#i think that'd be tight as hell for him

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini I want to fuck a demon boy so bad I can't. I'm so sleep deprived and this is the only thing on my mind. The idea of this powerful demon who's not used to being challenged, just ending up ass up face down on the floor, bed WHEREVER. It's not important. Ending up like that is just peak. Also I like to think they'd have sensitive tails. So. Like. I totally.

Wanna make them fuck themselves with their own tail. I think that'd be great. I think it would be awesome.

I want them to get so flustered at the idea of doing it, but do it anyway just coz I told them to. I can almost imagine them finding their own prostate with their tail, and really they can't decide which sensation to focus on. Feeling themselves clench around their own tail, or the way the slightly pointed end slams into their prostate. And bonus points if they cum and you overstim them by grabbing their tail and fucking them so much harder than they could themselves. Hooray, now they've got

your hand around their already much too sensitive tail

said sensitive tail is being slammed into their ass

it's gotta feel so good, they'd probably be so tight around themselves

your hand is gonna slip a few times, which is gonna end up in stroking their tail, which has got to feel like heaven for them

not to forget that you're thrusting their tails directly onto their prostate without letting them breathe

I just. I don't know. I think they'd look so pretty, flushed and begging to stop, even though it's them that keeps weakly trying to thrust their tail back into themselves. Also, they'd look so pathetic, sobbing from the overstimulation. I'm a sucker for tears trailing down their faces, eyes red and a little puffy. It'd almost make you wanna be nice to them. Almost.

But yknow, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And sometimes what a girl's gotta do is fuck a demon stupid with their own tail. (I don't have the same way with words as some people, but like do you see the vision)

~a sleep deprived,🧁anon

You are so smart holy shit. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Fucking a demon with their own tail? Why didn’t I think of something as great as this??! Lemme write down my thoughts for a sec- (btw I thought you are like, very religious?)

Dom!reader x sub!character

You had a long day behind you, and there was nothing sweeter than the thought of finally getting some sleep. All you wanted was to have a good rest, but to your demise you woke up in the middle of the night with something heavy on top of you. “Ops, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Oh well this will do too.” What the hell? It was a fucking person?? First thing you did was push him off of you and turning on the lights, then you thought this was some kind of weird joke. He had two horns growing out of his forehead, as well as a super long tail with a heart shaped tip. Not to mention the pink, glowing tattoo on his pelvis. When he opened his mouth again, you thought you didn’t hear right. “I’m an incubus, pleasant to meet you~ now let me feast on you, pretty please?”

An incubus, so, in other words a demon. What in the- never mind. He said he wanted to feast on you? Heck no, he woke you up in the middle of the night and is expecting you to have the energy to fuck him? As soon as he got up to try make a move on you, you flipped him over and tangled your hand in his hair, then pressed his face into your pillow. “If you are that desperate do it yourself.” Of course that little slut was into that.

He reached for his dick, but you slapped his hand away and instead grabbed his tail. “MhMngh- aaAAHhnn~!” A surprised yet blissful moan escaped him, face all red as lust fills their already sinful body. Anticipation swelling inside them at the thought of what you might do with them. That’s when they felt their own tail poking against their butt… wait wha? In the mean time you stroked it gently while whispering, “I want to watch you fuck yourself, who knows, I might reward you afterwards.” Suddenly all their previous confidence vanished as embarrassment took over. With their own tail..?? How did you even get that idea! Not even something as perverted as them had such outrageous ideas..!

In the end they could only obey without protesting, trusting their already super sensitive tail into their tight, wet hole. Each time they accidentally hit their prostate, they’d yelp and whimpers. Pretty tears are already rolling down their even prettier faces. Eyes half lidded as they whine, “mhm! Ah-ahhHh.. nghHnn~!!” All while their poor, useless dick is twitching around on its own, making a mess everywhere <3

Gojo, Sukuna, Dazai, Fyodor, Nikolai, jouno, Scaramouch, Kaeya, lyney, Ayato, Aventurine, Sampo, Jing Yuan (?), Douma - your favourites

[meownotgood]

the neon pink rabbit dildo was aki's idea.

technically, you were the first one to mention using toys in the bedroom. you've been dating for quite a while now, and although everything with aki is always fantastic, you've been wondering if maybe the two of you should try to make things more... interesting. aki is polite. tightly-laced. pretty vanilla, to put it bluntly. you honestly weren't sure what sort of things he'd be into, if anything at all.

your coworkers had plenty of office gossip about the new fancy adult store they're opening down the block — it has two floors, they're having specials on all their products for couples. you figured it was worth mentioning to aki, just for the hell of it. you tell him as you're both relaxing in the living room after work, like you normally do.

everyone at your job has been complaining about the new surge of traffic to the nearest parking garage. it must be because of the new giant sex shop. ha ha, very funny. aki gives you an all-too serious once-over, before he gently asks, "did you want to check it out?"

you fumbled through your next words, and swiftly explained to your boyfriend that yes, sure, you wouldn't mind checking it out with him. it'd be exciting, really. honestly, you're all for experimenting, but you're unsure, you aren't very knowledgeable. the problem with the whole thing is that you don't know exactly what you'd like to try. it's a bit stressful to imagine getting lost in a huge adult store, with no idea what to purchase.

"I could try to pick something out. maybe that'd be less stressful." aki suggests, his slightly flushed face betraying his level tone. he crosses his legs and leans back into the couch. "only if you're interested, though."

you confirmed you were very, very interested.

part of you assumed aki might back out. he's been busy with work lately, so you had plenty of time to mull it over before your next date — but you honestly had no idea what sort of toy he might pick out. you know he'd put thought into it. he would choose something for a specific reason, or purposefully pick a toy he assumed you would like. perhaps he'd imagine how he might use it on you. would it be something small? large? super adventurous or overly simple?

still, despite all your thinking, when the day actually comes, aki manages to surprise you.

he comes over to your place shortly after you text him an invite. sure. I just got done with work. I'll be over soon, aki replies. he sends another string of texts shortly afterwards, while you're busy tripping over your pant leg, trying to quickly change into your lingerie. I missed you. I'm bringing a surprise.

maybe it was that text, or maybe it was because you haven't seen him in close to a week and you're practically dying to feel his touch, but once he arrives, the two of you barely last a few innocent minutes together before you're stumbling into your bedroom.

aki allows you to pull him forward and on top of you by his tie when you flop back onto your bed. your hands run through his soft hair to tug it free of its hairtie. you kiss his lips and brush your tongue against his with fervor, and you don't protest when he shifts to trail tingling, affectionate kisses down your neck.

you curl into his touches — his mouth on your collar, his palm gliding over your lower back — and you make quick work of a good third of his work uniform: his tie, his jacket, the first few buttons on his dress shirt. aki is much more efficient. he discards your clothes with careful movements, between soft kisses. he sighs when he pulls back, nervously running a hand through his hair, his eyes heavy at the sight of your pretty body held tight by the thin, perfectly fitting lingerie.

"you look beautiful," he hums, completely earnest. you shudder, your arms held around his neck and shoulders. your thighs spread wider for him as his warm palm brushes in between them.

you'd almost forgotten about the surprise, until aki reminds you of it.

he pulls himself off of you for a moment to reach into his bag. the dildo is moderately sized, a handful of inches in length at most, but it doesn't seem cheap. it's made from bright pink silicone, long and thick with two different sections. the smaller portion is adorned with two small knobs, shaped like rabbit ears.

it's meant for double stimulation, aki explains awkwardly, between a handful of uhms and stutters. you could certainly gather as much from the shape.

he places a hand on your waist ever-so gently, and when he asks, are you okay with this? you're swift to answer with a nod of your head. you're more than okay with it. what you couldn't figure out is how it might feel — until aki finally opts to show you.

he has you sprawled out beneath him, completely pliant. your arms are above your head, hands clenching tight as he glides his palm from your waist to your thigh with reassurance. he squeezes, and he fiddles with the toy for a moment, gauging the various controls. as he leans in closer, he presses a kiss to your cheek, he breathes a low instruction to relax. then, he flips the toy to press just the small, vibrating, rabbit-eared attachment to your still-clothed clit.

you can feel the faint vibrations, even through your lingerie. the toy must be on the lowest setting; it's more of a tease than anything else. still, your eyes flutter. you let go of a satisfied sound, and eagerly grind your hips up to meet the toy.

aki sighs. "you want more?" he murmurs, already sitting up and hooking his thumb around the string of your underwear. "can I take this off?"

you nod hastily, and lift your hips to allow him to pull the garment down your legs and all the way off.

aki's jaw clenches. sweat is forming at his brow and his palms, as you coo his name and spread your legs wider for him. you're so wet — he can tell without touching, but he's entirely sure once he guides the thick head of the toy over your cunt, and sees your arousal glistening on the silicone. he gives you another soft squeeze, another gentle touch on your side, a final, are you sure?

when you whimper and plead, please, aki, I want to feel it, he hardly hesitates to give you exactly what you've been hoping for.

the dildo is just the perfect size. it slides into you effortlessly, filling you perfectly and snugly. the length of it is curved slightly, and you can feel that curve as he slowly eases it in — nudging your walls, the thick tip deliciously meeting your sweet spot.

"there, that's it," aki praises. once the toy is all the way inside you, he lets go of a sigh that sounds thoroughly satisfied. "god. you take it so well."

your spine tingles at the sound of his smooth voice. he adjusts the toy slightly, and as the flexible rabbit-eared piece presses against your clit, vibrations a little stronger than before, your whole body tremors.

aki fucks you on the toy with slow, shallow thrusts, enough to keep the vibrations on your clit. and it's intense, it's so much; the toy fucks you so well and hits your sweet spot with its perfect curve on every thrust in. the vibrations are low and constant, thrumming against your sensitive, puffy clit.

wet noises fill the room as you dirty the toy's pretty pink shaft. aki keeps his pace slow, deliberate, never pressing it in too hard or too fast. all you can do is quiver and whine, your voice already becoming strained and loud.

he clicks a button on the dildo, and it begins to vibrate with strong pulses.

you're so beautiful; pleading his name, keeping your heavy, warm gaze locked on his despite the way your eyelids flutter. aki swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen as he watches the way you take all he has to give you. you have no idea what this is doing to him, how his heart is pounding and his mind is racing and oh, you were made to take this toy. you're all his, he has complete control over every facet of your pleasure. and god, does he want to make you cum for him.

aki increases the strength of the vibrations. "you're irresistible," he murmurs, and you don't fail to catch the small break at the end of his voice. he's falling apart too, just from this. "say my name again, please. want to make you cum for me, beautiful."

he trails soft kisses down your jaw while the dildo pleasures your cunt and your clit — and when you cum, you cum quickly and hard.

you tremor, you hold onto him tight, you soak the toy as your legs shake and your voice gives out. aki slows while you struggle to regain your breath, a hand slowly caressing your side, guiding you to breathe again. his heart feels like it might hammer out of his own chest.

