#Anyways if anyone wants ti join that would be great!

[satoruhour]

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops—

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:

you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai &lt;3 ok gn

#kinda hate how this turned out goodnight loooooool #luna u sending in that ask made me think of this song LMFAOOO and i rlly didnt know what title to use so i just... dumb dick i guess LMAOAO #asks #🍒 anon 2 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru #geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto x you #getou smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru smut #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #jjk thirsts #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #suguru geto #getou x you #suguru x reader

[littlejuicebox]

A Midwinter Carol / The OneShot

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Summary/Setting: Fifteen years post BG3 / You turned down Astarion's offer and went your own way after the ending of the game and you've just returned to BG. Astarion sees you again for the first time in 15 years and then has a surprise visitor that changes everything for him.

Rating/Warnings: M+ / Gore and Sexual Scenes / Spoilers for the game / Prob OOC Ascended Astarion

Word Count: 3K

Notes: This is 2/5 "Days of Star-mas!" "A Christmas Carol" but make it BG3 Ascended Astarion, of course!

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "new beginnings."

Click here to see my master list.

-----

Fifteen years. The Vampire Ascendent hadn’t seen you in fifteen years, since you’d rejected his offer to become his loyal consort for the final time.

You two couldn’t reconcile your differences. You’d wanted him to trust you, to believe that your love was stronger than any desire for power, that you could remain a mortal or become a true vampire like him and still remain loyal. You didn’t want to be a spawn. You’d considered his offer a great disrespect, and ultimately, his changed behavior had driven you away.

“You’re nothing like the man I fell in love with anymore. I don’t know who you are.”

Your words had stung, though he’d never admit it.

It had been an awful, messy, seething breakup, to be sure… and the Vampire Lord almost turned you against your will anyway. But at the time, Astarion’s soft spot for you had reigned supreme, and he still thought himself better than Cazador and above such things. So, against his own wishes, he’d let you go.

Last the Vampire Ascendent heard of your movements, you were somewhere along the Sword Coast, playing valiant hero once again. So, when he walked into Duke Ravengard’s Midwinter Gala with some pretty little thing on his arm that he’d picked up for the occasion and would likely drain of blood and dispose of later, he was flabbergasted to see you sitting at the high table. Right. Next. To. Wyll.

Fifteen years and it still felt like the greatest betrayal, as if you’d staked him through the heart in that moment. It took every ounce of The Vampire Lord’s control to not to turn into a cloud of smoke and break The Duke’s neck then and there. Oh, but how desperately he wanted to.

But he couldn’t risk such a spectacle… many of his dealings were hanging tenuously as it was, and creating a power vacuum in the city was just as bad for him as it would be for those against him. No, Wyll helped to maintain the balance… and generally tolerated Astarion with some level of old-ties respect. They had an agreement: the pale elf would keep his business private and primarily drink from criminals, and Wyll would turn a relatively blind eye. So no, as much as he wanted to, Astarion couldn’t afford such a loss of control.

The Vampire Ascendent watched as you walked about the room with Duke Ravengard, hanging on his arm like a prize and chatting with nobles and old contacts. Astarion’s date — what was their name again? — tried more than once to steal his attentions away, but resigned themselves to drinking heavily and dancing with several other guests. The Vampire Ascendant watched you join the dance floor with The Duke and his blood boiled at the sight; he even bent the stem of his golden goblet while witnessing the vile scene.

No. Absolutely not. This wouldn’t do. Astarion had to do something, had to interrupt whatever game this was. How dare you and Wyll disrespect him like this! So, he stood and abruptly crossed the dance floor, the other guests parting like the Red Sea before him in their shock. Lord Ancunin never made his way to the dance floor for anyone.

“May I interrupt and have this next dance?” The Vampire Ascendent’s voice is honeyed and saccharine as the music pauses and the band readies for their next ballad. Everyone around the room is clapping politely. A gentleman’s smile is plastered across the elf’s lips, but it doesn’t meet his eyes, as he extends his pale hand to you.

Wyll bristles and turns to look at you, and there’s a moment of silent communication between two sets of eyes that must know one another quite well, because Astarion cannot read their nearly-imperceptible movements. Finally, the Duke relents and passes your hand to the Vampire Lord.

“No funny business, Astarion. My men and I will be watching your every move.” The Duke warns through a benevolent-appearing smile, a warning hand clasped on the vampire’s tensed back, before locking eyes with you once more and then turning and walking toward the high table.

You smile at Astarion, as if it’s just the two of you back in the center of that clearing, draped in moonlight and barren to one another, all those years ago. “It’s good to see you, my old friend.”

Old friend? Old friend? The words make the Vampire Ascendent’s mouth practically fill with bile as he spins you about the room. He can feel the steady beating of your heart and smell that intoxicating, tempting bouquet of blood brimming beneath your skin that he’d never quite forgotten.

You two catch up, to some small extent, as you tell the Vampire Lord about your journeys along the Sword Coast and he tries to impress you with his growing influence and wealth, but before long the song is over and The Duke is, annoyingly, coming back to retrieve his prize. You smile so sweetly at Astarion before you depart that it almost hurts; no one else looks at him with that level of love and kindness… all he ever sees anymore are eyes filled with fear, mistrust, or hate.

“I hope you’re happy, Astarion. Truly. I’m glad to see you looking so well. Now go find the date you came with… they’re owed a dance, I believe.” You press a chaste kiss to his cheek, sending an electric shock through his numb heart. He almost gives into his urges and bites you right there, in front of everyone, claiming his love and his prize. But again, he lets you go, slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass as you meander back toward Wyll and continue the festivities.

Astarion can’t take any more of this. He goes to find his date, rips them away from whatever conversation they were having with whatever noble, and swiftly exits the party. Back at the Palace, the poor little thing is used for mindless sex and then for sustenance and then left to be disposed of by one of the staff with nary a thought. The Vampire Lord couldn’t even remember their name.

——-

A week rolls by, and gods what a terrible week it was. Astarion’s grip had weakened on the city after a few poor calls. In his pride, he’d never admit they were his fault, and instead he quickly blamed his advisors and sent them to the dungeons. Furthermore, the meeting he’d hosted today with several of the Guilds had practically blown up in his face as the Guild Leaders came to blows in the middle of the Great Hall. Mortal creatures could be so… overzealous. The entire ordeal was giving him a massive headache. If the Guild Leaders didn’t come to an agreement soon, he would lose his monopoly on the shipping industry.  

The Vampire Lord settles into his bed, alone, after downing several goblets of wine, but sleep does not come to him. He’s awake, staring at the ceiling, and all he can think about is you. Gods, he thought he’d moved past all this. But as he remembers your face, your nights together, the way your body felt on his… he feels his erection growing. Astarion is about to stick his hand inside his trousers to provide himself with some relief when a familiar, annoying voice travels through the room.

“I’ve been watching you, Astarion.”

Fucking Gale. The fucking God of Ambition. The Vampire Lord shoots up in bed and sees the silvery form of his former campmate standing at the foot of it.

“What in the hells, Gale! A God and still an absolute pervert, I see.”

The God ignores Astarion, moving to sit his ethereal form on the edge of the bed. The Vampire Lord wrinkles his nose and pulls his legs as far away from Gale as he can.

The God sighs, “Astarion, you’ve rejected my help before, and the strides you’ve made within the city are falling… it’s beginning to seem that you are headed down a path you are not going to be able to return from. A few more bad calls and you won’t come back from it. You are wasting your potential because you refuse to become the master of your own ambition rather than a slave to it. I’m beginning to wonder… is this what you truly want? I can see many lifetimes of yours, with many choices you’ve made along the way, and I’m sorry to tell you this lifetime seems to be the most miserable.”

Astarion scoffs. The fact that Gale is the only prior friend that keeps in touch with him, albeit for his own peculiar reasons, is a sad fact that the Vampire Lord refuses to acknowledge. He’d pushed everyone else away years ago. The only other person he ever saw was The Duke at obligatory balls, galas, and political events… and obviously the last time had been less than fulfilling. But loneliness resided deep in the Vampire Lord’s heart, hidden away from even his own acknowledgement, so although Gale had always been his least favorite, the pale elf still engaged in conversation.

“What do you mean by that? That you can see several of my lifetimes? I find it difficult to believe that this is the worst. Surely there is a lifetime in which I’m still under Cazador’s control.”

The God of Ambition considers this, and then turns and looks off into the distance, as if he’s examining something Astarion cannot see. “Hmm. Actually, there is only one lifetime in which that is still ongoing. So yes, that one may be the worst. I stand corrected, this is the second worst. You’re dead in more of them, a spawn in most of them… and your Tav, or some other version of Tav, is in several as a friend or a lover, to both the spawn and ascendant versions of you. You might be surprised to know that in more than one, you and I are coupled… it’s quite interesting.”

Astarion cringes at the thought of being in a relationship with Gale, but chooses to move past the thought and acknowledge the only bit of information he actually cared about, “My Tav is in several of them?”

“Of course. Would you like to see it? Let me take you on a little journey.” Gale holds his hand out the Vampire Lord, and Astarion cannot help but feel the pull of intrigue. Gods… at least this would guarantee a more interesting night than one with his hand spent down his own pants.

The pale elf sighs and extends his hand to the God of Ambition, and just as their fingers brush, he feels himself enveloped in the warmth of the Weave. Light spirals around the two beings and then suddenly, Astarion and Gale are standing outside a tomb. The Vampire Lord hears himself screaming from inside the tomb and feels the panic and shame rising within his own body. This is from his own past, when Cazador locked him up for a year.

“Why the hells have you brought me here, Gale? This isn’t what I asked to see!”

“No… but I thought it might serve as a reminder of where you came from. You seem to have forgotten… and subject others to similar fates and tortures, nowadays.”

Astarion hears the begging and pleading, the scratching on the inside of the tomb, and his gut churns again at the memory. How something that happened years ago, that he’d shoved deep in his mind never to acknowledge again, could still rip such a reaction from an all-powerful Vampire Ascendent, he did not know. The elf felt himself shaking as he was flooded with the emotion of the memory. Had he really turned into an exact replica of his former master? Hadn’t he wanted to be better than Cazador?

“Had enough? Okay, onto the next one.” Gale snaps his fingers, and both beings are pulled through the Weave.

Suddenly they’re standing in The Duke’s parlor room… the vampire had seen the room just a time or two before, during some business negotiation or another. Then he sees you, bursting through the door with one hand on your swollen belly. Gods above and below, were you carrying Wyll’s seed in this one? The thought made his skin crawl and his stomach churn in disgust.

“Hurry, my love! We need to place the presents here for the others.”

Astarion’s eyebrows crinkle as he listens to the voice responding to you from down the hallway, joined in by the giggles of what is clearly a child. “We’re coming, darling. This little imp is just slowing me down a bit!”

And then he sees himself coming through the door with a silver-haired, giggling toddler wrapped around his leg… but it’s not himself. Pink skin, beating heart, a few more years on his face. Mortal… but how?

Mortal Astarion is carrying a bundle of presents that he places on the coffee table in the center of the parlor. The child grins and puts a hand drawn card on top of the small pile of gifts. The card reads: ‘For Uncle Wyll, Auntie Euphemia, and the Ravengard Twins. Love, the Ancunins.”

Astarion feels his pulse thrumming in his ears as the scene plays out. Mortal Astarion envelops you in his arms and plants a kiss on your cheek, before bending down and placing a kiss on your pregnant stomach.

“Let’s go and join the others, shall we? Auntie Shadowheart and Auntie Lae’zel have a gift for you, my little love!” The mortal pale elf cheers, bending down to pick up the drooling toddler.

“Yay, daddy! Go!” The little babe cheers, clapping uncoordinated hands together, causing both this version of you and his mortal self to giggle in adoration. He watches as you take this version of him by the hand and exit the parlor, headed towards a clamor of conversation filled with several familiar voices. The Vampire Lord tries to follow the little family, desperate to see how the scene continues, but he’s ripped from the scene and thrown back into the Weave with Gale.

“I wasn’t finished!” The Ascendent Vampire shouts in frustration, running his hands through curled hair.

Gale simply sighs and shakes his head at Astarion, before settling onto another scene entirely.

In this one, you are a vampire. Not a vampire spawn, a true vampire. Astarion watches as you don your dress, unabashedly taking in the familiar curves of your body before they’re covered up, and then turns to see himself entering through the bedchamber door.

“My treasure, we’ve done it! We’ve secured educational and apprenticeship programs for the orphans from the Guilds as a show of good faith for our support and protection.”

