#pastel prattling

[sugarpasteltmnt]

HI FRIENDS ‘lil update for you since I’ve been so scarce—

‘TNV’ is on a temporary hold because I’M GETTING A NEW JOB YAY!!! 🎉🔥🎊🍾💃🎉🎉🔥 Even BETTER news is now I’ll have a bit more time to write turtle angst ehehehe >:3

That being said, I gotta get some things settled before i can get back to TNV. I’m so sorry I’m behind on asks and artwork but I promise I’ll catch up soon!! Thank you guys for your patience I promise I’m not ignoring you ;w; things are just bonkers right now but it’s also very exciting

I wish i had something a bit more special planned for the anniversary tomorrow (HUH???) but rest assured I’ll be back at getting you Turtle Angst before too long (`･ω･´)ゞ

#thank u guys for being patient weh #’dude you just missed the craziest of crazies. cats. tiki bars. antique malls. MOM??? #‘argument. Competition. Running a half marathon. Coming here and telling you 🎶I quit my toxic joooob🎶 #ALSO ANNOVERSARY TOMORROW WHAT?????? #HELLO????? #I had. no idea. #someone mentioned it and I was like THE WHAT #just wow #man. #it’s making me Big Emotional ;w; #I promise I’m still gunna finish #I’m too Unwell for this fic to stop lol #pastel prattling

[damn-it-a-hogwarts-legacy-blog]

Taffeta

AO3 Link

18 year-olds MC and Ominis are called upon for a fancy dinner with members of the Ministry of Magic to discuss MC's abilities with ancient magic and how they might serve the Ministry. But the party has devolved into another networking event for stuffy officials. The two run off for a much-needed moment alone to blow off some steam.

Ominis x fem!MC

NSFW—sexual content

Smutty stuff here; Ominis leans into his carnal side. Dirty talk, fingering and oral ensue

Word count: 4,066

A/N: just a fun self-imposed challenge to write nsfw outside my normal fare. There are a few minor historical inaccuracies for the sake of a good, saucy story. Hopefully nobody even notices, but if you do, just... ignore them please lol :')

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

It felt as if this Ministry of Magic dinner would never end. Ministry officials ingratiating themselves to one another, despite this function not even being about them, was dreadful to watch, and MC had had enough. She had only graduated from Hogwarts a year prior, and already her abilities with ancient magic were being recognized outside of the school. She suspected it had all started with Professor Black attempting to garner Ministry favor by taking credit for raising up such a prodigious student, but where matters started and ended in this perplexing network of magical politics was a complete mystery to MC. She wanted desperately to put this ancient magic business behind her after all she had endured defeating Ranrok and his followers—and because she wanted to focus more of her attention on her beloved young man.

MC had invited Ominis Gaunt to this dinner as her escort, mostly in an attempt to maintain her sanity. Ominis knew what he was getting himself into when he accepted, having extensive experience with such dinners as a child growing up in the House of Gaunt. The family had done all they could to maintain their connections as the house's fortune slipped away, Ominis being among the youngest to be trained in the art of overlong dinner events. This particular dinner had been going on for four hours, and with no end in sight, even Ominis was growing quite restless and frustrated sitting politely at the huge dining room table, old men and women four, some five or six, times their age prattling on without paying them any mind.

"Surely that man knows he's had a few too many fire whiskies," MC whispered to Ominis, who stifled a laugh as MC narrated to her blind sweetheart the disastrous scene before her: a low-ranking official was drunkenly stumbling his way through a drawn-out and unamusing joke to some higher-ups, his only accomplishment being embarrassing himself.

"If I ever turn into a pitiful and horrific Ministry beast like that," Ominis whispered with a wry smile, "please do the humane thing and leave me for some basilisk to find."

"Mr. Gaunt," she muttered back in mock horror, "are you suggesting a basilisk's gaze would be preferable to an evening of wearing uncomfortable clothing and being treated to incomprehensible jokes?"

Ominis chuckled and placed a hand on MC's lap from under the table. "I must admit, I am rather saddened that your dress has been causing you discomfort all evening. Even just with my wand and my touch, I can tell you are simply ravishing in it."

MC blushed a deep crimson. While she did enjoy how the dress looked, pastel pink taffeta with flower designs running along the hem and bodice with short lacy sleeves adorning the square neck and shoulder line, it was terribly itchy and stiff. Her corset was particularly restrictive, and her hair was also done up in a bun that was quite pretty, but had pins and flower ornaments that irritated her scalp. She hoped Ominis was faring better in his handsome black formal jacket and neatly pressed trousers. What MC truly wanted in that moment was to go back home and draw up a hot bath. Her mind was in full walkabout, pondering what she might do with a few moments alone with Ominis after this hypothetical bath, away from the ever-watchful eyes of her handmaids.

Ominis rose from his seat next to her. He gently took her silk-gloved hand and beckoned her to join him. "I need some air," he groaned. "This is simply too much, and I have the impression that none of these partygoers will miss their supposed guest of honor."

MC laughed in agreement, and with MC on Ominis' arm, the two strolled out into the night air in the gardens just beyond the dining room.

MC was not entirely sure whose house this was. She could have sworn that at least three different names were given to her when she asked various attendees, and she wondered if anyone else really knew, either. Whoever the owner, their taste in parties might have been lacking but their taste in gardens was exquisite. The gardens seemed to stretch on endlessly, and MC began to wonder if they had been enchanted to do just that. The two walked past burbling fountains, topiaries of all manner of magical beasts, the most perfect hedges she had ever seen, and impossibly intricate marble statues of wizards and witches.

MC and Ominis felt at liberty to make bawdy jokes at the expense of the officials as they wandered deeper into the peaceful night. "Do you suppose they're even interested in offering you a job, or are they just proud of themselves for stringing us along this far?" Ominis groused as their laughter faded.

"At this point, I wonder if everyone assumed someone else would be in charge of that task," MC sighed. "I must admit—I was hoping that throwing your name around would at least scare them into doing something, even if I don't want to work for them, but it appears that even Slytherin's heir couldn't get some of these men to care about anything except their own political onanism."

Ominis snorted, always delighted at hearing the out of pocket things his otherwise proper and feminine beloved said when they were alone. "It was worth a try," he smiled.

MC had gone from holding Ominis' arm to holding his hand, which she always preferred, and she felt his hand constantly brushing the skirt of her dress. She smiled, wondering if his mind had also begun wandering.

The two found themselves in a quiet part of the gardens, the crickets dully thrumming as they breathed in the scent of flowers and carefully manicured greenery. They seated themselves on a hidden stone bench some ways off the path to take in the peaceful ambience. MC sat with her knee touching Ominis' as she chastely placed a hand on the space between them for him to hold. He eagerly took the opportunity and laced their fingers together. "This is a lovely place, but I wish I didn't have to attend these stuffy events," MC sighed.

"I'm thankful they at least they afford us moments like this," Ominis murmured. MC realized that he was, once again, fully engrossed in her dress. He had been seemingly obsessed all evening. From the moment they departed for the party, he had been commenting on it or finding opportune moments to touch the skirt and its soft, shiny material. She wasn't sure exactly what it was about this dress that made it different from the other pieces of evening wear she owned, but he was presently enjoying the sensation of the taffeta under his fingers and had begun tracing the neckline of her dress with his other hand. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead—a kiss that felt hot and restrained. "Merlin, how you're beautiful tonight," he whispered.

"Three sickles I know what's on your mind," she smirked. He didn't respond, and before she could open her mouth to ask why, he had straddled the bench, put his arm around her lower back and roughly pulled her towards him. A small squeak left her mouth, which was almost instantly muted by a kiss. Ominis began trailing firm kisses down her neck, accompanied by quiet moans echoing in his throat. "How dare they keep you from me," Ominis muttered, deep and amorous. She had never seen him so aggressive, but she was fascinated and couldn't help but want more.

"I'm upset that I had to spend so many hours this evening being prim and proper, waiting for any opportunity to get away with you—all while you teased me in that pretty dress," he complained. She reached a hand up to soothingly hold the side of his face, but he smiled against her neck and grabbed her wrist, keeping her hand firmly away.

MC let a moan escape her lips. While she was typically vigilant for other people who might see or hear them, she cared very little at this point. Her frustrations had worn her nerves to the quick, and Ominis clearly felt the same way. She desperately needed some quality time with him to make up for the dreadful evening.

