#hope you don't mind this Ash-

[sproutastronaut]

I HAVEN'T POSTED ANY ART IN FOREVER WOW

here's some doodles i did just now trying to get out of the block, can you tell i miss the defenders of prime,,

ashe looks so out of place and that was intentional i love her <3 <3

[calithso]

everything about @vendetta-if mc is so hot

—

@jscwrites (hope everything going on with your acc is fine now 😭)

[danwhobrowses]

Well another week of Tal and Ashley putting Callowmoore through the emotional ringer. I'm kinda okay with where it's at right now (okay less kinda but I can still see an end goal for them), of course it wasn't the most ideal direction I thought up in my head but it rarely ever is. There's time, there's room, and maybe in 2 3 (again guys? mental torment for 3 again?) weeks time - because no show on Thanksgiving and then Candela Obscura - Tal and Ashley will pull the trigger and not leave me an anxious mess like they have the last month and a half every Friday Morning when I have to work XD

[fashionablyfyrdraaca]

I got this GORGEOUS work done of my A House of Many Doors oc Ash Featherswallow and her wife, Genevieve Caul by the talented @mooreaux​

I’m super happy with how it came out!! If you’re looking for an artist to tackle your OCS, I would really recommend them! :D

[waterfallofspace]

9, 42, and 45 for a sick, sneezy vash please, if that’s okay? 😄

Thank you for the ask, of course that's okay!! (it does feature a hint of W/olfwood action too, just a smiiidge, hope that's alright hehe~ It's also a V/ashwood story since, well, I figured that would be alright~!) 1.9k words, prompts 9, 42, and 45, story under cut! 9. “You’re trembling.”  42. “Baby, you’re all sniffly.”  45. “Your nose is literally twitching.” (Brief mentions of anxiety just incase anyone doesn't like that!)

~~~~~~~

“hn’chh-! hh’keshh-! ‘Scuse me, sorry.”

“I told ya, no need for the ‘pologies.” 

“Y- you did but it’s a hahh... habit. hek’ishh-! Sor-”

A dark look from Wolfwood cuts off the apology, Vash being reduced to stuttering out some nonsensical syllables in his effort to recover. His leg is still, but there’s constant movement in his hands as they attempt to find something to grab onto. Anxiety was never a stranger to the man, despite apparent lack of concern for his own safety most of the time.  

The town they find themselves in doesn’t have a motel, which isn’t that unique in these parts. They’ve grown quite used to sharing a room, or even just a bed, wherever they could find one. For instance, they’re currently sharing a guest room above the town bar. Not an awful crashpad, a couch, nice radio, their own bathroom. 

It’s secluded from the rest of the bar too, giving them a bit of privacy. Sliding onto the bed, Wolfwood motions for Vash to join him. Surprise crosses his sharp features as the request is denied. Instead, Vash points himself towards the couch, offering a wave over his shoulder as he spins away. ‘Well that’s new…’ 

“What, suddenly too good to share a bed with me, Blondie?”

“Wh- what? No, not at all! I just… I figured you’d- en’chh-! ih’tshhie-! Excuse me, sorry. Where was I..? Oh right, m- maybe you’d want it to yourself this time and I don’t mind t- taking the couch.”

“‘Cause of your cold? I don’t care, now get over here.”

“Because of my- what? I’m… I’m not sick?” 

Wolfwood doesn’t reply, instead he lets the uncomfortable silence settle over the room as he watches Vash. ‘Either he’s playing dumb, and doesn’t want to admit it, or the needle noggin really didn’t notice. Gotta know which before I make my move.’ Under the weight of tension starting to spread through the air, Vash gives a heavy sigh. The breath comes out shaky as his body vibrates, hands starting to rub his arms.

“You’re literally trembling. You tryna tell me that ain’t shivers?”

“It’s not! Well okay… I mean it is shivering, but not from sickness, it’s just cold in here, that’s all! ennchh-! Sorry, excuse me.”

The sneeze brings a fresh round of shudders as Wolfwood raises a brow at the display. ‘So denial it is then. If it was cold in ‘ere I’d’ve noticed long before him.’ A blessing almost slips out, but that’ll just lead to a new round of apologies. Right now it’s more important to get an admittance and go from there.

“Blondie, we’re in a fuckin’ desert. It’s not cold anywhere.” 

“W- well they must have the air on! Or… or something… probably the air, b- because it’s so hot out, so they uh… they want it to be cool indoors.”

“Guess I should go ask ‘em to turn it off-”

“Hey- wait no, uh… it’s- it’s actually starting to uh… warm up..? D- don’t bother them. hk’ishiee-! Sorry. They let us stay here, I don’t- I mean we don’t want to be a burden on them-”

A hint of pride starts to break through Wolfwood’s mind as he grins. ‘And there it is. Gotcha.’ Vash has always been hesitant to be a burden. Not a horrible mindset to have for most people, ‘Hell, a few could use more of it’. The problem is that his definition of ‘burden’ includes things such as eating, sleeping, breathing, or simply existing when he’s not actively helping in some way. 

Sickness was high on his list of ‘things that make me a burden on everyone I come in contact with’, despite Wolfwood’s constant reminders that he doesn’t mind. However, there is something above it, and that’s ‘bothering someone else’, especially when it’s for a made up reason. Given the choice between admitting sickness or waking the bartender to ask them to turn off the ‘air’ that doesn’t exist, well…

“-Okay fine. I might be… a little bit sick… but- hh’ishh’iee-! hehh- en’chhh-! heh’kshh’iew-!” 