Your vampire self runs to this better version of Ascendant Astarion, enveloping him in a shockingly passionate kiss. It was enough to make even the Vampire Lord’s skin run hot as he imagined what it would feel like to have you on him like that again.

“I’ve just put on my clothes, my love.” You murmur, voice coy, as you slowly drop your shoulder out of the gown and focus on your Astarion. “But perhaps you won’t mind helping me back out of them… I think that announcement is cause for a bit of… celebration.”

The scene quickly devolves into something overwhelmingly hot and heavy. The Vampire Lord feels himself tingle with desire as he watches everything unfold. Just as the other version of Astarion is about to plunge himself into the vampire version of Tav, the Weave swirls around Gale and Astarion once more.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” The Vampire Lord hisses as he glares at The God of Ambition.

“I know… steamy, right?” Gale responds, with a small chuckle. “Onto our final scene… this one is your… unfortunate future, if you continue down your same path, I’m afraid.”

The Vampire Ascendent soon sets his eyes on possibly the most gut-wrenching scene he could ever imagine. There you are, standing before him, holding a stake that’s driven straight through his heart. Blood pools around the wound. He’s trying to reach for you, to touch your face, to choke out something he cannot say. And then he’s gone, slumped on the floor, as you hold him in your arms and let out a bloodcurdling wail.  

The crying goes on forever. Your body is wracking with sobs as you turn the corpse onto its back and throw yourself over it, almost desperate to have his body close to yours. After what feels like an eternity, your trembling hands come to his face, and you plant a surprisingly tender kiss on his lips. Astarion notices, with some level of shock, bleeding wounds along your arms and neck. Some bites, some blade slashes… had he really been the one to do that to you?

“I really loved you, you know, Astarion… I wish it hadn’t come to this. How dare you kill The Duke and throw the city into upheaval! My city! Our city!

There was nothing between Wyll and me. Just two old friends, catching up… I’d wanted to be back home, I’d fled from my city for fifteen years after what happened between us. Wyll offered me a soft place to land and a kind transition back into society.

I was sure everything would be okay after all this time. That we could at least talk. It had been fifteen years! But you didn’t come to speak to me, you ignored my scrolls, and then—why?!”

The sobbing returned, and you were slamming shaking fists into the corpse version of himself over and over and over and over.

The Vampire Lord sucked in a breath and turned back to the God, “I’ve seen enough, Gale! Take me home right now.”

“As you wish.” The God of Ambition murmurs, and with a snap of his fingers, Astarion is back in his bed in the Palace.

“So?” Gale asks, lifting himself from where he is still sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I need to talk to Tav… I need to speak with her. Tomorrow.” The Vampire Lord murmurs, his head still reeling from everything he saw. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. What would he even say to you, after all this time?

“I would agree. It's far past time for you to pursue a new beginning, Astarion." The God responds as the Weave starts to swirl around him in bright flares of azure, “Oh... and Astarion? I know we were once friends, if you could really call us that… but don’t think this little show and tell was for free. I’ll be asking something of you, when the time comes.”

The Vampire Lord nods. Of course. It could never be that simple, could it? And just like that, Gale disappears in a spray of light, and Astarion is left alone once more.

No. It could never be that simple. The only simple truth in Astarion’s life was this: you were and would always be his saving grace.

——-

Story navigation: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #5daysofstarmas #bg3holidayfluffle23

[ms-scarletwings]

Irken Zim’s 8 biggest fans

For funsies! As we are well aware, this guy has a lot of gut-haters and censurers across the galaxy. Over his long years of life, he’s gained a proud infamy from every corner of the Irken empire, all the way to the fringes beyond, and the number of critics snapping at his heels only grows with every adventure. Whole civilizations sit at their seat’s edge waiting for this invader’s downfall, but what of those who defy all odds, expectations, maybe even logic? Even devils somehow find worshippers, even criminals get fan mail, and even Invader Zim has someone rooting for him within the 4th wall. Weirdly quite a handful of them, actually, let’s recount.

8. Table Headed Service Drone Bob

It’s humorous, how odd circumstance can make for strange advocacy. The show’s universe operates on the rule of funny, and Bob just so happened to be in the right place and time to comedically become the only Irken alive with something to gain from Zim’s success, and so much to lose for his failure. The sheer unfairness of what the Tallest put him through along with Zim serving some hope for a miracle ticket out of his low standing seemed to snap something in him, even if just for an episode. It would make sense for anyone in his position to have a much more dampened love for their society and leaders, to the point where cheering on its greatest enemy would be preferable than another moment of being a doormat. An underdog rooting for an underdog, even if for purely selfish and coincidental reasons.

7. The Judgementia Control brains

Even more deliciously ironic, isn’t it- That Zim’s praise was be sung once from the very bottom rung of Irken society and then again from the highest spike? What better to follow up poor Bobby than another victim of astronomical circumstance, or rather, three victims together? The nutshell recap of “The Trial’s” plot climax spells out the tragedy of, what is basically Irk’s highest court officials, to become he first ever victims of Zim’s malignant code becoming a contagion. They’ve joined the Fanclub, even if against their will, and all the better for Zim this time to have support from such a high place, seeing that it literally saved his hide in this instance.

6. Dib Membrane

Yeah, that’s freaking right. He’s on the list. You think being a hype man and a mortal rival are mutually exclusive? You either haven’t been watching enough DBZ or you haven’t been watching enough Hellsing and should fix that. Anyway, and I’m speaking within the actual canon dynamic of these two… it is very important to Zim that Dib is perceived as a formidable opponent to bluster his own ego, and vise versa. Dib is not in any self-serving position to accept what an actual mess Zim’s operation is, even though he has more evidence of the alien’s horrible tactics, nonsense plans, failures, etc. than anyone else on the planet. Gaz can see Zim for exactly what he is and why fighting him doesn’t have to be this 24/7 urgent priority. Dib refuses to get that because stopping Zim’s pop-up schemes only keeps the score tied for them. They’ve both been at this long enough to get incredibly frustrated with the lack of progression regarding the big picture goals, taking over the world, and exposing a live alien to the world, respectively. I don’t think he has to keep describing this space goblin as some ultra-cunning master of villainy, or GIR as this nefarious minion because that’s what he actually thinks of them, but because if he admits otherwise, that’s not a great reflection of his own merit for the obvious reasons. Just the presentation of another dimension’s version of himself succeeding against Zim before him causes a spiral of self doubt, just as it can bring Zim to a minor panic watching other invaders leaving him in the dust. Dib wants this guy to be a challenge worth the victory lap when he finally gets what he’s been fighting so hard for.

When Zim is getting on some truly idiotic antics, Dib doesn’t actually revel in his disorganized stupidity, but meets it with a baffled or annoyed disappointment. Like me watching a character I thought was super badass suddenly do something that reveals them to just be utterly lame. Too often he almost comes off like he is critiquing Zim’s performance as a villain rather than,, you know, the fact that Zim is a villain in the first place. It more than once has led to accidentally giving the guy new ideas or pointers on how to do his own job better once in a while. If I were in Dib’s place I would under NO circumstances be giving Zim advice or corrections on what he’s doing “badly” when it comes to the invader thing, but, whatever makes you feel cool & smart, you little dork. There’s also the whole “Dib’s hatred for Zim belies his geeky fixation with aliens broadly” angle I’ve mentioned here or there before, and don’t mind to again. Studying/stalking Zim is only partially about defeating him. His curiosity over Irken tech, biology, etc. is still coming from a place of genuine scientific passion, as literally all of us know. And of course, on occasion the two make for unlikely allies against much bigger shared enemies.

5. Minimoose

Oh come on, how much could I even have to say about this moose-weapon? He has two fathers and is fully aware that Zim is one of them. Assuming we all here know about the cute Florpus quote; no need to recap the whole existence of the lil guy.

4. Invader Skoodge

Now this guy… this guy ain’t right. Exactly here, at this (I say with love) loser of an invader, we reach two tipping points when it comes to Zim-affinity. One, the tipping point where Zim ceases to ask for and ceases to appreciate the toadying. Two, the point where I actually kind of struggle to find any rational explanation for the toady’s behavior. Like I’ve tried and I genuinely don’t know how to put together how Skoodge keeps jumping into this position other than ‘it’s that funny’ or some weird familiarity from smeethood factor. All of the invaders know what Zim has done and what he’s capable of. He’s a consistent terrorist of his own kin and defamed as the greatest disgrace to the Empire. The two options for how to feel about Zim as any random Irken soldier are fear, and/or loathing. If Skoodge were just neutral or indifferent of Zim, that’d be pretty freaking odd. But Skoodge interacts with Zim on the level of at least a lukewarm acquaintance, readily even deferring to his command, despite the fact that he nearly dies every single time he does so. He survives miles of being chased by a monster on Hobo-13, he makes it to the finish line, and his first reaction is to let Zim know he’s made it in one piece. He decides to lay low and slack off after getting fired (into the blighted surface of Blorch) and out of the entire universe to choose from, he decides to go hole up at Zim’s place and stay conveniently out of the way for some time. Dude finally shows himself in the unfinished scripts, and it’s to motherfucking help Zim troll around with Dib. I’m up at night wondering what is going on in Skoodge’s head because he’s n o t an idiot. He’s a real invader in all other respects, just as competent and nationalistic as the rest of them. Easily suggestible, yes, but not stupid. There’s basically no way for him to be ignorant of the big lie the Tallest sold Zim, yet he chooses not to utter a peep on the matter. Pity? A bizarre sense of solidarity?? A delusional one sided friendship??? Don’t look at me like I know other than the fact that he’s on our protag’s team, in spirit. The wannabe Irwin to Zim’s Billy, essentially.

3. Keef

So yeah of all things to blow Skoodge’s unhealthy attachment clean out of the water, we stumbled into this freak of a human child. Keef is a loyal compadre to a fault. A huge, creepy fault. Kid was originally supposed to make a return as well, wherein he was no less of a stubborn stalker than already proven once. And extra points for the irrational selflessness. Even while demonstrating an understanding of what Zim did in Dark Harvest, possibly even with the memory of that whole squirrel incident, he still wishes nothing but for the ability to put a smile on his green friend’s face.

2. The Amoeboid Cult

And when none thought that the scary conviction Zim garnered on Earth could be his biggest fans, you find this little ditty in the comics, and it starts turning into an irresponsible god analogy fairly quick. The short recap is that following a crash on a strange planet, the Voot Runner starts leaking fluids that inadvertently spark abiogenesis, which results in the creation of a rapidly evolving race of blob-things. Seizing an opportunity, Zim at first demands their followership, and then shortly after gets fed up with it as he did the previous fanatic on the list. Nonetheless, the cell people continue to reproduce and age thousands of years their time in the span of a couple minutes, never losing that zeal for their unintentional creator, even going so far as to repair the cruiser despite Zim’s rejection of them. Out of what little they gathered about him during his short visit, they correctly learned he’s a destructive god who planned to abandon them as soon as he could. Their last wish as a civilization? For this god to also obliterate them, as final treat. Such was their devotion that it even left Zim himself completely baffled for a moment when its full depth was revealed.

1. GIR

You watch this show, right? Yeah? Henchman and sidekick number one? Chaotic thing this whole fandom can’t decide to perceive as an adoptive child or a talking pet? He may not be as competent in pleasing Zim’s wishes as minimoose, or as focused, but his heart and loyalty are ultimately with their intended master, unconditionally and for as long as this setting has continued.

#invader zim #iz #iz analysis #scarlet talks about things #long post

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Twenty Four}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

It had been about a week since that incident, I was still a little shaken from it. Though, I tried to keep my composure, and act normally. Most seem to buy it, except for two people. Angel Dust, he saw right through my act. He tried to make me feel better. Talking to me, inviting me out with him and Cherri. While I appreciated his efforts, it didn't help much. I tried to put his own worries at ease, but I wasn't much help either.

Then there was Alastor. Even if I wanted to pretend like everything was fine, it wouldn't convince him. He was patient with me and understanding. He did as I asked, and kept quiet about what he did to Liam. Though, telling from the grin on his face, he was satisfied with what he's done. 

Today, Alastor had stopped by my room. He wanted to take a crack at trying to cheer me up too. But, the way he went about it was...shocking.

I answer the door, I've learned overtime that his knock pattern was different from the others. He stared down at me with a friendly(?) grin. "Good evening Y/n! How are you feeling?" He asks. I shrug. "About the same." Not great, but not terrible either. Somewhere in between. But, it wasn't a good in between. I knew that much.

"Well, that's not good." Alastor knew it too. "It's because of that, I came by. I wanted to ask you to join me this evening." 