"f-fuck..." aki swears, his breath shaky, his brows pinched. "you've never- that was-" he sighs. you're so lovely, so pretty. he's definitely going to lose his mind if he hasn't lost it already. why didn't he think of something like this sooner? "god... can you take one more for me?"

for @violet-turning-violet

[springsylph]

Touch and Agree | Charles x Reader

charles smith x f! reader | no warnings | 2.1k | ao3 |

was trying to get back into writing but i was struck with an indescribable sadness once i thought about how useless charles must’ve felt after burning his hand in blackwater. so. i raise you unknowingly touchstarved reader versus Charles™

The horses have slowed to a trot by the time you press your cheek to the frosted window.

You hear Arthur shout some muffled declaration of success as he and Charles’ shadows curl around the front of the stable. The gang is likely aware of their return, senses now heightened by hunger and the frigid winds of Colter. But you feel the need to relay the message to the few still silently huddled in the corners:

“If you’ve been praying, today’s your lucky day.”

Tilly, arms crossed tight over her torso, is the first to pipe up from her spot near the fireplace. “Micah finally saw his sorry behind off the nearest cliffside?”

“Miss Tilly!” Grimshaw hisses, scandalized. The only thing stronger than Grimshaw's personal gripes are the exigencies of the gang. “No more of that. You know we need all the hands we can get.”

Karen, squished next to Mary-beth and a now slumbering Sadie on a wooden bench, scoffs. “Didn’t think we counted meat hooks as hands.”

That gets a snort out of John, who realizes too late that his body isn’t quite healed enough to handle said snort. A flick to the forehead from Abigail quiets him down in his cot before she turns to find you still gazing out the window.

“I’m assimin’ Arthur and Charles are back?”

You nod. “With one…two deer, by the looks of it.”

Your inhale is sharp when Charles pulls his catch over his shoulder with a jerk, beckoning Arthur to follow after him to mask his discomfort. The tension leaves your spine only after the last dregs of his shadow disappear into the stable.

Half-turned to Abigail, you mumble, “Does Charles look a little...off to you, these days?"

"Off," she repeats. The darkness under her eyes colors her words. "Off how?"

"You know," and you make as though to say something of substance before your eyebrows pinch together, "off.”

Abigail looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “If you’re waitin’ on Charles to scream bloody murder, it’s gonna take a hell of a lot more than a burn to do him in.”

Another brick is slotted into a broken wall. 

“I’m just worried.”

“About?”

“Charles. I think his hand is botherin’ him again.”

Abigail’s sigh dusts the cold air with its warmth. “I…suspect most things might look a little off since we've been cooped up like this. But we’ve got O’Driscolls and Pinkertons on the prod." She looks at Jack, now sitting cross legged at her feet and fiddling with the corner of John's blanket. Abigail had given up on herding him toward the fireplace some time ago. She strokes a featherlight hand over his head. "No sense in stressing yourself out over somethin’ Charles would’ve told us ages ago. It's good that he’s up and movin' though, ain't it?"

Your momentum stalls.

It should be. It should be.

Blackwater has left none unchanged. If you weren’t dead, you were shot, and if you weren’t shot, you were waiting for it. Hands bound. Body trammeled by fear and constant surveillance. From anyone else, this haste would be a blessing. A miracle, even, in light of all that'd been lost.

From Charles, it reads more like a warning.

But you don't think your feet have been planted here long enough to question their habits.

You say nothing and return your still numb cheek to the window. Will it always be like this, you wonder? The second guessing. The wary eyes. There’s a certain degree of trust that you aren’t privy to yet. Somehow, it feels worse knowing that everyone is making an effort to be so kind to you despite it. You know plenty who wouldn’t do the same.

Better dead than dead weight. 

The creed still lingers. Subsisting on what little you've gleaned in the short time you've been running with Dutch's group. Perhaps that's the root of this peculiar sense of worry. Of pity. You and Charles don’t speak often—there's a general lack of overlap in duties, for one, and he mostly keeps to himself. But you've always been one for actions over words. Charles was frighteningly capable, and more than willing to prove it time and time again.

To him, the burn he’d suffered may as well have been a bullet to the leg.

Your only issue is that no one else seems to see it.

You’re tracing shapes into the windowpane when movement just outside startles you. Charles, bow in hand, stalks toward one of the smaller cabins before veering off toward the small stream that lies just behind the stables.

You're springing up and stumbling out the front door before your brain has time to temper your heart. Someone shouts after you—likely Grimshaw, from the way it rakes over your ears. But you ignore it in favor of grabbing handfuls of your skirts and pushing through the powdery snow.

When you round the corner of the stables, breath short and chest tight, you find that Charles hasn’t gone very far at all. He's leaning against a crooked tree, face all taut lines as his fingers fumble with the grip on his bow. A frown plays at your lips when you notice the path of his footprints, stretching a few paces farther before it loops back to where he stands.

“Charles?”

You think you hear him exhale through his nose before he meets your gaze with the same smile he usually does. Bright. Unwavering. A little squinty, since the sun is in his eyes. “You good?”

Right. The usual pleasantries. You've conversed with him in your head for much longer than you have in person.

“I’m uh, fine." You blink stupidly. "Are you?"

“Mhm. Right as rain.”

Your eyes can't help but slide to the bow he clutches just out of sight. He doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest.

“…I’m just holding it, for now. Till my hand heals up, at the very least.” Charles holds up the offending appendage. “Not like I have anything better to do."

It's hard to tell if he's intentionally skirting around the point, or if he really does think there aren't any better uses for his time. The frown you'd been fighting off finally gets the better of you once Charles returns to adjusting his injured hand on the bow's grip.

"I don't think you should be doing that," you insist. Because he really shouldn't be. At all.

"Afraid I can't do that," he replies. "I'm one of the few here who can hunt worth a damn in this weather. I get sloppy, we starve.”

“Is that what you think?”

“No.”

“Then—”

“It’s what I know.” He says it with enough certainty to make you almost believe him. “Go back inside and warm yourself up. 'Preciate you checking on me, but if you freeze to death, they’re gonna laugh knowing you came out here without any gloves on.”

You clench your fists. Feel the ice that's settled there begin to splinter under the pressure and breach the thick skin of your palms. Fine, then. You’ll speak to him in a language he can understand.

Though your march over is less than graceful, he parts with the bow with surprising ease. Charles’ warmth, much like the rest of him, is tailored to perfection. Your fingertips graze remnants of the finery on the parts of the parts of the bow that his hands have warmed.

His eyes flick over you. Placid. Confused, too, on account of the ever-tightening grip you have on what you hope isn't a prized possession. His vexation becomes clearer once you step away, full hands now hidden behind your back. You have to take an extra step back for your own peace of mind.

“Charles Smith,” you begin, “I’d like to strike up a deal.”

“A deal.”

“I won’t repeat myself. We’re losin' daylight here.”

Chin tipped upward, you don your favorite facade.

Confidence.

"You focus on takin’ care of that hand, and I won't tell Arthur and Hosea you've been messin' with your bow."

His face belies a slew of unvoiced expletives. But you know Charles to be the—somewhat—gentle sort, so there’s no need to brace yourself. Even if he isn’t entirely convinced, you can at least hope that he’s found a little amusement in all this.

“You said ‘strike a deal,’” he says slowly. “This smells like a threat.”

“Deal, threat, whatever strikes your fancy.” It didn’t matter so long as he stopped stretching himself so thin.

He seems to mull over your words for a bit, no longer leaning up against the tree. There is, however, a small chance that he’s trying to find the right assortment of words to get you off of his back.

“We’ve got two deer.” You continue. “If Pearson is as frugal as I remember, that’ll keep us all for about a week. Should be more than enough time to get your hand back in order, right?”

“Hm.”

There’s a moment where Charles’ uninjured hand begins to stretch towards you. You just barely remember to lean out of the way before he drops his arm with a defeated sigh.

“So no bows—”

“No knives or guns, either. Unless absolutely necessary.”

“—Then how’m I supposed to keep up my strength? Can’t just sit idle, you know. We’ve got people here who need taking care of.” He takes three steps forward, and you take three steps back. “We’ve all got weight to pull out here. I’m of no use to anybody if I’m sitting out over a little burn like this.”

There goes that nasty word again.

Use.

You can joke all you want, but that’s what this boils down to.

“Well, you…just need something to pull on, right? Keep your hands busy?”

You hold out your hand.

The corner of Charles’ lips twitch downward. "I’m keeping my knives on me—"

"Take it."

"…What?"

You laugh. Loud and exaggerated enough to shake the snow off the trees. "Some gentleman you are, lettin’ a lady’s hands grow cold.” You flex your fingers. “My hand. Take it."

You use the awkward silence that follows to explain yourself.

"I figure it's got a little more give than a bow. And it’s got enough resistance to scratch that itch. You ever feel like shooting, ask for me. Hopefully it’ll have you feeling stupid long enough for your hand to heal up."

He brings a hand up to block the sun from his eyes, and you find yourself strangely missing the gold it cast on him. "That's not something I should be asking of you."

"Works out great, don't it? You're not asking, I'm offering, so there's no problem." Or, at least there wouldn't be if things go the way you know they will. It's no well-kept secret that Charles isn't too keen on extra company during his downtime. No one faults him for it, either.

Any chance of him taking you up on your suggestion is slim.

The wind is thunderous where Charles is quiet, snaking through the empty trees.

"Whether you take it or not, I'm walking off with this bow. But I'm not about to let you run yourself into the ground."

You flex your fingers again, and they tremble.

Charles shakes his head, and you're sure you've won—

"Alright. I'll do it."

Well, that's not good.

Violently off track and suddenly very unsure of how to proceed, you drop your hand. Charles, evidently resolute in his decision, says nothing more as he approaches.

You stumble back a bit as his body nears, wishing that the head you house on your shoulders was screwed on a little tighter. You think it's begun to spin when he takes your hand into his own; gently, as if scooping up a wounded bird from the forest floor.

He opens his mouth, then promptly closes it, brows furrowing as he inspects your palm.

Something is loud.

It's your heart, you realize. Stuttering with each squeeze of his bandaged fingers. Consequences are not beneath you, it seems.

You allow him a few more experimental squeezes than you would've liked, but you can't quite shake the strange tremor that races up your throat the longer he holds you.

Nothing is said until he pulls his hand away.

“And I can do this, whenever?”

Your tongue is miles away. “I, uh. No.” Wait. Voice crack. “I mean—yeah. Yes. Whenever.”

Charles makes no note of your vocal blunder, instead taking one last look at the bow you hold before beginning to make his way back to camp.

He taps the hand at your side as he passes. Leans to talk right into your ear. “Keep these wrapped up for me, will you?”

He’s gone before you have a chance to tell him that you would’ve done it without his say-so.

(Damn it, you think. Palm tingling. I’m in some deep shit.)

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Oooh, for the thing - holding them close by the hips, with either Swiss/Aeon or Cirrus/Aurora plsssss

Double whammy >:3c

“Act natural.” Aeon whispers, whirling her into his arms. The welcoming gala for the next Papa was in full ceremonial swing, which meant no one had a chance to get naked yet. She couldn't wait to slip out of the short and poofy little number she’d picked out. Aeon's blush told her it would happen sooner rather than later. “Watchers at two and five o clock.”

“Who?” She breathes, next to his skin and smiles at the goosebumps that prickle up. He's so easy.

“Swiss. And Cirrus. Lookin’ like a couple of predators.” He leads her in some half-assed waltz, keeps stepping on her toes. What clumsy, easy prey they must seem to the older ghouls.