“Blessin’”

“Thank you, sorry, it’s really not that bad!”

“Then get in bed ‘fore it gets worse.” 

“I uh… I really don’t think that’s-”

“I’ll even read from the book I’ve been finishin’. But that's a limited time offer, Blondie. Goin’ once, goin’ twice-” 

Before he can start the next word, Vash hurls himself towards the bed, an excited set of vibrations starting to replace the shivers. Wolfwood chuckles, lifting the blanket from his legs to wrap it around Vash, giving his shoulders a light squeeze. In response the huddled form leans into his lap, head resting against his chest. 

“Ready?”

“Yehh… yep!” 

“Alright. The second reason he realized she was gone was from the smell. The air had lost a sweetness. One he’d grown so used to he hardly recognized it anymore. That is, until it was gone. -----” 

Wolfwood continues reading, his focus being drawn away from the world once more. ‘Would’ve thought romance books were more Blondie’s thing, but… well… after he gave me that one about the garden love story… I guess I could understand the appeal… But only because Vash likes it when I read them. That’s all.’ No one else can hear him, but Wolfwood still feels the need to justify the surge of emotion starting to creep through his heart. 

Maybe it was the fact Vash had given him them. Maybe it was the fact that blondie was gazing up with a hazy adoration as each word leaves his throat. Doesn’t really matter why. All that matters is how the words seem to glide off the page, through his deep voice to dance around their heads, playing out each scene as he reads them. This sensation is short lived though, as soon he feels himself snapping back to the bedroom where a soft sound has begun.

“hkk-! guhh…” 

“Brushing the branches from his uh… from his face, he starts to cut through the dense forest.”

“heHh-! hhh… Snnff-”

“T- the branches, oh wait read that already, ah here we go. The dense forest. Eyes seem to be peering at him through the-”

“hahHhh- snff- hkIH-! hehh…”

“Through the, uh, the-”

“hhih-!”

“Christ, Blondie. Just sneeze already.” 

Vash’s head pops out from its blanket cocoon against Wolfwood’s chest, a pink tint spread across his cheeks that has nothing to do with his cold. Bringing up a single finger to lightly rub his nose, Vash tries to offer a sincere smile. What instead crosses his face is a look that just screams itchy. Wolfwood feels a sympathy tickle through his own nose. 

“Wh- what?”

“Your nose is literally twitching. You’re makin’ me itchy from the look of it. Jus’ sneeze, it’s okay. I’ll even pause my readin’.” 

“I- I don’t… okay yehh… yes I do- I’m so sorry ehH-!”

“Don’t ‘pologize. Nothin’ to be ‘shamed of.”

“eH’tmmfshh-! hh’mmshhii-! hk’ishh’ieee-!” 

He attempts to muffle the first two into his hand, the third escaping with a pitch that sounds incredibly unsatisfying. ‘No wonder he always has these long drawn out fits. Those sound like they do nothin’ to relieve the itch.’ Pausing his analysis, Wolfwood leans towards the nightstand, grabbing a handful of tissues and pressing them into Vash’s unused hand. 

A timid smile meets the gesture as Vash brings them to his nose, humming a sigh. The action seems to bring a new level of irritation, his breath snaring as the tissues are gripped tighter. It teases him for a minute, Wolfwood choking back a laugh at the whimper the tissues barely muffle. Finally, after what seems like a lifetime, a desperate “hnnchh-! ih’tishiee-! keshh’ii-!” break through. Wolfwood lets a knuckle crush his own nose, sympathy waves running through it again.

“Blessin’.” 

“Thanks. Sor-”

“You’re only welcome if you don’t finish that apology.” 

“-So are you gonna keep reading..? hih’ishhiee-! hk’ieshh-! Excuse me.”

“Blessin’s. Good save, Blondie. Remind me where we were?”

“Eyes in the- eh’kshhiee-! forest.”

“Blessin’, alright. So- wait… hold on a sec.”

Wolfwood lets the book rest on his knees, staring up through his sunglasses at the ceiling. Vash attempts to follow his gaze, but can’t notice anything worth staring at. Deciding to ask, Vash leans up to meet his eyes. Hardly a noise escapes before Wolfwood holds up a finger to silence him, tilting his sunglasses down and blinking through the brightness. 

“huh’yIEZzshh’oo-! ai’GNZSHhh’oo-! Whew, that’s better.” 

“Oh- bless you! Did- did I get-”

“No you didn' get me sick. My immune system ain’t nearly as fragile as yours.”

“Hey! Well then, is- hh’tieshh’ii-! Excuse me. Is something bothering you?”

“Nah, jus’ a tickle. Think it was ‘cause of the itchy look you were wearin’.”

“Oh, okay! S- sorry…”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, Blondie. Now, back to the book?"

"Yes!"

"Eyes seem to be peering at him through the darkness. Watching his every step, daring him to come closer. Daring him to betray his heart alongside his kingdom. What did they know? Surely not his heart. That was something that couldn’t be known by anyone, not after her. ------.” 

Wolfwood feels the words flow from him once more, almost before his eyes can trace their forms on the page. Figures begin their dance, chasing each other in beautiful patterns through the humid air. The only thing pulling him from the daydream that he finds himself in far too often with Vash is the sound of constant sniffles. 

There is an outright refusal to address the noises, so instead Wolfwood continues reading, making it through another two chapters before giving in and setting the book back down. Vash looks up with an innocent gaze, absentmindedly rubbing his palm against his nose as another sniff breaks free.