"Join you? I don't know Alastor, I'm not really in the mood to be going anywhere. I could tell I was dampening the mood, when Angel invited me out recently. I don't want to do the same with you." I tell him.

"Nonsense! You never let my spirits down! Y/n, I feel like this would be good for you. Trust me, you'll have a blast!" Alastor quickly adds. "And before you say anything, no, this evening will not involve murder or maiming of any kind." 

"Then, what were you planning?" I ask him. Alastor offers his hand. "That's for you to find out." I hesitated, but took his hand anyway. "Aha! Wonderful! I assure you Y/n, you won't regret it!" He begins to walk with me, but pauses after taking another look at me. I raise an eyebrow. "What?" 

"I feel as if we should properly dress for the evening, shouldn't we?" He says before snapping his fingers. Suddenly, we were both wearing new outfits.

I wore a red midi dress with a black bow tied around my waist. While Alastor wore a red suit, because of course it was red.

"Perfect!" Alastor exclaims. "Alright, are you ready, dear?" He asks. "I don't think I will ever get use to sudden wardrobe changes. But yes, I am ready." Alastor chuckles at my comment before leading me out. He teleports us both, as not to draw attention from the others in hotel.

We had traveled to a upscale part of the city, anyone here clearly were proper and fairly rich. I felt so out of place, though Alastor acts as if he's been here hundreds of times. He probably has, now that I think about it.

"I say we should start the evening off with a nice meal. What do you think?" Alastor asks me. I couldn't pass up the chance for food, especially when I haven't ate all day. "That sounds fine." I tell him. Alastor leads me to a fancy looking restaurant.

He informed the host of his name and reservation, and was swiftly welcomed in. Though, I'm sure without one he'd get in. He was an overlord after all.

We were brought to our seats, and given a bottle of wine that was sat in a small bucket of ice. The host told us our waiter would be with us momentarily before excusing himself. "I know you don't drink, so I won't force you. But, if you change your mind..." Alastor says as he pours both of us a glass. "It'll be there." 

"Well, it's not like I don't drink ever." I say while taking the glass. "I just, prefer not to over do it. I like to keep it light, you know?" I then took a sip. Wow. This is good. I dare not think about just how much this wine costed alone, on top of sitting down to eat here.

"Understandable." Alastor nods as he takes a sip himself. "I don't think I've gotten drunk in a while. Last time I did, I believe I found myself in a part of the pride ring I'd never been to before. Apparently, in my drunken state, I had bet quite the sum of money on a race horse...and lost." 

I couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. "How much did you drink?" I ask. "Couldn't tell ya. But my pockets were hurting for a bit after that, I can say that for certain." Alastor chuckles.

"I can't even remember why I was drinking that much to begin with. But I recall Mimzy being there, and when Mimzy and I drink together...The night can take us literally anywhere. I even asked her, and she can't remember why either. But she had gotten herself into some trouble as well." He takes another swig. 

"This Mimzy girl sounds like a blast." I say with a smile. "Oh, she is." Alastor chuckles. "Quite the trouble maker too. But, she's a decent woman. Me and her go way back. We were good friends when we were alive." He tells me. "We got each other out of a few sticky situations, every now and then." 

"I notice your quite popular with women." I say. "You get along with them better, and it seems you only make friends with women. I'm surprised you don't have a girlfriend, or a wife." Alastor shrugs. "I was never interested. Romance, love, it was never a priority." 

"Oh, I see." Something about hearing that made me a little disappointed. Not upset. But, I guess I was hoping for something? Then again, this could be a good thing. My delusions and silly emotions could finally settle. At least now, I know for sure I won't get hurt again.

Our waiter then arrived, and took our orders. As we ate, me and Alastor talked about all sorts of things. He told me a bit about his living days. How he was a popular radio host, though that was unsurprising. How he basically came from nothing made something of himself all on his own.

And being a black man in a time like that, it was more than a little difficult. But he did it, and he was damn proud of it too. He told me more stories of him and Mimzy, and from what he talked about, she was a handful. She would get herself into trouble and usually Alastor would have to help her out. But, she would always make up for it somehow.

By the end of dinner, he would take me to a jazz lounge. The relaxing atmosphere, along with a few drinks, had put me a calmer mood. While the restaurant made me a little anxious, this place was the total opposite. Jazz wasn't my most preferred music, but I still liked and appreciate it.

And as I said, it was very relaxing. I take a look around, there was a few couples in lounge, cuddled up next to each other. I smiled at the sight, but it made me a little jealous. My gaze then moved to Alastor. He was focused on the performance, so he didn't catch my stare.

Maybe it was the alcohol finally settling in, but, the lighting of the lounge made him look very handsome. And we were sitting so close, our shoulders nearly touched. My cheeks began to heat up, and I prayed he could hear my heart beating as fast as it was. 

"I was never interested. Romance, love, it was never a priority." 

My heart started to settle, upon remembering those words. I turn to face the stage, feeling that same twinge of disappointment again. 

After that, Alastor and I took a stroll trough the city. We didn't talk much, but it was a comfortable silence. My arm interlocked with Alastors as we walked.

The night here in Hell was different from the one on Earth. Instead of a black sky full of stars, the red sky was a cool maroon. Even the bright pentagram had dimmed down, still bright enough to light the sky, but not enough to hurt your eyes. It was like looking at the moonlight. 

"Y/n?"

I looked up at Alastor. "Did you have a nice time?" He asked me. I smile and nod my head. "I did. Thank you." Alastor's grin soften, he turned his attention ahead and kept walking. As we walked, the sound of music steadily grew louder.

Ahead of us, was a street performer, who was playing a saxophone. There was a small gathering of demons who watched him play, some playing money into the saxophone case next to him. He was pretty good.

Alastor suddenly stopped walking, unhooking his arm from mine, and twirled me around. "Alastor?" I gasp slightly. "May I have this dance?" He asks, pulling me close. "I thought I told you, I can't dance." I laugh weakly. 

"You did fine the last time we danced." Alastor said, beginning to move. "Don't focus on the dancing, just focus on me." I tried to do what he said, keeping my eyes on him, trying to drown out my thoughts as we danced.

I follow his lead, and like before, he was perfect. I couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been dancing. 

I became less tense by the second, just taking it all in. The soft music in my ears, the beautiful city lights. The very same feeling I had when Alastor held me like this before...I couldn't help but smile, and finally give in. Alastor made it clear, he wasn't interested in romance. But it was a nice thought. 

It was nice to pretend for a while. Just for tonight, just in this moment. 

 As the song slowed to an end, Alastor and I found ourselves closer than when we started. Our lips but inches away from each other's. I half expected Alastor to back away after the song finally ended.

But, he stayed put. His eyes, looking deep into my own. I swore I saw something in his, I had never seen from him before.

It was really nice to pretend...

I inwardly sighed before pulling away from him. "That was nice." I say softly. Alastor was silent for a moment before speaking. 

"Yes...Yes, it was."

Tag List! @krak-jj

@martinys-world

@cherry-cola-100

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader

[ken-dom]

Pretty Doll

Lars Lindstrom x Ken

2k words

Summary: Lars got himself a new doll

Author’s notes: written for what I guess we’re calling Glizz Fest 🩷✨ celebrating the pink shimmery goodness that is stored inside the Ken

Glizz Fest includes appearances from: @ken-f-cker @drivinmeinsane @hollandstrophyhusband and @uncleclam, and we thoroughly encourage anyone else to participate in making Ken glizz!

Warnings/content: nsfw, nudity, hand job, cumming untouched, hinted first time, GLIZZ 💖

Lars sighed, pulling off his woolly hat and sliding off his coat with eyes squeezed shut. He’d just about managed to lose Karin when she had tackled him to his car and made him promise to join her and Gus for dinner tomorrow if he wouldn’t come tonight.

And it definitely would not be tonight.

He’d had a long day at work, battling against incessant noise and constant interruptions from his insufferable coworker about topics he’d rather not discuss. Not at work anyway. And not with him.

What would it take to just be left alone for a single minute?!

‘Lars?’ Came a sweet voice from behind the bathroom door, and Lars remembered himself. He’d almost forgotten about his new guest in the whirlwind of just trying to get through his front door.

His heart skipped a beat when he opened his eyes and saw Ken emerging in a haze of steam, one of his own fluffy white towels tied low around that tiny waist. Wrapped very low. And Ken’s hipbones we’re protruding in such an… interesting way…

Lars swallowed hard.

He’d never actually seen Ken’s body. Not properly anyway, since Ken had been dressing in Lars’s thick sweaters to combat the cold weather he wasn’t used to. And this almost naked Ken was quite a sight.

His skin was glowing pink from the heat of the shower, and Lars watched a droplet of water trickle over his chest and abs, all the way down to soak into that towel he suddenly had the urge to remove. Should he be wondering what Ken looked like beneath it?

But Ken was perfect and Lars couldn’t stop looking. He blinked furiously, trying to tear his gaze away, but as he turned himself about to find a distraction, he just kept ending up back on Ken’s chiselled chest and broad shoulders and strong arms and-

‘Lars, have you had a hard day?’ Ken pressed, dropping his head back to shake the remaining damp from his soft, beach-blonde hair.

‘Uhm- yeah,’ Lars nodded, finally finding Ken’s outrageously sparkly blue eyes instead of focusing his gaze on that ripped torso.

‘Hmm, I bet I can help with that,’ Ken offered, stepping forward. Lars stumbled back and Ken frowned. ‘Unless you don’t want me to…’

Lars took a deep, shaky breath, steadying himself and trying to quieten his thoughts.

‘No, no, it’s not that I don’t want- well, it… it depends what you have in mind,’ he stuttered, unsure but curious, and Ken beamed at the intonation of his voice that suggested Lars might be open to what he had in mind. Ken didn’t know how to say it, and he didn’t really understand it, but he wanted to be closer. To be able to actually touch Lars.

‘Oh I think you’ll like it! You see, I’m great at doing massages. I bet I can relax your shoulders in no time at all!’

Every word from Ken’s perfect lips was eager and excited and did nothing to help Lars stop thinking about how he wanted to get his hands on those outrageous pecs and squeeze them, and then press his mouth to Ken’s, swallow his moans as he-

Ken shot past Lars to sit himself on the edge of the bed, flexing his elegant fingers. ‘So? What do you say?!’

‘Okay,’ Lars breathed, dropping down beside Ken. What harm would a shoulder massage do?

‘Oh, great! So just take your sweater off, and your shirt. And your underclothes- how many layers do you wear?!’ Ken mused, pulling at the shoulders of Lars’s sweater.

Lars snapped himself up, instantly pacing the small space between his little kitchen table and his bed, running his hands through his hair to calm himself. Ken’s touch, even through his many layers of clothing, was causing an uncomfortable heat to stir between his thighs. Uncomfortable but intriguing. And he couldn’t ignore it. Especially not with Ken’s big, strong hands on his shoulders. Especially not if he took his clothes off. He wanted it, that was the problem. He’d never wanted touch so badly.

‘Lars, what is it?’ Ken smiled up at him. ‘If you don’t wanna take your clothes off it’s ok-’

‘Ken, how would you feel if I touched you? Instead?’ Lars stilled, facing Ken, who was still grinning up at him.

‘Sure!’

Lars’s eyes widened. ‘R-really?’

‘Yeah! I love massages. Not that I’ve ever had one. But I like the idea of it! How do you want me?’

Lars almost choked. Ken’s big hopeful eyes and fluttery eyelashes made his heart skip, too.

‘I guess… lay down on the bed?’

‘Okay!’

Ken made himself comfortable laid still on his back, just like a boxed up doll waiting eagerly to be plucked from the shelf, unwrapped and played with.

Lars’s chest heaved. He’d expected Ken to lay on his front. But… he could hardly complain at the view. Carefully, he knelt on the mattress, hands finding Ken’s ankles for balance as he shuffled up to the hem of the towel.

He pushed his palms up the smoothe, soft skin of Ken’s shins and Ken spread his legs. Lars turned momentarily dizzy. He stopped at the towel, not daring to reach beneath it, and instead splayed his hands slowly over the expanse of Ken’s chest, fascinated with the contours that were so unlike his own, caressing the firm muscles as he slid his delicate yet warm touch higher, over those deliciously broad shoulders and then back down, eliciting an almost imperceptible giggle from Ken as he disturbed both perky, pink nipples.

‘That tickled!’ Ken smiled up at the ceiling, still laid obediently, but shivering a little now.

‘Sorry,’ Lars whispered earnestly. ‘Such a pretty doll…’

Ken’s cheeks burned crimson. ‘D-do it again?’