“Okay.” She says nonchalantly. “Are we leading them on a chase? Causin’ trouble?” They turn and she spots them. Closer together now, eyes narrow. Calculating. She smiles and blows a little air kiss. It isn't returned. Her heart skips a beat.

“Are we in trouble?” She asks with a little giggle as the crowd closes around them, and the hunters vanish. “I didn't do anything. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Aeon says nervously. His ears twitch, his obvious tell. Aurora pokes her tongue out between her lips at him and he scrunches his face as she tries to lick him.

“Tell me!” She sings breathlessly.

“Rory!” He pleads.

“Kiss me.” She demands, and he does without protest. Her little Bug was always so good at following orders, from the time they met each other fighting for food scraps in the pit. Now here, the source of Lucifer’s power on earth and he still runs to her for help getting out of hot water.

“Smoked Swiss' weed and stole one of Cir’s bras.” He mutters when they part. “I heard her coming and panicked so I hid in your room. That's why she's mad at you.”

“Aeon!” She gasps, scandalized. Still grinning wickedly when he finally looks at her again. “Nasty little thief.”

Coincidentally, her first words to him when he tried to steal a particularly meaty behemoth thigh away from her. They’d tussled until she realized he was hard and then she rode him in the blood of the dead beast. No truer friendship had there been since.

“Do you think you’ll learn your lesson this time?” She coos, turning again. She can't see the hunters anywhere. Could be a good thing. Could be a bad thing.

“Yes.” He says instantly.

“Too fast, liar.” She teases. “Ooh, do you think she'll spank us?”

She doesn't care that she's being framed. Hell knew she deserved some kind of comeuppance for her own mischief, although she was far better at concealing her tracks than Aeon.

“We’ll start with a spanking.” Comes a cold voice. "Then proceed as we see fit from there." Firm hands slide around her waist, gripping tight and wrinkling the materials of her gown. Aeon goes pale as Swiss copies Cirrus, pinching and tickling the lithe quintessence ghoul before gripping his hips just as firmly.

“Maybe we'll let you hold hands through your punishment.” Swiss adds thoughtfully. They're tugged away from each other in one stunning quick motion, ending up in their predator's arms in a showy display of strength. “I think that'd be so cute.”

“Busted!” Aurora sings cheerfully, already thrumming to her core at the way Cirrus is touching her. She doesn't need to look to know Aeon's stiffy is poking up through his dress pants; a little fear always did it for him.

“How are you so happy about all this?” Aeon hisses as they're easily hefted up over strong shoulders. Swiss even gives Aeon a pre-emptive, light-hearted smack. Cirrus is tickling the back of her thighs.

“Because silly,” she snickers as they're taken away to their fate. “You aren't the only one who steals weed. And who do you think told Swiss in exchange for less spanks?”

“Rory!” Aeon wails.

“That's what you get for trying to frame me!” She sings. “I’ll take us both down babe.”

“I think I'll have her warm my strap.” Cirrus says to no one in particular. “Since she wants to be so mouthy.”

“We're doing whatever we want tonight, Mama.” Swiss purrs. “Eventually these troublemakers will learn their lesson.”

“Probably not.” Is Aurora's cheeky reply.

[eris-snow]

𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

Tags: bakugou x gn!reader, fluff

Imagine getting saved by bakugou. That'd be hot af.

"So you're Explosive Dynamight's little partner," The villain sneers as he watches you squirm in your binds. "You're tied up nice and tight, so don't bother trying to escape, precious."

Being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard in more ways than one. He controls your every emotion and action, just like how he's at the sweet mercy of your smiles and mood.

He runs your mind, every thought consumed by him in your free time because, why wouldn't it be? He's your perfect boyfriend that was one of the top heroes in Japan. He's your perfect boyfriend that still makes time for you even on late nights because he's just the best like he claims to be.

But being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard because sometimes, you'd end up in situations like, well, this.

"It's time to take Number 2 down a couple of pegs," The villain growled, tracing a hand on your cheek. You're quivering, but you keep your mouth ironed shut.

Bakugou will come.

He always does.

"Who knew he was hiding you this entire time. His greatest weakness...ha, he was a fool for revealing it to the public." You yank your head out of his grasp, biting your lip. Any second now...

"Oi!" A harsh slap lands on your face, making your eyes widen in shock as you whimper at the impact. "Answer me!"

Ignoring the sting in your cheek, you glare daggers at the villain who'd decided to apprehend you. "You think you're tough stuff?" You scoff. "You and your little gang over here are small fries compared to everything he's been through. You don't stand a chance."

Said gang shifted nervously at your confidence. Sure, they caught you, but it wasn't like they were the first ones to do this since Bakugou revealed his relationship with you.

The villain snarled, looming over you "You little-"

An explosion fires of nearby, cutting his sentence off. Normally, it's a sound that scares people off, but it has long become a sound of comfort for you.

You smirk at them, sticking your tongue out at the villain just before his eyes widen.

Dynamight had arrived.

"HANDS OFF MY GIRL, FUCKER!" The blond hollers, whipping his hands in front of his face to shoot concentrated detonations at all their faces. He lands in front of you, facing down the gang leader who was howling in pain at the explosion.

Small fry.

From behind, you were blessed with the beautiful image of the blond's muscles flexing, skin shining with sweat.

Your boyfriend had muscles sculpted like a Greek demigod, just the right amount to look strong but not buff, and you loved it.

"You have some nerve, I'll give you that," He jeers, lowering his stance. "Fortunately, that's the only thing you have."

Before the villain could say anything, Katsuki blasts up close and personal to his face, before promptly detonating so many miniature attacks on the villain with grace akin to a dancer. He finishes his work with one final blow, causing the villain to collapse, groaning as he sinks into unconsciousness.

"Baby," He says softly, fondly as he rushes over to you untying your bonds quickly as soon as the police arrive on the scene to arrest the low-grade villains. The rope that dug into your skin makes you wince when you're finally free, making Bakugou hold you close.

"Hell, are you okay? Let me see you-" He stills, eyes flashing when he noticed your swollen face.

Oh no.

"Katsuki, come back here-"

"No."

"I'm fine, seriously! You've already knocked him unconscious!" You protest, clinging to your boyfriend's arm.

"I didn't hit the fucker hard enough!"

You giggle, leaning up and planting a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"My hero," you coo, the fear seeping away for the crashing waves of love to wash your grateful heart.

"My world," He grins, planting a bold, firm kiss on your lips.

Being Bakugou's partner is a health hazard, but the benefits that come back are repaid tenfold as you're reminded of how no matter where you are, Bakugou would come save you.

Anywhere, anytime.

[overly-verbose]

If SIkuna will get the Heian era form later, can he change his appearance? I mean, it will be weird to see a guy with four arms hanging in public.

Assuming he were to do that,

(who knows, not me (I do lol) , if the hypothetical timeline where he and Yuji get separated is gonna be Canon to the Series *HeeHee HoHo's mysteriously*)

yup!

His alternate, 'human' form would be strongly based off of Yuji still, but with some differences.

(I've kinda drawn that as well, but I can definitely imagine it not exactly being clearly explained lol)

For one, he's significantly taller than Yuji (at least for now, the kid is most likely gonna grow to be not as much shorter lol) - although he can be shorter.

He usually isn't much 'shorter', because it's more comfortable - any much lower and it'd feel a bit like a too-tight shirt, but for your whole body lol

('down' to 6~ft/182~cm (wherein he usually stays at 6.4-5ft/193-195~cm) is the min. of proper comfiness)

He also wears earrings (I usually imagined some simple black ones, but he could just as well wear something Hello Kitty related lol (both for the Meme and just because) or just cute, or more colourful), and his left eyebrow has two slits - to kinda connect him visually to his Big Form heh

(I'm kinda contemplating adding some other things but yeah that's the bigger things heh)

And, although usually he only has these whilst in the Bigg form, he can have four arms, stomach mouth, and such whilst 'small' as well - but yeah, that's not exactly something that'd be useful/possible to use in public 😂

As shown in Chapter 2 of Visuals (although it is a different timeline, SIkuna is SIkuna lol), he can sometimes forget to close his secondary eyes, especially at the beginning of the Separation or when kinda mentally tired - it's just much more natural for them to be open

Some random person is more likely to assume they imagined it or he just had good cosplay than actual four eyes though, so hey at least there's that saving him

Not to mention interference from the kids he's likely hanging out with lol, Nobara is a quick-thinking Queen when her older familial figure is being a dum-dum and forgoring 💀 how to Human properly and we love her for it 👏

Since I imagine her dragging SIkuna out for clothes shopping relatively often, perhaps with other kids as well - and SIkuna doesn't mind it at all, he loves actively participating in the kids' hobbies 🥺 - she probably had to cover for his spookiness and such quite often lmao, even if he tries his best 😂

He is very respectful and polite to any workers they might encounter during their shopping though (well, assuming they aren't being unreasonably rude themselves but that's rare, especially in Japan I'd imagine), so fortunately even despite his Vibes being Very Off the two (or more) usually end up being a nice surprise to them actually lmao

- the fact that SIkuna likely takes everything that isn't chosen back perfectly into place whilst waiting for Nobara/other kids to put another outfit on probably makes their spookiness easier to deal with as well 😂😂😂

(He's not 'spared' from dressing up, but he can lighten the load on the workers' shoulders a little bit while he waits his turn, you know - he might be partially old as hell and from a time where that would have been unheard of to do for the sake of 'servants', but he also is partially someone from the 2020's lmao, he gets the pain)

(Imagine crossovers with Canon whilst he's in this form though lol, I feel like one Quite painful Misunderstanding that could happen is that This Other Sukuna apparently completely took over an older Yuji or something (since he clearly isn't there but Sukuna looks. like he looks.) OOF-)

.

[bruciemilf]

I AM READY FOR THE CONVERSATION

TELL ME ABOUT STEP-SIBLINGS KON AND JASON

When I think about Kon and Jason step-siblings drama I think about their two core elements: They're a walking legacy and a walking contradiction of that legacy.

There's an undeniable magnetism between the Superfamily and Batfamily. For some it's Clark and Bruce, for others it's Dami and Jon, but -- these two.

Man.

These two would understand eachother. That's why they're so nsufferable to the other. Firstly, Clark and Kon aren't bound by the same ethical reservations. He understands, on a ground level, why Jason does what he does.

He doesn't dislike Jason because he's a violent vigilante, he dislikes him cause he's a nerd.

He has a tight opinion on education and a strict policy on no littering and he has a curfew.All things that'd make Kon Kent see the other as uncool.

And, in Kon's eyes, Jason has he coolest dad on the planet and just. Doesn't do anything with that. While Jason is the exact opposite.

Kon said there's no need to teach classic literature in schools because it's pretentious as hell (and just to be annoying, says they promote rich people. Doesn't say why, just that it does) and Jason hated his guts ever since.

Not to mention, you don't need X ray vision to see Jason's a complete daddy's boy. Kon asks Bruce to move in and Bruce is like of COURSE you can! Dick's never seen Jason so murderous before.

It becomes a streamline. Kon does everything to steal Bruce's attention, -- attention Jason oh so badly claims not to want.

" Move."

