on clothes

♡ he purposefully picks out the shortest skirts for you to try on

♡ “try this on for me? yeah?” he was never afraid to ask you to try on something scandalous for him even if it made your face crimson red

♡ Choji is anything but shy he has no problem being bold with you, it’s a blessing and a curse

♡ “i- you can’t come in with me!” you blush as Choji steps inside the changing room. his only response is “no one’s watching us, it’s fine”

♡ Choji is very impatient. he won’t wait until your home, if he wants you he’ll have you

♡ even if that means having to clamp his hand over your mouth to muffle the sweet sounds you make

♡ secret confession: Choji loves to pick out miniskirts for you, it makes you so easily accessible

a/n <3 : i’ve been in such a head cannon mood lately? im having so much fun writing them, im obsessed! expect more to come soon <3

[captain-hawks]

Do you write for aizawa? If you do, can you do him and reader having a cool drink on the porch/balcony after a hot day

shouta aizawa x f!reader

c: 18+ only, pining, (un)requited crush, misunderstandings, masturbation, shower sex, oral sex, unprotected p in v, cockwarming, creampie

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — HEAT WAVE EDITION

When you brightly offered to come help tend to the garden Shouta had unwittingly inherited with his new home—the bright, unruly annual blooms seemingly appearing out of nowhere between one day and the next across the tiring expanse of landscaping in his backyard—he hadn’t quite spent enough time thinking through exactly what he was signing himself up for. 

It’s enough of a battle in and of itself to ignore the insistent tug of attraction in his gut whenever you pop into his classroom with a coy wave on his way to your own, the way you playfully hip check him in the lunchroom and carelessly lean into his space whenever you’re sitting side by side.

It’s enough of a challenge that he somehow has to look you in the eyes each morning as you pass one another in UA’s hallways, to pretend like he wasn’t furiously fisting his throbbing, leaking cock to the thought of you the night before.

—despite the goddamn golden band nestled on your ring finger.

He wishes you’d give him some room to breathe, a pocket of air free from the soft, floral scent of your shampoo.

(It’s always fucking wafting somewhere in his periphery as you bound into his space, smiling and laughing and batting your eyes like you’re entirely unaware of the way his balls immediately clench at the sight of your pouty lips.)

If Shouta was a better man, he would have turned you down when you insisted on helping him after you overheard him groaning about the mess of flowers. He would have made up an excuse about having already secured assistance elsewhere, would have paid an exorbitant amount of money to drag some poor sod at a local landscaping company to get it all done immediately.

(Even if you have a plant Quirk that makes you more than a little qualified for the job.)

If he was a better man, there are a lot of things he’d probably do—like stop fucking jerking off to the thought of you, for starters.

But Shouta’s not the selfless hero some like to make him out to be, at least not where you’re concerned.

And he almost made it through the entire ordeal, even after getting over the initial shock of the ridiculous excuse for shorts that you arrived in—at what point did shorts become underwear?—brushing off his raised brow with a shrug and offhand comment about the hellish weather outside.

(It’s not that you were wrong—it was terribly hot out.)

(Hot enough that he’d begrudgingly put on a pair of shorts himself, even going so far as to stuff his messy black hair into some semblance of a bun if only to get it off of his neck beneath the harsh rays of sun beating down on the two of you.)

He’d even bitten his tongue when you shrugged off your t-shirt and continued working in a sports bra, studiously placing his focus on the vicious, thorny tangle of the rose bush in front of him, rather than the tantalizing swell of your breasts.

It’s when you’re seated side by side on the small couch on his back porch drinking cold glasses of orange juice that Shouta finally accepts defeat, silently wishing he’d just burst into flames as you accidentally gesture a bit too enthusiastically and send half of your glass sloshing all over his crotch.

He’s probably sure that you don’t think twice about it, the way you immediately reach for the towel you’d been wiping off your forehead with to dab up the mess.

There’s absolutely, certainly nothing intentional about the way you unknowingly press down right on the outline of his rapidly hardening cock, letting the orange juice transfer from his shorts to the towel.

It can't be.

But he fucking blurts it out anyway, a little more roughly than he means to—

“Shouldn’t you get home to your husband?”

You pause, eyes going a little wide as you seemingly realize that you’re basically halfway to giving him a handjob, and you slowly raise your head, gazing up at him.

Then you look down at your hand, the one that stupid ring is usually on, the one that’s oddly bare at the moment.

And you fucking laugh.

You throw your head back and laugh until you’re nearly crying, and Shouta feels like he’s going to be sick. Maybe.

“I’m not married,” you tell him between the fit of giggles that continues to rack through you.

He stares at you, blinking.

“Or engaged,” you continue.

He still stares, and his dick is still embarrassingly hard.

“I’m single,” you tack on, just for good measure.

“What?” he asks, voice hoarse.

You waggle the hand that the ring is usually on in front of him. “I used to teach at a university before I transferred to UA, and I got tired of profs and students making passes at me. It just became a habit to keep putting it on every day.” 