‘Oh… okay…’

Lars dragged his thumbs gently over Ken’s perfectly formed nipples and Ken moaned.

Lars did it again. And again, until Ken was trembling and his fingers were gripping the blankets at either side of him.

Ken was pretty sure massages didn’t usually focus so heavily on nipples, but it felt strangely good to be touched so carefully, with all of Lars’s attention on him through a heated gaze. A new thrill ran through Ken and pooled somewhere low, right at his core, and his stomach clenched with a need he didn’t recognise. It was pitched somewhere between hunger and the instinct to scratch an itch.

Lars, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably between Ken’s spread thighs, his cock straining against the inside of his trousers. He glanced down as he manoeuvred and immediately caught sight of the huge tent that had formed under Ken’s towel, too.

‘Ken…’ Lars breathed, hands now at either side of Ken’s waist and eyes glued at the impressive bulge between his legs.

‘Yeah?’ Ken sighed dreamily, glancing down too. His eyes widened when he saw the shape under the towel, and the similar one in Lars’s trousers.

‘M-May I touch you… there?’ Lars heaved, tentatively lifting a shaky hand to hover over Ken’s length, standing to attention before him.

Ken’s hips bucked up involuntarily. ‘Yes! Please-!’ he whimpered.

With a heavy exhale, Lars unfastened the towel and let it drop to his sides, revealing the prettiest cock he’d ever seen. He gasped at the sight of it, smoothe, long, a little leaner than his own but still thick, a pearly drop of what looked like pink precum beading at the tip.

Ken whined as another thick drop of precum pumped from his tip, his cock twitching with anticipation.

‘Alright…’ Lars braced himself, nodding and taking a deep breath as he watched Ken, still laid out obediently, although his innocent smile had turned into a needy lip bite that made Lars’s cock twitch too.

He felt Ken shudder when he traced a single finger up from the base to the tip, still in awe of this beautiful, perfect sex toy of a cock and the way the pink liquid he was steadily leaking glittered in the light.

He pressed his palm to the underside, giving a gentle rub against the soft flesh to test the waters. Ken shuddered.

‘Such a pretty doll,’ Lars repeated, more to himself than anything, and Ken’s length throbbed against his palm.

‘Please,’ Ken mewled, not really sure what he was begging for, ‘f-feels so good-’

‘I know,’ Lars soothed, smiling, finally wrapping his fist around Ken’s cock and pumping slowly. ‘I know.’

Ken stiffened beneath him, back arching off the bed and fingers nearly tearing through the sheets. Lars moaned, feeling his own cock throb inside the confines of his trousers, the way he was knelt on on his ankles pulling his trousers taut over his core, which did nothing to alleviate the desperate ache there.

‘Lars- Lars!’ Ken cried, not knowing how to process what he was feeling or what was building inside him.

Ken’s head tipped back against the pillow, and Lars leaned over him, not wanting to miss a single minute of his deliciously pleasure-contorted face.

Lars braced himself over Ken with his free hand by Ken’s side, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as the pressure of his crumpled trousers against his straining cock eased with the new position, the fabric rubbing against him with a friction that almost hurt.

‘K-Ken,’ he panted, pumping his doll faster, harder, watching as Ken lost control.

A strangled cry echoed around the room as Ken’s hands flew up to grip onto Lars’s back and he shot a thick rope of sparkling pink cum over his own chiselled abs, splashing up against Lars too, the hot glitter pooling around the defined muscles of Ken’s stomach and clinging to the fibres of Lars’s sweater, staining the wool.

‘S-so pretty…’ Lars was breathless just watching him, his handsome face screwed up in bliss, pretty lips parted, and his hair, which had dried a little messier than Lars was used to seeing it, stuck to his forehead.

Ken gradually blinked open his eyes to see Lars above him, bracing himself with both hands now, biting his lips together and screwing his eyes shut tight, chest heaving.

‘Lars, are you-’

‘Oh- oh… oughhhmmmnnnh!’

‘Oh!’ Ken exclaimed excitedly, lifting his head to look between their bodies. ‘You’re glittering too?! Wow!’

Lars’s body curled above Ken, the last of his seed spilling into his underwear, cock twitching through his orgasm, achingly untouched but so relieved it felt heavenly.

He whimpered weakly, collapsing beside Ken, a prominent wet patch forming on the front of his trousers, while Ken’s glitter shone proudly over his jumper.

Ken was already an excited ball of energy, high on the thrill of his orgasm and eager to learn more about Lars’s pleasure, too.

‘Wow look at this-’ Ken dragged his fingers through the cum on his stomach and examined it in the light. ‘It’s so pretty, and it felt incredible! Is yours glittery too? What colour is it?’

‘It- it’s not-’ Lars tried, but he couldn’t finish the sentence, vaguely gesturing toward his trousers instead.

‘Please can I see it!?’

‘Mmhmm.’

Ken unfastened Lars’s trousers hastily and gasped just as loudly as Lars had when he saw Ken’s cock for the first time.

Lars was softening now, but his cock was impressive, thick and sturdy, a thin line of dark blonde hair trailing down from his stomach to the base of his cock where it grew thicker. Ken was fascinated by that, but for now he was too preoccupied with the glitter to focus on it.

Lars peered down to see Ken, some shimmering liquid now spread over his cheek somehow, looking closely at Lars’s cock, his head tilted.

‘It’s not glittery unless you’re a doll,’ Lars said softly, breathlessly.

‘Huh…’ Ken dipped his fingers into the thick creamy pool collected in Lars’s underwear and brought his fingers up to eye level. ‘Feels just as nice though… may I taste it?’

Lars’s eyebrows raised for a second, and then his head fell back against the pillow, Ken’s sucking their combined cum off his fingers the final straw, until Ken spoke again.

‘Mmm… how do we make more?’

#not s f w 💀 #ken smut #ken fic #ken barbie #ryan gosling ken #lars lindstrom x ken #lars lindstrom #lars lindstrom smut #lars lindstrom fic #lars and the real girl #lars and the real girl fic #barbie movie #barbie 2023 #ryan gosling #ken dom writes #glizz

[mushrubes]

Here with me

Masterlist | The walking dead Masterlist

Part one | Part two

Requested : No

Song : The Beach - The Neighbourhood

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x reader (No use of Y/n)

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : fluff + angst

Contents : mutual pinning, slightly canon divergent, best friends :)

Word count : 1k

Have a great day / night !!

——

I'm sick and I'm tired too

You were currently sitting at the table, hair tied up out of the way as you cleaned some of the group's weapons. Setting Michonne's katana down, you grabbed your knife, leaning back as you carefully sharpened it. A gentle smile on your face as you heard Carl talking to Judith in the other room, playing with her as Rick spoke to Michonne about his next plan about whatever. You heard the familiar creek of footsteps coming down the stairs, trying to fight the grin that was trying to appear. "Morning sleeping beauty." you teased, earning a glare and a grunt.

"Shut up." he grumbled, grabbing a drink as he leaned against the counter. You carried on with what you were doing, trying to ignore the gaze you felt lingering on you. He loved moments like this although he'd never tell anyone. Quiet(ish) mornings where everyone would do their own things and he'd get time with you - not that he didn't anyway. The pair of you were joined at the hip most of the time now, unable to separate one from the other. He took in how you look, admiring your beauty in the sunbeams that were peaking in.

"Want me to do your knife?" you asked, your head tilting slightly without you realising. He reached to his side, pulled the knife out and placed it on the table. He went to walk away before you held your hand out, signaling for him to wait. "I cleaned these for you." you reminded, handing him a couple of arrows he used, not having any others. "Should really get more," you suggested, earning a raised eyebrow. "Not that easy." he huffed, the pair of them chuckling.

You made a mental note to tell Glenn you were coming with him on the next run.

I feel it burning me I feel it burning you

"Where is he?" you breathed out, moving through the swarm of bodies that were piling at the gate. The walkers had gotten a bit out of hand, certain people not sticking to the original plan and making it harder for those all together here. "Move!" you heard a voice shout, seeing a slight commotion build up at the front. "Sorry! 'cuse me!" you apologised, speeding up as you made your way out. A breath of relief left your mouth as your eyes settled on him.

You jogged over, nodding your head at Rick who saw you before him. He said something to Daryl, causing him to turn around and see you approaching. He met you the last few steps, engulfing you in a hug. His arms wrapped around you tightly, your arms round his neck while his were on your waist. "Thank God, you're okay." you gasped, looking back up at him. He pulled away, checking you all over as you suppressed your smile. "Are you okay? Did they get you?" he rambled, still checking all over you. He continued looking and rambling until you cupped his face, caressing his cheeks.

"Look at me, Daryl. I'm fine." you assured, frowning at him. Both of your cheeks heated up, grinning as you saw his cheeks go red. "Are you blushing?" you teased, making sure it was loud enough for the two of you to hear. "Na, shut up." he grumbled, pulling you closer, muffling your laugh as he rested his head on top of yours. "Oh! Right, look what I found." you smirked, pulling away as he looked at you in suspicion. You reached into your backpack, pulling out the pack of arrows you had found in one of the houses laying around, seeing his face light up. "You're welcome." you grinned, resulting in him rolling his eyes and pulling you in again.

You were going to be the death of him.

I hope I don't murder me I hope I don't burden you

Confusion filled him as he looked beside him and around the room, not seeing your figure anywhere. He carefully made his way out, not wanting to wake the others up. Avoiding the creeks on the stairs, he made his way to the front door, seeing the soft glow of the porch light on. Making sure not to scare you, he softly pushed it open, walking out after. You looked up, looking back as you saw him. He shut the door, sitting next to you.

Your gaze was on the moon, seeing it clearly as the clouds were nowhere to be seen, the stars and moon brighter. He didn't press you, simply sitting next to you. Partly because he wasn't sure of what to say, but also because he knew if he was there with you, it was helping a lot more anyway. "What's goin' on in there, doll." he whispered, his hand resting softly on your thigh. "Thinking. My mind won't shut up." you groaned, leg bouncing slightly as his hand pressed a bit harder, trying to help it.

"I'm..." you paused, swallowing as you tried to fight the tears welling up in your eyes. You hadn't even realised some had fallen until you felt him gently wipe them away. "Am I a burden?" you whispered, your voice cracking slightly as you spoke. "Who said tha'? Na, ya not." Daryl comforted, trying to not let his anger get the best of him. "No one." you answered, leaving the topic. "It's fine, Dar." you assured, knowing how he would react.

"Yer no burden, I promise. I dunno where I'd be if it weren't for yer, honestly." he confessed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into him. You sat there for a few minutes together, his hand occasionally brushing up and down your back, silently assuring you he was there for you. "The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" you smiled softly, your eyes on him as he looked up briefly before looking back at you. The look in his eyes showed he knew exactly what you meant, his full of adoration. "Yer right." he mumbled, pressing his lips to yours. Though the words were never said directly, there was a mutual understanding and reciprocation of feelings shared between the soulmates.

Turns out, Carol and Rick were right.

------

Part one | Part two

#daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x male reader #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl imagine #daryl imagines #daryl oneshots #daryl oneshot #daryl fanfiction #daryl fluff #daryl fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagines #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshots #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon ff #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader

[aromanticautiesworld]

MARTINER PLS IM BEGGING FOR ANYTHING FERN X READER 😓

Specifically a gn!musician reader who's chill and easy going, (sort of balances fern out/similar to marshall lee) who teases fern sometimes and becomes friends with fern, fern develops a crush on them and gets jealousy of the friendship between finn and the reader and finally gets the guts to confess.

ADD ANYTHING TO THE PROMPT BC YOURE A GREAT WRITER <333

AHGJH THANK U!! i LOVE this req btw im gonna incorporate it into my belief system

////

fern with a musician gn!reader (art by mee!)

word count: 1789

The first time, he met you through Finn.

One lousy sunday evening Finn invited you over (he will often invite people over to the treehouse with no warning), the sky was halfway dark, and you looked like you walked all the way here.

You wore a large case on your back, hair tied up and a pencil slid behind your ear. Slung across your shoulder was a duffel bag which he would soon discover was full of paper (paper is weird to think about. It used to be trees, and he’s kinda related to trees now. It’s not cannibalism yet, but it’s close. Corpse desecration, maybe. He doesn’t feel that strongly about it anyways, nor does he feel very close to the trees, even if he technically is) with scrawled half-written lyrics all over them.

“Anyone home?” You half-yell from the bottom of the treehouse. Finn was out on the deck, doing who-the-hecking-gob-knows-what with Jake.