" What do you mean, Red? This is my spot," Kon says, snug and comfy besides Bruce on movie night. He couldn't move if he wanted to, in his defense. Damian chose his lap to nap on.

"Kent, I swear on your God and mine, --"

" Oh, what are you gonna do? Poetry slam me to death? Bore me to suicide? Write me a bad goodreads score?"

"First of all, ET, you wouldn't understand slam poetry with all the brain power of three hazelnuts and a blonde wig. Second of all, --"

" Boys," Bruce sighs, " Don't fight. Clark?"

Clark shrugs, " Kon ate your pudding cup, too. I feel like that's very relevant."

" You WHAT?!"

" Clark!"

" It's how Kryptonians bond." It's not. Clark likes drama.

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

They were Roommates! 3/?

Summary: We get some perspective. Jason's had a long day and all he needs is his princess to help him relax.

Pairs: Roommate!Reader x Jason Todd

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: SMUT, FEELINGS, POV SWITCH, chocking, cock warming, praise, pining, dark humor, fluff. reader gets a job, I have no excuses but this kind of hurt to write.

AN: This Chapter is from Jason's POV. I just feel like we needed some insight. Also just wanted to repost this because apparently it didn't upload properly yesterday. Hopefully this time it works.

Part 2

What a long fuckin day, Jason thinks to himself as he trudges up the stairs to your shared apartment. He's been out all night and day chasing down leads for Batman and hasn't felt this bone tired since he crawled out of the pit.

His duffle bag like a sack of bricks on his shoulder and his feet doused in concrete. But his goal is ahead of him. He knows your home right now, you told him this morning when he called to ask about your upcoming Art Show that you had pieces to get ready and you’d be locked inside all day.

The idea of you waiting for him pushes him further, faster. Just a few more steps and he'll be home. Not that he thought of you as home.  No, that'd be too much. You're friends, just friends, who haven't been able to keep your hands to yourself for longer than 2 days for the last few weeks. So maybe you’re just very good friends.

He pushes through the door, only a little grateful that Bruce made him leave his guns at the manor for Alfred to clean. Apparently, he wasn’t doing it properly. Though he’s about 90% certain he’s never going to see his favourite firearms again.

He makes a beeline for your room upon noticing you left the door open. Are you waiting for him? You wouldn’t be, right? His ears perk up at the sound of your soft humming, making his heart pound and his hands sweat. Fuck, he just needs to get his hands on you.

“Hey Jay,” you say in that velvety tone, when you see him approaching down the hall. Pulling your headphones off and smiling your cute little face at him. He can hear Taylor Swift's newest song echoing from them, but he barely even registers it. He’s so focused on you.

Fuck, you’re a wonderful sight. Your tablet resting on your crossed legs, your stylus slotted delicately between those delicate fingers, hair up in messy bun, tiny fly away's framing your beautiful face, knee high socks that nearly give him a heart attack and his fucking red flannel. Fuck, if he had your skills he’d sit down and capture how perfect you are.

His eyes take all of this in as his heart tries his best to tell him something. But he can't stop moving. His body goes limp as he flop’s down onto you, resting his head on your silky thigh. All he wants is to sink his teeth into your flesh, mark you, cover your pretty skin in signs that you're his. 

Instead, his hands dig into the shirt that’s fanned out over your legs. His shirt, if only the woman in it were his too. He thinks, grateful he’s managing to keep these confusing thoughts inside, “Princess,” he mumbles into your leg. 

“Long day at the office?” Your hands start to brush through his hair, combing the knots out that had formed throughout his search. Your nails graze along his scalp, he shivers as goosebumps spread down his neck and onto his arms. He may not remember hell, but this sure feels like heaven.

“Mmm,” he kicks off his boots, the steel caps thumping when they hit the ground. His bones start to feel gooey as he presses his face deeper into your thigh. He doesn’t mean to kiss you, but he just can’t seem to help himself.

“Bruce have you digging holes in the garden again?” your voice like wind chimes on a still day. Fuck, he could listen to you talk forever about whatever you wanted.

“He does love his family bonding exercises,” his hands drift up, wrapping around your hips, hugging you tight and hiding his face, unable to look at you. He hates the lies, hates that he can't tell you. But Dicks right, it's too dangerous for a civilian. He couldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you and if he was the one who put you in danger….

“Want me to get you anything?” 

“Just this for now.” He snuggles up into your tummy.

You lean down, placing soft kisses into his hair. He’s thankful you can’t see his face, sure that it would give away just how right you feel..

“You rest Jay, I got you.” you lay back, your hand still in his hair as you begin humming the song you had been listening to before.

“Hmm.. thanks Princess.”

You only get to the chorus before Jason’s phone starts to ring, “back pocket,” he grumbles, rubbing his cheek into you, “can you get it for me?”

“Ah huh,” your hand reaches into his pocket, “it says mother dearest?” you sound so confused but he can’t help the laugh that escapes him, “Jay I thought-”

“Jesus, can't I rest? answer and tell him to fuck off please.” you let out a tiny sound that sounds like you agree and then the bloody hollering starts.

“Little Wing, I need-”

“Umm hello?” you interrupt.

“- oh you're not Jason. Hey girlie,”

“Jason, why is Dick in your phone as mother dearest?” you whisper, scrunching your brows up at him when he looks up at you.

His eyes start to grow heavy, rubbing his cheek into your tummy. Fuck, Jason does not want to talk to his brother right now. He inhales your perfume mixed with the lingering scent of his cologne. It makes his pants grow tighter and his brain feel foggy, “tell him I'm busy and to annoy someone else,”

“Jason can't come to the phone right now, he's dead.” you joke and he can hear the fucking panic starting to form in Dick’s head.

“He's what?!” He hears Dick shout through the phone. His brother starts to ramble and Jason can imagine the man pacing through his house, his arms flailing around him like he’s going to kill someone. Jason can't help the laugh that escapes him.

“Dick doesn't get the joke Princess. Put it on loudspeaker.” he whispers to you, turning his head so his brother will hear him, “I'm not dead, calm down.”

“Don't you tell me to calm down! She shouldn't make jokes like that, because- wait, am I a loud speaker?”

“Yes,” you both say at the same time.

“I just wanted to make sure you got home ok, and now I'm having a heart attack. Fuck you both very much.” He hangs up and you both burst into laughter.

“Your brother's a bit of a drama queen.” his head jostles on your giggling stomach, “Like did he think I’d be so casual if you were actually dead?”

"You don't know the half of it," Jason says, taking the phone from you and throwing it away.

"We just doing this all night or?" 

"What you have in mind?"

"Haven't had a girls night in ages and you look like you could use some pampering." You suggest as your fingers work their way back through his hair.

XxX

He must've fallen asleep. His first clue is that you're gone and he's wrapped up in your cotton blanket, the second is he can smell the snicker doodles in the kitchen. The rich cinnamon sugar scent, almost as sweet as you.

Ducking into his room he takes off his dirty clothes and throws on a pair of clean sweats before floating towards the kitchen like a cartoon. "Princess?" He calls when he can't see you.

"I'm over here," you call back. He spots you bending over the coffee table, arranging your pamper station for him. Fuck I love you. He thinks, in a friend way. Yeah. She's my friend. But the way his shirt rises up over your ass makes him want to do some very unfriendly things to you. "Can you grab the cookies from the oven?"

"Yep," he says, with a pop of his lips, spinning on his feet towards the kitchen. 

"Thanks ba- I mean thanks Jay," you turn trying to hide your embarrassment, but he can see it. You wanted to call him babe. Maybe this isn't as one sided as he thought?

"What are we doing first?" He tries to say casually, sitting down on the couch and taking in the vast array of items you've got set out.

"Facials," you smile, picking up the little bowl of cream, "want me to put it on you?"

"Yes please," he sits back, almost moaning at how soft your fingers feel on his face, "what's in this it smells yummy,"

"Honey, lavender, oats, all the good stuff," 

"It smells great and it feels so good," he presses his face into your hands. "Princess, i-"

"Finished, you look so cute!" You say excitedly, "ok, now you do me,"

"Do you?" He raises his brow at you.

"Jay," you playfully hit him, "I want a facial too." He can't help the face he makes and you slap him again, "come on, get ya mind out the gutter."

"I'm just teasing," he swipes a handful of the cream, rubbing it into your soft features. His fingers press into the crease into your brow, your cheeks. You grin up at him and his heart feels like it might burst. Holding your chin he presses a soft kiss into your lips, "tastes good too," he beams, when you open your eyes you peer back at him so sweetly his heart thumps even faster. "What now Princess?"

"We just need to wait ten minutes then we can wash it off," you say getting up and grabbing the cookies, from the table "we can eat these while we wait."

"Princess these are delicious," he moans as the spongey cookie melts in his mouth, "tastes almost as good as you."

"Jay." You level your deadpan stare at him.

"Princess." He stares back.

"Can I do your makeup after?" You perk up, sitting on your knees.

"Can we watch Heathers in bed?"

"Deal."

"How many of these am I aloud to eat?" He asks, stuffing another one in his mouth. Fuck if he only had to eat two things for the rest of his life. He knows exactly what he would pick.

"All of them? I can just make more if you want." 

"Just for me?" He's surprised, he's not sure why. In the year you've lived here he's always surprised by just how much the little things you do for him chip away at his walls.

"Who else?" Your words circle his heart, the tips of the letters just grazing the outside.

"Princess, can I wash this off? It's starting to itch,"  he says, the honey sticking to his fingers and the lavender that smells exactly like you wafting up his nose. He's having trouble keeping his thoughts pure and not just bending you over the couch and making you beg for him.

"Yeh, I'll get the movie ready and move the snacks," 

"Fuck, what the fuck am I doing?" He says to himself in the bathroom mirror, his face still smelling like you, "just ask her out to dinner," he washes the rest off, but the scent still lingers. "What would Bruce do? Deny his feelings for ten years and wait for her to make the move. I can't fuckin do that." He wipes his hand down his face in frustration. 

Shit, he feels like he's stuck between a crowbar and an explosion. But if he fucks up this time, you could be the one to get hurt and that's the last thing he wants.

"You're taking a while in there, are you alive?" You knock on the closed door, "you talking to Batman in the mirror again?"

"I do not do that," he says as he brushes past you and into your room where you've got the cookies resting on the edge of your bed.

"You kinda do," you call out.

Fuck me, she's going to kill me. Again. He thinks, holding his face in his hands as he reaches for another cookie and savors the taste.

"Alright, Jay," you say, swishing into the room, his shirt sitting just low enough to cover your panties. Your hands drift up his bare arms, stopping at his shoulders as you step toward him, your legs spreading over his and your ass lands on his thighs. "Ready for your makeover?"

"Is this how I get it?" His arms encircle you, "Can I get one every morning?" He squeezes your ass and you jump, making his cock throb underneath you. His fingers dig into your sides making you squirm and the cutest little sounds escape your mouth. Is this your version of torture? It’s definitely preferable to other methods he’s endured, he thinks, he could get used to this kind of treatment. 

"Jay, stop," you laugh, "you're tickling me, Jay, please," squirming even more on his lap, his cock growing harder and harder by the second, "Jason, babe, stop, let me do your makeup."  

His eyes meet with yours and he stops tickling you. Did you just? No. It must’ve been a slip of the tongue. 