“So you…” he trails off, a little dumbfounded with the neon-bright clarity that’s currently ricocheting through his stupid brain.

“Yeah,” you finish for him, understanding his train of thought and looking a bit sheepish. “I figured you weren’t interested, and I was ready to throw in the towel after today, honestly.”

At the mention of the word “towel,” both of you glance down, Shouta pinching the bridge of his nose at the little noise you let out when you finally see just how hard he is.

“Oh,” you say quietly, and he’s not quite sure if that’s a good or a bad thing—

(All of his doubts are quickly cast aside when you settle into his lap with the grace of a cat and card your fingers through his hair as he cups your face in his hands and kisses you until you’re both panting and gasping for air.)

(They’re basically forgotten by the time you’re gasping for him beneath the cool spray of the shower water, the sweat and dirt of the day swirling down the drain, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you up against the slick tiles.)

(As you tell him how many nights you touched yourself to the thought of him while you suck his cock in the kitchen hours later.)

(He can only tired scrub a hand over his face and quietly laugh to himself as he wakes the next morning, his body curled around yours, his cock still nestled in the warmth of your cunt from the night before.)

(—and as much as he despises mornings on his days off, he knows, with sure certainty, that he’ll gladly rouse with the birds and the sun if it means he gets to hear your sleepy, needy moans as overnight cockwarming turns into morning sex while he fucks his cum back inside of you.)

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

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[beatcroc]

a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

[morganski-19]

Robin takes the bag of frozen peas from Steve with a silent thank you. Wrapping it with a tea towel and resting it gently against her throat. Hoping that the swelling would go down and the bruise would fade fast, even though she knew that it wouldn't.

It could be worse. She could have broken bones like Max or torn skin like Steve and Eddie. She could have stopped being able to breathe for more than a few seconds. She could be dead.

Instead, here she is nursing her wounds, as they were, with her best friend who is severely worse than her looking after her. Not in a hospital, but in his house. Because her parents don't need to know this happened to her. The same way she hid the burns from the rope that bound her wrists in the bunker. She'll hide this from them too.

Steve has his own frozen bag of vegetables to his neck, leaning back on the couch to alleviate some of the pressure on his abdomen. Heavily bandaged abdomen. They probably should have gone to a hospital, seen if he needed stitches. But the stubborn asshole didn't want to go, so they didn't. Claimed he could take care of it himself. He always did.

"Is this what it's like?" Robin asks, voice raspy and weak. "Frozen vegetables and empty houses. No doctors hovering over you or government agents secretly experimenting on you."

Steve lets out a small grunt, shifting himself to look at her better. "Pretty much."

Robin snorts, wincing a bit when she does. "Now I know what the great Steve Harrington uses as a cure after battle. Frozen vegetables. What would the people say?"

"That I should go to a hospital, probably," he replies, exhausted.

"At least there's no concussion this time. Or black eye. Nothing messing up this pretty face," she pokes his cheek gently. "You should really see someone about the bites though. Make sure they're not infected."

Steve tries to swallow without wincing. "I know. Just needed a moment to breathe. Too many people at hospitals."

She knows what he means. After the past week, they needed a night before the craziness continued. Until life was forced to move without them wanting it to. Where the consequences came and reality sat in. Where people almost lost were slowly brought back, and they were forced to move on like nothing happened.

They had the scars to remind them. The nightmares. The anxieties that never went away. Their lives were changed. Things can't just revert back to the factory setting.

"How have you done this four times?" Robin asks without really wanting to know the answer. "I can barely wrap my head around doing it twice, let alone four."

"The first time didn't really count," he mumbles. "I just came in at the end. As for the others, you just get used to it. Weird shit shows up, you hit it with something, and it goes away. Until it doesn't."

Robin lets out a long breath. "Sounds like shit."

"It is." His eyes fight to stay open, head halfway fallen onto her shoulder.

"I'll take first watch, you need your sleep." She'll probably crash right after him, but he didn't need to know that. She could be the strong one for a second if it meant he could rest.

Steve takes a deep breath. "You sure."

Robin grabs his wrist, absentmindedly feeling for his pulse. Half relieved when it still thumps under her fingers at a normal rhythm. "Yeah. Get some sleep, you deserve it."

"Thanks. Wake me up if anything happens." He barely finishes the last sentence, eyes finally closing and breaths slowing to a soft, even pace. Robin still able to feel the thumping of his veins through her fingers.

For a brief moment, she can pretend that this is all normal. That this was just a normal night where she and her best friend fell asleep on the couch after watching a movie. After a totally normal night of fun, that didn't risk their lives.

Where there wasn't a bat full of nails resting against the coffee table. Or an ax somewhere in the kitchen waiting to be cleaned. Where she isn't counting the seconds between his breaths or making sure his heart is still pumping. Making sure he's still alive.