Fern sits perched from his up hiding spot (you could only see his glowing eyes, if you were looking up). He slithers down the ladder, remaining unseen (he doesn’t want to be. They’re a new person. New people are scary), tail flicking.

When you notice him, you quickly turn around. “Hey,” You squint. “Finn?”

There is a pause as he is torn between opting out of this conversation entirely and actually talking. “Fern, actually.”

“Oh. Cool name,”

“I picked it.”

“My parents gave me mine, but I’m considering changing it.”

“Why would you wanna change your name?”

You shrug, “I like to live my life on the edge. Me n’ your roommate got a jam sesh happening right now, you should join,”

There’s a beat of silence. “…I don’t think I’m invited. Grass boys can’t play the flute. Grass boys can’t even breathe.” Fern crosses his arms and looks down, frowning.

Worry flickers over your eyes, if you blink you’ll miss it. “Hmm…” You look to the side, in thought. “Well, now you are. ‘Grass boy’.” You smile ever so slightly when using the nickname he’s given for himself.

“Hey! Only I get to call myself that!”

“Sure, grass boy. C’mon, he’s probably out on the deck,” You walk to the ladder, gesturing for him to follow.

And, for no reason he can think of, he follows you. It’s like he wants to be around you, which is weird. He usually stops himself from being around people, they either treat him like he is Finn or like he’s the opposite. He’s not either, though.

He picks off a flower from his shoulder. Where did that come from?

The fourth time, you had a BFF sleepover. Fern had crawled onto the outside of the tree, to both not intrude and not do something wrong (it was the worst thing when Jake looked at him like that. He doesn’t want you to look at him like that too). The distant sounds of the Candy Kingdom and Jake lamenting at not winning card wars are all the sounds there are, up there.

Until the sounds of someone crawling onto the roof with him.

He sharply turns, ready to fight off whatever evil was trying to kidnap Finn or Jake (or both) this time. But no, it’s just you again.

“Was Jake too mean in card wars?”

“No, I just lost. They’re playing elimination, I don’t feel like watching the rest.”

You plop down right next to him.

“Y’ever been there?” You look up at the sky.

Fern squints, “That cloud?”

“No, pom-pom. The sky.” (This was a new nickname, made after the discovery of his dandelion tail).

“No. Wait! Yes. Magic man was doing some b-s with my bro, so I had to meet the immortal King of Mars.”

“Then what?”

“He died.”

You snort. It wasn’t an intentional joke, but he gets that weird buzzy feeling again.

“Whoa, poms. You’re like, covered in flowers.”

Finn groans. “Aghh! Again??” He sits up and rushes to brush the reds, yellows and oranges off himself.

He turns to you smiling at him in his flower frenzy, frown heavy upon his face.

“What?” He asks, accusatory, grass puffed up (the image reminds you of an angry cat).

“Nothing. Just you.”

Fern’s tail twitches, he de-puffs and he brings his knees to his chest.

It’s quiet again, you both sitting in comfortable silence.

“We may not have sunshine, or starlight, or weather,

But we've got each other, and that's even better.

You don't need the sun to keep you warm when you've got arms,

Wishes come from you and not a random shooting star.

We may not have storm clouds, but the sky's always blue,

We've got something special here

And what we have is you

What we have is you

What we have is you…”

You look over to grass-boy, asking if he liked it, but you stop yourself halfway. He was asleep.

You brush the stray hairs out of his face, before climbing back off the roof to probably lose card wars again. Such is the tragedy of sleepovers.

Fern would later wake up, and have an important realization.

Fern messes around with his…Finn’s old racecar track toy. He then drops it to the floor.

“I got a question for you, Finn.”

“What’s up, dude?”

“If I…hypothetically…liked…someone… how would I go about doin’ that?”

“You got a crush?”

“No! It’s hypothetical.”

Finn squints at him.

“Hypothetical.”

Finn continues to squint.

“Hy-po-the-ti--”

“No no, I got it.”

“Okay.”

“Well…I would say you tell them how you feel.”

Flowers cover his face again. “Noooooo!! What if they don’t like me back? What if they like someone else?”

Finn shrugs, “Then they don’t like you back. I had a crush on PB for years, she never liked me back and we’re still friends.”

“But what if…”

“Dude.” Finn stops him. “You got this.”

Fern would appreciate his cheering on, but he’s not so sure Finn would say the same thing had he known it was you, or that he’s got this. He knows you like spending time with Finn more than him.

The ???th time (he’s lost count), you invited him along again, with Finn, (and basically everyone else in Ooo, to be honest. It happens when you’re friends with Finn) to a TV night for your birthday. It was an old one you scavenged up, “My Little Pony” or something (his favorite character is Rainbow Dash).

After many weeks of toeing around the idea of asking you out (that time you guys made pancakes, when you went for a dip in the river He’s going to do it tonight.

You sat next to him (close. to him), singing along to the many, many songs over the noise of the crowd behind the couch.

“No, I do not love the groom, in my heart there is no room—” You lean into him and he mumbles along with the lyrics, small smile on his face.

“Finally the moment has arrived! For me, to be one lucky bride…” Finn is also singing. He pauses, staring off into space, before snapping up. “Oh yeah!”

“Hm?” You look across Fern to him.

“C’mere dude, I gotta show you something!”

You get up from his side, going with Finn, and leaving him disappointed.

He follows the duo, though the mild party and to the hallway where Finn was lugging a huge box.

“I got you a present!”

“Oh, awesome,”

“You wanna open it?”

“Hold on,” You pull a pair of scissors out of your pocket. Why it was in there, no one will ever know.

Fern then gets hit by the realization that he forgot to get you a present. How the heck did he think he could just /show up/ to your party without one?

“Oh, Finn, this is so cool! Thanks so much,” You admire the new guitar you’d window shopped for a few weeks ago, which Finn had apparently taken notice of.

“It’s NP, DW about it.”

“Why are you talking in acronyms?”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying out.”

Fern shuffles over to you. “Hey, um, [ ]? Can I talk to you about something?”

“What’s up?”

He lowers his head more. “Can I talk to you about it in private?”

You look back at Finn, then nod and gesture for him to follow into a more secluded hallway, the muffled sounds of dance music vibrating through the walls.

You don’t say anything, and instead are listening intently (terrifying). Fern has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

“I….um….” He begins to fidget with his hands, “I think you’re really cool. And…you’re one of the only people who doesn’t look at me like a monster. And I like hanging out with you and I wanna hang out more and…”

You nod, urging him to continue.

“…andddddd I—”

“AAAAAAAH!” A scream from the party interrupts him.

“GIANT WORM!”

You both immediately run out, to see a monster breaking through one of the walls of your house, jerking around violently as Finn already had his sword around its neck (?).

Fern rushes in, grass sword already whipped out.

He joins Finn on its head (? Again. It’s a worm) stabbing it, rapidly. Its pink blood drips down the side of its face, onto your floor. It begins jerking and twitching even more violently now, trying to shake Fern off.

Finn struggles, and tries to get a stable footing, before the force it’s using to try and get both him and Fern off plunges Finn’s sword right through its neck.

Its head falls right to the floor, Fern still on it, who is still stabbing.

Finn continues to fight the rest of the worm’s body, which has since retreated outside and is currently trying to spit acid at him, leaving barren spots in the grass with only mildly dissolved dirt.

You crouch in front of Fern, putting your hand on his shoulder.

“I think it’s had enough, grass boy,”

He looks up at you, then back down at the corpse-head, and re-sheathes the grass sword.

“What were you saying?”

Feen blinks. What was he saying?

You stare at him, intently.

Oh yeah, absolute fear. “I…..”

“……reallyreallylikeyou. Alotalot.” He snaps his eyes shut when he says it, only opening one a moment later to gauge your reaction.

You knew this already, but you wanted to wait until he was sure of his feelings.“Awww, I like you too! you little pom-pom.” You squish his (flower covered) face.

“Stop it!” He complains.

“Nope, we're partners. You can’t escape me now,”

‘Nooooooooooo…”

“Go Fern! Yeahhh!” Finn shouts from where he stood on the decapitated corpse on the worm, covered in pink blood.

You giggle, before it slowly subsides. “Wait a minute. How am I gonna pay for my house?”

#mariner writes #mariner art #adventure time x reader #fern the human #fern x reader #x reader #THIS TOOK TOO LONG IM SOOO SORRY

[litsetaure]

So…one of my favourite headcanons is that the Potter family are Indian. (Those of you who’ve read my Grindeldore/Wolfstar dancer fic might recall that Fleamont Potter, James’ father and the UK Prime Minister, is Indian in that. Funnily enough, our real life Prime Minister is a British Indian Hindu who became PM last year. On Diwali. Yeah, that was an…interesting day in the family. Still not entirely sure how I feel about it.)

Anyway - here are some headcanons about James Potter being Indian, some of which are based around how I actually grew up. (Note: there will probably be more as I think of them!):

When Holi comes around, James wakes the others up by pelting them with coloured powder. He does it every year and every year they fall for it. They also pelt everyone with coloured powder throughout the holiday. It took weeks for the paint to be cleaned fully. (Some people suspected Dumbledore deliberately let it stay like that because he liked the colours.)

Sirius got really angry the first time he heard someone call James a Paki. He doesn’t know what it means, but he never wants to see that look on James’ face again. He absolutely lost it when James told him what it meant. (For those of you who don’t know what it means, it’s an incredibly racist slur towards south Asians; along similar lines of using the n-word to a black person. This is also why James gets so angry whenever anyone uses the word Mudblood - because he knows how that shit feels.)

Sirius helps James create magical rangoli patterns during Diwali. They also take over the kitchen for an evening trying to make Indian sweets. The results are mixed-looking, but they all taste good, and the house elves get some great new dishes.

Every time a festival falls on a full moon, they always celebrate a few days after so Remus can join in. (He hugely appreciates the sweets.)

James initially wasn’t thrilled that his Animagus form is a stag, since a deer is the form one of the bad guys took in the Ramayana when he triggered the events that led to Rama’s wife being kidnapped.

When James’ father died, he had a traditional Hindu funeral. Traditionally, the eldest son leads the proceedings, but when James broke down, Sirius stepped in to continue. In that moment, James loved Sirius more than he could put into words.

James also taught the Marauders some Hindi so they could talk privately, as well as some Indian magic.

James, Lily and Sirius actually go to india for their wedding outfits. Lily also has magical mendhi patterns done by James’ aunts and cousins. James also had to gently explain to Lily that wearing white is associated with funerals.

Petunia showed up to James and Lily’s wedding in a white dress to try and upstage the bride. She’s very confused to realise a) Lily is not wearing white, and b) a lot of James’ relatives are looking at her weirdly, because she’s wearing a funeral colour.

At James and Lily’s engagement party, James’ aunties kept trying to set Sirius up with their daughters and teasing him about getting married. They shut up when Sirius snogged Remus in front of everyone. James wasn’t even mad that his engagement was briefly upstaged.

James has a book of Indian tales and legends passed down from his father. He read them to Harry at bedtime. Lily would smile and watch from the doorway. He also taught his friends some classic Indian songs to sing to Harry.

Every year on Raksha Bandhan, James ties a rakhi on Sirius’ wrist and charms them so they’ll never come undone. One night, Sirius noticed the threads of one of them coming loose. That night was October 31st, 1981.

#desi potters #indian james potter #marauder era #sirius black #remus lupin #indian festivals #jily #wolfstar #tw: racism #tw: mentions of death

[starry-blue-echoes]

Oh I had. A thought for the Cinderella Rewrite AU. Because now there's a girl out there who is extraordinarily pissed at Yukako, right?

Well that's great for Yoshihiro Kira who is trying to find people willing to distract the Morioh Gang from hunting down and finding his son. And this girl already has a grudge against one of them? Perfect Enemy Stand potential!

There are so many ways this plotline could go which is amazing. Does the girl learn the error of her ways or remain stubborn, becoming a shadow archetype to Yukako, someone unwilling to settle her feelings in a healthy way? Does Koichi beat her or does Yukako? Does this happen on The Thursday? If so, does Yukako reluctantly drag in someone like Hazamada to help or does she try to go it alone only to fail and need the help of, say, Joseph or Tonio?

Speaking of which, if it isn't on The Thursday, where is Yukako during All Of That?

