#willow's writing

[willowworkswithwords]

Hiya Willow! Regarding the latest prompt list, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you post an old guard fic a while back, so could I suggest 23 (putting a blanket on them when they’ve fallen asleep on the couch) for joenicky? No worries if not. Have a lovely day!

TimeLady, my dear, of course I'll write joenicky. It's my absolute pleasure. Also, thank you for your patience with this!! I've taken a hot minute to respond.

I love these two so damn much.

This is just a fun drabble I whipped up quite quick. I hope you like it my friend!

---

There's only so much their bodies can take. The days have been long and the nights somehow even more fleeting than they should have been. The latest mission had them all run ragged, but Joe had suffered the worst by far, dying over and over, caught between the enemy snipers and the citizens that hadn't been evacuated.

Nicky sits at the counter, watching Andy and Nile look at takeout menus from a kitchen drawer. That they weren't all long since out of business was a miracle in and of itself. Nicky can't remember the last time they were at this safehouse.

Everything in this safehouse creaks, so they all know when Joe leaves the bathroom even though he stays silent.

Nicky feels him move up behind him before he feels Joe's lips placed gently against his temple, barely brushing a kiss against his skin before he begins to slip away to Nile and Andy. Nicky grabs his wrist as gently as Joe had kissed him, redirecting him with no protest further than a small frown. Joe all but sank into the cushions of the couch. In one fluid motion, Nicky pulled the blankets down from where they were on the back of the couch, folded in a way that makes spreading them over Joe as easy as it was to get him onto the couch.

Brushing back Joe's hair, it's Nicky's turn to brush a gentle kiss to his temple, and another to his cheek for good measure, tucking the blanket snug around him.

[willowcrowned]

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

[jestergirlbosom]

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

[willowser]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"maybe he is."

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

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

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

you'd say you are, too.

[cauldronblssd]

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

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

“𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵”

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

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

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

Read A Blaze in the Dark on AO3!

Full steamy NSFW version also on AO3 here.

Please do not repost.

[beesbiteandwillowrites]

DP x DC Prompt: "Rematch"

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

But he notices when Bruce starts acting strange.

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

It's up to Robin to save the day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[draxua]

Yandere!Zenitsu is a freak, he's such a fucking loser.

He wants nothing more then for you to touch him. Do whatever you like with him just use him as a toy made only for your pleasure, please ruin him.

Hurt him, praise him, choke him, degrade him he'll let you do anything to him Claim him as yours, give him bruises and hickies all over his body. His body is your canvas, use your pretty nails to make scratches all over his body he wants to be covered in your art.

He's like an untamed dog, always wanting your attention, grinding himself on your thigh begging for you to touch him. He'll grind himself on your shoe any day. Panting like a dog with his tounge sticking out so happy his master granted him such a reward.

He comes so quickly on your shoe, coming undone before you, after just a few minutes of grinding against you.

Tears brim his eyes as he whines like a baby begging you for a sweet release. How pathetic.

Don't even get me started when you fuck him with your strap. He's so squirmish, he can never keep still always grabbing your thigh, even when you clearly told him he's not allowed to touch you. Slapping him, when he disobeys you making his pale cheek turn red, fucking him harder and more roughly then before whilst you pinch his nipples.

He whines so loudly when you play with his nipples, it always sends him over the edge making his mind get so foggy. He always cries when you slap him, his wet shiny lips pouting at the harsh contact. The pouting doesn't last for long when you're fucking him so sweetly.

His mouth opens so widely, drool sliding down the corner of his mouth as his eyes roll back blabbing absolute nonsense with whines and moans.

"U-uh huh huh ha ha hnnh h-ha"

And.

"Ffuck fuuuhck please please please please... oh fucckk.."

He's like a broken record, your name falling out of his mouth he can't concentrate on anything but the pleasure you're giving him. He's so so grateful a goddess like you would ever even look at an weirdo like him.

He wants to serve you at all times, he wants nothing more but to be a toy for you.Buy, him a nice collar with his name on it and he'll wear it with such pride. He'll be so happy you thought about him and spent money on such a gift for him.