Where she'd be able to fall asleep and not risk waking up screaming. Covered in sweat and barely able to breathe. Her wrists wouldn't hurt and her throat wouldn't burn with every breath.

The now warm bag of peas falls off her neck as she leans back. She takes it off and places it to the side, along with Steve's. Pulls him a little closer so he knows that he's not alone. And she does too.

Then finally, she falls asleep. Hoping tomorrow the sun will rise on a better day than today. Time will move on and people will get better. And she'll never have to go through this again.

[palmtreesx3]

Watching your friend, Steve Harrington, go on Kamakazi Mission dates over and over again was getting kind of old. You're always there to listen, comfort and pick up the pieces but what if this time it's just too much? What if this time you've had enough and something that feels a little bit like jealousy rears its ugly head?

(3k) Warnings: 18+ Smut okay? Failed dating, angsty friendship, jealousy, unfaithful/cheating adjacent, physical altercation, female fingering, public hookup 

Just a wee one-shot after someone (🧱) had to come in my inbox and talk about being jealous and defensive about Stevie instead of the other way around.

—

Steve's an honest to god, good fucking guy, so it should be no surprise to you when you find out he gave Heather a ride home after her car broke down outside of Family Video. He doesn't even do it for the praise - not anymore at least - which makes it all the more infuriating. 

Watching her jump out of his car. You roll your eyes at how she maneuvers just the right way so that her hair literally bounces when she giggles. The way she has her arms crossed in front of her, hands clasped - innocent enough - but you clock how she bats her eyes a little more than necessary and how her arms dig into her sides, pressing her tits up just a little more out of her dress than before. 

It's enough to gag. 

He sees you staring, eyes locked on her all the way from his driveway. Gives you a wave from across the street and you wave back. Can you wave sarcastically? If it's possible, you just did it. Giving him a thumbs up, he narrows his eyes at you before turning to go inside his house. 

Later at the house party you find yourself at that night, you're 3 beers in when you stumble into the kitchen. She's there hanging all over him. Trying hard to get him to cash in on a thank you for that favor earlier. Steve's not leaning into her, but he's not pulling away either. He's holding back, but the look on his face is hopeful and the smile on his lips is actually goddamn genuine. 

You know he's been on endless dates lately, trying to find one girl that'll be enough, stick around for at least a few dates, be interested in more than just a fuck. He recounts every one of them for you and Robin in excruciating detail. And then lingers and festers in the details of how it went wrong for twice as long. Self deprecating commentary that is nowhere near the truth and you can't bear to hear one more time will bring up the rear. 

So Heather fawning all over him tonight because he carted her off in his chariot in her moment of need sounded just about right. As did the slug trail of his broken, bleeding, lovelorn heart that was bound to show up after she stopped calling, was always busy, or just flat out told him she was done with him. Whichever it was gonna be this time, you already saw the writing on the wall. 

You're quick to move to the counter, right next to where they stand, and slam down a shot glass, filling it to the brim with whatever amber liquid you reached for first. When Steve reaches out to make sure you're okay.. suggest you slow down even, he touches your hand to stop you and you're taken aback by the shudder that runs up your body at his touch. You look at him, and then over to her and all you snap out is some comment about how you're just pre-medicating. When this blows up in your face I want to be ready. You gesture between the pair. 

You're not sure why you're being so mean today. Sure you're sick of the same old song and dance with him, but today you're angry about it and that's…new. She doesn't even notice your little outburst, fingers aimlessly toying with the tufts of hair brushing his neck while she stares off into the distance of the party. Steve, however, notices and is left to wonder why you're being such a bitch about it tonight. Wonders if your problem was with him… or Heather. 

Another hour later you're leaning against the brick of the house out back, hot cigarette held between your fingers, smoke billowing in the air around you. The sickly sweet sounds of a giggle coming from between the hydrangeas caught your ear. A giggle straight from the mouth of that blonde haired bimbo you could pinpoint from a mile away. It sucker punched you in the gut knowing how this was going to all go, and the disgusting slurping sounds of her tongue down Steve Harrington's throat just a few feet away made your eyes roll. 

Here we go. 

Making sure you loudly push through the opening in the bushes, full with browning gloves of delicate petals, you scoff at the sight of the back of Heather's head, lips now tucked into the crook of his neck.

Jason's neck. 

Not Steve's. 

There's absolutely no reason for you to do what you do next. Not one that makes logical sense, really. Because you open your mouth and can not help but tell Heather where to stick it. You call her a few names, some of them not very pretty, before turning on your heel and swinging the sliding door open to go back inside. 

Your mild annoyance with Heather's antics is suddenly festering into a blind, boiling rage, which made the fact that she decided to follow you a really, really bad one. 

What is your problem? She asks me. 

And at first you don't know what it is. Sure she's acting like a sloppy girl throwing herself on Steve…or apparently anyone who might just fuck her even more stupid than she already is. But she's not the first girl you know to act like that. Not the first or the last Hawkins Hot Shot who thinks they're too pretty for this hometown. 