OOOOOOOOOOO THAT'S A FUN IDEA TO GO WITH AND A GREAT WAY TO TURN THIS INTO A THREE SECTION ARC 👀👀👀

While I have no idea what her Stand could be, I LOVE the idea of her being turned into a Stand User and getting involved in The Thursday. Maybe she ends up teaming up with Terunosuke in the kidnapping of Koichi and it sorta skews how everything goes. What her Stand is will definitely impact how things are going, but with how we've created her there are. So many possibilities and I'm not sure which would be best. I do think it should be more inclined to trickery than straight up power but other than that I've got nothing

ANYWAYS tho, as for how this ties into things and redirects them: maybe the girl (also, we really need to give her a name don't we) was set up to work with Terunosuke, but under the condition that Koichi and Yukako were hers. Teru does his thing and kidnaps Koichi and Tomoko, but he ends up passing Paper Koichi off to the girl

Josuke, Okuyasu, Yukako and Yuya are all going to temporarily be together and chasing after Terunosuke, but maybe somewhere during the chase the girl ends up jumping them and goads Yukako into a fight. Yukako tells the others to go on ahead and keep chasing after Teru and that she'll catch up later. It only after they've left that Yukako learns Koichi is actually here. I'd imagine their fight is a lot of chasing and shouting, and personally I really like the possibility of Tonio and Joseph getting involved, though I'm not super sure how

Koichi definitely gets freed at some point, and when he joins the fight there's a noticeable difference in the tide. After all, out of the four of them Koichi has the 2nd most combat experience (plus, Joseph's gotten a bit nerfed because of his age) and isn't afraid to pull his punches if he genuinely believes he's in danger. He's had like. Three near death experiences at this point, two of which could be argued were just flat out death, plus who knows how many other fights where his friends were in danger. Koichi knows what's at risk here and he's not going to let anyone else get hurt if he can help it. (Now, he's not going for lethal shots, but he's definitly aiming to hurt)

and maybe that's how Tonio and Joseph get involved? For safety and potential back up, Koichi and Yukako ended up running to Tonio's since it was the closest place and Joseph just happened to be there (Shizuka is fine tho, she's Jotaro at the moment), and they end up getting wrapped into things

for the resolution of this, I'll admit I really want to play into the fact that this girl has no IDEA what's actually going on or how much is actually at stake here, and how her ignorance to it has consequences. She's far from blameless of course, she did do some really fucked up shit in the past and now, but she also had no idea she's gotten involved with serial killers who are looking to do far worse than high school bullying. She'd been so wrapped up in her own little world of getting revenge that she hadn't thought to think Hey Maybe The Weird Picture Man With The Arrow Doesn't Have My Best Interests At Heart

Now does this mean she gets off scott free? No, and to be honest given the amount of property damage and kidnapping and manipulation she's done she's definitely going to be on the Foundation's radar, double especially because she's a User who was again, working for a known serial killer (albeit unknowingly)

but finally, after weeks and weeks of all of this happening, she finally gets to see how there's more to this world that her immediate circle and there are going to be concesuqences for her actions

#this was SO fun thank you so much for the suggestion I loved it #cinderella rewrite #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #jjba part 4 #jjba yukako #yukako yamagishi #jjba koichi #koichi hirose #jjba tonio #tonio trussardi #jjba joseph #joseph joestar #sb answers #ailingwriter

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Eighth Sense Ep 2 Rewatch

Ok, listen. Am I watching this show and playing video games at the same time? Yes. Does that mean I am missing a lot? Yes.

But! The facial blurs when it comes to JaeWon seem very intentional and is especially evident when they are in the water:

Now, okay, there is 200% room for argument here that all the blurriness is because the cameraman is most likely filming in the water with a go-pro and has little to no control over the video quality. And that is totally something that can be true. And that is also totally something that would disguise any intentional, purposeful point of the blurriness in this moment.

And there is something else I noticed, the colors in this scene. Thanks, as always to @respectthepetty for turning me into a color monster.

The way the light refracts off of JiHyun's wetsuit makes the colors seem distorted.

Camera issue? Sure! But could it be another indication of JaeWon's altered mental status? Why the fuck not! I mean, we don't know how his brother died yet. Personally, my theory is that he drowned. Because so much of this show is water centric, because of the fish tank and the fact that our title card for Episode 2 is literally JaeWon surrounded by a fish tank as if he is under water.

I think it would be extra super spicy sad if it was when JaeWon was teaching his brother to surf. Just for the ~trauma~, and cause if that is true, then the blurriness and the distorted colors here once again is intentional, and is brilliantly capable of being written off by the audience as just difficult filming conditions.

So again, if that is the case, the blurriness is the altered mental status. And we can take that however we want, medically induced alteration, cognitive dissonance, anxiety, dissociation, all of them.

If the water killed JaeWon's brother, then being in the water would make him feel close to his brother and also be a great punishment for JaeWon. If his brother died learning to surf, then to teach a person the same age as his brother would have been would remind him of all that he had lost but give him that moment of soft remembrance to the person he loved most in the world.

And GOD we see this blurriness, much less obviously, but very rapidly cutting back and forth in the shower scene in Episode 3.

Out of focus

In focus.

Back and forth and back and forth every couple seconds like the camera isn't quite able to stick on his face. JaeWon wants to be present in this moment, JaeWon is fighting to remain in his body, tied to his emotions, tied to this person, so he is slipping in and out of focus because he's trying to fight the numbness and the brain fog.

And again, you cannot tell me this man is not dissociating. I'm sorry but those are some dead fucking eyes. This man is shut down, this man is not present in this conversation with his ex. Why would he be? Why would he try to be? He has no reason to fight the numbness he feels.

And we're back on the color train for JaeWon with JiHyun, with this soft pink light around his head when he joins JiHyun on the beach for their late night kiss conversation about fear.

Methinks JaeWon fears feeling anything, hence the hint towards drug dependence in Episode 6. I think it is so much easier for him to just be numb to the world so he doesn't have to feel the pain of the loss he suffered.

Anyway, the more I watch this show through the lens of mental illness, the more the camerawork is standing out to me with how and when they blur faces, and how it really only is JaeWon whose face is blurred when he's supposed to be in frame. Obviously there are instances where character's faces are going to be blurred because they are in the foreground or background, or they are not the focal point of the conversation. But JaeWon goes blurry far more often than anyone else does.

#the eighth sense #t8s #i'm sorry bengyio i know you want it to be real #i think maybe it is real #but i am stuck on the mental illness train and cant get off it now #jaewon #jihyun #jaewon x jihyun #the eighth sense theory #the eighth sense ep 2

[drac-kool-aid]

Ok, so more on the doubling aspect of gothic fiction, as I feel it important to bring up what Bram's intentions were with the act of impersonation he has Dracula commit.

Spoiler alert: It's Racism.

Ok, so the loss of identity is frightening, right? Even in the modern day and age, your identity being stolen and used to nefarious ends is a great concern. It is, of course, heavily tied with financial concerns nowadays, though, as it usually involves a loss of significant income and a long arduous legal battle to regain some of your losses, if any.

But in Dracula, well, on the surface, it's still about a loss of identity and the loss of control that comes with it. The one-two punch of Dracula using Jonathan's identity to post the letters and to steal the child, thus cutting him off from aid of the villagers, is, of course, a horrifying exploration of Dracula's continued abuse. We know that, at least for Dracula, his intent with these actions is to further trap Jonathan (mentally and physically) with him in the castle, cutting off any avenues of escape.

But that isn't exactly Bram's intent. See, the horror of Dracula's impersonation of Jonathan isn't just Jonathan's personal loss of identity, the horror (to your average Victorian) would also be that a non-British person, a foreigner, is able to seamlessly masquerade as a British man.

And, it's not just the supernatural doubling occurring in this one scene. Let us not forget that Dracula has a library of books on Britain, that he first engaged Jonathan in their nightly long conversations, so to practice his English. English, that he wishes to practice until his accent disappears.

Nowadays, our reading of those scenes in the beginning focuses on the xenophobia from a different direction, that of the transplanted person, sympathizing with Dracula in a way (based on the posts I saw circulating when those days were released). Now, our concerns center around how it is unfairly expected for those who become expatriates to perfectly don the guise of their new home, sanding off anything that might denote them as "other". This isn't the wrong read, and that is a very important thing to consider because it is a very real and valid concern. Also, cause it's a hell of a lot less racist than what the concern was for the Victorians.

The Victorians saw someone who wasn't British (and I am using British here deliberately, as this fear extended towards anyone not British, like the Irish) learning to become British, to seamlessly join their society, and therefore work whatever "evils" they may upon them from the inside. Their fear, simply, is that they might not be able to tell the non-British from the British anymore, thus erasing any sort of idea of being inherently extraordinary.

For context, London has developed into the melting pot of different cultures it is today (fuelled, of course, by the rapid expansion of the British Empire), and the Victorians were getting a little nervous with the idea that the "British Identity" was expanding. Y'know, classic racism.

(That is not to say that Britain wasn't home to people from all races and cultures before Victorian era, just that the average Victorian was starting to notice.)

Americans were sort of the exception, in that by this point, British aristocrats were marrying American heiresses in order to fill empty ancestral coffers. By exception, I should say, accepted to an extent and expected to drop some of their more American traits, and thus nominally become British, with the caveat that they were (of course) not truly British.

Notice how the Victorians assumed everyone wanted to be them?

(Not quite counting Quincy here as no one would ever mistake him as anything but Texan, and in fact, he plays up his non-Britishness and thus is not a threat)

Anyway, tl;dr, Dracula's symbolic doubling of Jonathn is actually steeped in racism and xenophobia, and the Victorians were kind of assholes about anyone who wasn't both white and born in Britain claiming to be British.

#dracula daily #dracula #re: dracula #jonathan harker #tw racsim #cw racism #unfortunately this book has a lot of racism both overt and subtle

[spicysix]

long story short (part 3/3) | eddie munson x reader

this fic is part of a series: masterlist

summary: “Oh, is this a date I’m having with pantry girl?” He provoked, but you just nodded in response. “Can be if you want it to.” He actually looked shocked for a moment before bringing his charm back. “Does that mean I get to kiss you at the end of it?”

warnings: fem!reader - no physical description. no use of y/n. post s4 - canon divergence. heavy making-out, implied smut (not described).

word count: 2.3k

a/n: final part ot long story short! next up we're having 'tis the damn season. if you're familiar with miss Swift, you must imagine some angst is about to come 👀 it's gonna be another multi-chapter so if you wanna get everything as it comes out, don't forget to follow me and join my taglist 😉

day seven

12:48 p.m. The next few days after Eddie’s press conference/public audience had you going back and forth between Hawkins and Fort Wayne. The house your family was going to move to was not yet vacant, their previous owners still finishing up their own moving. But they allowed you to bring in some boxes to leave in their basement already, and Hopper had to empty the cabin for the Munsons anyway, so that’s what you were all mostly doing. With the destruction caused by the Mind Flayer last July, there wasn’t even much stuff salvageable to bring to Fort Wayne, but you were taking what you could carry.

You also took some time to visit Debrah, spend a day catching up with her. She did most of the talking, since her life wasn’t filled with trauma caused by interdimensional monsters (just some weird burning cracks in the middle of the town, but they were being taken care of already), and you were happy to listen to it. She was attending the local district Community College, not that far away from Hawkins, and wasn’t planning on moving any day now. Still a cheerleader, still planning on meeting the one there and living the american dream with him. You guessed she was just one of those people whose lives revolved around the minuscule city they were born and raised on. She wasn’t gonna leave that cycle. Well, if she was happy, great for her, you thought. A dose of normalcy was always good, to keep your feet grounded.

You only saw Eddie a few times those days, when you were leaving or coming to the hotel. Sometimes you also had lunch together - but it was never only the two of you. Part of you felt happy, because he was really hitting off with your family, the ones he hadn’t met yet, and seeing him and Will excitedly exchanging tips about D&D made your heart swell with fondness in a way you already knew would happen when you first met Eddie and told him about your little brother. He was also exchanging stories about getting high and exchanging tips about weed with Jonathan, but that was not nearly as adorable.

But it was your last day in Hawkins before you went back to California, Argyle’s Surfer Boy van cleaned and repaired for another three-day trip. You had a job back home that you were sure you’d lost already at this point, so you would have to find another one when you got there - to help with all the moving costs after your semester was over. You had no idea how Jon, Will and El would deal with their schools, but you had called some of your colleagues and asked them to talk to your teachers. You had good grades and no other classes missed since the beginning of college, so you were mostly sure none of them would care for your minor two-week absence.

Your biggest issue so far was that you already had a summer job hitched and your part of your next college tuition already paid (the other two thirds were thankfully covered by a scholarship) and wouldn’t be able to move back to Hawkins with the rest of your family on Summer. And you hadn’t told anyone that yet.

Well, that was a problem for future you.

You knocked on the door of room 107 as your family walked past you on the corridor, bidding you a ‘see you soon’. Jonathan throwing you a knowing smirk over his shoulder and you just flipped him the bird over yours.