Drag him around from his collar with your finger, he'll go absolutely insane. Put a leash on it and pull on it when you fuck him from behind, choke him, make him grab the collar desperately trying to cough the words up that it's too much. He loves it though, the lack of oxygen makes his head spin, panic rushing through his body making the pleasure intensify.

His shaking orgasm hits him like a wave. His cute plush thighs wobble so much he can't hold his body up anymore. His body goes limp, only the leash you're still tightly holding keeping up.

He whines so loudly when you continue to fuck him, let go of the leash and let his body fall on the bedsheets as you continue to harshly fuck him. Making his voice break and go higher with every thrust, till nothing comes out of that pretty mouth of his but sobs as you overestimulate him.

Yandere!Zenitsu will let you do anything to him, it's so fucking pathetic. What a loser.

𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 <3

[ashanimus]

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

[clovariia]

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

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

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

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

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

Forbidden Crown - V

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

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

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

Word Count: 3.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Marriage isn’t about love, Princess.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait…” she called out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you purred.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it pleasing?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hecateisalesbian]

made this in like an hour

Lilith doesn’t like writing on walls doors

[willowworkswithwords]

Any Time You Need a Friend

Chapters on ao3: one, two, three

Steve and Eddie both have bad nights, struggling around bad memories and hightened anxiety in November. The only reason Steve can pull himself out of bed is because Eddie needs him. Turns out, Steve needed him just as much. Wayne starts to see Steve's tendency to deny himself for the sake of others.

TW: Steve deals with anxiety-induced food issues and denies himself food out of his need to make sure others are taken care of. Nothing is graphic or overly detailed, but this whole chapter is about Steve having some trouble with keeping himself well-fed. Please take care of yourselves!!

- Chapter Three: Teach a Man to Fish -

November came before they knew it. Eddie was still walking with a cane, but he could go longer periods of time without it. Max was improving in physical therapy and wasn’t shutting Lucas out anymore. But it was still November, and everyone was sticking together even more than usual.

Hopper said it was the anniversary effect, that everything felt so much worse around the date. They did their best to lean into what their government therapist said, that talking about it all, not just to recall what they needed to do but to talk it through, would help, so the Party had been working on catching Eddie and Robin up on what they’d missed. Nancy and Steve were quick to go to the very beginning.

So, Steve had found out about the box.

Nancy kept it at the bottom of her closet. It held three things neatly and delicately, all Barb’s: the notecards Barb had helped her make, a book she had left at Nancy’s house a couple days before the pool party, and the last picture of her, taped back up and framed.

Here he was, a week after the box, and he was staring at his empty fridge with deep bags under his eyes. His stomach had started to hurt. It wasn’t his normal hunger, or that weird feeling he sometimes got, like an anti-hunger when everything was too much and he couldn’t stand adding food to the list. This just hurt.

It hurt and his head was starting to pound and he’d only just woken up, hands still shaking at his sides, and his fridge was really, really empty. So he just…went back to his room. The deep blue of the not-quite-dawn was pushing against the windowpane, and Steve covered himself in his comforter and curled around his empty stomach, wondering why things were so damn hard right now.

-

The rising sun was just about to hit his bed when the phone rang. Steve let it go. It rang again and somehow it seemed louder. Steve didn’t move. His stomach still hurt, and his head wasn’t any better. He hadn’t slept.

His walkie went off and he had it in his hands before he’d even registered getting out of bed.

“Steve, do you copy? Over.” Eddie’s voice was almost calm, but Steve had heard enough of his check-in calls over the walkie before to hear the rapidly building panic beneath it.

“I’m here. What’s wrong. Over.”

His hands were shaking again.

“Oh thank Christ—Steve answer your fucking phone.”

The click of the walkie resounded in Steve’s empty room, and Steve stared at it for a second before pressing down the button.

“Uhhhh, you didn’t say over? Over.”

His voice doesn’t shake but it sounds small even to him.

“Fuck—over. Answer your phone. Over and out.”

Steve’s phone rang a third time, and this time Steve was already on his way to the handset in the hallway.

“Eddie I’m sorry I didn’t realize it was you calling I—”

“Have you eaten breakfast yet.”

Eddie doesn’t ask it like a question. He says it like he knows the answer and is awaiting confirmation. Steve shuffles despite Eddie not being able to see him.