“Baby, you’re all sniffly. You can blow your nose.”

The pet name gets the reaction it was meant to, Vash suddenly laser focused on Wolfwood’s every word. ‘Alright, easy now with this next part. He’s jus’ about there, gotta be delicate. Which… has never really been my strong suit.’ There’s a hint of unease beneath Vash’s smile, palm crushing against his face again. 

“I know you’re sick, Vash. You told me that earlier. So you can drop the ruse.” 

“We- well…”

“It’s just us.” 

Vash flushes as Wolfwood passes him another handful of tissues, but brings them to his nose anyways. He turns away, ever mindful of others, and blows a couple times. The first seems unsuccessful, but by the third he manages to get a semblance of airflow through his sinuses. 

Giving a heady sigh of relief, Vash turns back to Wolfwood, mouth open as if to form words. He never gets the chance, the next breath through his sensitive nasal passages bringing his hands up to his face by instinct. Wolfwood chuckles, letting a hand drop to rub his back through the fit. 

“hH’ieshh’ie-! keshhh’iee-! hihh- tnnshhii-! Ih’tieshhiee-!”

“Blessin’s. Heh, you’re awfully adorable at times, Blondie.”

“I am no- heH’ishh-! hk’ishh-! tieshh’iee-! not!” 

Humming out another laugh, Wolfwood brushes the hair from Vash’s warm skin, planting a kiss on his forehead. Vash responds with a sigh, airy and light, before he sinks back into Wolfwood’s chest, wrapping himself deeper into the blanket. A smirk crosses Wolfwood’s face, ‘Not cute, huh?’ before he lifts the book once more.

There, in the safety of Wolfwood’s embrace, Vash finds himself drifting off to sleep, figures dancing through his mind as the deep voice fades off into a peaceful darkness.

[daintyduck99]

All of those flirty prompts are SO good. I'm gonna go with "You know we should save some water, shower together." for Rukebox.

Julie carefully extracts herself from the pile of limbs that had been holding her snugly on the sofa. As comfy as she'd been, the shift in sunlight tells her that she'd better hurry if she still wants to take a shower.

Luke grumbles; Reggie languidly shifts to fill the space she's left. They both pout.

She huffs a laugh. “You know I can't show up for my shift like this. You'll have to survive without me for a couple of hours.”

“You look beautiful,” Luke says stubbornly.

And a beat later, “No, we won't.”

Julie snorts. She kisses his forehead.

“Thanks, querido, but your incredibly biased opinion doesn't count right now. And I'm pretty sure you're in good hands.”

Reggie hums, accepting a forehead kiss of his own before burrowing closer to Luke.

“The best hands. Aren't they, darlin’?”

Luke's lips part. He does something rare.

He stutters a little.

“I—I thought Julie was darling.”

Another hum. “I'm talking to both of you.”

“This darling,” Julie says firmly, “really has to shower right this second. You can flirt with me later, and I'll talk you up then.”

Reggie unravels from Luke a little.

He winks. “We could do more than talk.”

“I…” She flushes. “Later. Luke, help me.”

Luke shrugs. “He has a point, you know. We should save some time and water—”

“Shower together,” Reggie finishes sagely, although his smirk undermines his tone.

Julie shakes her head, spinning on her heel.

“No. That's the devil talking, I'm not listening to you, I have places to be…”

Their laughter follows her, along with calls of “Let us tempt you!” She just huffs fondly.

But if she ends up being in just as much of a rush to get home as she was to go…that's nobody's business but her own.

[schoolbusgraveyard]

*eyebrow raise* where dud u find the logan and ben art? pls show full img or send link?? (If you drew it hand over ur anatomy skills. now)

Lilredbeany posted some ship art (noncanon) on Valentine's Day!! Here's all of them ^^

On a different social media site, I actually had the Taylor/Ashlyn one as my pfp, and on insta it's. Still the Ashlyn/Aiden one. It's all so cute.

There's no link sadly otherwise I would send it, sometimes lilredbeany only has lil previews or doodles as her Instagram story so they go away after 24 hours ;^^ It can be easy to miss.

Edit: WAIT I was wrong, for this set she did get them to stay up!!! Here's a link :D

[calumsash]

⭐ 1k moodboards celebration ⭐

I will search for you in every timeline, and I will love you through every single one.

time travel mashton au for @merry-the-cookie

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

pictured: banner 69, featuring dimitri and claude, and the third wheel placed by edelgard because she was sick of third wheeling their kissing

don’t tell me they aren’t kissing, bc they were kissing here too

[balladetto]

mister magic / accepting / @gloryseized ( Shion )

     It's not quite a confession. Shion says it plainly. Each motion of his hands comes clean as though swinging a sword, stating a fact more than he is baring his face. The light from their campfire paints those shapes in splotches of shadows along the ground: shaky, where Shion isn't. Where Shion won't let himself be.

<< I don't have any memories of my own. >>

     The words don't linger in the silence so much as they are hung there.

     Link's brow furrows. Burdened by the complete reverse, it's a loss he's entirely unfamiliar with. But he knows the weight of its scope as intimately as he does the weapons on his back, and the pang of something stinging in sympathy rolls down from his shoulders to the base of his spine. It allows him to imagine. More than anything, it allows him to be convinced.