But then the words spew out and it's pretty clear why there's a fire lit inside you. Each step closer you get to Heather you're giving her hell.

My problem? What's yours? I'm so damn sick and tired of girls like you acting like this. 

Girls like me? What does that mean, huh? 

Yeah, like what? You wonder to yourself. 

Like Steve is some fucking goddamn pet that you can lead around on a leash. Pet when you want something. Tie up when you don't.

Oh. 

You're just another one of these stupid fucking girls. It's disgusting how you treat him. Disgusting, you know that?

You continue on with a drunken dissertation about how Steve Harrington deserves more than these stupid vapid girls and how not one of them deserved him. 

There's a small crowd growing, drawn to your loud voice and colorful language. And she's clearly tired of the show. Never really caring all that much about Steve, more about the hookup, now that she's got Jason in her grip Steve is an afterthought. 

Until he's standing right in front of her.

Heather. He says. Big brown doe eyes looking sad and disappointed… again. Makes your gut fucking churn. 

Pushing your way through the crowded living room you're out the front door before you know it, not wanting to stick around to hear whatever she had to say to him. You didn’t want to watch his face fall and realize it’s over before it even started

Leaning against the first car you see, you tisk your tongue as you realize that the one you landed on was his. Has to be, doesn't it? 

There's an odd silence there.The thick sounds of the music muffled by the walls of the house are there, but you pay them no mind. There’s squeals and drunk laughter and chanting, but they all feel so distant. It’s a silence that doesn’t actually exist. One you created. But then, what does crack through your bubble - the thing that breaks the silence…

What you said… did you mean that? 

You don't even look up. You nod your head. You explain that you're sick of it. Sick of hearing about all of these girls walking all over the nicest guy you know. Sick of the games they play. Sick. You didn’t look up from your shoes once. 

It's fine. Really. I deserve it. I used to be no better than them. 

Shut the fuck up, already! Don't you say that. 

Maybe. Maybe that's true. You demand that he stop beating himself up. Punishing himself for something - someone - who's been dead and long gone for years. You tell him how you can't stand these girls making a mockery of him when he's genuinely trying. Tell him how you're gonna fuck up the next one that thinks it's all a game. 

Shit. Well .. thats …  

What? Confusion clouds your brain. Not sure what he's trying to say. 

Steve. I just don't want anything to hurt you. Not a demodog… or a stupid girl. It's always the same and I'm sick of seeing you think you deserve it. Like, sometimes I think you fuckin do this on purpose to yourself. 

What do I deserve then, huh? What am I supposed to do? Because I don’t fuckin' know.

Steve…just stop it. You scoff. 

Gravel is kicked up behind you and the footsteps you hear are drawing closer to you, a smarmy and whiney voice comes out to greet you Well well well, thanks for that show in there.

Jason, I swear to God, you need to keep it moving. Fists curling at your sides without a thought. 

Didn’t know you got this little thing to fight your battles for you now, Harrington. Real cute. Total fall from grace, huh?

You’re on him quicker than he knows what to do. The last thing he expected was for you to wind up and clock him dead in the face. Jason falls backwards a few steps stumbling as he grabs at his face, covering the tender spot where you knocked him, the left side of his nose and just below the eye. He's not bleeding, per say. But you take note of the deep purple stain already pooling in the dip of his eye socket, so you know that mother fucker is gonna feel it for weeks. 

He doesn't need me to fight his battles, Jason. You say his name dripping with sarcasm. 

Then why'd ya punch me, you bitch? Sure looks like it. 

You hear him step forward. You just know the tense look in Steve's face and the way his jaw is set and clenched without even turning around. You know the blind rage he gets when he feels like he needs to defend one of his friends - someone he cares about. You're certain the muscles in his lips are ticking and twitching with anger. And you don't have time for his theatrics tonight. You've had enough of it already, so you reach your hand out and backwards, stopping him by his chest so he stops his advance. 

Instead you step forward. Not scared in the least of Jason fuckin' Carver and his buttercup yellow polo shirt. You smirk as you see a drop of crimson blood has fallen from the tip of his nose and onto its front, just knowing how he's going to have to ask his Mommy to get the stain out for him. 

I punched you because you're annoying me. Your face is stupid, you talk too much and you don't know when to mind your own goddamn business. Where's Heather anyway? You two are perfect for one another. 

You turn on your heels and walk to the other side of Steve's car, leaning against the side and not looking back at Jason and his idiot stuck up friends as they stumble down the neighborhood road away from the party.

Steve comes around the back of the car, looking at you. He hasn't said a word, so that's been great. Probably thinks you're certified insane tonight with the way things are going. 

Steve, I'm good. Jason is clearly not an issue anymore. You should go find Heather - 

But you're cut off before you can finish, because in a few long strides he's in front of you, grabbing at your shoulders to bring your eyes up to his. Telling you how it's hot when you defend his honor. 6. Talking about how hot it was when you were looking at him all jealous of another girl's attention and affection. About how he never noticed it before but now it makes so much sense. 