“It’s like, barely seven a.m. Eddie.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been awake, right?”

And before Steve can try to deny it Eddie bulldozes on.

“I’ve been awake too, sucky ass nightmares, barely got like, three fucking hours, I’ve been staring at the static on the TV man, I feel like I’m gonna puke kinda, Wayne’s not back yet but he should have gotten back an hour ago—”

“Woah woah woah, Eddie, breathe, dude.” Steve makes an effort to let Eddie hear his inhale and exhale, even as Eddie laughs hysterically for a while before he can get it together enough to mimic him.

When Eddie has been able to breathe for a couple minutes, Steve pushes his fingers into his eyes, pushing the migraine away from his eyes, back into a little box called Ignore Until Not Busy With Important Shit, and exhales.

“I’ll be there in ten, Ed.”

Eddie lets out a shaky exhale again.

“Thanks, Steve. See you soon?”

“See you soon, Eddie.”

Steve could drive to Eddie’s in his sleep, for Eddie and for Max. The amount of times Steve has had to drive to each of the kids’ houses in the middle of the night to make sure they were all ok was kind of embarrassing.

The only light on in the trailer was in the living room, the other end of the trailer still dark even against the rising sun. Wayne’s truck was gone, Eddie’s van parked right by the ramp Wayne had built to make sure both Eddie and Max could get in and out as needed. Steve pulled up into his spot, on the other side of Eddie’s van.

He knocked and Eddie slammed into the door, the locks being flung open as fast as possible. Eddie was never in the trailer without both of the doors locked down tighter than a hard level in DND. Wayne had only stopped Eddie’s anxiety fueled lock-down when he’d tried to jam all the windows shut. November may not be an anniversary date for Eddie, but the normal fears had been bolstered with the stories from all the Upside Down stories from before March, with each new detail and each new horror they told him. Steve knew Eddie needed to know, that he wanted to know, but he wished everyone else’s anxiety wouldn’t have to rub off on him so much (his own included).

Eddie’s face is just this side of frantic, just a little wild still, and Steve steps into the trailer without another word. The door snaps shut, each lock sliding back into place, then Eddie turns and presses his head into Steve’s chest, sighing shakily. Steve wraps his arms around him and smiles sadly at his mop of hair.

“Hey Eddie.”

“Hey Steve.”

-

Wayne comes home just as Eddie pulls the waffles out of the toaster and Steve is finishing up the eggs (an over easy egg for Eddie and a hard egg for himself, because the texture of wet eggs makes him gag). The special knock only Wayne and Eddie use breaks through the album they’d put on and Eddie flies over to the door.

Wayne is yanked into a hug before he can even get in, and Steve lets them be while he plates up his hard egg without a word for Wayne, grabbing the syrup from where he knows it lives at the way back of their cabinet.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call, kid, the power went out and I didn’t want to waste time by stopping somewhere,” Wayne says as he squeezes the back of Eddie’s neck. Eddie smiles shakily and they part, coming over to the table once Wayne slides all the lock closed.

“Looks good, kid.”

Steve takes a second to realize Wayne’s talking to him, then smiles at him as he slides the egg and waffles over to Wayne.

“It was a joint effort.”

Steve is still smiling, plating up waffles for himself, stomach growling really loud actually, when he looks up at Eddie and his smile falters. Eddie is looking back and forth between Steve’s plate and Wayne’s, frowning.

“I thought that—” Eddie begins, but Steve can’t let Wayne know, it’s not a big deal. They’d used up the last two eggs, it was fine. Waffles was more than Steve would have eaten at home anyways.

“I’m not in the mood for eggs, Ed, I just wanted to make sure there was something for Wayne when he showed up.”

Eddie looks suspiciously at him, and Steve can see Wayne’s eyebrows furrow.

“Steve, was this egg…”

“It’s all good, Wayne. I’m not that hungry right now anyways.”

Eddie is staring at him, Steve knows he is, because they’d just been talking about how loudly Steve’s stomach was growling before Wayne had knocked, and he knows Wayne had heard its growl a minute ago. Steve can’t look at either of them. It’s not a big deal, really. He’s fine.