     I've lost things too, he doesn't say. That's not something he'd wanna hear right now if he were Shion. It's another point where their stories are connected though, more hardship intertwined, and — between the two of them — Link's starting to think this is just part of what it is to be a hero.

     Losing things.

     He nods, a solemn acceptance of Shion's truth. Then he glances away for a moment, pinching at his fingertips and gnawing on a piece of his lower lip, before he looks back at his companion.

     "I...got tol'," he starts, drifting into quiet again to try signing the rest: "you were sleeping. Very long. Very deep."

[gingerbreadmonsters]

[head in hands] do you ever get the feeling you should have waited for another 'the balance' audio to drop before you posted ur fics about it so that people were in the mood for it

[pumpcursed]

@coivi said: ‘ kisses ‘

                   JACK DOESN'T WANT TO SAY THE FEELING IS NEW. It isn't, obviously not. He wouldn't say it is familiar either, he doesn't really have enough constant, stable relationships for this kind of intimacy. But it is a somewhat strange sensation, especially coming from someone like Cyrus. He doesn't want to impute anything on Cyrus, he doesn't really know him well enough for any kind of romantic analysis to be quite honest. & while the other male never really appeared to Jack as the gentle lover, he would be lying, if he said that he didn't enjoy the feeling of a pair of strong arms around his bulky body. Maybe he simply hadn't been able to actually meet this side of the warlock yet. To be on the receiving end of gentle intimacy for a change, the slight warmth of a lingering kiss to his bare shoulders, like embers, sizzling underneath his skin, is new & nice & if he was honest with himself, he would realize that he would love to simply stand on this porch with Cyrus & a blanket wrapped around their bodies for quite a while. His smile is soft, when he places hands on the wrists, which are still tightly would around his body, his head softly leaning backwards, while burning hues disappear behind slowly closing eyelids & eyebrows slightly raising. " Good morning to you too."

SEND ME   ‘ KISSES ‘   AND I'LL GENERATE A NUMBER FOR HOW / WHERE MY YOUR MUSE KISSES YOURS MINE.

[ohproserpine]

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

[madschiavelique]

Hi Ily

Miguel who says he doesn’t want kids after gabriella but secretly tries to breed reader 🤭 breeding press, ass up head down, missionary but he holds knees up to readers chest afterwards for a minute? Anytime reader confronts this he denies it LOL lowkey gaslighting them

GN reader tyyy

aww ily too nony !! hope u like it hehehe

summary : miguel said he didn't want kids after gabriella... but sectrely tries to breed you content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, breeding kink, scent kink (miguel can smell reader's ovulating), gn!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 627 tag list : @fandom-ash

A moan washed through your hot breath against Miguel's cheek as he thrust into you once more, making you feel as if he were buried even deeper within you.

Your calves rested on his shoulders while your knees were on either side of your head, grazing your ears.

"Miguel-" you swallowed as your voice caught in your throat, "I'm too full."

But that was all he was looking for.

Miguel had raised your hips, pressed your legs against you to drive his cock even deeper into you. He had to touch you to the core, make sure his cum would fill you completely and guarantee that you would bear his children.

You were already full, but he had to go on and finish one more time, as much for his own pleasure as to make sure you'd end up pregnant.

He could already picture you, your rounded belly that he caressed and kissed as you carried the fruit of his success inside you.

His chest was pressed against the soft skin of your thighs, his fingers gripping one of them firmly as he moved down to kiss your neck before only pulling his head back to admire the view.

He had before him the most sublime vision of all, your gaze all hazy and dumb fucked, breasts pressed and cunt just taking him perfectly.

His pupils turned red, his rhythm quickening while he let out low grunts as he came to kiss you.

He couldn't think of anything else, his only thoughts all focused on breeding you. He had to make sure you were full enough so that, if he pressed down on your belly, hi cum would drip out of you excessively.

Your mouth whimpering his name, your nails tracing long lines down his back and leaving crescent moon marks in his arm, your smell...

You were ovulating, and that's what made it so uncontrollable. That plump, warm, irresistible smell - how could he control himself when you smelled like that? You were ready for him, your body itself caressing his deepest instincts.

Your walls were so warm, enveloping him to perfection.

"Take it all in," he growled as he felt himself coming, accelerating harder inside you.

He bit into your neck, licking the trail he'd left. His scent mingling with yours was just so exceptional, he couldn't get rid of it, and didn't want to : it felt like pure heaven.

He grunted with a final thrust as he sank deep inside you, feeling his cum filling you all warm once more as you moaned at the sensation.

He came to press his forehead to yours, breathing open-mouthed before coming to kiss you, not moving from the position. He was still buried deep in you, making sure you stayed full and nothing came out.