"Make up time," you try to smile, your eyes looking everywhere but at him, what is that about? Is he reading too much into this? "Maybe a smokey eye? What colors would you like?" 

"Red and black, please Princess." You reach back for your eye shadow pallet and he tries to think of something else. Anything else, Dick farting on Tim, Damien getting eaten by his dog. But with that lavender still on his skin and you on his lap, all he can think about is kissing you again.

You press your fingers into his face, your dominant hand holding the brush like it was made there as you lean over him. Brushing the color onto his closed eyes, your cinnamon breath fans over his face warms his heart. Your tits pressing into his hard chest have a similar effect further south.

"Jay, stop squirming," you say as you continue to wiggle on top of him. "I'm going to poke your eye out," Like he can help it. Like he can help just how much to affect him.

"I'm trying, are you nearly done?"

"True art takes time,"

"I don't know how much I got left,"

"Why's that?"

"Princess if you don't hurry up I might break your pretty brush," his hands grip your hips, hoping to keep you still. Instead it gives him more leverage to rub up into you, grinding his very hard and seeping cock into your delicate panties. 

"I'm nearly done, just one more thing." He feels you reach back, his eyes still closed. Then the softness of your kiss overwhelms him and he can't hold it back any longer. 

He flips you underneath him. You let out an adorable squeal of excitement as his cock grinds on the wet patch in your panties. "Fuck" it feels like someone finally cracked a hole in the horny pond. he tries to stop but can't, “I need to be inside you,” 

"Like right now?" You say, grinding up into him and shoving your panties down your legs as fast as you can. "But I haven't finished your makeup" Fuck, you're always so ready for him. Maybe you can finish his make up? He thinks slyly, hmm this could be fun.

“Right now Princess,” his hand fumbles as his blood thrums. He dips his fingers into your heavenly pussy and you’re already clenching down on him, "fuckin hell. You're already so wet. I got an idea," he moves back, laughing when you let out a huff as his fingers leave you. He rests his back on the wall behind your bed, "come here,"

'Ok?" You ask, seemingly confused about what he's doing. But when you see him shake his pants off and throw them on the floor, your mouth falls open and you start staring at him again. Fuck, it makes him feel like a God. 

You fall onto your tummy crawling towards him, like sin personified, like you need him as much as he needs you. He glimpses those pretty tits through the large gap in the front of his shirt, "What are we doing?"

"Since you insist on doing my makeup,” he tuts, “you're going to sit on my cock while you finish it. Don't look at me like that. Come on now,"

"I'm definitely going to poke your eye out," you side eye him as you raise to your knees.

"You won't. I trust you," he says, taking your hips in his hands, sighing when your warm fingers wrap around his cock. 

"Good girl, now sit," he takes deep breaths as your tight little pussy envelops him, your creaminess sliding down the hard ridges of his cock, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. 

"Ok," you pant, squirming around him with your eyes closed, "I've just gotta-" you pick up your pallet, swiping some black over your finger and pressing it into his eyelid. 

“Please don't make that face,” he squints, knowing what you look like when you get focused, “I'm having a hard enough time,”

“This was your idea,” you sass, wiggling your ass and he feels like he might just let you poke his eyes out. 

He thrusts up, moaning when you bite down on your lip to try and keep your concentration. His hand moves, slipping over your hip to fall right at your clit. His thumb lazily swiping up and down making you spasm and pull your hand away.

“Jay,” you shudder, falling forward and into his chest, your hands holding his cheeks as you reach up to kiss him. Pride swells in his chest, knowing that he can have you like this whenever he wants. That you’re so open and trusting of him, ready to fall apart in his arms at any given moment.

“Makeup done?” He mumbles between kisses. His cock with a mind of its own as it starts to slowly thrust into you.

“It's,” you lean back, taking in your handy work, your delicate fingers brushing over his cheeks. You’re cheeks are flushed and your beautiful eyes take him in, “kinda smudey now, but it looks good.”

“Good,” he lifts his knees bringing you even closer to him, “now about this shirt,” his hands slip in between the buttons, ripping it in half. 

“Jay,” you gasp, and the shock on your face was worth it. Until you pout at him, “that was my favourite shirt,”

“I got heaps of flannels, you can have all of them Princess,” he peels the shirt from your arms, bowing his head so he can take your tit in his mouth, his strong tongue flicking over your nipple. Moving his other hand so his thumb can do the same to your clit, “still upset about the shirt?” He pant’s when you start to bounce on his cock.

“No, Jay I-” he knows what you're going to say, he can feel how tight you're getting around him. You just need a little push, his mouth sucks into your neck, tasting the last remnants of your face mask mixing with your sweat. You keep making those noises as bites into you, the fucking sweetest sounds on the earth, he wants to have his head clogged full of them.

“Cum,” his voice muffled as his teeth move to your nipple. You arch back, your hands grip tight to his legs, nails digging into his thick thighs,  Yes, mark me, he thinks, I'm yours Princess make me look like it, but his mouth says, “cum, cum on me, then you're going to do it again and again, cum Princess,”

His cock feels like it's in a vice as you shake and shiver over him, his name like a chant on your lips and your eyes tight with his. Your face is so beautiful as you fall apart on top of him, those tiny breathy moans echoing in his ears.

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you even closer, his lips connect with yours, “you did so well, wrap your legs around me," Your eyes lidded as you gaze back at him, "I got the next one,” he lifts you, sliding his legs underneath him to get more leverage. 

“Ready?”

“Yes Jay,” your voice is so lust filled, he wants to record it for when he's had a bad day. He thrusts up, your fingers winding through his hair, turning his head towards you. 

He'll never get used to how stunning you are, your eyes groggy and your lips swollen from his kiss, "fuck your beautiful," he kisses you deeply one hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping into your ass. "Keep those pretty eyes open for me," 

He's losing himself, losing any remaining semblance of sanity inside of you as he moves faster, harder "fuck I want to cum. Your little pussy feels so good Princess"

Your hands are drifting, seeming to want to touch every part of him before settling on his biceps. Your teeth bite down into his shoulder as he finds your g spot and it feels like fireworks shooting down his neck. "Fuck me back Princess," he slaps your ass making your pussy pulse around him.

“Again,” your voice getting breathier by the second, starting to grind down into him as he fucks you. He can feel your clit grazing his stomach, your tits brushing against the sensitive y shaped scar at the center of his torso. He's alive, alive for this. So he could make you cum on him everyday for forever . He slaps your ass over and over, feeling your pussy clutch and clench around him.

“Want to fill you, Princess,” His cock throbs inside you, your moans surrounding him like a symphony, “want to see that pretty pussy drip with my cum,”

“Jason,”

“Yes, cum. Cum, cum,” he moans in your ear, trying to hold back his own release, he wants to share it, to share everything. With you.

“JASON!” you scream, his name on your lips the richest sound in the world and as your pussy begins to convulse around him, he lets go. His cum filling you up, surrounding his cock and pumping into your pussy. He keeps going, fucking into you, letting you have as much of him as you need. He wants you spent, blissed out on his cock so that you never go searching for the feeling elsewhere.

His lips caress your neck as your shaking begins to slow, “did so well Princess, so perfect for me,” he praises you, lifting you up and laying you both on the bed.

Your head rest's on his chest as your little fingers trace the line of his scar. It feels strange, nice strange. Your fingers drift down the tail end of the why and he thinks maybe you're putting the butterflies inside him.

“You're fucking perfect,” your voice so fucking soft.

He smooths out the strands of your hair, not believing that you could ever truly think that of him. Not if you knew what he had done and all the lies he told you.

“How did my makeup hold up?” He asks, noticing the black smudges all over by your pretty face when you look up at him and wanting to change the subject, “I got it all over you,” he tries to wipe it clean.

“I think it looks better this way,” your soft hands brush his hair up, so gently. You're always so gentle with him. It makes his knees weak, “Hmm. You just need a jacket and a bit more black and you'll look just like how I imagine the Red Hood looks under that shiny helmet.”

“Oh really?” He knows you don't know, he's gone to very extreme lengths to ensure it. And asking you to dinner? What was he thinking, that's only going to make things more complicated. But he's not going to deny how it makes the pride swell in his chest, “Is that a look you like Princess?”

“Don't be jealous Jay. He's just mysterious and dark,” you shrug.

“I'm not jealous, beautiful, only a little intrigued.”

“Dressing up as him wouldn't hurt,” his smart girl, too smart. How is he going to keep this up? The closer, the deeper he falls the more likely you are to be in danger. He needs to tread very carefully. The last thing he wants is for you to get hurt.

Part 4

Taglist: (let me know if you want in bestie)

@princessbl0ss0m @letmebebatmanpls

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

What about any fluff hc's you may have for Euronymous, Gabriel or Kappa it's your choice!

Love your writing! <3

Hello, anonnie! Thank you so much for your request 🖤🌸

I kinda more or less dragged my ass from the last pits of creative burnout hell for this but for the time being, I felt it <3

🌼Fluffy and soft gn!Reader x Kappa HCs, here we go! 🌼

Tagging the horde (gosh, I miss y'all!!):

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

🌼 Kappa would absolutely love to cook for you! Anything from a simple mashed taters with sausages to a full 5 course meal. Pretty much the best van life haute cuisine he could come up with, anything and everything to paint a big, wide smile on your face.

🌼 I just know for a fact that Kappa would be a slave to watching you hang up the laundry outside of the van. With your linen blouse ever so slightly riding up your stomach, showing off some soft tan lines from the plenty of days spent at the beach. He'd be so grateful for you doing the chores, plus absolutely enthralled at the sight of your body in the warm Californian sun.

🌼 Personally, I like to think that Kappa and you would take time out of every evening to listen to your favourite records. Whenever you pass a new town, each of you buys a new vinyl at the local record store to show to each other, to talk about to artist and to have a banter about the lyrics!

🌼 "I'm sorry to report that's immaterial, sugar!" Kappa would murmur to you, with his arms tightly wrapped around your waist after you uttered a something something about feeling insecure about your body. He'd simply sweet-talk your insecurities out of you.

🌼 Uhm...showering alone? Not on Kappa’s watch! 🤨 He'd be squeezing his bum into the bathroom right after you, insisting to lather you in soap just to wash it off with soft and tender hands a little later.

🌼 Immediately after that hot and soothing shower, he'd tuck you right into bed, brew you a nice, fresh cup of camomile tea to sip on whilst you flick through your current, rather addictive page-turner from the gas station the two of you passed about 160 miles ago. It might not be his jam at all, but as long as it has you smiling and cackling at the end of the day it's fine with him.

🌼 Speaking of sleep, Kappa would hold and cuddle you tight all night long. He'd make sure you fall asleep comfortably, granting that'd you wake up well rested for another day on the road to wherever I'd take you!

---

Not to toot my own horn, but if you like the vibe of this, you may enjoy my hippie!Kappa playlist 🖤🌸🖤🌸

[somebluemelodies]

It's on his way out he sees it. Sees them.

He looks around, but everyone is preoccupied still.

(Maybe it's for the best.)

Cellbit quickens his pace, climbing up the short hill towards the little white blur that'd disappeared behind the tree. He steels himself to fight something, hand resting against the hilt of the red dagger sheathed to his side as he rounds the corner and--

--comes face-to-face with a hatchling in a blue dress.