I don't do that. I didn't - 

Now it's his turn to scoff. 

You ask him what's so funny? And he literally doesn't answer you, just laughs some more with a shake of his head. Eyes roaming around your surroundings. He hasn't moved away from where he's standing in front of you. Somehow HE looks annoyed with YOU now and you're ready to pick a fight about it. 

Instead, all of the air is stolen from your lungs when Steve Harrington leans down and crashes his lips onto yours.

What was that for? You shove him back a little, but his feet are planted and he doesn't budge. 

The smile turning up the corner of his lips is irritating. Irritating because you don't know why he's smiling, but doubly so because it is really fucking cute. Oh nothing, just wanted to show my girl how much I appreciate her. 

Your girl? Steve, you are sorely mistaken. Did you hit your head? Heather is -.

Honey. Stop. Let's not do this.

He argues with you. Tells you how it all makes so much sense. About how none of the girls are you, so of course they didn't work. About how of course you're frustrated and feel protective. About how those dagger eyes you were wielding all night were, in fact, jealousy. Because you both feel the same way and neither was smart enough to notice. 

I'm done with Heather, honey. I'm done with all the Heathers. He waves his hand at the house party, still booming with noise and energy, but only focused on you.

The feverous press of his lips back on yours happens before you can even process what he's said. Pressed against the side of his car, his hands quickly slide up your side, finding a warm and comfortable home under the hem of your sweater. Cold fingertips dancing up your sides, thumbs squeezing where it's soft and dips into your tummy, knee sliding between your legs all in one smooth motion. 

He pulls his lips away to look at you, both of you panting deep breaths, chests rising and falling and eyes darting around one another's faces, trying to process what's unfolding for you both right now. 

Sorry. 

He huffs out an apology. Says he shouldn't have. Says he wasn't thinking. Says he's never thinking straight. Goes to pull away. 

You grab his wrist as he tries to retreat.

They're all fuckin' stupid. Steve, they're all stupid. I've been telling you every time. Every single goddamn time. 

He looks back at you, still unsure. Eyes a little sad - wavering. Guard down further than you've seen it in years. 

And if any one of them got their head out of their asses, they'd have been so fuckin' lucky. 

He goes to speak before you stop him - Don't. Don't say it. Don't do that bullshit again. Just … 

Back against the side of the BMW he's pressed into you tightly. Hands wrapped around your hips, fingertips digging into the denim covering your ass as he squeezes. It really was like… the hottest fuckin' thing to watch you punch Jason Carver… for me. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles where they're sure to be sore tomorrow. 

Can I say thank you? 

He asks you with pleading eyes. You ask him Didn't you just say it? He shakes his head. Tells you that's not how he wants to say it. Tells you that's not what he means. That he wants to show you instead. 

And once you nod your head at him, theres no time for anything. No time for thinking, moving, rational decision making. Because you're just there, in between Steve's car and some janky van parked next to it, as he's tugging at your button, crooking his fingers in your belt loops, making it just so he can slide his hand inside your underwear and maneuver his fingers to your core. 

He's so fuckin' gentle it makes your head spin. Featherlight touches around you, gently playing with the folds and petals of your lips, a slippery waltz on and around your clit, dancing with his fingertip. Eyelashes fluttering with your head tilted back and resting on his car door, unable to formulate words or phrases or noises - rendered utterly frozen and useless..

What stupid fucking assholes. Those girls took a pass on this? On this boy who just wants someone to be with. On all this care, and attention and - oh my God. 

You're pulled from your blissful thoughts by a deep pressure, a fullness you didn't expect from Steve's long and thick fingers entering you briskly. Mouth open and gasping at the twist and turns of them until he finds a spot that makes you twitch, a spot he likes. A juxtaposition to those gentle caresses, he's driving his fingers deep into your pussy now, reaching and rubbing. 

Still soft and careful but deep and forefull. He's not driving his fingers into you like the last guy who used his hand like a jackhammer. No, Steve is caressing your pussy and following through with a deep roll of his fingers on the upswing. Pushing back, pushing upwards, making your hips buck up towards him uncontrollably. You cry out when he scissors his fingers just a bit and then follows up with the quick addition of a third finger.

As abruptly as he's inside, he's back out again, rubbing and circling over you with his four, flat fingers, satisfying pressure on your clit making you forget about how you missed them being inside you for just a moment.

Shit, Steve…I-  someone's gonna see.

Let them. Fuck… let them. I hope they do. Then they'll know. 

Slipping those fingers right back inside, slick and squelching, toying with you, making you suck all of the air out of the world around you, he brings himself right next to your ear, pressed up against you. Cheek to cheek. You feel the muscles on his forearm tensing and flexing as he pumps into you ruthlessly. White hot pleasure swirling deep in your stomach, staccato breaths brushing past his ear, eyes squeezed shut your orgasm ripples through your body - tummy to toes, tingling running up your spine and back down again as you exhale from a breath you didn't know you were holding.