"Are you... trying to get me pregnant?" you murmured against him, still breathless as Miguel nuzzled his head into your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

He bit his lip and wrinkled his nose. He knew well that you suspected his convictions about not wanting any more children were dubious.

"Don't you like being so full of me, mami?" he'd asked, hoping to deflect the conversation.

"I do, but-" he came to kiss you, cutting you off.

"But what?" his voice was calm, honeyed.

"You said-" but he interrupted you again.

"What I said didn't matter." he sighed as he kissed your cheek, grinning against it as he came back to face you. "But what matters more to me now is that you admitted to liking it."

He raised your hips a little higher even than before, bringing his fingers against your clit which drew a moan from you.

"Then you won't mind if I continue."

Good things can always be overindulged.

[coffeeshopguest]

Hi! Can I request Sebastian from stardew valley during your honeymoon smut? If not, that’s totally fine

-✨🖤✨

ofc you can, I wasn't quite sure where to take it or lead into it, but I honestly really like how it turned out :) hope it was what you wanted :)

Farmer's Honeymoon

Word Count: 1520 Pairing: Sebastian x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, smut, smoking, fingering, unprotected sex, swearing, vaginal sex (should be all, lmk if I missed any!) 

The wedding was beautiful, and you'd even convinced Sebastian not to smoke over the entirety of the service - the entire town had made it (which wasn't surprising, considering there was only about 30 people in the entire town). It was beautiful, perfect. Just what you had envisioned. Other than one, small, teeny problem.

It was summer. Sebastian thought that would be the perfect time to get married - and you'd tried to explain it wasn't. One - it would be too warm. But mostly for the second reason that you couldn't leave your farm. When you addressed this to Sebastian he shrugged it off. "We can always take a trip in the winter, I want to marry you in the summer. We can do a mini-honeymoon in town," and that was that. 

And so it was. Sebastian and you were eloped in the town center, and after the celebration, you two headed back off to the farm. Sebastian officially moving in with you. Upon reaching the farm, he slid down onto the porch, staring out at the field. "We - we don't have to stay," you voiced, moving to sit beside him. "We could leave - save up and run away somewhere new and exciting." 

Sebastian laughed, he fished out a cigarette from his jacket pocket, glancing at you, "mind?" he asked as he set it in his mouth.

"Go for it," you answered, he happily lit the cigarette, looking out at the sun dipping in the sky. He thought for a while about your words, perhaps tempted by the offer.

He took a long huff, blew it out, then spoke. "I wanna stay. I know all I used to talk about was leaving but...I don't know. It's home. Shitty, boring, dusty, small - but...home," he thought for a while. "Besides, your farm is here..." he added, he pondered what else to add. Taking along drag, flicking some of the ash down onto the dirt and stomping on it. "It looks pretty, I know I've seen it here or there but...it feels different at night. Calmer."

Your head fell against his shoulder, humming a little. You two sat while he finished his cigarette and then he stood, he gently offered you a hand. "C'mon," he said softly, "Wanna celebrate our marriage," he mumbled it, a small devious look overtaking his face. You raised an eyebrow but took his hand.

"What were you thinking?" 

He tugged your hand, opening the farmhouse door. "What do you think I'm thinking?" he answered, basically dragging you across the house towards the bedroom. Sure, you two had done it a few times before marriage. Okay, a lot. But Sebastian seemed set on this being special. Once he'd reached the bedroom, he lightly guided you to the bed, laying you down on your back. "You want me to?" he whispered, eyes wandering you. Despite still being fully clothed, his gaze made you feel naked. Your head bobbed, words not forming. Sebastian's face fell ever so slightly. "Use your words, c'mon baby," he encouraged, leaning to kiss your lips. "Don't nod, tell me." 

Over the course of your relationship with Sebastian you'd learned a few things. He needed words, confirmation, noise. He climbed onto the bed, slightly on top of you, eyes focused on you. Waiting.

"God...yes, please," you whispered out, his face formed a smirk, that was all he needed. After all this time he still needed a yes and it drove you up the wall with excitement. 

He slowly leaned down, connecting your lips, his hands immediately reaching for you, tugging off any piece of clothing in his way, gripping what skin he came in contact with. Soft moans escaped him, slight groans. He pressed his clothed self against you, causing a soft reaction from you - a small whine. "More, need more," you insisted. He pulled back, examining what clothes he'd left you in. Just panties, his eyes wandered your naked form before he quickly and easily tore those off. Literally tore. "Seb~"

"It's okay, I'll buy you more," he assured, not at all phased by the action. He captured you in another kiss, hands moving to find your breasts. Grazing your nipple with his thumb, you pathetically lifted your hips trying to gain some sort of friction. He pulled his body a little further, watching your needy state. "Mh, god...so pretty," he mumbled. His hands moved down your body, slowly, reaching your thighs he spread your legs for him, examining your wet pussy. "So pretty," he repeated, slowly running a finger between your folds. You shivered, watching him.