Ominis decided that she still was not close enough to him, and quickly pulled her into a deep kiss. Her dainty breasts pushed against his chest, and he sighed sharply. He ran both of his hands down MC's sides, his fingers dancing along her hips. "You're positively intoxicating," he breathed through ragged breaths. “And I am so very frustrated that I can do relatively little about it." His hands moved to her thighs before he stopped. Although his irises rarely moved or betrayed emotion, MC could tell by looking at them that he was deep in thought, deciding his next move. After a moment, he took off his jacket and folded it neatly behind MC.

"Ominis, what are you—" MC wasn't able to finish her thought before Ominis laid her back with her head resting on his jacket, pushing her legs apart so one rested on either side of the bench.

"Hush," Ominis growled, pushing his legs slightly underneath hers and pressing himself down on her with a hand to the side of her face. His command sent a wave of heat through her entire body, and she felt his growing erection pressed deliciously against her core.

Ominis dragged his lips down to her collarbone and took hold of her hips, slowly rubbing them as he rolled his own hips languidly against her a few times. She cried out softly before Ominis leaned closer to her ear. "Louder," he ordered. "I don't care if anyone hears us. I am fed up and I need you. I need to hear and feel you."

Liquid fire spread through her entire abdomen, and MC was quite certain she was thoroughly soaked. He rolled his hips once more, and she cried out with no reservation, his name rolling off her tongue. Appearing satisfied, Ominis moved on to the next part of whatever scheme was on his mind. He reached a hand up and underneath her dress, and ran a hand along the bare skin of her thigh.

MC wrapped her arms around his neck and whimpered. She tried to move her hips just enough to encourage him to keep his hand moving, but he didn't budge.

"Tell me exactly what you want me to do," he murmured. "I want to hear you say it.”

MC began to protest, but was cut short by another kiss. "No excuses, little hummingbird," he growled again. "Say it."

Her cheeks flushed the deepest red. "I want you... to pleasure me," she murmured in his ear. The rush of saying it out loud was intoxicating.

"And how might I do that?" he purred, his hand beginning to move at an excruciatingly slow rate towards her core. MC moaned, partly out of frustration, and partly at the thrill of it all.

"Ominis," she breathed, feeling bolder as the seconds passed. "Please... your fingers, I want them inside me." Her confidence was building, and she was determined to turn this night around. She closed her eyes and savored her memories of the most recent time they had gotten away with doing things they shouldn't have been doing: they had snuck away after a formal courtship dinner at her home, and after they were sure they were alone in a disused room, she had practically melted on his hand. "I... also need you to rub my clit. Long, slow circles. Just the way I like it."

Ominis got a hungry look in his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmured in her ear, hot and needy breath fanning across it and sending yet more fire through her abdomen. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He slid his hand upwards until he could feel how wet she was, and he couldn't help but smirk. “My my, someone is quite excited." His fingers slid easily over her entire core, and her hips moved to help. He frowned and placed his other hand firmly on her hips. “None of that now,” he scolded. “Unless you want me to stop.”

MC merely whimpered in agreement as she squeezed her eyes shut, trying with every fiber of her being not to move.

“I want to hear every single moan and sigh,” Ominis purred as his fingers lazily swirled around the exterior of her slick core.

"Anything for you, Ominis," she breathed. "Just keep going, please."

He chuckled, soft breath hitting MC's ear, and plunged two slender fingers inside her. The palm of his hand was almost hot over the rest of her core, and he slowly moved his palm in large circles as she requested. MC groaned long and deep as she resisted bucking her hips. This was the most pleasurable torture, and Ominis was clearly enjoying inflicting it. He held her there for a moment, slowly crossing his fingers back and forth inside her as he felt her walls around him occasionally pulse uncontrollably. From outside, he shifted his palm away to let his thumb swept slowly across one of his favorite spots on her body. He leaned in close again, gently nibbling at her ear. “Your cute little clit is so swollen and sensitive, isn’t it? When was the last time you even pleasured yourself?”

MC considered if she would let question hang, but thought better of it after seeing the utter delight he was getting from talking dirty to her. “It—mmh—has to have been… perhaps a week now,” she gasped, still fighting her body to keep it from helping his hand. “Please,” she whimpered without thinking.

Ominis tutted. “Oh, you poor thing, that is entirely too long a time.” His fingers slowly began moving in and out, and she exhaled sharply. “Tell me exactly what you did. I’m feeling rather jealous of those pretty little fingers of yours right now, and I want to know what they did without me,” he hissed.

MC whimpered again, fearing she might move her hands to help him before she could catch herself. “I…” she nervously gulped, hesitating.

“Yes?” Ominis asked expectantly. “Every detail, my little hummingbird.”

“I… it started when I was lying in bed. I was thinking of you,” she panted. “I couldn’t sleep, I missed you too greatly. I... began running a finger up and down my clit."

As she spoke, she felt him imitating what she was describing. He had taken his index finger out from inside her and did exactly what she had done the week previous. She shuddered with pleasure and continued, finding the task easier as she went. “Then—mmh—I felt myself getting wet. I slid a finger inside myself—yes, just like that—"

Ominis once again followed along, his large, warm hand heating her entire body. It felt as if electricity was gently buzzing throughout her entire abdomen, now, and she needed release desperately.

“I… I also did what you like to do: I rubbed my clit between my thumb and finger. It reminded me of you, and—aah, yes…” MC bit her bottom lip, orgasm so tantalizingly close. Her heart felt as if it might burst from beating so fast. Every time his hand moved, the cool night air kissed her core; it was irresistible.

“I kept going, just like that, imagining your kisses along my neck until—” Ominis had barely planted the first kiss on her neck when her back arched and she nearly screamed his name, her entire body shuddering beneath him. He kept steady pressure on her and dragged his lips up and down her neck until she had ridden out her climax, and she gazed up at him with a relaxed smile, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. He gently felt her face for her smile with his other hand, and a look of smug satisfaction came over him.

“You make the prettiest sounds," he purred. "It seems as if I did far better than your fingers."

"Oh, Ominis, you absolutely did. I only wish you were with me every time so I would never need to use them again," she smirked, watching Ominis' attention falter and his commanding air momentarily slip as he got lost in that idea.

Eventually, he came back to reality and sighed sharply. “Well, it seems as if this is the perfect moment for you to help me, now." Ominis sat back, helping MC back upright, and began unbuttoning his trousers. An idea crossed her mind as he did so, and with a sudden rush of boldness, she placed a hand on one of his. “Now it's my turn: I want to know what you think about when you pleasure yourself without me," she murmured as she slowly leaned in next to his ear.

Ominis slowed, savoring her words. “Well, of course I think about you,” he replied. His voice was smooth, but there was color rising in his slender cheeks.

“Tell me more,” MC murmured with a dangerous glint in her eye, “and perhaps you’ll get some help with your current situation."

Ominis sighed. He was slightly annoyed at first, but his own game was quickly growing on him. “As you wish, my darling.” He finally undid his trousers, and his cock now stood tall before her, occasionally twitching impatiently. Ominis frowned after a moment, realizing MC was going to make him work even for the first touch.

"Very well," he sighed. He refused to let his bravado fail now, but he was quickly realizing what MC learned: saying it all out loud was quite difficult—and his struggles with it were inevitably going to goad his lover into further teasing him. "I... like to remember the way your skin feels beneath my fingers. And your soft moans. Merlin, the sounds you make in the throes of pleasure," he sighed. "And... I imagine how your pretty breasts might feel under my hands—how you might feel as I have you bent over a table with my cock buried inside you."

When he still felt nothing from her, he grew nervous and tilted his head. "MC? Was... was that too much?"

MC had been sitting, enraptured by her mental images of him lying in the middle of a large bed, his bare, pale body standing out in stark contrast to dark sheets as one arm laid over his face with his other hand around his erection, shuddering with pleasure and moaning MC's name. She shook her head slightly and drew herself back to the present moment. "Not too much at all, darling," she flirted. "Such a good imagination you have, too. I only hope that, someday, we may make that a reality." She voice had lowered until she was nearly whispering in his ear. "Now, tell me how you do it when you're lying there by yourself; how exactly you use these beautiful hands of yours to pleasure yourself." She ran a hand up his thigh, stopping just short of where he wanted, eliciting something between a sigh and a growl from him. He reached for his erection, and MC stopped him. "You can only tell me, my dear. No fair doing this yourself."