The investigator runs down his mental checklist. They're not any of the four kids he just saw, and they sure as hell aren't any of the ones that've been missing for weeks now. He's never seen this one before.

They're staring up at him, but he can barely tell with the way their white bangs nearly cover their eyes.

(His heart pangs at the familiar similarity. There's a flicker of anger.)

"Hello..?" The hatching waves to Cellbit as he crouches down in front of them after a moment. "Who are you?"

He only gets stared at in return, the kid's head tilting just slightly. They're not alive, he can tell that much; they have that same aura about them as the four running around somewhere behind him.

Just as he's about to ask another question, the hatchling lifts their hands. They start to mime actions. Writing in a book, flipping the pages.

Cellbit's brows furrow. What could that possibly--

Please know I was here. I was alive... This book gives me a chance to be remembered. Please don't forget me.

(Oh.

Oh.)

He sees the leather journal in his head. He sees the abandoned building, the abandoned cage, lost to dirt and dust and cobwebs. He knows.

He hasn't forgotten.

"It's you..."

The hatchling offers him a bittersweet smile, and part of him wants to break right then and there.

(Part of him does break.)

"You haven't been forgotten." His voice wavers against his own will. "You won't ever be, not if I can help it. I promise."

They only nod. I know.

Cellbit can only stare back at them as his vision begins to blur. Not a haze. Tears. Despite all the seething anger he's felt the last several days, he isn't even sure what's stronger right now: that or the pure despair.

(The pain.)

"I'm so sorry..."

Because this hatchling in front of him is one who should've had a chance. Who wanted one thing more than anything. A family. Love.

Who never got that chance. Who never got what they wanted.

But it wasn't their fault, like they thought. It would never be. There was only one thing, one group, to blame.

Emotional, they watch him for another few seconds. And then there's little arms wrapping around his torso, a tiny, trembling body against him. He holds on tight.

(The anger is coming back. Yet another reminder of what the Federation took from this island.)

"They're gonna pay. They're gonna fucking pay for letting this happen to you. They're all as good as fucking dead."

He pulls them up into his arms, letting theirs go around his neck. Hold on to the good moments.

He holds them tighter, still.

(They need this. They deserve this, after waiting God only knows how long.)

(Even if it's just once. He needs them to know.)

He'll make sure to remind the damn workers of them, whether they knew the hatchling or not. They're all a part of that hellscape organization, after all.

And he'll make sure they're the last thing those fuckers think about, too. Before they rot in hell.

"I'll avenge you. No matter what."

If I'm not going to have luck, I'm going to make their luck run out.

[strawberrymilk-sunshine]

The Jade Leech vore tease. I refuse to give this an actual name.

I'm sorry for what you're about to read.

Warning(s): vore tease, NOTHING BAD HAPPENS TO YOU but uh Jade sucks on you like a candy (sorry I just sorta wrote this on impulse. The idea entered my head and I started writing it with no second thoughts whoopsies)

"Oh dear..." Jade said to himself. "This was an... unexpected... turn of events."

"Jade, what the hell just happened-?" You asked, coughing.

"Well, (Y/N), I appear to have..." Jade looked nervous, uncharacteristically so. "...um... shrunken you, with the potion we were making."

"You... y-you what?!"

"I don't understand..." Jade said to himself. "I've never once messed up a potion this severely... our potion was meant to shrink an object and have no effect on living creatures, but... here you are, the size of a figurine!! Where did we go wrong, (Y/N)?!"

"How am I supposed to know?! I'm not from this world, Jade!" You yelled. "Also, Professor Crewel is going to kill us!"

"...we're going to fail." Jade said. "I can't let that happen...! I need to get you back to normal as fast as I possibly can, and fix this potion, and-" He suddenly got a certain look on his face. "Crewel's coming this way. I have to hide you."

Jade looked around everywhere in a panic, trying to find anywhere to hide you.

Then he lifted you up, and you know what he did?

Do you know what that moray eel man did to you?

He. Stuffed. You. Into. His. Mouth.

"Ah, my little water pup. I assume your object-shrinking potion is coming along well?" You heard Crewel ask. Jade nodded while (you assume) smiling politely. "...where is (Y/N)?"

"They... had to use the washroom." Jade responded, barely moving his lips.

"What are you doing, Leech?" Crewel asked.

"...I'm practicing ventriloquism in my spare time, Professor." Jade responded. "For fun."

"Alright. I suppose I can't question the hobbies of my pups. Feel free to continue practicing your ventriloquism, water pup. And let me know when that potion is completed."

The moment Crewel walked away, Jade spit you out into his hands.

"You tasted like chemicals." He told you with a disgusted face.

"Yeah, that'd be my lab coat..."

"You look... wet, (Y/N)." Jade told you. "Are you ok?"

"No, Jade, you just put me in your mouth to hide me from our Professor!" You said, wiping the spit from your safety goggles. "How are you going to fix this, Jade?"

"...well... all I need to do is hide you from Professor Crewel until I fix this, right...?" Jade asked, a wide, malicious, predatory grin on his face. "I think I know exactly where to hide you, (Y/N)~"

"What are you planning, Jade...?" You cautiously asked.

"You know full well what I'm planning. I am an apex predator, after all~"

"JADE DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE-!"

You know what he did?

Jade stuffed you right back in his mouth. Though more... violently than before.

You know, thank goodness you're wearing your labwear right now. Keeping the rest of your clothes dry... that's a bit of a positive.

He swished you around in there, rolling you from one side to another, making sure not a single part of your body remained unlicked.

And you know, aside from the taste of chemicals you had on your lab coat... you actually tasted really good.

This went on for quite a while. Jade continued... playing with you for five. Whole. Minutes. Do you understand how long that is when you're in a really tight moist and humid space? It's SO long...

Also, he just tilted his head back. Ok. Guess he's gonna eat you. Not exactly how you wanted to die, but, you know, c'est la vie.

...

Then, he tilted his head downward once more and let you fall out of his mouth and into his hands. He did do one last thing to you, though. He stuck the top half of your body back into his mouth and sorta... sucked on you like a hard candy for a few seconds before FINALLY giving you a break from all that.

"A growth potion is very easy to craft. I thought it would be fun to... mess with you while I was making it!" Jade smiled.

"...I'm pretty sure you swallowed my safety goggles." You told him, feeling your head.

"Oh. My mistake. Don't worry, (Y/N)! I'm sure we'll be able to craft a good lie for Professor Crewel." Jade assured you. "Preferably one that he believes."

"Whatever. Just give me the potion, alright?"

"It feels good to be normal sized again." You said, still very wet. "Uh... how're we gonna explain why I'm soaking wet?"

"...I don't know, (Y/N)." Jade admitted to you. "Let's try to correct our potion now!"

"You, uh... you don't have molars, huh?" You awkwardly asked.

"No, us morays have no need for them."

"Why not?"

Jade stared at you for a moment, before winking.

"Because us morays swallow our prey whole and alive~"

Oh.

Well that's always good.

Knowing that he does that, and could have done that to you and was going to do that to you... that's fun. That's good. That's cool.

...

Note to self... stay away from Jade Leech if you ever get shrunk again.

[sansxfuckyou]

let it really sink in

summary: he just wants to help now because he could nothing then

tags: self-esteem issues, canon compliant, ambiguous relationship

authors note: so yeagh thinking about them, A Lot, they mean so much to me

"Just open up and say 'ah,' it'll be over before you know it," Soul said.

"I'm not letting my Weapon spoon feed like I'm a baby," Maka said, a bit of a snap to her voice.

Pathetic.

She got hurt to the point that her Weapon is offering to spoon feed her- in front of a crowd of people no less. It's just so demeaning.

Soul rolled his eyes, "C'mon, you need to eat to heal."

Maka flopped back against the pillows in spite of the partial paralytics, "I refuse to let you belittle me like this."

Soul blanked, "Belittle? I'm just trying to help you out."

"How would you feel if I tried to spoon food into your mouth?" Maka asked.

The bickering didn't really subside until Black Star and Tsubaki had left, Kid and the twins followed suit. What could they add to the discussion anyways. The spite between a Weapon and a Meister are personal things for them to work out.

Soul is still trying to convince Maka to just stop fighting and accept the help.

She still isn't having it.

"Why won't you let me help you!?" The small cup of fruit is tossed to the floor when Soul hits the breaking point.

Maka didn't expect that response.

"I'm just trying to make sure you're healing properly and not starving and-" He cuts himself short.

"Soul-"

"No, it's whatever. It's cool. I'll go."

"Soul Eater Evans."

Soul froze up, "Yes, Maka?"

"You can feed me, if it'll get you out of this funk," Maka offered.

"Well I just tossed the fruit cup to the god damn floor." Soul thrust a hand in gesture to the splattered fruit chunks.

"Sit with me."

Soul heels to her offer without even realizing it. His arms are crossed and he's sitting at the edge of the bed.

"You've never tried to feed me when I got hurt before," Maka started with, "What happened?"

Soul doesn't speak.

"Soul."

"I couldn't help you. I didn't protect you. I'm supposed to be ready to die for you. I should've taken the fucking hit."

"It's fine, we didn't know it'd paralyze me," Maka said.

"It's not fine!" He's baring his teeth like a dog, "Just let me help you."

Maka paused, "Mishaps happen on the battlefield all the time."

"A mishap shouldn't leave you paralyzed from the neck down," Soul snapped.

He dropped onto his side, curled against Maka just a bit. Hell, if she got hit again he could've lost her. That'd get him revoked from being a Weapon, a failure who couldn't even keep his Meister from dying. His best friend, from dying.

He listens intently for her to speak, the steady thrum of her heartbeat ringing in his ears. He could've lost that, could've watched it end in an instant. Could've felt his Soul be severed from hers within seconds of an impact, felt as presence became absence.

It's a horrifying notion.

Ninety nine human Souls and a cat Soul, and then he'd have to start it all over again with someone new. Someone who wouldn't be able to wield him with the same prowess, who wouldn't be able to resonate with him the same. Someone different, someone that isn't his fucking Meister.

That's not gonna happen.

That'll never fucking happen.

He won't let it, he can't let it-

"Soul, can you stop gripping my hip?" Maka asked.

Oh.

He didn't, he didn't even notice it.

He retracts himself from her entirely, "Sorry."

"It's fine, just felt weird because you were gripping it too tight." Maka answered with. She would reach out to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but all that her reflex is greeted with is a sharp sensation shooting through arm.

"I can leave you alone if you want me too," Soul offered.

"Why would I want you to leave?" Maka asked.

"I'm being a nuisance, first I try to spoon feed you, then I hold you to tight, and I'm just being a clingy bastard."

"Why are men like this?" It's an utterance that doesn't go unnoticed but Soul doesn't say anything in response.

He lays himself across Maka's shins instead, it's nice to just be close. That's his Meister, sure she can't hold him right now. But just being beside her, next to her, able to try and protect her even if it's just with his human body, is nice.

It's his fucking job.

A Meister's life will always come before a Weapon's life.

"I am kind of hungry," Maka said.

Soul perked up.

"Could you get me some food?"

Like a dog, Soul does exactly as asked.

-/-/-/-

He spends the rest of the day doing as asked, even if demeaning it is nice. To be of use. To not be a failure. An unneeded assurance that he's actually good at being a Weapon, at being something intended to be used.