"Seb- more...need more," you insisted pathetically, he didn't react immediately, finger lightly tracing around you, before he quickly shoved it in. Your body reacted quickly, a long guttural moan escaped you as your back arched a little. 

"Fuck, I feel that," he grunted a little, "fuck he you're tight," he slowly pulled his out, glancing up at your face. Another thing he always did - watched. Watched for your reactions to know just what felt good and just what he needed to do. He slipped the finger back in, watching to see how you took it. You bit your lip to fight back the moan that erupted and in reply, he instantly shoved a second one in. "Oh come on, give me it, moan for me," he encouraged, his other hand rubbing softly against your clit - urging you to an orgasm. 

 "Oh, fuck - Seb," you whimpered out, his eyes locked on you, glancing down at your pussy, making sure he was pumping in and out well enough, watching your wetness soak his fingers. "Gon- gonna cum..." in reply, he pumped faster, rubbed harder. You gripped the sheets of the bed, moaning out Sebastian's name. And finally, you let go. Tightening around his fingers, he coaxed out the remainder of your orgasm before pulling his fingers out. 

He wasted no time ripping off his suit, undoing the dress shirt, and tossing it to the floor. (He never cared for suits). The dress pants came next, falling to the floor you could finally see the extent of his bulge. He quickly removed his boxers, throwing them aside. He climbed fully on top of you, a hand gripping yours and lacing the fingers together. "Ready, baby?" he purred softly, never wanting to do anything you wouldn't want. 

"Yes...yes," you answered, squeezing his hand. You whined when he moved his hand away, shivering as it traced its way down your body, to your hips. He lifted you slightly, positioning himself. "Condom?" you mumbled, looking at him. Eyes glazed, still coming down from your last high.

"Mind if I skip it tonight?" he asked, you shook your head.

"Fill me..." 

He smirked, always loving when you gave an order. He would do his best to fulfill every desire you had, he slowly and gently pushed his tip against you. Eyes glued to your face. He gave you the tip first, you groaned out and Sebastian had to remind himself to take things slow. The urge to slam in and thrust as hard as he could was tempting, but he wanted to draw out the session and make you feel as good as he possibly could. So, as you adjusted, he took his time shoving in. Watching. Waiting. Once he was sure you were adjusted, he slowly pulled back out, slowly shoved back in. Your hands wandered, looking for his shoulders, his back. You gripped him with your nails, digging into his skin. 

He groaned as your nails dug in, knowing you'd leave marks. "Mh, god...ready for more?" he whispered, you whimpered and nodded pathetically - and this time Sebastian didn't ask for words. His pace sped up, hands holding you firmly in place as his hips trusted. The room filled with sounds of your moans, his soft grunts, and skin against skin. He managed to last until your nails dug deeper into his back, clawing down it. "Can't-fuck can't hold it...cum for me baby..." 

You didn't need the words, with one hard thrust from Sebastian you bit his shoulder to stop yourself from screaming and waking up the whole town. Walls clenching tightly around his cock. He grunted, slowing his pace, letting you cum all over him before he shot his load into you, a soft moan - almost a whimper - escaped him. He waited for a moment, head thrown back and eyes shut tight. "God...keep squeezing like that and I'm not gonna...gonna stop cumming.." he grunted out, when you both came down from the high he pulled himself out.

His eyes flickered to your pussy, dripping with a mix of your two's cum. "Fuck, you're so gorgeous," he mumbled, kissing your lips gently. "I'll clean you up, baby," he added, standing and heading for the bathroom. 

Sure, it wasn't a trip away - but every day and night Sebastian made the honeymoon feel absolutely perfect.

tag list:

comment if you want to be tagged in future Sebastian fics!

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

actor!bakugo and actress! yn part 2 part 1 here

you guysss i had this one in my drafts for so long and i didnt know how to write it to make it 'proper' enough so i hadda rewrite it like four, five times😔hope you enjoy tho <3!

also if you wanna know, the song i was making reference to was 'envolver' by annita. (i promise yall my music taste aint bad)

You’re both invited to a celebration party with your cast members—a small gathering at Kaminari's place to enjoy the success of the movie.

You hang out with Mina and the girls, while Katsuki begrudgingly stays with Kirishima and the guys.

No need to worry, though. He keeps you in view, carmine eyes tracing over your curves in the body-hugging blue dress he picked out, claiming that the color suited you. Crystal drop earrings shine under the dim lighting, and the black choker he gave you as a present is wrapped snugly around your neck.

Katsuki smiles as he fishes out his phone from his back pocket and shoots you a text.

kats 💕 come over here. miss ya

You down the last of your shandy, giggling at a joke Jirou made, until Mina suddenly gasps.

"What?" you ask, setting down your empty glass as you gesture to the bartender for a refill.