"I had no idea you were such a little tease. But I'll be remembering this," Ominis smirked. He then sighed heavily and leaned back on his arms, a deep blush once again washing over his delicate features. "I like to start with gentle touches. Those are—" he was overcome by a whimper, eyes squeezing shut as MC ran a single finger up the underside of his cock. He had no idea know how long he would last like this.

"What next?" MC whispered as she pressed herself closer, not letting him recover.

"Wrap your hand around my cock—gently," he panted. She beamed as she watched his boldness melt away under her touch, reaching a thumb up to gently massage the underside of his tip. He gasped again, throwing his head back. "That feels... Merlin..."

"Don't get too distracted yet," she cooed. "Surely there's more."

"Y-yes, please... move the skin up and down—just like that." Ominis was now almost breathless, moaning MC's name. Before he could give further direction, MC leaned down and pressed her lips to his tip. He nearly shouted her name and gripped her hair on the back of her head. She looked up at him to see that his head was lolled to the side, eyebrows knitted together and half-lidded, unseeing eyes languidly gazing into nothing in pleasure. His perfect lips were parted slightly as he panted.

MC slid her lips further over the tip of his aching erection, listening to his cries and teasingly resisting his hand's pushes.

"MC... Merlin, please..." His chest was heaving, and he gripped her hair tighter.

MC slid her mouth off, his pathetic whine causing a smile to spread across her face, and began kissing up and down the underside of his cock, gently sucking at the skin and running her tongue along every little vein and outline she could find.

When she decided she had teased him sufficiently, MC returned to Ominis' tip. She gently cleaned up the precum that was dripping from his cock with her soft tongue, delighting in his incomprehensible muttering, and slid her lips back over his tip and down further.

Another cry escaped Ominis' lips, and his hips bucked, hitting MC in the back of the throat. Tears stung at her eyes, but her mouth remained firmly around him, hot breath rushing over his excruciatingly sensitive skin. She started bobbing her head up and down, slowly at first but picking up speed. Ominis' fingers wove themselves further through her hair and gripped harder as he doubled over.

"I... don't know how long I can last," he panted. "Your mouth... Merlin..."

MC took her mouth away just long enough to give him one final order. "I want to hear everything you say when you climax by yourself. I want to hear what it's like," she smiled mischievously. Ominis quickly agreed, his hand trying desperately to get her mouth back on his cock.

MC followed the pushes of his hand, delighting in the violent push he gave the moment her lips had enveloped his tip again.

MC had moved her head up and down a few more times before she felt his cock pulsing and Ominis' voice died to a quiet whimper. A second later, his hot seed spilled down her throat as he cried out. "Fuck! MC... ohh, fuck, my little hummingbird..." his speech devolved to animalistic groans as his body convulsed, and he thrust against her mouth a few more times, the last few bursts of seed escaping into MC's mouth before he finally relaxed. His grip on MC's hair loosened, and she released his softening cock, savoring his taste on her lips and moving up to kiss him.

"Are you feeling better?" MC murmured. "I don't recall ever hearing you utter a single harsh word before now. It must have been quite good."

Ominis leaned into her kiss, hands placed gently on her hips, and he groaned regretfully against her mouth. MC giggled and kissed him again on the cheek. "Please. We've been in love for three years now. I think it's all right if your manners aren't perfect at all times."

"Considering what we just did in the garden of a stranger whose name we still don't know—and likely never will—you have a point," Ominis laughed as he made himself presentable again. "But yes," he continued after putting his jacket back on, "that was simply indescribable."

"It was the most fun I've had in a long while," MC sighed, leaning against Ominis and resting her head on his shoulder. "I really ought to find a way to bring out that side of you more often. It almost makes these parties worth the trouble... Almost." MC rolled her eyes.

"I am quite sure we could find other ways to get some time alone together," Ominis replied, weariness in his voice. "I don't know if I could tolerate any more of those officials."

"Perhaps another dinner is in order," MC pondered. "Maybe next week?"

"I think I would like that very much," Ominis replied with a sly smile. "I do hope you'll wear that dress again, too."

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis x mc #ominis x oc #fem!MC #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis smut #ominis gaunt smut #Isabel Greymoore

[inktailsaystuff]

Introducing Ivy to Nina

Freckle meets Ruby (Ivy's dad)

Tw: None :>

Freckle's tail twitched with anxiety as he stood outside his home. He had smoothed out his fur, and worn his mother's favorite suit jacket. It took all of his energy to flatten his bristling fur, in the corner of his eye he could see his silver furred cousin Rocky from the bushes. The cat offered him one of his signature manic grins of support. Now don't get him wrong. He loved his mother... but he was also mortified that she would be unapproved of his girlfriend. Ivy. Ivy stood tall next to him, her beautiful gray fur glowing silver in the moonlight. She wore a loose pastel green layered dress that went down to below her knees, with a matching green cloche hat. Her long thin wiry tail intertwined with his soothingly, as she fixed her hair. 

"Honey, are you alright?" Her sweet voice cutting through his worrisome thoughts. "You know I can always meet your mother some other time right?" Her piercing yellow stare looking into his eyes. "If your worried-"

"N-No." Freckle shook his head, his ear twitching. "I can do this. It's okay." Swallowing a lump in his throat he knocked on the door. The few seconds waiting for his mother to open the door felt like crawling through hell itself. As each second ticked by he could feel his skin prickle and fur bristle, fear clawing its way up his neck. 

"Calvin?" His mother opened the door, her hair tied back into a tight bun as she smoothened out her skirt. Her small ginger stature sent shivers up his spine. "Who's that you got with you?" She narrowed her eyes, fixing her glasses as she looked Ivy up and down. "You better not be getting hanky panky with her Calvin." (I don't know 1920's slang :'<) Nina's tail swished. 

"What? No Mother." Freckle shook his head, "I- I uh... I'm courting her? Yeah... I wanted you to meet her Mother." He fiddled with his paws, his anxiety eating him alive as his mother inspected Ivy. Earlier both he and Rocky had briefed Ivy on how to act and talk around his mother. Well actually Freckle did most of the briefing while Rocky screamed poetry about how to avoid angering "the wrath and fury that is the woman of ginger fur and short stature." Whatever that meant. 

"What's your name?" Nina asked as she finally let the couple inside. Her brilliant yellow eyes analyzed Ivy and her son as they walked in. Nina had to admit, the girl seemed like a sweet one. Large yellow eyes and soft gray fur, the young cat held herself up with an air of upper class, her thin and wiry body graceful and stunning.

"My name is Ivy. Ivy Pepper. Mrs. McMurray." Ivy smiled as she stepped inside, holding her purse in her hand as she smiled. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Ma'am."

"Hmph." Nina frowned. "Would you like some tea Ms. Pepper?" Nina asked as she poured three cups of tea. 

"Yes Ma'am." Ivy smiled, sitting down next to Freckle. 

"How did you meet my son Ivy?" Nina asked as she sipped her tea. Her eyes were cold as she analyzed every one of Ivy's moves as if to find a single blunder. 

"W-We met at a cafe." Freckle offered, twisting their meeting into a less… scandalous version of events. 

"Did she start courting you?" Nina asked wryly, her tail lashing. 

"N-No." Freckle shook his head. "I approached her first..." That was a blatant lie, but alas if they wanted this to work they had to. "She was... uh... drinking tea... and she looked like a nice young woman so I asked to speak to her for a bit." 

"Hmph." Nina narrowed her eyes. "I suppose you do seem like a nice young lady Ms.Pepper." Nina closed her eyes as she sipped her tea. “What does your family do for work?” (I dont actually know what he works as so I’ll just pretend he's also a mine owner)

“My father owns a quarry, a little out of Kansas City, currently I’m going to college.” Ivy prattled off, her happy chipper voice polite as usual. “Anything else Ma’am?”

“I suppose. I shall consider this arrangement then.” Nina hummed, “Now Ms. Pepper, if you could wait outside for a moment I must discuss it with my son.” 