He hasn't pulled away yet. Hadn't looked at you. Fingers still inside, palm pressed up against the car just beside your face as he whispers They'll know I'm done with them now. Cause I've always had you. 

[thatonepikminperson]

Head cannons that I may or may not have (Pikmin 4 Ones)

Dumbest ideas ever here we go (Long post btw, using the read more so it's not too long for people just scroll tags)

Just to get the relationship head cannons out of the way, Dingo is homies with Bernard, Yonny and Russ are evil besties, and Shepherd and Collin are friends, anyway time for some unhinged head cannons

Collin drinks coffee right as it's done, even if it's boiling hot just because he doesn't have the time to wait for it to cool down. His taste buds hate him for this

Russ has set off the fire alarm on the S.S. Shepherd at least 8 times during the Rescue Corps Mission on PNF-404, mostly on accident

Bernard sucks balls at cooking and is banned from the small kitchen on the S.S. Shepherd. Idk why I feel this one, but man's has 100% burnt the water

Oatchi has ate money before, how much? Up to you to decide

Dingo doesn't understand the concept of knocking 80% of the time

Yonny reads smut in public without batting an eye. I'm not elaborating more on this one, he just does

Bernard has a playlist of over 600 songs just for when he's driving, which ranges from hard rock to vocaloid

Shepherd was an adventurous child, and climbed out of her window to get out of the house when she was grounded for fun

Bernard may or may not have accidentally gotten Dingo into vocaloid, and Dingo can never live this down

Sometimes, Collin just makes rice and an egg and calls it a "good meal."

Shepherd forces Collin to eat sometimes

Shepherd often goes to dog shelters and has to physically restraint herself from adopting every single dog there

Oatchi has tried to eat Shepherd's hand on several occasions, and has failed every single time

Dingo is really good at most sports, except for dodge ball because of that one rule where if the person catches the ball your out. Dingo hates that rule with a burning passion

Bernard says "oopsie doopsie" and "lol" out loud, unironically, all the time

Yonny has once tried to add a robot leg to Oatchi. Shepherd did not find this as fascinating as he did, unfortunately

Russ is Yonny's second victim when it comes to consuming his concoctions, but he's way more willing to do than Dingo and will sometimes give the concoction a review like he's at a five star restaurant.

Russ has electrocuted himself at least 18 times before, and he's also electrocuted Yonny twice

Collin has had to drag Yonny away from Dingo to stop the doctor from experimenting on the poor ranger

And finally (For now, If I think of more, I'll add more), despite everyone's differences, everyone on the crew is very protective of each other. You mess with one person, you mess with all six of them. (Technically all seven of them if you count Oatchi)

[stealingyourbones]

ok so like I've just had horrible Tall!Jazz brainrot for the past 24 hours because of you and I need to share this. it's a lot too so buckle up

tall jazz is good and all but ya know what would make it even better? werewolf Jazz.

I can imagine Jason just falling all over himself cause this pretty tall lady not only is super strong, smart and bad ass. but she just also regularly shifts into this tall ass wolf creature to rip off people's faces when needed.

I can see Jason being dragged to some type of Ball/Gala thing by Bruce and him kinda lurking around the room to avoid his family and nosy rich people. This just isn't his scene and the only reason he's here is cause B thinks something big is gonna happen while they're there.

Him just casually bumping into Jazz, like they're both distracted and Jason just kinda slams into this brick wall of human being and getting knocked to the ground. Cue him looking up from the floor to this tall buff lady in a sparkly dress, all flustered about knocking him over and him just blue screening cause wow

She just picks him up and sets him on his feet too, like she's so worried she accidentally gave this poor man a concussion cause hes not responding and his soul just kinda leaves his body for a moment

he just kinda blurts out something about being able to die happy now or some other corny crap that makes him lose like all his bad boy edge with her (not that he had very much with how things are going) and she just looses it. it was probably some reference to a book or something they'd both have interest in

She's giggling and blushing, so Jason is like I still gotta chance with her time to pull out all the stops. like it just evolves into him spending the night trying to make her laugh and getting to know her, she starting making references and jokes back and forth with him too. A lot of them are dead jokes too, like while his family gets weird about his death jokes Jazz just starts making her own back.

One of them mentions a younger brother, either one starts first but once they get going it almost becomes a competition with the weirdest stories about their baby brothers, Jason's like yeah one of my brothers regularly climbs in the chandelier to try and get out of going to school and Jazz is like my brother once rode a vacuum, etc. Just going back and forth getting to know each other.

Jason can tell somethings a little off about Jazz, she steps too quietly, her teeth are sharper then they should be and she keeps watch of all the exits here. Jason probably assumes she's a meta of some kind once he notices it all.

While Jazz can just feel the ectoplasm/pit in him making him leminal, she catches his eyes flash green at least twice the entire time they're talking and she can tell he's hiding something. Jazz is just like, oh well not my place to ask this guy if he's died and came back or anything.