Eddie opened the door, a faded Star Trek shirt and sweatpants hanging low from his hips. His hair all disheveled, looking like a cloud on a stormy day around his head. He smiled instantly at seeing you.

“Wanna grab lunch?” You invited.

02:09 p.m. First thing Eddie asked when you got to the diner was when the rest of your family would arrive. “They’re not coming, it’s just the two of us.” You answered.

“Oh, is this a date I’m having with pantry girl?” He provoked, but you just nodded in response.

“Can be if you want it to.”

He actually looked shocked for a moment before bringing his charm back. “Does that mean I get to kiss you at the end of it?”

“If you don’t eat something too garlicky, sure.” You winked and he laughed.

That was several minutes ago, and as you paid your half of the bill over the counter and Eddie rambled on about how Reefer Rick should hire a bugs exterminator to his lake house (how he got to that topic, honestly, you had no idea. But you liked hearing him ramble), you started to feel the butterflies in your stomach thinking if he was going to kiss you or not.

It was a long time due.

You walked back to the hotel, not that far away from the diner, in the slow pace you were already used to - for the sake of Eddie’s recovering injuries. His shoulder touched yours at every step, your pinkies intertwined at some point, and you felt like an eighth grader and her first crush.

You weren’t talking, just enjoying each other’s company. Your mind was dead set on that kiss he promised. You wondered if he was thinking about it too.

As you reached your hallway, his door was the closest and you really, really didn’t want this to be over. So you were bold enough to ask, “How ‘bout we watch something?”

You didn’t have much to pack, your ‘bag’ (if you could call it that, it was just a backpack) practically ready to go, and you were leaving first thing in the morning. You really wanted to enjoy those last few hours with him.

“Sure thing! Don’t tell anyone, but I love General Hospital. And I think it’s on now.” He used his key to open the door and bowed in a gesture to let you in the room first. “Wayne’s got some extra shifts so he won’t be back ‘till dawn, probably.”

You took off your cardigan and hung it on a coat rack beside the door, shoes on the floor under it. Next to the coat rack was the dresser, TV on top of it. There was only one bed, some of Eddie’s belongings scattered above it. And a couch on the side wall, with a pillow and a thin comforter folded up in the middle of it – surely Wayne’s.

As you walked to sit on the edge of the bed, you saw Eddie taking the same routine as you did before - taking off his jacket and shoes - but you also saw him discreetly locking the door. He walked to the bed, but stopped in front of you, knees touching, instead of sitting next to you.

“I don’t really wanna watch General Hospital.” Was all he said, a smirk growing in the corner of his mouth, and those butterflies were partying in your belly again.

“Oh, thank god.” You answered, as you carefully pulled him by the hem of his shirt.

He crouched above you as you crawled back on the bed, all slow movements. His hands were already on your face when you came to a stop, your back against the headboard as he kneeled in front of you.

You held your breath, ready to be interrupted one more time, as it always happened.

But nothing came.

Nothing except his soft lips on yours. Finally.

No more tug of war now. Finally.

Just you, and Eddie, and his skin on yours, and his breath hitting your nose, and the way his soft wavy mane tickled your face. Finally.

Your hands went up his torso, smoothly, and he quivered under your touch. You opened your legs to rest them on each side of his own, and one of his hands slowly made its way down to your neck while the other was still cradling your cheek. You felt the cold of his rings on your skin, giving you goosebumps, making you feel hot and bothered.

“God, I’ve missed this.” He murmured, lips still against yours, tickling a little bit.

“Yeah, me too.” You answered as you spread open mouthed kisses along his jaw. You felt his breath hitch.

“I’m not too garlicky, am I?”

You laughed and shook your head no. “You’re perfect.”

You pressed your mouth against his once more, lips parted this time, inviting him in and he went for it. His tongue brushed yours and you forgot completely about everything around you. Without separating your lips, you switched positions with him so he would be against the headboard as you straddled his hips. He let out a moan, and you saw yourself in reversed roles from when you first kissed five months ago.

Your hands were now traveling through each other’s whole bodies, melting under each other’s touch. His fingers tracing the hem of your skirt while yours felt the bumps of the scars on his neck. He didn’t seem to feel any pain from it, and as you lowered your head to kiss them, you felt his hands strongly grabbing your thighs.

“Holy shit,” he called your name, falling like a song from his lips. You licked all the way from his collarbone to his ears. “I- oh sweet baby Jesus, I really want you. I need you.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Eddie.” You were truly afraid, but you were also unconsciously rubbing your hips against his, searching for friction.

“You could never.” His hands went under your skirt to your ass and he grasped it tightly. You sighed before stopping your movements and distancing yourself just enough to look him in the eyes.

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Then I’m yours.”

His chocolate button eyes fluttered as you reached his lips once again. There was no rush. You felt the time stop around you, for you, as his hands stroked your legs and you pressed your chest to his. Your fingers lost in his hair, his nails scraping your skin, and he feels like home.

06:35 p.m. You woke up slowly.

The soft light from the moon was the only thing keeping the room from falling into full darkness. His chest was pressed against your back, his skin hot, almost burning you, like your own personal heater. His arm was draped over your waist, his fingers laced to yours resting under your breast. You let out a contented sigh.

You completely lost track of time as he was making love to you. You weren’t in love - not yet, at least -, but what you did was far from casual sex. You felt connected. He worshiped you, you reverenced him. And as you were finally tired, satisfied, sweat covering your bodies, the sheets all disheveled and Eddie’s belongings on the floor beside your clothes, you felt safe and comforted enough to drift to a dreamless sleep.

You turned around to face him, and your movements slowly woke him up too. His brown eyes not so big now, narrowed from all the sleep, but caring nonetheless. He still looked at you as if you placed the sun in the sky.

He smiled and you smiled back, tracing the freckles on his nose with the tip of your fingers, feeling him drawing figures with his own fingers on your hips. You swore you could stay like this forever.

But his adoring eyes searched your face for something, for answers. You could read him too easily.

“Wanna know how this gonna go?” You asked for him. You saw his Adam’s apple rise and drop, and he just nodded in response. “We are going back to Cali tomorrow, me, Jon, Will and my mom. And Argyle, obviously. El’s gonna stay here with Hopper. I’m going to help my family with their belongings, and they’re coming back and moving to Fort Wayne in two weeks, probably.” You paused.

“And you?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“I… have a summer job. And a paid tuition. So I won’t be able to move back with them just yet.” His eyes fled from yours for a second. “But I’ll visit constantly.” You tried to reassure. Reassure him, or yourself. You weren’t sure. “So, I’ll see you at the end of summer. And you can bother me some more then.”

He laughed, which calmed you down a bit. He didn’t ask anything else for a few more minutes, and you stood in silence as his caresses on your skin were still soothing you.

“I’ll be waiting.” He didn’t look at you as he said it, burying his face on your neck. You closed your eyes and squeezed him harder against you. “By the way, you didn’t jinx me, ‘ya know?” His voice was low and muffled, but you could still discern the words.

“What?” You pulled on his hair, not strongly enough to hurt, only so he would back up and face you again. He did.

“I… I’m not sure, maybe I invented it. I thought I heard you talking to me. You said you’d jinx me. I don’t think you did.”

You were shocked, but managed a response after a few seconds of silence. “You didn’t invent it. I did say that.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Oh, wow, the human mind really is a mystery.” He scoffed. “But, again, you didn’t jinx me. You got me through it, actually.”

You giggled before kissing him as your response. His hands were slowly going up and down your back, calloused tip of his fingers making you shiver. You buried your hands in his hair again. Everything was happening in slow motion, his lips covering yours, his tongue tracing yours, his hands stroking you, raising the hair on your skin. You kissed for what felt like hours before he let you go and those beautiful eyes of his met yours once more.

“Will you stay? Until you really gotta go?”

How could you say no?

So you didn’t.

“I’ll really stay this time. Until I have to go.”

---

Taglist: @totallynotkaibiased @apublicnotebook

#eddie munson/reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #reader insert #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #joseph quinn #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #lui writes #evermore series

[mogoce-nocoj]

Something Kris-centric, idk, something fluffy about the holiday they're on or something? Sorry it's kinda vague

Btw I'm sure you'll do great, good luck:)

you got it! something fluffy about the boys trying (and failing) to help Kris relax. gen, no pairing, just a silly holiday thing. thank you ❤️

Thailand is beautiful. Kris knows this — he has, after all, been one of the first to suggest it as their destination. He has been here before, they all have. And it's been good, really good if he's being honest. There's just this one thing that has been forming in this mind the day they got here — the guys are up to something.

It starts pretty much innocuously. It's their first evening and they're all at the pool doing what can be called lounging. That is, holding their feet into the cool water, catching the sunset and sipping on drinks. (Longeros, huh, Jan? Bojan would probably tease if he were here. Which he isn't. But that's a story for another time.)

Kris himself is lying on a deck chair, phone in hand, with his head finally empty. Trying to catch the perfect shot of when the setting sun hits the water, he nearly doesn't notice when Jure comes up to him, his bare feet nearly noiseless on the lush grass beneath them. 

What he does hear, however, is the “Kris!” that is half-whispered and half-shouted into his ear. Startled, he nearly drops his phone and wheels around to stare directly into Jure's grinning face. 

“Can you maybe, like, not do that?”

“Sorry.” Jure shrugs and really doesn't look sorry at all. “I was just wondering if you wanted something to drink? Mark is trying to make those new cocktails and he was asking around if anyone wants to try them.”

Kris raises one of his eyebrows. “And you don't want to?” 

“Ah, my beer is still mostly full and Jan and Nace are trying to do something with the pineapples they got from the market. I'm not actually sure if they want to eat them, right now it looks more like they're playing some sort of game where they're trying to hit it with a stick or something?” 

What the fuck, Kris's mind helpfully supplies and he turns around to witness how Jan masterfully manages to decapitate the poor pineapple with one hit of — oh my god, is that a knife tied to a tree branch!? Nace behind him is only nodding appreciatively, one hand on his shoulder like some kind of teacher. 

Kris decides that he will not think of the dangers this could pose to any of their limbs because he's on holiday and Mama-Krisko also needs her break, thank you very much. 

“Anyway,” Jure continues, not bothered at all. “I didn't want to interrupt whatever they're doing, so. Drinks?” 

And yeah, Kris does, actually, want one. (To be honest, there's no one else whom he'd trust more with the drinks than Mark whose eye for photography miraculously also translates to an eye for measuring ingredients. Well, he'd probably trust Nace, too. But not right now.)

“Sure,” he shrugs, yawning. “I'll just wait until the sunset is over —” 

“No worries,” Jure interrupts, smiling. “I'll get it for you.”

And, huh. Kris's narrowed eyes follow him as he makes his way back towards the bar. Because it's not that Jure isn't usually helpful when it comes to these kinds of things except — well, he isn't. His clumsy nature usually leads him to spill more drinks than actually drink out of them and normally they've developed a kind of routine that prevents Jure from carrying any sort of glasses filled with liquid. 

This time, however, everything seems to work out fine. Without any problems Jure returns to him with a perfectly nice longdrink in his hand. It's even decorated with a little umbrella and a cut pineapple piece next to it (Kris dimly hopes that this one wasn't a victim of Jan and Nace's shenanigans.)

He thanks Jure who salutes him before bouncing off to join Mark behind the bar. Sipping on his drink, he turns his attention back to the sunset and realises that he has missed the golden moment of the sun hitting the water — but then again, he thinks, enjoying the cool taste of alcohol on his tongue and the warm air around him, he could get used to this. There surely will be other opportunities in the future. 

*

The other thing happens the next day when they're choosing a movie to watch for the evening. They all want to watch something different, all in varying moods, indecisively scrolling through various streaming platforms. 

“We should watch Footloose,” Kris suggests jokingly, knowing very well that Jan would rather watch anything else than something like Footloose. (Kris, however, enjoys the silliness of it. When you're living a life such as this one, hectic and stressful and sometimes just overwhelming, you learn to enjoy movies with ridiculous premises such as this one.)

Jan, however, only gives him a mild look.

“Sure,” he agrees, shrugging. “Why not.”

Wait, what. 

Kris blinks at him. When Jan doesn't say anything, only moving to make room for Kris on the couch, he doesn't question it, wordlessly starting the film. 

Later, when the movie is finished and Kris suggests heading to bed early so that they can maybe take a day trip tomorrow, they all nod without any opposition. Kris only looks after them in confusion as they head off to their respective rooms because it's never as easy as that. 