“Yes Ma’am.” Ivy smiled, her heels clacking against the floor as she left the room. Freckle almost cried at the sight of Ivy’s slender tail vanishing behind the door, leaving him to answer his mother’s questions.  

“So what do you think, Mother?” Freckle asked as he wrung his tail in his paws. Worried thoughts ran through his head; What if Ivy was too straightforward? What if her manners were off? What if his mother didn't like her? However his worried thoughts were interrupted by his mother’s booming voice. 

“Stop messing with your tail Calvin. You'll ruin your fur.” Nina finished sipping her tea. “I suppose the girl is soft spoken. A good woman for you Calvin.” Nina folded her hands in her lap. 

“You like her?” Freckle’s ears pricked in excitement. 

“Now wait there Calvin.” Nina raised a paw, “I do quite like this young lady, however I do not know if she is the right fit for you.” Upon the sight of Freckles' dejectedness, Nina rubbed her temple. “However, I will give her time, Calvin.” She looked at her son. “And if she proves to be fit, I give you my blessing.” It took all of Freckles' self control to not jump for joy. 

“Thank you Mother.” Freckle beamed, his tail swishing side to side in excitement. 

“Yes. Yes Calvin.” Nina waved a hand, “Have you met her papa yet?”

“Errrrr… yep. He’s a little busy but I managed to speak with him over the phone.” Freckle lied with a smile, praying to the heavens that his mother wouldn't catch that lie.  

“Good. Remember no hanky panky until after marriage.” Nina waved a finger at her son. “Understood? I want no such godless behavior under my roof.”

“Yes Mother.” Freckle smiled, scurrying out of the room, practically quivering with excitement to tell Rocky and Ivy the news. Nina sat down in her chair chuckling. 

“That’s a good one Calvin.” She wiped her hands on her apron watching as Freckle ran over to the car where Ivy was waiting for him. 

“Goodbye Mrs. McMurray.” Ivy called out curtseying to the older cat from outside as she entered the vehicle. “So how did I do?” Ivy asked once Rocky managed to drive the car a few blocks away from the house. “Did I pass?”

“She approves!” Freckle beamed. 

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy rocky #freckle mcmurray #freckle and ivy #freckle x ivy #calvin freckle mcmurray #ivy pepper #lackadaisy cats #fluff #lackadaisy nina #nina mcmurray #freckle lackadaisy #ivy pepper lackadaisy

[fairlyabookie]

Indirect Kiss

Author's note: Day 16 of Promptober! Enjoy!

“I want to try this new sweet shop.” 

An eccentric advertisement showcasing delectable sweets entices [Reader] to click. A link takes them to a website of pastels and catalogs listing a myriad of pastries. 

“That’s…” 

A sour face befalls Ace’s expression, earning a distraught glance from his friend. 

“Don’t you dare tell me that you’re already sick and tired of sweets.” 

“Well..” 

His face contorts into a complicated expression. 

“Don’t you think we’ve been going out too much?” 

[Reader] snorts, their eyes plastered on their phone. Swipe after swipe, they pass through crêpes, sundaes, and mouthwatering delectable. [Reader] could feel their mouth water with each swipe.

“What do you mean~ We do it every week as a reward for making it through the week.” 

“That’s what I mean, we’ve been going out WAY TOO MUCH.”

Upon this, [Reader]’s lips curl to a pout, their eyes locked onto Ace. 

“Ace, we’re saving money wisely every week. Don’t worry about it!” 

“Worry about it, my ass. We’ve been going out to fancy places and splurging every week! Can we take a break?” 

“Well, this place isn’t that bad. It’s cheap!” 

Ace almost hated the cheery enthusiasm his friend had for this shop. Their affinity for sweets doubled with Cater’s recommendation of the shop became the nail in the coffin - five-star reviews from celebrities, including Vil himself, about the menu, the aesthetic, and the atmosphere were enough to convince [Reader] to going. A new craze on social media, this shop sold many a sweet from ice cream special befitting of couples to crêpes dripping in profound sweetness. Ace, on the other hand, watched their vitality in the face of sweets, somewhat impartial to this. Though he didn’t mind sweets, Ace did mind the expenses he and [Reader] spent dining together. 

From quaint cafes to lavish eateries, these ‘dates’ were merely celebrations after a week’s hard work. Sure, it was a refreshing getaway from classes, but the costs were turning him off. Most times would the other first years misinterpret these hangouts as something romantic.  Ace shook them off, his cocky demeanor, dismissing the matter as nothing but jealousy from them. Yet, he couldn’t ignore a strange sensation blooming in his chest whenever he hanged out with [Reader]. If it meant shelling out a couple dollars just to hang out with them and see their face light up from the taste of sweets.. 

You’re being weird, Ace. It’s not like I like seeing them smile anyway; a break from constant studying and from Riddle’s prattling about rules.. 

He nags at himself, his eyes scanning at the digital menu by [Reader]’s palm. 

“You’re kidding?!”

By this, a grin swells by [Reader]’s lips. 

“We should try it!” 

Poor Ace’s wallet. 

~ ~ ~ ~

The two found themselves booking the place a few minutes after classes, the perfect time to unwind and enjoy some good food - well, in [Reader]’s case, enjoy some desserts. 

Swirls of chocolate fudge top a cloud of whipping cream, rainbow sprinkles its colorful crown. A kaleidoscope of vanilla and chocolate form the foundation of an ice cream bliss. 

Not bad for a sundae and cheap price too! No wonder Cater recommends this. 

Ace muses in awe. The pictures shown on the site were nothing compared to the real deal in front of him, and the way [Reader] glowed was enough to tell him everything. 

“Ace! Ace! Quick, let’s take a pic!” 

They scramble for their phone, their fervor evident on their lips. 

“Sure, sure.” 

Ace calms them down with a hand around their shoulders. His phone’s camera reflects a picture of the two of them and the sundae, in which they saw and relaxed. 

“Cater is going to be jealous~!” 

[Reader] giggles as Ace clicks the camera for a picture. 

“Thank you, Ace. Can you send that to me?” 

“Sure.” 

“Let’s eat!” 

Without skipping a beat, [Reader] scoops a spoonful of the ice cream, tasting tart vanilla and milk chocolate by the tip of their tongue. 

“Amazing! Ace, try it!” 

They scoop another spoonful and offer it to Ace. The first year cocks an eyebrow, a part of himself hoping that they were simply exaggerating. Their hopeful eyes and eager hand brought forth the ice cream to him. There he was, testing out his sweet tooth for the sake of [Reader]. 

“It’s good!” 

Maybe it was the stray thought that he was indirectly kissing [Reader] or maybe the devilish thought that he just ate something outside of Riddle’s stringent rules, the first year couldn’t shrug off the dark satisfaction upon tasting the ice cream, the rich flavor enticing him to eat more. 

“Whoa, you’re blushing. Is it that good?” 

[Reader] perks an eyebrow. 

“I was what?” 

Ace almost spitted out the ice cream. 

“You’re blushing!” 

“It’s good. So what?” 

“Dang, I never thought you’d be more of a sweet tooth than me.” 

“Shut up!” 

Ace could feel his blush deepening from their friend’s jabs. Was he too easy to tease? Without a second thought, he spares another glance to [Reader], who absentmindedly eats the rest of the sundae, a delighted smile by their lips. Just a second ago, he ate from the same spoon they had eaten from.. 

Don’t think stupid things, Ace. 

“Here, you got something on your lips.” 

A tuff of whipped cream settles by the corner of their lips. Ace leans close to swipe it by his thumb. 

“There.” 

“Smooth criminal, aren’t you?” 

[Reader] scoffs with a shy smile. 

“Shut up and enjoy your ice cream, you sweet tooth.” 

The first year tries to ignore the incoming heat by his cheeks. What is going on with his emotions today? He asks himself as he watches his friend enjoy the rest of their dessert in sheer bliss.

#twst x reader #ace trappola #twisted wonderland ace #twst ace #promptober #handle with care

[mmaurysiek]

ch1 - the Good Place Mechs AU

While this post fic contains a major spoiler to the Good Place, no familiarity with the Good Place is required to understand this post. I'm merely putting our favourite immortal space pirates (including the space vampire mum) in a fun story setting 😈

...

Jonny blinks and, huh, what's going on in there? He is in an unfamiliar place, all pastel colours and space bare like a hostel room, and in some weird getup he doesn't remember putting on.