An exchange must happen between Wayne and Eddie while Steve is busy shoveling waffle into his mouth, because Wayne’s chair is scrapping against the linoleum and he shuffles into the kitchen. Steve figures it’s for the coffee that just finished brewing, and he’s sort of right.

A cup of coffee appears by his plate, but so does a banana.

“Oh uh, thank you sir—um, Wayne.”

Shit, he was trying not to let that slip out so much anymore. He knows it’s a dead give-away that he’s anxious too, because he always falls back on old habits when he’s unsure how to interact with Wayne. Or honestly, with anyone.

“No worries, Steve. No use going hungry when there’s plenty to eat.”

Briefly, Steve looks up. Wayne has a small smile on his face but worry in his eyes. Eddie meets his eyes too, smiles a little softer.

Steve picks up the banana.

[willowcrowned]

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

[jestergirlbosom]

I’m s4s silly for silly :)

[willowser]

"i ain't takin' a fuckin' bath."

katsuki's half-undressed, standing in the kitchen with the fridge doors wide open; shirtless, shoulders broad and muscles round and taut, cool air raising goosebumps across his exposed skin. his un-buttoned tac pants are dangerously low on his hips, so low that you wonder—while staring at the dimples of his back—if he's doing it on purpose.

the dewy sheen of sweat he'd come home with has gone matte, leaving him in a thin, sticky, grimy layer that is grimace-inducing to feel. like most nights, dirt and soot and even blood—grown dark and less worrisome with time—color him haphazardly, strewn across his body; a mosaic of dynamight, made by his own hands.

"but you stink," you fail to suppress a smile when he snaps his head around, to fix you with an ugly look that you return. he manages to hide his own amusement in the bulge of his bicep. "i'm serious! a bath will help you relax!"

turning back to the open fridge, he grumbles, "i am relaxed," in a tone that doesn't sound relaxed. at all.

"come on," you urge, shuffling up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist despite all his dried grease and muck. "you go first and i'll be there in a minute."

that catches his attention enough that he finally closes the doors, facing you as he runs a lazy hand over his stomach. to his credit, he does look a bit more relaxed than he had when he'd come through the door—but the set of his jaw is still too stern, brow only ever furrowed, a little more argumentative than usual, even if it's harmless.

katsuki seems to consider your unspoken proposition, before finally surrendering with a roll of his eyes. "fine, but i'm takin' a shower like a grown ass man."

"no!" you groan, latching onto his arm when he moves to step around you. you try to dig your heels into the ground, but you're in the kitchen in socks, and katsuki only yanks you after him with a wicked grin. "bath! a bath will help you relax, i mean it! i've got lavender oils!"

"i ain't using' your frilly shit!"

he finally slips from you when you sputter out a laugh, tugging free from your grip before throwing you a look that is hot in more ways than one. innocent as you aimed to be, something tightens in your stomach; awakened at the sight of him.

you warn, "i'm only coming if you're in the bath!" and his loud, exaggerated groan echoes nearly throughout your entire house, swallowing up your chirpy laugh.

—but, much to your surprise, he listens.

you let him soak for a good five minutes before following after, and when you find him, he's got his head leaned back over the edge, elbows resting on either side of the tub, legs bent and knees sticking up out of the water. handsome as ever, you think, a little dreamy, before the marble of him shifts at your arrival.

he only opens one eye, and you can see already the tension has drained from his face; half-asleep, a little bloodshot and breathing too even to convince you otherwise.

"well, well, well," you murmur, lowering to the floor on your knees after his eye slips shut again. "look at you, princess."

katsuki makes a haughty noise of irritation, but doesn't bite back: a dead giveaway of his exhaustion. instead his hand finds the material of your shirt, tugging on it lightly before he slurs out, "get y'r ass in the tub."

you'd bite his fingers if they weren't still disgusting, but you place a teeny kiss on the cleanest spot you can see on his wrist. "i don't need a bath, but thanks."