He's submissive, yes.

But submissive in the way a dog is submissive to the sheep it kills wolves for.

A submission that was earned and offered all at once.

Still, in spite of that he finds himself resting at Maka's feet like an obedient dog. He let's himself be a space heater, even if the heat he gives off is beyond minimal.

"Soul," Maka starts with.

Soul shoots up.

"Stop acting like a mutt," Maka said.

"I'm not acting like a mutt! I'm just being a good partner," Soul said firmly, although he was vaguely aware of the fact he was acting very much like a mutt. Not that he didn't like it. He did enjoy being useful.

"Sure you aren't," Maka teased, "Can you get me some water?"

Soul slung himself off the bed and faltered at the desk beside her bed, "You trust me enough to not spill water all over you if you drink from a cup?"

"Isn't that your cup?"

"Yeah, but tap tastes better than bottled- nobodies gonna see and nobodies gonna care."

"Yeah I want cup."

"Cool."

Soul brought the rim of the cup to her lips and slowly tilted. Bottled water is so much easier to not spill. But it's whatever, it's what Maka asked of him. So he'll oblige to her request.

He retracts when she bites on the edge.

"That looked like it hurt."

"It did, thank god this paralytic will wear off sooner than later."

Soul nodded, "Agreed. Anything else I can do for ya?"

"No."

"Cool, I'm gonna try and conk out then."

Soul places the glass on the desk before splaying himself flat across Maka on his stomach. His hands lay, fingers twined, at the base of her ribs, head tilted to the side where it rests.

"You're gonna sleep on top of me?" Maka asked.

"Yep, got any issues with it?" Soul asked back, grinning up at her the whole while.

"It's fine," Maka said. A wash of pins and needles shot through her arms as she tried to raise them. Stupid paralytic.

He lets himself rest up against her again, "Thanks."

[masteredinstinct]

cont. from here / @stlispenard

it's a tricky tight rope he has chosen to walk on , but louis cannot help but balance himself on the curb outside monsieur de lioncourt's home on a daily basis . he does not linger by the man's steps on purpose , OF COURSE NOT . it just so happens that his new friend found residence on his path from home to work ㅤ─ ㅤ otherwise louis would not glance at his balcony during his walks , would not choose to smoke by the streetlamp outside his doorstep , would never feel a sting of disappointment when he did not find a full head of golden hair roaming through rue royal ... louis had made a new friend and was excited about spending more time getting to know him . that was all .

never mind the evenings spent writhing against bedsheets in which he had to cover his eyes in shame whenever he found himself remembering lestat's hands or stare or lips . he'd refuse to think of the one time he had whispered for the man's name and imagined him answering with the same fervour from miles away . there was no safety net to catch him . louis feared the fall and yet , he soldiered into the unknown , willing to live with the guilt of these fantasies as long as they remained as such .

lestat and he frequented the same spots . of course they would bump into each other ( of course , of course ! ) . his playfulness , though sometimes improper , always brought a smile to louis' lips . harmless teasing , none of it meant to humiliate or diminish him ㅤ─ ㅤ it was hard , not to yearn for the other man's attention . even during their walks , whenever their gazes met , louis felt as if his heart skipped a few beats . SUCH ODD BRIGHT EYES ; and they watched louis as if he had words printed onto his fucking face . what man stares at another like that ? ㅤ" yeah . "ㅤ he'd answer whenever he was caught slipping . ㅤ" yeah , everything's fine . "ㅤ and lestat would curl his lips and louis would feel himself getting hot under the collar . does he know ? he'd wonder . have i been found out ? no . he'd conclude . that'd be impossible .

the rain threatens to put an end to their encounter but louis had come prepared . to watch lestat falter on his words when he held an umbrella open for him had left louis in an excellent mood ㅤ─ ㅤ those moments of surprise in which he managed to catch the frenchman off-guard , felt like small triumphs . perhaps it was due to their rarity . perhaps because it reminded louis that , despite all of his bravado and savoir-faire , monsieur lioncourt was still human . or perhaps it was because he liked the shape lestat's lips formed whenever he gasped . his brow knitted . do not go there . ㅤ" pessimism ? s'that how you see me ? " ㅤlouis chuckled . ㅤ" and here i thought i was a realist . "

his hand moves to grab the umbrella and louis can feel lestat's skin touching his . he hates that he notices how gentle his hold is . hates how he'll be thinking of that brief moment of contact for the rest of the week ㅤㅤ─ ㅤ and when louis glances at lestat he swears he knows this too . ㅤ" sounds good . "ㅤ he mumbles , turning his head to glance down the street , pretending to be looking for shelter and not away from lestat . ㅤ" what you thinkin' ? the fair play saloon ? "ㅤㅤ he shrugs . sitting close to lestat , spilling his heart out to him , letting their arms touch ... IT FELT SAFER THERE . nobody would judge such closeness between two men if they were assiduous clients at a whore house . hell , maybe this way louis would manage to continue fooling himself too .

[zmediaoutlet]

Happy Wincest Wednesday! As today is my wedding anniversary, maybe a little low-key anniversary celebration for Sam and Dean?

Dean comes back to the motel room with six pack of beer -- standard -- and a bag of takeout chinese -- standard, and hopefully he actually ordered the ma po tofu even if he was making fun of it, because Sam's seriously been having a craving -- and a tiny, palm-sized teddy bear, which Sam only discovers when Dean says think fast and chucks it at his face, and Sam does catch it but barely, and then holds it in both hands, baffled. It's purple, soft, and wildly cheap. Probably made by the million in China, somewhere. "What the hell," he says.

"C'mon, baby," Dean says, sugary, which makes Sam look back up at him, horrified. "Can't a guy do something nice for his best girl?"

"Uh," Sam says, "no?", but luckily Dean's expression cracks and he grins more naturally. He cracks a beer and then a second, and leans his hip on the table next to Sam's laptop, and Sam looks back down at the bear, wondering if it's -- cursed, or something. Probably not but, then again, Dean calling him his best girl. Something cursed is happening here.

"Had 'em at the register at the Circle K," Dean says. "Along with those, you know, little roses in the crack pipes? Blast from the past. Think it's prom around here, soon, or something."

The bear's got little black bead eyes and a vinyl triangle patch of nose, which has been sewed on crooked. On one foot, Sam sees, there's a red silky heart, which Sam touches with a thumb, and then looks up at his brother.

"Know where we are?" Dean says.

"I would've said Earth, but--" Sam says, and holds up the bear, raising his eyebrows in a way that should get Dean to spill, but Dean's actually waiting for an answer, his mouth still tugged up soft at the corner. Sam drops his hand, holding the bear in his lap, thinking. "Uh, California. Off the 5, Bakersfield, the Pearl Motel--"

"Bakersfield," Dean says, and finally hands Sam his beer. "About... hell, fifteen years ago now. I think that's right."

Fifteen years ago? That was... when Dean was going to hell. Dean with a deal dragging him down, and the darkness roaring up. They did come to Bakersfield, Sam remembers, finally. A hunt, while he was trying to come up with anything that'd fix it, and Dean hadn't been happy exactly but he hadn't been lying anymore and that was something. Sam sets the teddy on his laptop -- it's badly balanced and tips over, ear bonking gently against the spacebar -- and Dean gets his boot between Sam's ankles, swivels the desk chair so Sam's really facing him. Not really smiling anymore but his eyes still soft. "This is where we were when I decided to believe you," Dean says. Sam sits up straight. "Even if you were nuts. I don't know. I just -- believed you. How you wanted to fix it and I thought maybe you could. I don't know if I ever said thank you for that."

"I was wrong," Sam says, a sorry acid curving through his gut, but Dean shakes his head, says, "All's well that ends well, Sammy," and that's a pretty lackadaisical way to dismiss being murdered by demons and destiny but Dean lifts a shoulder, glances around at the motel room where they're safe, alive, together.

"Bakersfield, huh," Sam says. He remembers more, now. A -- ghost, it was. And they burned the bones, and Sam almost got his arm torn off but didn't, and when they got back to that other motel all those years ago --

Dean's grinning at him, now. "Remember?" he says, and Sam does, in growing and delightful detail that somehow hasn't been blotted out by all the years between that night and this one, all the times Dean's spread his legs or Sam's gotten on his knees or the hurried grasping in tight dark corners or how sometimes Dean will look at him and Sam can't, physically, do any other thing but step close and get Dean's face between his palms and lean down, press his lips against where Dean's smiling, because he can't come up with any other way to say what it means -- what it has always meant, even when times bad or were awful or were just -- what they had to be, for them to both get to the next time that could be better.

"I didn't get you anything," Sam says.

Dean tips the teddy back over, so its little red-hearted foot is pointing Sam's way, and then reaches out to clink their beers together. "No big, Sammy," he says, and he's still grinning but his ears are turning that telltale red. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

TAGS: loki and sylvie as siblings (bc i just didn't like the romantic connotations to their relationship that the show gave them...), reuniting with thor, fluff, he/him pronouns for loki, canon divergent bc obviously i now know the tva isnt just gone hehe

A/N: okay this is the LAST lost selencgraphy fic, i swear. wrote this while loki s1 was airing :) happy reading <3

WORD COUNT: 897

masterlist || request box <3

"I barely remember what my Thor was like..."

Loki's heart clenched at Sylvie's statement. The TVA took her entire life away from her. When he had been taken from his timeline, learning that he could never go back hurt him immensely. He would never see his brother or his mother ever again outside of holograms. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Sylvie. With the TVA now gone, they could go anywhere they wanted and Loki thought of only one place.

"Where the hell are you taking me?"

Loki turned to her and gave her a reassuring glance. "You're just going to have to trust me on this one."

As they continued to walk, Loki only stared straight ahead, mumbling to himself. Sylvie only caught parts of it. One sentence that she heard clearly was, "I hope you're still alive."

Who was he taking her to?

Once they reached a small clearing they came to a stop and Loki closed his eyes for a moment until suddenly a portal of green smoke appeared before them. He chuckled in surprise and excitement. "I didn't think that'd work. I saw the other version of us do it so I just- Never mind, let's go."

As he was about to step into the portal, he noticed that Sylvie wasn't following behind him. Turning around, he offered his hand which she hesitantly took. As soon as he got a solid grip on her hand, he ran into the portal, dragging her along right behind him. “Loki!" she screeched as they passed through, her eyes squeezing shut. When they exited out of the other side, the sounds of crashing waves and people filled her ears. Slowly opening her eyes she was met with a small shore town, people greeting each other as they passed. Fishermen worked the day's catch off their boats, everyone helping as the fish was passed from person to person. Taking in her new surroundings, one thing caught her eye and caused her chest to tighten. A small sign sat next to the entry road. Welcome to New Asgard.

She knew of the destruction of Asgard. Of all the apocalypses she had traveled to, Asgard's was one she never stepped foot in. She couldn't. Her memories of it had already been fading, seeing it crumble would have hurt her in ways she couldn't imagine. Seeing her people again, thriving together made her heart swell. Fighting back tears, she turned back to Loki who was already looking at her, a smile of adoration on his face. Sylvie pulled him into a tight hug, letting her tears finally fall. Arms tightly wrapped around her, Loki began to explain, “When Asgard was destroyed, my brother- well, our brother took what was left of our people here—to Midgard."