A door opens, and some pointy-eared lanky person in an ugly yellow uniform grins at him.

"Hello," says the stranger. "You are dead and you've made it to the Good Place, congratulations. Before we begin, John, do you intend to continue upholding the vow of silence you took back when you joined the monastery - also thorough your afterlife?"

Jonny gapes a little, and gives a small nod.

It's convenient, really. That way, he can always pretend that he's figured out this fucking prank much earlier.

"It works a little differently than you may have expected, John," prattles the stranger, "but the essentials should sound familiar to you. The neighbourhood has 322 residents perfectly matched to live together in a blissful harmony. I will show you around on the way to your new home. Quite a lovely little farm, I must say. Your soulmate came to us not long before you, and has kept that little farm running ever since."

Jonny nods. Get on with the exposure, he thinks impatiently, only half-listening. A giant line of bright green text stretches over one of the yellow walls.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something," muses the stranger. "Ah, right, we've done a little experiment on the resurrection of the flesh, here. See, some of the life's pleasures are only available to you mortals while you wear your, ah, flesh bag - we've made sure to fix them up a little, please remember to not pour any water inside when you shower - we have tried to improve the bodies a bit, too. It took a little guessing, i hope your facial hair is what you've wanted it to be because, frankly, you're stuck with it now."

Jonny touches his face to check. There is a thin hairy line on his chin and it doesn't fall off when he pulls on it. He manages to rip out a single hair.

He's got real facial hair! Woah!

Huh, maybe he really is in heaven. If they've got the gender reassignment shit done for him, well, Jonny supposes he can play along for a little while. Just until he figures out how to make the good parts stick, maybe.

"Aurora," says the - angel? - and a second version of them appears out of thin air.

"Hello world! I am Aurora!" says the copy cheerfully.

"Yes, Aurora, we know," the first angel says and then takes a second look at Jonny. "Oh, right, this is Aurora - she works with me as we keep watch over this neighbourhood. She appears when called by name, and takes shape of whoever said it out loud. She can conjure anything people ask for, and knows the answer to any question she might be asked. Of course you've always been very self-sufficient, John, so I understand that you won't ever need her assistance anyway."

...

"...a sprout salad bar, a sprout burger stand," the angel kept filling the silence, and Jonny yearned to loose them a little early. "And there is this little sprout garden there, so you can eat them directly from the soil if that strikes your fancy... Oh, hello Ahega, fancy seeing you here! John, look who is there! Ahega, look, your soulmate has finally arrived-"

"I'm forking begging you," whines a tall stranger who looks pretty cool actually, piercings and all - but forking? what the fuck? - "call me almost literally anything else. Maybe a nickname-"

The angel shakes Jonny's shoulder so hard that Jonny bites his tongue, ow.

"John here won't be calling you anything," the angel cheerfully announces, apparently oblivious. "He took a vow of silence while alive, and still upholds it here. Aurora?"

"Hello world! I am Aurora!" announces the copy, and Jonny jumps a little.

He's still not used that that, okay? And by the looks of it, his - or maybe the other John's - his soulmate doesn't seem to be used to Aurora yet, either.

"Aurora, would you please be so kind to give us a recording of brother John's life from his point of view, so that he can share it with his soulmate despite having vowed not to talk?"

"Processing... Here you go!" announces Aurora, handing Jonny something that looks like a real life save button. Huh.

"We'll leave you two to catch up, come on, Aurora," says the angel.

"Goodbye, Edda," answers Jonny's new soulmate with much less enthusiasm. Huh, the angel apparently does have a name, after all. "Goodbye, little moon," Jonny's new soulmate adds much more gently.

Aurora beams and skips steps, as she and Edda walk away.

...

(to be continued)

#the mechanisms #the mechs good place au

[raspberryzingaaa]

Tagged by @accidental-spice :)

Hot or cold showers // texting or calling // earbuds or headphones // matte or gel i dont know what these are// 12 hour clock or 24 hour clock // blue or green // sunsets or sunrise // tulips or orchids // candle light BY moonlight // sci-fi or horror // pen or pencil // pandas or koalas // gold or silver // sneakers or boots // denim jacket or leather jacket // pink or purple // chocolate or sour sweets // deodorant or perfume (they serve different functions) // drive in movie theater or cinema // pastel colors or neutral earth tones(are pastels not earth tones???) // lemonade or fruit juice (lemonade makes my teeth hurt) // past or future

Tagging @lovesodeepandwideandwell @loveliness-and-prattle @tiny-dragons-tea-room @laurelindorenan

and viewers like YOU! Thank You!

#nia post #tag game #make your own post i refuse to recieve notes from this forever

[theheadlessgroom]

"Ugh, really, Randall? How immature can you get? For someone who claims to have lived here longer, you certainly don't act like it." Constance scoffed, the bride turning her nose up away from him and crossing her arms. "Hmph, and besides, have you looked in a mirror lately? Shabby, skeletal, decayed, deformed, hunchbacked, if any of us would be compared to that Crypt Keeper, it could only be you." Constance next moved her hands to her hips with a disapproving scowl, before dropping them with a sigh, "And for someone who questions how my husbands came to me, you don't see to be aware of your own hypocrisy. In spite of how repulsive YOU look, you still found a bride yourself, didn't you?" A smirk returned to her ruined beauty as she added, "Well, true, you never married, but am I wrong in understanding she still loved you in spite of your inherent inadequacy? Or you thought she loved you anyway." Constance smirked again as she tapped her chin, "People find love for lots of reasons. Honestly, Randall, it sounds more like you're projecting to me." She snickered coyly before continuing, "And I'll use Ms. Emily's name however I please. She's not here to contest it, is she? Better off without her though, my Attic is only big enough for one Bride and everyone knows who the prettier of us is." Constance appeared thoughtful for a moment, looking around, "I mean, she certainly had no concept of interior decorating. All black? No pastels?" The Black Widow Bride shrugged her shoulders with a huff and a shake of her head, "And you act as though my dear Ambrose is no longer with us. That couldn't be further from the truth. Now, unlike you, MY husbands still belong to me, and to me alone, entirely." She raised a hand, to reveal the glimmering wedding rings still on her fingers, "I take offense to that insinuation, you know? They still very much love me, even now. They'll even die for me. Again and again." A twisted scowl crossed her distorted face with a cackle, "Oh, but they ARE mine, absolutely. I keep them safely under lock and key. They gave themselves to me freely of their own accord. They should've known what they were getting into. Whatever happened to them was their own fault. Would you hold the crocodile accountable for it's actions when the tightrope walker just jumps into it's jaws?" She sighed again, a bemused expression now on her face. "But even now, despite their foolishness, I forgive them. That's what a marriage is about, isn't it? 'Unconditional love'? 'Til Death Do Us Part'? Well, we're long dead anyway, but it still stands, even in un-death."

"You know, Constance, in spite of what you think, looks aren't everything," Randall replied, sticking his tongue out. "Emily fell for me because I was a kind, dependable, supportive man who loved her not for her money, but because she was compassionate, gentle, and independent. She always told me she thought I was handsome, even after death, but it's what's inside that counts. You, on the other hand, are just ugly inside and out. You still haven't told me what brand of hair dye you use-whatever it is, it doesn't convince me that you're a natural blonde.

And my bride is not only more beautiful than you-inside and out," he continued, narrowing his eyes at her. "She's also far more terrifying than you'll ever be! My Emily has given untold generations countless nightmares from their visits up to our attic-and she didn't have to prattle on and on to do it. A cold stare and a beating heart still sends shivers down mortals' spines. You? You're a laughing-stock. Even with a hatchet in your hands, you couldn't scare even the biggest chicken-hearted mortal. My bride is remembered fondly, while you'll be forgotten as soon as you're out of this house.

And as for your husbands, I feel sorry for the poor bastards: Even in death, they have to be tied to you. That's the nearest thing to Hell I can think of-being tied to a deluded black widow who only thinks about murder and money. You should've married my murderer-it'd have been the biggest favor you could've done, the nicest thing you could've done in your miserable life, hacking his head off."

He then added, "And leave poor Miss Allie out of this! It's not her fault she got eaten, the rope was frayed-the other carnies didn't check it before she got on."