"Your lipstick is smudged, sis. Who's coming to the bathroom with me? Makeup touch-ups are needed right now." She stands up and pulls your hand, with Jirou and Ochako following suit. The other girls stay seated, promising to keep an eye on the drinks.

Katsuki watches the group of girls leave the room, a loud, chatting mess as they drunkenly stumble away.

Todoroki snaps his fingers in front of Katsuki's face. "Why are you looking at the girls?" he asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

His mouth opens and closes, contemplating what to say.

"Jus' caught my eye, 's all," he mutters, sinking into the couch. Kirishima snorts, and Sero elbows him in the ribs to shut him up.

"What?" Bakugo asks, emptying the contents of his cup.

"Nothing, dude! Totally nothing," Kaminari replies, waving his hands sarcastically.

"Do you like Ochako?" Todoroki asks, eyeing the ash-blond. Katsuki makes a funny face, crinkling his eyes. "Hah? The hell did you say?"

Todoroki smiles a bit and shrugs. "It seemed like you were staring at her."

The table falls silent as the star actor contemplates his response. The guys all sit up straight, eagerly awaiting his reply.

"I don't like her," he finally says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Suspicious looks appear on each of their faces.

"Okay, so you wouldn't mind if I got with her?" Sero teases, standing up.

Bakugo grins. "Go 'head."

His phone lights up on the glass table, and all eyes immediately snap to the bright notification.

Mrs. Bakugo one min katsu. the girls and i are kinda busy. but like, nobodys supposed to see us thoo ykyk wanna meet somewhere private? ;)

Sero immediately snatches the phone from the table, his eyes wide. His fingers swipe to open the message, but a blocker comes up. "Face ID? Really, man?" he groans.

Katsuki shoots up, pushing Sero's face away as he snatches the phone back, holding it out of the raven-haired actor's reach.

"Ouu, Mistress Bakugo?" Kaminari laughs loudly, slapping his knee. Katsuki clicks his teeth and walks away from the boys, phone in hand.

Upon seeing his retreating form, they start laughing and calling out to him.

"Yo Bakubro, are you gonna wife her up?"

"Bakugo, my guy! Tell her I said hi!"

"Is he gonna collect his daily kisses?"

"There's a spare room two lefts after the guest bathroom!"

It’s no surprise when Bakugo rings you. The familiar sound of your ringtone causes Mina to pause mid-mascara application.

"Katsuki? Why is he calling you?" Jirou asks, holding up your phone. Shit. You shrug and take it from her, entering a bathroom stall for a bit of privacy.

"What is it?" you whisper into the speaker, hearing his harsh breathing.

"They saw yer message. Wanna know who ya are," he responds curtly. You still, quietly sorting out the thoughts in your mind.

"Okay... that's fine. But you know what this means, right?" you ask, your fingers drumming against your silver purse.

Katsuki is quiet on the other end of the line. He grunts, knowing what you meant: he won't be able to even look at you for the rest of the night. He mumbles a small "okay" and hangs up.

As your group of friends makes their way back to the buzzing party, your eyes can’t help but search for Katsuki.

And you find him, handsome as ever, shot in hand as he manspreads on the couch, eyes closed as he has a small conversation with some random blonde.

Your eyes zero in on her: chunky gold earrings, black dress, gold heels—real flashy. She’s a typical blonde, you think, trying to brush it off.

But she’s all over him, manicured fingers grazing his bicep as she cackles at some random, unfunny words coming out of his mouth.

"I thought this was a private event?" you ask Ochako, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. She shrugs, immediately following your gaze and spotting the girl. "I think she's one of those background characters, or something."

You can practically read the words coming out of her mouth. "oH kAtSuKi YoUrE sO fUnNy."

Who was she to even call him by his first name?

How dare she.

You take a deep breath, letting the tension ease away as you turn your focus back to the party. If that blonde thinks she can monopolize Katsuki’s attention, then she clearly doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. But rather than stewing in frustration, you decide to make the most of the night.

The bartender places a fresh drink in front of you, but you push it aside. “Something stronger,” you say with a smile, and he quickly swaps it out for a shot of the strongest liquor they’ve got.

The girls, noticing your shift in mood, exchange curious glances. Mina raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile already forming on her lips. “My dear yn, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Without answering, you down the shot in one swift motion, the liquid burning its way down your throat. You place the empty glass onto the bar and feel the warmth spread through your body. You look towards the DJ and stand up, walking toward him.

"Hey, buddy," you call, pretty sure that he can't hear you over all the music playing. You beckon him closer with a curl of your fingers and ask him to play one of your favorite songs.

Si tú me desea' y yo a ti también

Your girls join you on the dance floor as you start dancing. You can feel the eyes on you—some admiring, some envious—but there’s only one pair you care about. You glance back toward Katsuki, who’s still seated on the couch, his gaze fixed on you. The blonde from earlier is long forgotten as his eyes trail over your form, taking in the way you move to the beat.