Then the thing Bruce was worried about does happen, cause of course it does. probably a fear gas attack in the middle of the ballroom.

Cue the BatFam kinda leaping into action, herding people away from the gas and Jason being with Jazz trying to get her out. Maybe something/someone keeps them stuck there and Jason has a respirator from B but Jazz doesn't so he's trying not to freak out.

Jazz is obviously panicking a bit as she's stuck in the gas, shoulders shaking, breathing a bit too quick and hard. But she just starts slowing her breathing and calming her self down before just growling in rage. just full on animalistic growl and snarl as she stands up straight and gets ready to beat up the bums keeping them locked in there.

Jason trying and failing to keep her from running further into the smoke, watching her as she suckered punches a henchman in the face breaking his nose, and Jason realizing he's so done for.

I could totally see Jazz just full on transforming on the dance floor mid fight or something too, just one moment things are getting a bit too close for comfort for one of the bats and this giant wolf lady in a sparkly dress just one hit K.O.s a guy to keep them safe.

as for why Jazz is a werewolf in the first place maybe she got bit by one, maybe Wulf turned her or maybe a accident in her parents lab infected her. however it did happen she just took it in stride and was like now I can protect my little half dead brother better this is fine by me.

I totally believe that everyone from Amity Park just isn't all that effected by fear gas, like sure it might send them into a panic attack but that's easy enough to work through after facing your own mortality almost every week for the past however many years. Like Amity Park natives have lived and breathed unimaginable fear and horrors for so long they just aren't all that scared of Joker or any other Gotham Rouge.

Anyways I think that's all of the brain rot out now, this was kinda more of a ramble then like an actual prompt so sorry about that lol.

Bro I don’t CARE that it’s a ramble this is fucking INCREDIBLE!!!

It’s wild I was just rambling about Vampire Jazz stuff with some pals and now there’s this. Perfect timing dude wow.

Jazz and Jason just tripping over each other but both are being sickeningly sweet. They’re just happily chatting and mentally fawning over each other.

Werewolf jazz in her cute battle dress taking out Scarecrow goons left and right? Oh man I mean I’d blue screen too Jason I don’t blame ya.

Oh yeah and the second Jason hears that growl he mentally shuts down. He didn’t know something like that could be that hot till now but damn is he gonna go with it cause fuck look at this girl just decimate the bad guys. That’s hot as hell. She winks at him while she dislocates a goons shoulder and Jason just falls even deeper in love

[devildom-moss]

Could I request for Stolen Moments with Mephistopheles and Raphael?

Thank you for the request. I would have gotten to these eventually, but this gave me incentive to get it done sooner rather than later.

Raphael

Raphael uses the excuse of having a “human world question” for you as a way to steal a bit of your time. Sure, he could ask Solomon, but that old man is more like a demon than a human sometimes. He could also just say that he already asked Solomon and wanted your opinion now – which is more likely to be true when he has an actual question and isn’t just using it as an excuse. Raphael’s personality makes it so that he can simply ask to speak with you alone, and no one will bat an eye – at least not for the first few months that he does that. Unlike almost everyone else, Raphael counts phone calls as alone time with you. It’s an effective way to steal you away because often times, whoever you’re with is so loud or nosy that you go to your room or anywhere secluded to take the call. Raphael loves the sound of your voice, and he could spend hours on the phone with you despite calling because he had a quick question about the human world. Often, when he gets you alone using this excuse, he will ask you about the human world (to avoid being a liar). That usually develops into the two of you exchanging stories about your realms. Raphael has an . . .interesting take on some of the brothers’ and angels’ past behaviors.

The other thing Raphael does to get some time with you is use you as a model for his sewing designs. At least once every few months, Raphael offers to make an article of clothing for you because a design popped into his head that would suit you perfectly. Whether it actually would suit you more than anyone else or Raphael is just so lovesick that he thinks about you in every outfit he imagines and some of those thoughts are too gorgeous not to make a reality, only Raphael will ever know. Additionally, making clothes for you gives him multiple opportunities to steal you away. Sometimes, when he’s particularly needy or jealous, he “loses” the note with your measurements on it or wants to check the fit again before he sews any further. Especially on these occasions, Raphael is unnecessarily handsy when he’s measuring – his hands lingering and grazing more sensitive parts of your body. His cruel side comes out a bit then, demanding your stillness and even going so far as to threaten to tie you up with his tape measure (he knows that’s impractical; he just wants an excuse to see you tied up and keep you to himself).