"hah?" he grunts, eye shooting open again as he frowns at you. when you only smile coyly at him, he raises his head and glares at you properly. "y'dirty liar, you said—"

"i said i'd be right behind you," you grin. "not that i'd be getting in."

the water sloshes up against the sides as he straightens his posture, baring his teeth at you as he prepares, you think, to lunge out and haul you in with him despite a screaming protest—but you reach forward just before he can, dipping a hand down into the warmth right between his thighs.

katsuki jumps, seriously, leg kicking out so hard that his heel slams into the edge of the tub, when you gently hold him where he's soft. "jesus!" he all but yelps, eyes going a little wide as he realizes what you've done. what you've made of him.

he's still—marble-still—air sucking in sharply between his parted, frozen lips as you touch him, and heat pools so obviously, so suddenly, in his cheeks, sweet enough that you want to bite into the apples of them. in your hand he swells thick, quickly, a little slippery from the soap he's already added to the water.

all his tension returns, as a different strain; katsuki swallows, hard, as his eyes dart back and forth between your own and where your hand disappears into the water; when you gently rub your thumb back and forth across the tip of him, his back straightens, even moreso, and, you don't think he knows it, but his legs part even further.

an invitation if you'd ever seen one.

he finally comes back to life when you lean in close enough to nudge your nose to his, just to see him blink.

he's so cute, you want to eat him alive.

"the f-fuck are y'doin'?" he whispers, eyes dropping back down as you stroke him lightly, just enough to coil him tighter. at the end of the tub, water sloshes quietly from the movement, and katsuki's ears burn.

you've caught him entirely off guard, and if it wasn't clear before, it becomes crystalline when you kiss him, deeply. he's lazy to reciprocate, breathing softly, open-mouthed, as you press a soft kiss to his top lip and then to his bottom, whispering his name back to him just to hear his sharp inhale.

you time a clever stroke of your wrist with the firm press of your mouth to his, insistent and fast, urging the wildness of him to catch up, to come out. it hits him all at once—your desire, his own, the heat of it all—and his hand shoots out of the water to grip the back of your neck, a deep groan slipping from his chest as his cock kicks in your hand.

you try more than once to pull back from him with a sneaky little laugh, but his fingers tangle in your hair and he kisses your teeth and you think, maybe, you're not teasing him enough. his knees knock lightly against the ceramic as he tries to spread them, even further, and his hips shift up with every slick pump of your fist, urgent and eager.

he speaks, furiously, against your lips, when you snatch your hand away, instead teasing your fingers along the inside of his thigh. "get—in th'fuckin' tub." his shoulders tremble, ever so slightly. "i ain't askin' again."

you laugh against him and his nostrils flare. "you didn't ask at all!"

"so quit your bullshit already."

you lick his bottom lip, nipping at the fat of it gently before weaving your own hand into his damp hair. "no," you tease, like a brat, but when you tug enough at the strands, he gets the hint and allows you to pull away. "i'm trying to help you relax, you know?"

katsuki doesn't respond at first, only huffing out a frustrated sound when you wrap your hand around his length again. his face is steaming, despite how firm he's trying to be; your own desire strikes hot when his head tips back just slightly, jaw straining as he grits his teeth.

"no," he finally grunts, eyes dark and pinned to you. "'s'the last thing i feel, is-is relaxed."

"hmm," you make a point to frown and look away, like you're thinking, but katsuki's impatience wins out and he drags you back in for a shuddering kiss. he's fervent, now, nipping at your lip and brushing his tongue against your own eagerly, trying to muffle a painful sound against your cheek. "that's too bad," you tell him—but you don't think he hears you, really, over his low curse and the returning slosh of water against the tub.

but when you ask him again, only a handful of minutes later—his boneless answer is precisely what you were looking for.

[julienbakerstreet]

“All I know is that I had a crack at him. I never actually saw him, you know—he was always a few steps ahead and I never actually caught up with him. To be Sherlock is difficult because he is such an elusive pimpernel. Maybe I got one or two things right. But Sherlock is evergreen. He is one of the most elusive, intellectual geniuses who has ever been written about. Men find him fascinating because he is so self contained and totally in control, while women see him as a challenge: they want to break that icy demeanour and reveal the real emotion beneath. Of course SH has a feminine side too—the intuitive quality which is part of his magic. Bless his heart, he's streets ahead of us still.”

- Jeremy Brett, Bending The Willow