Aprovéchame

Your hips sway in rhythmic movements as your girls whoop and holler behind you. The shot makes everything feel fuzzy, but you continue anyway. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink, but the alcohol gives you a boldness that has you dancing more provocatively, knowing exactly the effect it’s having on Katsuki.

Before you can fully bask in the moment, Mina suddenly appears beside you, a grin plastered on her face.

“Damn, girl! You’ve got some moves!” she shouts, moving behind you. And maybe you both thought it was cute, but damn, the sight of you and her dancing like that has Katsuki and Kirishima in shambles.

`Sé que lo hacemo' y tú vas a volver`

“You’re on fire tonight!” Ochako shouts over the music and you giggle. “Just having a little fun,” you reply, though your eyes keep darting back to Katsuki.

And sure enough, you notice him shift in his seat, his eyes darkening with an intensity that makes your heart race. He’s watching you like a predator who’s found his prey and you wouldnt have it any other way.

The girls are having the time of their lives, lost in the music, but you’ve got something else in mind. You dance closer to Katsuki, the distance between you shrinking with every step.

You can see the moment he decides he’s had enough, the possessiveness flaring up as he sets down his drink and rises to his feet.

`Tú me quieres perrear y yo quiero partirte`

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly, he’s there, his hands on your waist as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body presses into yours, and for a moment, the world fades away. There’s only you, Katsuki, and the music’s bass that keeps your blurry mind in check.

“Ya really know how to make a guy restless,” he mutters in your ear, his voice low, and you smirk, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Maybe that was the plan.”

Your eyes look over to the blonde. She's still there, eyebrows pinched in confusion and anger, maybe?

But you’re not done playing.

Without breaking eye contact, you give his chest a gentle shove, urging him back toward the couch. Katsuki’s eyes widen for a split second, but then a knowing grin spreads across his face. He lets you push him down, his back hitting the cushions with a soft thud, and he sprawls out, his hands resting casually on the back of the couch as he watches you with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

You stand in front of him for a moment, your body swaying to the music as you let the tension build. The beat thrums through your veins, making everything around you feel distant, unimportant. All that matters is the way Katsuki is looking at you—like he’s seconds away from dragging you down onto him.

But you get there first.

With a slow, deliberate movement, you straddle his lap, your knees sinking into the couch on either side of his hips. The proximity sends a thrill through you as you settle onto his thighs, your body pressing into his. You can feel the heat radiating from him, the tension in his muscles as his hands find their way to your waist, gripping you firmly.

Katsuki’s eyes darken even more, his breath hitching as you lean in close, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “She gone yet?” you whisper, your voice dripping with mischief.

His grip tightens, and you feel the low growl rumbling in his chest. “You’re askin’ for it,” he murmurs, his voice rough and filled with promise.

You laugh softly, the sound lost in the thumping bass of the music. “Maybe I am. But first, answer the question.”

"'M not lookin for her, dollface. All my attention... 's on you." he whispers.

You place a kiss on his nose and then look up at her.

The blonde from earlier watches with wide eyes, her expression quickly morphing from confusion to disgust. She’s visibly fuming, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realizes she never stood a chance. You catch her glare, and it only fuels your satisfaction.

“Aw, you didn't know? He’s taken, love.” You feel the shattering of her heart because of your claim on him. You can hear the collective gasp from those around you, the gossip starting to spread like wildfire. But you don’t care.

You’ve made your point, and so has he.

The music pulses around you, but all you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, his breath on your neck, and the pounding of your heart that matches the beat of the song.

It’s only when you hear Jirou's loud “Yooo!” that you snap out of your trance, realizing just how much attention you’ve drawn. You can feel the blush creeping up your neck, but Katsuki just chuckles, pulling you closer. “Guess there’s no hiding it now, huh?” he mutters, nipping at your ear.

You shake your head, smiling despite the embarrassment. “Nope.”

The flash of a camera catches your eye, and you spot Sero standing nearby, phone in hand as he snaps a picture of the two of you. “This one’s going on the ‘gram!” he shouts, grinning like a fool.

Before you can protest, Katsuki smirks, leaning back against the couch as he pulls you against his chest. “Let ‘em see.”

The photo blows up within minutes, and the next day, it’s all anyone can talk about. Your social media is flooded with comments, memes, and edits of the moment you publicly claimed Katsuki Bakugo as your own.

And for once, he doesn’t mind.

Taglist (I love you guys so freakin much <3)

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