Mephistopheles

Mephisto has a lot of pull as a newspaper club staff member and former president. Regardless of his status, he’s still good at his job, so most people won’t think twice if he calls you into the RAD Newspaper Club room. He knows when other staff members are typically in that room (and more importantly, when that room will be empty). Sometimes, when he can’t control himself, he will invite you into the club room to do whatever you’re up for. He doesn’t really care if someone walks in on you two, either. However, he doesn’t always have to get you alone in the newspaper club room. Certain paper topics require discretion, and it’s perfectly reasonable for Mephisto to just pull you into an empty room or quiet hallway to discuss newspaper stuff (similar to Solomon’s “human world stuff” bit). He might slightly get off on the idea of being caught with you during one of these stolen moments because it would be so easy for him to avoid trouble and just invite you back to his place. It’s not like he cares if Lucifer or any of the brothers get mad at him for it – except maybe Satan and Asmo.

Mephisto’s favorite way to get you alone for something resembling a date is to drag you along to events he thinks you would enjoy to “get a human perspective on Devildom events” for the newspaper club. Initially, when he brought the suggestion up to Diavolo, Diavolo asked him why, if he wanted a human’s perspective, he didn’t want to bring Solomon along as well. “You see, Lord Diavolo, I could take Solomon with me, but Solomon would take about 30 seconds before he got on my damn nerves.” (Mephisto doesn’t actually mind Solomon – except for his cooking. He just wants to be alone with you.) This way, no one has to call it a date – himself included. Granted, when he uses that excuse with Diavolo, he still needs to do some actual work during the absolutely-not-a-date date, but he realized that the work was more fun with you around, and he enjoys hearing your opinions. Moreover, he loves using his connections to show you a good time. When he brings along a camera, sometimes he takes pictures of you just for himself that he never intended on putting in the paper (usually candid photos of you smiling at some incredible spectacle like enormous lantern-like flowers being released into the dark Devildom sky and bursting like fireworks). Somehow, Mephisto has even been granted permission to bring you to hot springs – but only for a day trip. The Devildom isn’t as exciting to him but seeing it through your eyes gives him an unusually quiet appreciation for Diavolo’s efforts to improve the Devildom and bring new beings into the school.

(the demon brothers version) | (the dateables version) | (Thirteen)

A/N: We all know I have to write Thirteen's Stolen Moments soon, right? I can't leave her out. It's an obligation. Plus, I already thought about it a bit.

[riddlesrhymesandfear]

Dork Squad fall for that one reporter who makes photos of them for the newspaper/online news.

Summary: Mad Hatter, Riddler, and Scarecrow falling for a reporter.. (2nd person/ gender neutral)

A/n: I am slowly working on requests again, I have some that are almost done and should be out in the next week :) (also I wasn't sure if you meant 'takes' or not, so I just went that route,,)

||> Mad Hatter

Oh, Jervis wasn't sure who was taking such photos of him with crisp shots and lighting at first, but he does not waste another second finding out! It helps that your name was credited below his recent photo in the newspaper he came across.

He becomes much more careful and observant of what goes on around him, keeping an eye out for anything out of the regular in hopes he may find the reporter that's been taking his photos. And when he does, he doesn't let the opportunity pass.

At first it's curiosity, but it's not long before he grows interested in learning about you. Even outside the fact you take photos of him, the way you do so has him waiting for the next new edition or article to come out to see if there's a new photo of him (or anything really, but himself especially) you've taken.

The lighting, the care in the lack of blure or style, just the entirety of how you take your photos—it's caught him, line and sinker. And it's not long before you manage to snag his heart the same way.

||> Riddler

Finally, someone finally understands and appreciates his person to capture him in polaroid form! And not in an amateurish sense—professionally, for all of Gotham to recognize him! Just who is the individual he has to commemorate (or "volunteer" for his next death trap)?

He's quite enamored with the attention and detail to your photos of him, although depending on what the subject matter and setting of the photo, was, he may have a different reaction. If it's during a time he's out and 'in action,' he's far more likely to seek you out for some words of your talent and appreciation for models and matters of his own essence.

However, if it's during a less appealing moment (facing a nother loss against the Batman), or in a place of private (like his workshop or home), he may be inclined to seek you out for a few selective words and threats...

Regardless, congrats—you've gained Edward's attention, and there's little to nothing that'll pull it away, save for the Dark Knight. Whether you've obtained his liking or his irritation, he'll be on the lookout for any new photography you may have out on the next newspaper or online article.

||> Scarecrow

He's.. put off, to say the least. At first, anyway. Mostly by the fact that your photos have enough speciality to them to give out details of himself that most other photographers would end up blurring. And it frustates him.

The Scarecrow is meant to be a beacon of fear, of terror—people should think twice before walking across his path—but you? You take photos of him in a way that he's certain you've been up close to take them.

He will admit that they catch his likeness, however—most reporters' photos of him are humilitaing, such as being taken back to Arkham or losing to the Bat; or are blurry to the point only the shape of the photo's subject is determinable. But yours, as much as it frustrates him, are taken neatly and without flaw. Many of them even capture his formidable stature—truly give due credit to the alias he dons.

Jonathan has many ways of finding what he wants, and you've caught his attention. Your photos make him wonder what you fear—what limits you have that'll scare you off, or keep you coming back. And he's determined to figure out each and every one of them.