Yeah. Something is definitely wrong.

*

“Okay,” he starts the next morning during breakfast. “Something's not right and I need to know what.”

Three pairs of eyes stare at him in confusion. Kris tuts once, placing one of his hands on his table while first pointing to Jure. 

“You usually avoid bringing me things that can break easily like the plague. And now you've been bringing me drinks for two days — and managed to not drop even one of them. What's up with that?” 

Jure only stares at him, clearly not knowing what to say.  

“And you,” he turns to Jan and Nace, “have been eerily agreeable whenever I said something. Like, I'm not surprised about Nace because he's the only one with any kind of sense here but Jan? You didn't even complain when I forced you to watch Footloose. And you hate cheesy romances like that.”

They all stay silent. The cogs in Kris's head keep turning until — 

He pales.

“Oh my god, has something happened back home? Is that your way of easing me in before delivering the information?” 

For one hysterical moment he thinks that the only news that could be so bad that they needed to distract him from it is that they need to reschedule all the upcoming tour dates because god forbid something has happened to Bojan, or any other of their crew members for that matter, or there's been a problem with some venue —

Nace puts his hands on his shoulder, eyes wide with concern. “Everything's fine, stop spiralling.”

Kris exhales once, focusing on Nace's grounding touch. 

“We just —” Nace hesitates. Jan shoots him an encouraging look. “We just wanted to — do something good for you.”

What. 

Kris raises his eyebrows critically. “You what?” 

“Yeah.” Jan nods, emphasising Nace's words. “Because of, y'know. The past few weeks.”

“Because of all the stuff you had to do,” Jure supplies, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Like, Finland with Bojan and Jere wasn't easy and then Stožice, and you've been doing so much — so we wanted to, uh. Help you relax.”

“Ah.” Kris blinks at them, head suddenly empty. “You wanted to help me relax. By bringing me drinks? And — agreeing with me?” 

All three of them shrug. 

“Did it help?” Jure asks, curious.

And Kris considers this because he actually has enjoyed the last few days. The drinks and the attentiveness and the feeling that people are listening to him. But then again, there's just been this wrongness in the air, too, because as much as Kris likes it when people listen to him, he also likes it when people argue with him and speak their mind and — hm. 

“Kinda?” He decides eventually. “But I had this inkling that — something was wrong. Because — huh.” He hesitates. “I liked it but I didn't like that it felt that you were deliberately trying to — to do something. Like, something you normally wouldn't do.”

He sighs, closing his eyes. 

“Can't you just be — normal.”

When he opens his eyes again, Nace is looking at him with an affectionate look in his eyes. 

“Sure.”

Jan next to him nods. 

“You got it, Krisko.” Jure leans in closer, squeezing his shoulders. “You know that we love you, right?” 

“Yeah,” he says, fondly looking at all of them. “I love you, too.”

#I do not know if pineapples exist in Thailand. probably not. I liked the idea though #joker out #my writing #prompts

[alterpaw]

Hey there! Going to go into a little bit of a ramble, since think it was about time I addressed what will be happening to this blog! Alterpaw will not be removed from mommyclan, and there won’t be any arcs for a while at least. However, I won’t be completely inactive, and anyone who wants to can still send her asks anonymously or in character (as long as you’re not one of the problematic members of Mommyclan. Though I technically don’t know who they were so if anyone could dm me what blogs to avoid that would be great)

I will be creating a new blog for The Blizzard soon, since that looks like it’ll be fun, and I might join some other fan clans if those open up.

And thirdly, I’ll be creating a new lore(?) blog. It will be based in the warrior cats universe and perhaps even be tied to Alterpaw. I don’t know how long it will take, but I’ll probably announce it on this blog once I’ve got it rolling.

anyways, thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful day!^^

#ooc #mommyclan #alterpaw

[caramel-cream50]

Good omens Season 2 spoilers! Discussion of the coffee theory!

Here’s my opinion on the coffee theory

Which If you don’t know It is the theory that the metatron put something in Aziraphale’s coffee that sorta altered his view or made him decide to become supreme archangel

So let’s start with things I think support this theory:

- I find it odd the metatron would get Aziraphale a coffee in general?? Especially one so specific?

- Why would heaven want Aziraphale? A traitor? Like why the very sudden change of heart?

- the metatron seemed overly confident Aziraphale would go with him?? Which is surprising to me

- Some people have pointed out the music and just off vibe of the scene with azi and the metatron

- one of the biggest ones for me is HE DOESNT REALLY QUESTION THE SECOND COMING? He asks if he can know more but leaves it alone after that. Which Aziraphale knows heaven, he knows all about Armageddon and these huge events heaven has done and knows there bad news. Not to mention at the end of season 1 Crowley did suggest heaven and hell might go up against humanity

- Aziraphale does seem very persistent on the whole matter? Which isn’t super odd but I find it a little weird he didn’t even like..really think about what Crowley was saying? He didn’t really listen he just kept saying what he wanted

- At the very end of the credits Aziraphale’s smiles and it’s not like- a normal smile or even a fake smile we’ve seen him do before it’s sort if eerie and I think rubbed a lot of fans the wrong way.

- This kinda goes along with the smile but Aziraphale’s whole demeanor as he leaves is off and strange. His body language says a lot.

My thoughts against it:

- the metatron could’ve just gotten Aziraphale a coffee because he knows Aziraphale likes earthly pleasures (like food and drinks)

- I feel like a lot of people are leaning into the coffee theory as a way to almost excuse Aziraphale’s actions? Like they don’t want to believe Aziraphale would do what he did to Crowley but I honestly think he would

- We know Aziraphale has a long complicated relationship with heaven, but he seems to almost always seek heaven’s approval? He wants to be a “good” angel

- I forgot where I saw this but I saw someone say that Aziraphale isn’t going back to heaven with the intent to join it, he’s going back with the intent to fix it and make a difference

- If we put ourselves in Aziraphale’s shoes he really thinks that if he goes back to heaven that he can make a difference in the world and stop heavens corruption, while he thinks Crowley would rather run off together (this doesn’t mean I think Aziraphale is in the right, I just can see what his thought process is)

- Aziraphale hates change. That’s a big part of who he is as a character, even though he was glad to stop Armageddon it was a big change for him not working with heaven so it almost makes sense why when he got a “great” opportunity like that he’d come running back because it’s familiar.

- Aziraphale’s weird smile at the end of the credits could have just been a sad attempt at him trying to appear happy after his heart was just broken

+ some people think this ties into Gabriel’s character and how maybe he was being controlled by the metatron, and that Beelzebub somehow broke him out of it? which I personally don’t see at all, I think Gabriel was just being himself which turned out to be a jerk, and being with Beelzebub almost brought out the best in him

Anyways I don’t know if anyone is gonna read this whole thing but there’s so much more to cover as well! This was kinda just me rambling, Thanks for reading!

#coffee theory #good omens season 2 #good omens #ineffable husbands #david tennant #goodomens #gos2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #michael sheen

[bridgyrose]

AU Cinder and Neo used to hate each other in high school,now they're adults meeting again during a party at the Schnee Manor,their flirting turns into play fighting and eventually they make out and have sex in of the rooms, while the music is banging

(I'm still not all that great with smut, and I may have missed the play fighting, but I think this still catches the spirit of it all)

Cinder slowly made her way through the halls of Schnee Manor, regretting stepping foot back in Atlas already as she watched a few of her former classmates mingle around. Once again, she found herself feeling out of place and keeping to herself as she avoided everyone, slinking away into one of the side rooms. She paused as she found the familiar sight of an old rival, leaning against the doorway. “Neo, what are you doing here?” 

Neo gave a playful smile as she took a sip from her wine, her eyes locked on Cinder’s as she motioned for her to join her. 

Cinder closed the door and made her way to the couch, picking up the bottle of wine from the side table and taking a swig from it. “Didnt expect to see you here. Figured I saw the last of you after we graduated and you went back to Vale, continued the cushy life of a councilman’s daughter.” 

“Vale was too boring,” Neo typed out in response, her fingers pausing between words as cleared out her sentences and retyped them. “And my parents were… not great. Ran away from home at sixteen, never looked back.” 

“Sounds like we have that in common,” Cinder said as she placed a hand to her neck, tracing the faint scarring. “What brought you back here? You never seemed to like anyone here anyway, so I cant imagine that you came to catch up with anyone.” 

Neo shrugged then looked around the room. “The Schnees wont miss anything that goes missing.” 

A small giggle escaped Cinder’s lips. “I guess that’s one way to make a living.” 

“What about you? Why did you come here?” 

Cinder’s giggle faded as she re-read the words on Neo’s scroll, the same question rolling through her mind. Why did she accept the invite to this party? It wasnt like anyone here was a friend. Weiss was… tolerable, different from the other Atlesian that showed up to the party, but still not what she would consider a friend. The only reason she could think of it was the ties she had to the Madam and the hotel she ran, but even then, she hadnt been part of that for years. “I… I dont know. Maybe… maybe I thought things would be different.” 

Neo looked up at her, confused. “Different?” 

“Look, it was a mistake to be here.” Cinder stood up, keeping the wine bottle in hand as she made her way to the door, only stopping when she felt Neo’s hand grab her wrist. She slowly looked over at the girl, frozen in her steps. “And… you dont want me to.” 

Neo shook her head and pulled Cinder back to the couch, finger spelling with her free hand for a moment. “I want you here.” 

“Why?” 

“This party hasnt exactly been… fun. And I was hoping that maybe we could-” Neo paused with her signs, blushing a bit as she looked away from Cinder. “-catch up more.” 

Cinder cautiously sat back down. “Why? We hated each other at school. You tormented me until we graduated.” 

Neo sighed and stared at her scroll for a moment as she began to type, slowly trying to type out the words she wanted to say as she cleared out the words and retyped her thoughts, fingers trembling. “You… were different from the others and I didnt know how to treat you.” 

“So you decided to make school hell for me?”

“Not… on purpose.” 

“Then why?” Cinder asked angrily. “You tormented me for years-”

“Because I didnt know any better!” Neo interrupted, signing quickly. She lowered her hands and let out a quiet sigh as she began to type again. “You were the only person who wasnt an imitation and I didnt know how to handle that. Growing up, you learn people like the Schnees, the kids of councilmen and those who grew up with money are nothing but imitations, fakes who will do anything to get what they want. But you… you werent like that and I didnt know how to handle that. You have no idea what its like to love someone that you dont understand.” 

Cinder went quiet, mulling over what she read from Neo. After minutes of silence, she punched Neo’s shoulder. “You could’ve just told me.” 

“I wanted to, but I didnt know how.” 

Cinder nodded, feeling her cock start to strain against her pants as she looked over Neo. “Then… why dont you show me?” 

Neo looked at her, confused. 

Cinder smirked as she heard the music outside the room start to grow louder, the pictures on the wall starting to move. “I dont think anyone’s going to notice.” 

Neo nodded and gently placed a hand at Cinder’s crotch, giving it a small squeeze before unzipping her pants and freeing the erect cock. She licked her lips as she stared at it, gently stroking it and thumbing the tip. 

Cinder moaned and leaned, her cock starting to twitch as she felt Neo’s lips wrap around it. A small gasp escaped her lips as she felt Neo go down on her cock, not expecting how eager the girl was. Her hips started to thrust gently as Neo bobbed up and down, her cock twitching more as it went deeper and deeper down Neo’s throat. 

Neo pulled back and smirked a bit, getting up onto Cinder’s lap and gently rubbing against her. “Bigger than I expected.” 

Cinder grinned and lifted Neo’s skirt, blushing a bit when she noticed a lack of panties and slipped her cock inside of Neo. Her hips thrust as she pinned Neo to her back, pressing into her for a kiss. Her blush deepened as she felt Neo kiss back and felt her hands on her back, moans escaping her lips as she pulled back to breathe, feeling Neo’s nails dig into her back with each thrust. As she broke the kiss and pulled away, she could feel Neo’s breath on her neck, the way her body seemed to twitch in pleasure with each deep thrust. 

She bit down on Neo’s shoulder, relishing in the way she gasped and how her back arched, pressing her into her. A free hand gently moved her shirt out of the way and groped a breast, gently pinching and pulling at a nipple, using the way Neo moved to help guide her to please the woman in front of her. Each quiet, gasping moan another invitation to bring her deeper and deeper into pleasure. For the first time in a long time, she felt peace at being vulnerable, at being  close to someone. And she loved every minute of it.

#rwby #cinder fall #neo politan #neopolitan #drabbles #nsft drabbles #spicecream #cinder x neo #trans!cinder #trans cinder lives rent free in my head #smut