#Anonymous

[mad2001-4]

BABY SINS AU

Part 2

Based on the sentence prompt "There's that smile! There's that smile that I love!"

Greed was, admittedly, a tricky little baby. One moment he was cuddly, then wanting to be put down, then coddled, then left to his own devices. With the little one's preference changing on a whim, Abel honestly had a hard time keeping track. Though for once he could brag that he was doing better than his older brother. Cain had long since put his attention to Gluttony with only minor interest in the oldest child, Wrath, and nothing short of disdain for little Greed.

Abel, admittedly, worried about the affect it would have on the other children, seeing his brother's lack of concern when it came to his blatant display of favorites. Perhaps, he reasoned, it was why he felt so responsible to pick up the pieces, trying his hardest to not play favoritism. He hoped Cain needed time to turn around or perhaps one of the four other children they had to collect still would win the oldest member's heart. For now though, he was content to share the love he had stored up for ages.

Having had Lucias settled down with a book and Cain already tending to Gluttony with a bottle, he opted to check on the third child. He poked his head into the room quietly, on the off chance that the blonde baby was already fast asleep, but instead he found him babbling and cuddling away with the stuffed cat he and Cain got for him, "Well hello," he cooed moving more into the pastel room and closer to the green bassinet.

Lux looked up and immediately started to prattle on in an almost fussy manner and Abel couldn't help but laugh a little in amusement, "Ohh it's truly a wonder why your Uncle Cain doesn't like you more," he cooed, leaning against the little bed slightly, playfully wagging his fingers over the little baby's head, "I suppose I just need to be grateful I don't understand baby talk, huh? Would you be mean to Uncle Abel if you could?" he continued to tease, tone nothing short of lovingly. Lux giggled at this, waving his free hand up to Abel, still trying to insist his fussy babbles as he did, Abel grinned, glad to play along.

"Ohh you spoiled little boy," he hummed, "talking all mean to your uncle, I'm just being nice! What are you and your kitty doing?" he cooed, finally lowering his hand enough to lightly tap the toy. Greed squealed in response.

"Itty! Itty!" he cheered, trying to wave the toy despite it being too big for him to do so.

"Yes, you have your kitty. Let's see, how does that song go...?" Abel trailed off a moment to recall the words, snapping his fingers when they reoccurred to him, "Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur... happy kitty, sleepy kitty, pur, pur, pur...." he smiled softly at Lux clumsily clapping his hands in response to his singing.

"Yay! Yay!!"

"Oooh yay, huh?" he cooed, "You like that song, hm? Well, I will just have to keep that in mind won't I, little prince?" he hummed.

Lux smiled wide and bright at the term, coos suddenly becoming much sweeter than before. Abel's humor only grew, eyes twinkling a bit, "You like that too, hm? I know I like it much better when you're sweet like this, little one," he gently murmured, "and look, there's that smile! There's that smile that I love!"

Lux continued to gleefully coo, abandoning his hold on the white cat toy in favor of making grabby like motions for Abel. Now confident that he wouldn't have a tantrum in his arms, the younger brother picked him up, gently bouncing him, "Oh you make it very easy to fuss over," he cooed, "come along now, let's see if we can't get a bottle in you then, we'll get all three of you kids ready for story time."

#dc oc #sfw #original character #abel dc #cain dc #original child character #oc #greed #lux #baby greed #greed oc #oc greed #au #alternative universe #baby sins au #uncle cain #uncle abel #mainly abel and lux because i need some doting in my life

[rain-candles-jazz]

whumpcember day 21: self-hate tw: self-harm (mentioned vaguely), self depreciation

Deego had been dragged out into the city by Faleece again.  He hadn't been listening when she was prattling on about what they were looking for in the rubble, but he had quickly found an unsoiled bag of caramel-pops, so it wasn't all that bad.

He wandered around bombed out street corners, sidewalks, and what must have been gardens.  The weather was grey, but the temperature was fair, and his mood had lofted at the candy discovery.  He contentedly sucked on the lollypop as he wandered.

Coming upon a once-colorful storefront, Deego's attention was drawn to a display of long multicolored fluffy looking dragon plushes.  A fine layer of dust covered the entire scene, of course, but the decor surrounding the playfully positioned toys still retained a sheen of glitter and pastel rainbows.

Deego placed a hand on the window and gazed, starry-eyed at the display until his gaze fell on the center.  There, as though attempting to sway the audience into imagining themselves in the presence of such benign beings, was a circular mirror.  It too, was dull, but plenty clear enough for Deego to see his himself... And there he was... He stared, dropping his hand from the window.  Deego looked into his own eyes - and they looked just as dead and tired as they did before... before when...

The caramel pop dropped from his hand, cracking onto the filthy sidewalk. Deego watched as his expression became frightened... why was that person scared of him?  He was kind and gave his life to others to the point that he couldn't do anything else - couldn't live his own life, he was trapped - The expression became angry. - he would never have the opportunity to get out and stop being hurt by those he loved and were supposed to love him but didn't seem to anymore!  Why was he the one who had to be responsible?! - The expression became outraged and savage.  This wasn't him!  He was sad and pathetic!  A doormat for everyone to use and abuse until there was nothing left of him!!

Deego gritted his teeth and swung his arm wildly in front of himself.  A blue-green ribbon of light flung out from his hand, slicing into the display window. Glass flew in every direction around Deego, and in every flash of light they created, he could swear he saw himself again - that same piece of garbage he was stuck with, the same worthless worm he's always been and always would be.  

Full of unadulterated fury, Deego screamed as tears started to flow down his face.  Lights, as solid as hairs-width blades shot out from around him - further pulverizing the air-borne glass until he could see nothing in them.

Deego's shoulders hunched as he felt his face burn.   His arms burned, and he felt blood begin to seep into his long-sleeved shirt.  He breathed heavily with a slight rumble.

Faleece peeked around a corner nearby.  "Hey, Deego!  What's goin' on?"

Deego turned his head to glare at her over his shoulder as light began to shimmer around his fingertips.

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember2022 day21 #self hate #closet believers #deego #faleece #whump angst

[pastel-cryptonym]

Art Theft at School

So, I’m really tired of this crap happening.

In one of my classes, it was optional to make a drawing for a contest for my teacher’s baby. I was excited and I immediately started to work on mine, when I started to see the other students pull out their iPads (my school uses them for schoolwork) and started looking up things like “easy animals to trace.” I was confused and a bit heated. Some students did do their own thing, but a boy in front of me particularly caught my eye. He chose a photo of an animal that was a hybrid of multiples. He had traced it and added wings, and of course me being me, I decided to tell him that it was wrong to copy other people’s artwork. His reply was “but I changed it, it’s fine.” I was pissed. Even his friends agreed with him, to my dismay. I continued to explain how wrong it was. Apparently to them, plagiarism isn’t bad. It’s fine. It’s a-okay to take credit for others work. I also had a girl in another class tell me “well if they put it on the internet they should’ve known.” And that is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard, I’m surprised I heard it in real life. If ANYONE every thinks this, then get educated. If an artist posts online, they do it to share their work, they don’t do it to get it stole by ignorant people.

#art theft #art thief #plagiarism #blatant stealing #stealing #pastel prattles

[silentmysticfaes]

Muah! 😘😙😚

eeeee~😍😍 thank youuuuu~~😙😙

#pastel-pink-simmer #jackie prattles

[sugarpasteltmnt]

You say you have “more things planned” for this AU and that any fanfic of this fanfic would be considered non-canon. Sooo- Does that mean you’re planning on writing more of the world of “The Neon Void” after you’re done with this particular project? Like a Neon Void Cinematic Universe lol.