“Is he-"

She didn't need to finish her sentence. He knew who she was referring to and quickly nodded. Neither of them have seen him in years. “Loki?"

The voice that called out caused both of them to turn. A tall, dirty blonde man stood in the distance, adorning baggy clothing and accompanied by a creature made of rocks. The three of them stood there staring at each other, tears filling their eyes to the brim. Suddenly, the other man was running towards them and soon enough his arms were thrown around Loki's shoulders, his head stuffed into his neck. “Brother, is it really you?"

Loki quickly hugged him back, eyes squeezing shut. "It really is me, brother."

Pulling back to face him directly, the taller brother stuttered out, "I- Thanos he- how is this-"

“None of that matters. I'm here now."

The brothers quickly pulled each other back into a tight hug, something they hadn't done in decades. While hugging his brother he noticed Sylvie behind Loki, who was also crying. Letting his brother go, Loki noticed Sylvie was stuck in her place, unable to say or do anything. The last time she had seen the blonde boy, they were young children who played in the gardens of the palace. She couldn't believe her eyes as she looked at the man in front of her. Was it really her brother too? Filling the silence, Loki started, “Thor, this is Sylvie. Sylvie, this is Thor."

She suddenly ran into Thor's arms, burying her head into his chest as she cried. Realizing that this Thor might be confused as to why she was hugging him, she backed away and apologized. “No need to apologize Sylvie."

"Brother, Sylvie is um well- Long story short, she is our sister."

As Loki said sister, Thor's eyes lit up and moved to gaze at the woman. It was then he was the one who pulled her into a bone crushing hug. “Welcome home, sister."

The three siblings reunited, resting into each other's arms after so many years. The weather of Asgard shifted from its normal gloomy day, as the sun peeked through the clouds. The sun did shine on them again.

Bonus:

Thor turned to Sylvie once again. “I've always wanted a sister. Well, I had one but she tried to kill me… You're not going to try and kill me right?"

The mischief makers turned and shared a quick smile with each other. Catching their small gesture, Thor knew what that meant. He was in for more trouble now that he had two siblings with the same mischievous tendencies.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Halloween Lamden!!

CW for harassment.

"I still can't believe that's your idea of a costume." Jaskier said with a shake of his head as he downed yet another shot the bartender handed over to him, courtesy of some fan. It had been a really good set. He'd performed here a few times before and between the Halloween staples of songs such as 'Thriller' and 'Ghostbusters', the owner had been more than happy to let Jaskier perform some seasonal originals he'd been working on and they'd gone down a treat with the revellers.

"I'm wearing shades indoors. It counts." Lambert said, tapping the black frames and grabbing the next shot and downing it before Jaskier could even think to protest, trying not to wince at the overly sweet, fruity concoction. Apparently it was now more likely you were going to wake up after a night out with a cavity rather than a raging hangover.

"Just barely. Everyone else in here made an effort!"

"Too much of an effort in some cases." Lambert smirked moving his head to exaggeratedly look Jaskier up and down as the musician sat fanning himself with one hand, pausing briefly to flash the raven haired man the middle finger.

He'd gone for what he claimed was "Glam rock Dracula" and Lambert was loath to admit he'd made a pretty decent job of pulling it off. A black sequined peasant shirt which made Lambert feel itchy just looking at it, tight leather trousers with black rhinestones down the outside seams, paired with a black faux fur jacket that looked more like feathers from a distance and black platform heels. The look completed by dramatic black and red makeup and foundation pale enough to make his already fair skin look damn near ethereal underneath the club lights, his plastic fangs sitting on the bar next to him (turns out it was a total bitch trying to drink while wearing them).

Geralt and Yennefer had gone the classic Dracula and Bride of Dracula couples costume, with Yennefer meeting Jaskier's joke about people thinking he was their third with a "More like our Igor."

Which caused Jaskier to sulk and pout that "That isn't even the right fucking story, Yen." Lambert was pretty sure she'd gotten it wrong just to annoy the other man.

Eskel had put in an appearance as the wolf man. Complete with torn shirt, monster contacts and fake fur spirit gummed onto the back of his hands. He'd made his exit not long after Jaskier had finished his set, wanting to support his friend but not wanting to stick around. Halloween had never really been his favourite holiday but even less so since his accident. He found masks claustrophobic, prosthetics irritated the scar tissue and people constantly asking him about his "realistic make-up" got old fast. He was content to celebrate by binging on fun sized candy and watching B rated horror movies.

And Lambert? Lambert had thrown on a black muscle shirt along with his black jeans and boots and a pair of shades and just told anybody who asked that he was "His security." Whilst pointing at Jaskier (and ignoring Jaskier's grumblings about how saying he was his Familiar would be more in character whenever he was in earshot). Lambert had nothing against Halloween itself, it just pissed him off whenever he got dragged to anything where fancy dress was mandatory. It just seemed wasteful spending money on clothes and props that'd just get thrown into the back of the closet never to be seen again (at least, that's the excuse his mum had given - among others - whenever he'd asked why they never went to costume parties, or went trick or treating).

Jaskier had become enamoured with a sexy bumblebee who had sidled up to him during the lull in conversation and Geralt and Yennefer had disappeared about ten minutes ago to try and find some dark corner to do whatever the hell people tried to do when both parties were wearing fake fangs, leaving Lambert free to people watch. The DJ who had taken over was seemingly just replaying the classics Jaskier had already sung but at this point in the night people were either too drunk or too hyped to care. He hooked his shades into the neck of his shirt as his eyes wandered over various interpretations of cartoon characters and superheroes - some he recognised, most he didn't - and a handful of what he guessed to be meme references, interspersed with the traditional monster costumes.

He straightened up on his barstool when his eyes fell on one zombie costume in particular, or rather, the man wearing it. He looked pissed as hell and from the looks of it with good reason as he held another guy dressed as a poor man's Phantom of the Opera at arms length with a hand to his skinny chest, scowling as he yelled something while Phantom was looking at him with the kind of sleazy smile that made Lambert's skin crawl and he wasn't even the one it was aimed at. Zombie made to turn and walk away before Phantom grabbed at his hand and reeled him back. Lambert caught a brief flash of fear on Zombie's face before the anger returned as he turned to give a more forceful push this time, Phantom laughing like it was all a big game.

Fuck this.

Lambert's feet had carried him across the dancefloor before his brain had even fully registered what he was doing. He clapped a hand down heavily on Phantom's shoulder, causing both men to pause in their altercation and stare at him, "Let him go and piss off." Lambert growled into the man's ear.

He flashed Lambert what he obviously thought was a charming smile (and what Lambert thought made him look slightly constipated), "What? It's just a misunderstanding, it's all good."

"Not from where I'm standing. He doesn't want you touching him."

Zombie proved his point by using the lapse in concentration to yank his arm free, "That's exactly what I told him right after he groped my ass for the second time." He yelled in an accent Lambert couldn't quite place, sharp white teeth flashing from under black painted lips.

"C'mon man, you know how the game goes." He petitioned Lambert like they were old college buddies or something, "He's just playing hard to get."

Zombie looked about two seconds away from clawing this guys eyes out and Lambert was tempted to let him. Instead he threw him a warning look which, to his surprise, the other heeded. Didn't stop him from trying to kill the douche with the power of his stare though.

"Look pal, either you leave here on your own two feet, or I drag you by that three dollar cape and throw your ass out onto the kurb myself. Your choice."

"What the fuck? Who the fuck even are you man?"

Lambert smirked dangerously at him, "Security."

Phantom floundered for a few seconds before looking angrily back at Zombie, as if this were somehow his fault, "Whatever. Frigid bitch." And then to Lambert, "This place sucks anyway."

"Oh my god, thank you." He sighed, taking the empty stool next to the one Lambert reoccupied. Now that he wasn't distracted, Lambert saw that he was fairly dark skinned under the ashy makeup. His tight fitting jeans and shirt were artfully ripped and torn in a way that might be called stylish if they weren't covered in fake gore and mud, someone had covered his tightly curled hair in what looked like talc and something else to give the illusion of grave dirt, one of his eyes was clouded but Lambert was unsure whether that was part of the costume or genuine and he wasn't about to ask, "My knight in....black cotton, apparently."

"No problem. Would've happily punched him in the face if I knew it wouldn't escalate shit. You ok?"

Zombie laughed, "I was about three seconds away from doing that myself before you stepped in. You saved me from having to grovel to my brother after getting blacklisted by another club."

Lambert raised an eyebrow, there was a story there.

"Hey, what time does your shift end? I'd like to buy you a drink. Nothing weird." They quickly added, holding both hands up, "Just as a thanks."

"Oh, I don't work here." Lambert said, leaning on the bartop.

Zombie's brow scrunched in confusion, "But, you told that guy you're security. And the outfit-"

"Is the worst costume ever!" Jaskier exclaimed, leaning forwards on his own stool to peer around at whoever Lambert was talking to, "My Security is not a valid costume option."

Zombie tilted his head as he appraised Jaskier's outfit, "If you're supposed to be a vampire, wouldn't Familiar be more accurate anyway?"

Jaskier grinned so widely and smugly his fangs almost fell back onto the bar top, "Hah! Vindication! I like you..."

"Aiden."

"Aiden. I'm Jaskier and Mr. No - Imagination here is Lambert if he's not told you already. Now, what's this I heard about punching somebody?"

Jaskier's face grew darker as the other two filled him in and he had to be talked out of marching into the back to the main office to chew out the acting manager about their "fucking non existent security." before getting helpfully distracted by another sexy insect (a butterfly this time).

Lambert felt oddly touched at Aiden's concern over him getting into trouble for impersonating club staff - a worry that was put to bed by Lambert pointing out with a shrug and a bucketful of mock innocence that even if anybody found out; he'd just told the creep that he was security, he never said who's exactly. Not Lambert's fault if the guy just assumed he worked here. Aiden had laughed at that and bought Lambert another drink.

"I should get going." Aiden said, finishing the last of his drink (the third they'd shared), "I need to make sure I'm up early enough to get revenge on the siblings who abandoned me here. Although." He flashed Lambert a shy smile. Totally different from the wide, dimpled things he'd been sporting for the last couple of hours and one that for some reason made Lambert's stomach flip, "Perhaps I should be thanking them instead."

Lambert poured all of his concentration into not blushing while he downed his own drink to prevent his mouth from coming out with something stupid.

Aiden pulled something out of his wallet, scrawling on it with what Lambert thought might be the stub of an eyeliner pencil fished from his pocket, "Here." He held out a small rectangle Lambert recognised as a business card, "I'd really like to talk to you again when I'm not covered in three layers of face paint and fake blood. Call me?"

Lambert nodded, their fingers brushing as he took the card, "I'll text you my number. You ok getting home?"

Aiden's smile widened adorably as he nodded, "Different sibling lives two streets away and I have a key. I'll see you around." Aiden held a hand up in a final farewell before making his way to the exit and disappearing in the crowd of departing party goers.

Lambert gave a private smile as he absently flipped the card over and saw Aiden's little hand written "Happy Halloween, Knight." complete with a little doodle of a smiley ghost. He dug his phone out to text the number on the other side. Happy Halloween indeed.