#lol okay but really it’s not that dramatic #maybe some spinoff drabbles? who knows #we will see #no promises tho I might need a break after lol #besides. there might be other fics waiting to be written 👀 #pastel prattling

[multiplefandomsblog]

[Danganronpa] Kokichi x Guitarist!Reader (one shot)

request; Hello!! Ik requests are closed rn and you can totally ignore this if you'd like- but i was wondering if you could do kokichi, or byakuya with s/o that plays guitar and gives of wilbur soot vibes (so like,, theyr’e jokey and sarcastic and pretty upbeat and tend to get a bit flustered by affection, not to mention a really good voice)

Warnings⚠️!: reader has gender neutral pronouns, cussing, just very very fluffy, kokichi has a non-existent attention span until he sees you play guitar lmfao

Note; ARGHHH I had SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS AHHH I LOVE MUSIC SHIT I LOVE IT GUITARS MAKE ME GO BRRR anyways enjoy :)

You and Kokichi were walking to the music shop. You wanted to check out some electric guitars, as acoustic was getting a little boring, and didn’t really match your taste. Entering the shop, you are greeted by the front desk and walls on the right filled with electric guitars from ceiling to floor. Excitedly rushing closer, you pass shelves with chord books, guitar picks, string replacements, anything meant for guitar. You pace back and forth looking at all the types of bodies and colours, ignoring the tags and your bank account drowning in debt.

On the wall you can see all the famous brands; Gibson, Fender, Gretsch, Jackson. You’re like a child at a candy shop, but instead of candy it’s $200+ electric guitars.

You don’t realize you’ve completely abandoned Kokichi at the front desk. He struts his little legs towards you as you stare in awe of all the different kinds of guitars to choose from. He stood beside you silently, waiting for you to notice him. After less than 10 seconds of impatient waiting, he gives up and wanders off to look at guitars on his own. Not a moment later, Kokichi is already running towards you with a guitar in his hands.

“S/o! s/o! Check this out!” he calls out.

He’s holding a Strat guitar with a rich purple colour on the body, and the pick guard is checkered in black and white. He holds the guitar proudly by his side, like how middle-aged caucasian guys on Facebook hold big fish. The resemblance is uncanny. Though the comparison was adorable, the guitar itself is, well you’re not going to lie; ugly as fuck. 

“Play something for me!” He starts handing you the guitar, but you push it away. “N-nah... I’ve never played in front of you before, and doing it in a public place won’t help.” You brushed him off, hiding the fact you were nervous by averting your gaze awkwardly. You didn’t plan on bringing Kokichi with you, but he found a way to convince you to let him tag along, and so you weren’t really planning to play; but hey, it’s Kokichi, you should’ve known he would request something as silly as this.

“You can play in front of only me! Like a little private show, nishishi! And I think I saw a little sound proof room there in the corner.” He points to a little room with a glass door in the opposite corner of where you’re standing. He probably planned this, huh. You stare at the door nervously, but there’s nothing you can do as Kokichi starts pushing you towards the corner with all his might which isn’t much.

He shoves you through the tiny glass door, plops the guitar on your lap and plugs it into the amp, how the hell did he know how to do that? He stands in front of you, eyes glued to yours, smiling from ear to ear. Yeah, you’re sure he’s been planning this. 

You clasp the guitar in your arms, your breath starts to become shaky, and everything you’ve learnt in those painful hours of practice have suddenly vanished from your mind.

What if he doesn’t like it? Does he even listen to rock music?

Kokichi is staring at you with eager eyes, waiting for you to start playing. ‘Psh, it’s just Kokichi..’ you thought. You closed your eyes, took a long deep breath, placed your fingers on the frets, and strummed down hard.

With that first strum came a load of random lyrics popping up in your mind. You quickly came up with an intro and a chord progression and went to town. You started singing whatever came to mind, saying dumb one liners and and things about love, tapping your foot and bopping your head to the beat. You bear through it, trying to go fast enough to get over with it, but slow enough so you don’t fuck up.

5 minutes later... you got a little carried away. You wrote a whole song on the spot. You pry open your eyes and adjust to the bright light in the tiny room. You see Kokichi’s pale face turn light pink, his eyes are wide and sparkling, he’s in awe.

“S/o... that was AMAZING!!!”

You start to blush, clearly not used to compliments about your music. “A-ahh.. yeah, thanks.” He continues to prattle on about how great you did, how pretty your voice was and your hilariously sarcastic lyrics, all while basking in the pleasure of seeing you so flustered, he had to hold back a confession. “It was the guitar, wasn’t it?” he grins knowingly. You roll your eyes fondly, and shove the guitar back into his arms, “Put that back where you found it, I already know what I’m getting.” 

You’ve been playing around with this pretty looking guitar with a simple solid pastel yellow coloured body and white pick guard. You and Kokichi walk back to your place with your new guitar, and on the way back he’s humming the tune you played for him in the tiny test room.

#mod toby #kokichi x reader #danganronpa kokichi #kokichi oma #kokichi fluff #kokichi headcanons #kokichi ouma #kokichi #kokichi x reader fluff #kokichi x reader oneshots #dr3 kokichi #dr3 kokichi x reader #dgr3 kokichi #dgr3 #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #danganronpa imagines #danganronpa fluff #danganronpa oneshot

[nyxdelanuit]

It Started With a Postcard (Sero x F! Reader)

This is my contribution to the BNHarem’s penpal event! This event is nsfw so be warned! I had a lot of fun with this collab <3 

Please see the Penpal Masterlist to see the other characters! 

Warnings: smut, nsfw themes below!

Sero stood outside his apartment, staring down at a flowery postcard in his hand with an apprehensive gaze. The early afternoon sun warmed his shoulders, reminding him that he was still stood outside of his modest house. He brought the mail inside, kicking off his shoes at the door. Bills and various coupons were glanced over quickly before his eyes returned to the stiff postcard. The other mail was inelegantly dropped on the kitchen counter. Sero’s eyes scanned the delicate writing as he rummaged his kitchen for a drink. The handwriting was rushed and messy, but still a softer hand than his own.  

It had been a spur of the moment kind of thing, signing up for an anonymous penpal. He had been passing through a stationery store on his way home from patrol, preferring the calm walk home instead of flying above as he did for work. It allowed him to leave a lot of the tension of his job outside of his home as he watched the calm masses meander through the streets in the dying light. He had passed the shop many times before. There was just something that pulled to the shopfront that day. The scent of wooden pencils and lightly perfumed paper leaked out onto the streets, likely from the kiosk placed in front of the encompassing window. He knew it was a ploy to get more out of a dying business, selling a penpal package with bundled paper, envelopes, stamps, and a single postcard. There were spaces to fill out his information, and all letters would be sent through the shop. It had been tempting at the time, the opportunity to talk to someone who didn’t know his hero persona.

It had gotten tiring throughout the years, being the backbone of his friend group. Bakugou didn’t have the emotional intelligence to comfort their friends, Kaminari and Mina were too reckless and blase, and poor Kirishima was ironically too soft. So it had fallen to him, the voice of reason. The one everyone called at three in the morning when the weight was too heavy for one of his friends to hold alone. He had carried it all for years, not stopping to wonder who would hold him together while he supported everyone else. He just had to shrug it off with a smile, as they expected.

But now, the unassuming postcard in his hand offered something different. This person expected nothing more from him than a letter. He didn’t have to be Sero the hero, or Sero the strong one, he could just be Sero. His eyes roamed over the postcard once more before he searched the house for the bundle of paper he purchased. He flopped down onto his couch, picking out a soft grey piece of stationary and leaning over his coffee table to write.

For the first time since high school, Sero struggled with his words. His sentences were awkward and stunted and he floundered over what to say. It was harder than he remembered to start up a conversation with someone who couldn’t instantly reply. Even more so when he was trying to be vigilant about not letting his penpal, Y/N, know about his hero work. Everything he put down about his life felt vague and he hoped his new penpal would overlook his obvious avoidance of the topic.

It took a few days before Sero received a reply. He couldn’t excuse the excitement he felt at the soft envelope in his mailbox, stamped with the stationery store’s address. Sero briefly wondered about who his penpal could be, it would have to be someone within his patrol area. The store was locally owned after all. Perhaps he had even saved his penpal before.

While Sero’s letter had been subdued, neutral in both color and tone, his penpal was decidedly exuberant. The paper itself was awash in pastels with a light littering of designs, neither dark enough to obscure their writing. He noticed the writing was less hurried, but not much neater. It helped anchor Sero to the idea that it was another person on the other side of this letter, something as little as not having the best penmanship was oddly endearing.

His name ‘Hanta’ curled in a delicate slant at the top, causing the breath in Sero’s lungs to hitch. He had forgotten he hadn’t signed his full name, too worried that his penpal would connect it to his hero life and put him on some sort of pedestal. His penpal wrote significantly more about themselves than he had, but didn’t seem perturbed at his reluctance.

They worked a job they were okay at, they lived modestly within their means, they saw their friends often enough, and they met with their parents once a month for dinner. They were happy, but they wished for something to break up the monotony, therefore they signed up for the penpal service. Even though the topic was a bit dull, Sero saw the life behind their words. Humor laced their words and although Sero wasn’t quite happy about the self-deprecating tone, he could work with that. Your name was signed at the bottom, a messy smiley face scrawled just next to it. Without thinking, he brushed his thumb over the doodle, the smile blurred but still bringing a smile to Sero’s face.

There was no hesitance this time as he picked a more playful stationary. The words seem to flow onto the paper with no thought, he had forgotten how nice it was to just communicate with someone with no pretenses.

Weeks passed this way, and people could tell there was a little more pep to Cellophane’s step. He was more eager to get home, a new letter appearing in his mailbox every few days. Truth be told, he hated the wait. Every word poured out to pages made him feel closer to his mystery friend. He paused today, walking through the busy streets. Did he consider his penpal his friend? In every way you could consider someone you know only through words on paper, he supposed he did. Throughout the months of writing, there had been no lack of conversation. They shared in each other’s good fortune and even a few less fortunate events. Sero looked forward to their letters even more than Kaminari’s occasional club invites. Even now as he dodged his neighbor’s attempts at conversation, all he could think of was the softly scented envelope he hoped was waiting for him.

His hopes were rewarded. Sero glanced sheepishly at the growing piles of neglected mail on his counters as he cradled the letter to his chest. He wasted no time reclining on his couch and opening your letter. He wondered, not for the first time, if you sprayed some sort of perfume on your letter or if that was just the scent of you. Either way, it had become a comfort to him. There was no stopping the grin that dominated his face as he laid back onto the couch, intently running his eyes over your words. You always made sure to respond to everything he said, Sero had no idea the last time he felt this seen.

He was already moving to pen up a reply before he noticed your signature smiley face was missing from the end of the letter. Instead, penned in a shaky hand,

‘Call me sometime, Hanta. XXX-XXX-XXXX’

Sero stumbled over his feet trying to get up, ultimately ending up in a heap on the floor. In his haste, he struck out with his tape, pulling his phone from the counter into his hand. He quickly unstuck the tape and tapped open his contacts. Once your contact was filled out, the empty picture stared Sero in the face. His fingers seemed to move on their own, pressing the phone icon softly. It finally registered as the dial tone rang through his silent house, his hands fumbling to get the phone to his ear.

You picked up after two rings.

“Hanta!” His heart swelled as he realized he wasn’t the only one eager to talk, not to mention his given name falling so easily from your lips.

“Wow, do you have some sort of psychic quirk?” He chuckled into the phone. Neither of you had disclosed your quirks as of yet. You returned his laughter nervously.

“Oh definitely, I haven’t been answering every unknown number the past two days with your name or anything.” Sero settled himself on the floor, his free arm stretching up over his head. The sun streaming through his window, the particles in the air lit like tiny embers as they drifted. It felt as if his grin was etched into his face with how much he was smiling. He almost missed the silence that stretched on as he tried to imprint your voice into his head.

“Oh, sorry. I just got off of work, why don’t you tell me how your day went while I unwind a little?” It almost felt as if he was floating as you prattled on about the mundane happenings of your day. It was so normal, so nice. He forgot how nice it was to just live for a minute.

“Hanta?” He hoped you couldn’t tell the way he choked on his breath every time you said his name. “You just got off of work, how was your day?”

“Well I’ve got a few hours to rest before I’m on call, but today was pretty low-key as far as they go.” It felt natural to tell you about his day that he didn’t notice his slip up. It wasn’t as easy as it was on paper.

“On-call?” Sero cringed as you questioned. “Like at a hospital or something?”

”Something like that.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He heard you hum an affirmation, but to his surprise, you didn’t push any further.

“Sounds kinda rough, Hanta. I know I’m pretty cranky when my schedule gets changed.” He appreciated how you kept trying to get to know him without pushing the things he wasn’t ready to share. “And it must be some commute if you work in something like a hospital. There aren’t any close-by. Oh, sorry, I guess I’m assuming you live nearby since the paper shop is local.”

“Yeah, I do. Live nearby, I mean… and the commute isn’t terrible.” Sero muttered awkwardly into the phone.

“I wonder how many times we’ve passed each other without knowing.” Your voice came out a little breathlessly as if you were daydreaming on the other end.

It was easy for Sero to fall into you. Hours passed by as the two of you talked about anything that came to mind. He had barely even noticed the shadows growing deeper as the light faded from his house, until only darkness remained, cut by a singular beam of light from the bright moon. He was fully content to talk to you all night, provided that he wasn’t called into work. At least he was until your yawn cut through your voice.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?” Your voice was getting exponentially drowsy with each minute that passed.

“I’m already on-call, you should get some sleep though.” He chuckled softly into the receiver. Your sleepy voice was adorable.

“Hanta! You shouldn’t have let me blather on instead of letting you rest.” You tried your best to reprimand him, but it only brought forth another soft chuckle.

“I’ll be fine. It was worth it to talk to you, anyway. Now go to bed. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Hanta.” Your voice was barely a breath, and Sero was reluctant to hang up.

It became a nightly ritual between the two of you. Sero called whenever he got off of work, and the two of you talked throughout the night. He insisted you stay on the line even as he made dinner. Sero gave good advice on your shitty coworkers, and he told you stories about his eccentric friends to fill the empty space. You had even tuned into a show together, commenting about the bad storyline and cheesy acting. Every night, Sero would wait for your yawn and wish you a goodnight. You had buried yourself in his heart, and he was in no hurry to remove you.

You were convinced you had worried a path in your floor. Sero’s calls were never on a set schedule, but he had called you every night for over a month, and it was passed the time you usually fell asleep on him. There had been no word from him all day, not even a text to say he’d miss your call.

Sero got back home late. It had been the worst day that he’d had in a while. He was called for assistance rescuing people while some of his more combat-oriented heroes took on a villain, but there had been heavy casualties. All the tape in the world couldn’t fix someone crushed by the rubble. Sero knew that too well now.

His body moved on muscle memory. He had already changed out of his gear and showered at the agency, so he simply kicked his shoes off and stumbled to the couch. There was no thought to it as he dialed your number.

“Hanta! Are you okay?” The panic in your voice floored him.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of how late it was. Did I wake you?” The somber tone of his voice shook you.

“It’s fine, did something happen?” Sero sighed into the phone, choosing his words carefully.

“My work involves helping people, but I wasn’t able to save all of them today.”

The two of you talked into the early hours of the morning. Sero felt everything spill over as he spoke, and you somehow took everything in stride.

“...And I couldn’t do anything.” Somehow his chest felt lighter and tight all at the same time.

“That doesn’t mean that your work isn’t important anymore. You make a difference. A big one.” Was this how other people felt when he was on the other side? It didn’t stop hurting, but knowing that someone was there carrying the weight with you was more than Sero could have hoped for.

Life returned to normal after that, with the exception that Sero started being a little more forthcoming with how his days went. You still didn’t know his exact occupation, but you knew enough to help on the rough days. It only made the feelings Sero had for you more intense. Even though the two of you talked every night and sent little text messages throughout the day, neither you nor Sero stopped sending little letters to each other.

Sero was rummaging through the leftover bits of his penpal package, trying to find a good piece of stationery to pen his next letter. His frown marred his face as dull, formal paper littered the bottom of the box. It would have seemed silly to him at the beginning of your correspondence, but he wanted everything to be perfect in his letters. He had saved every one you had sent, after all. If you were doing the same, they had to at least look like they were worth saving.

Sero wandered into the stationery store, sunglasses perched on his face and a practiced neutral expression on his face. With his hoodie bunched up around his oddly shaped elbows, the only recognizable feature Sero seemed to have was his trademark grin. If he could get in and out without being noticed, he would be able to get a letter out tonight instead of tomorrow morning.

If drumming up business was the reason for the penpal event, it sure seemed to work if Sero was any judge. He wandered through the aisles, stopping often to look at delicate papers with seasonal decorations. He noticed with a flush that all papers in his grasp were soft and floral, reminiscent of new spring love. In an effort to shake those thoughts from his mind, he watched the other patrons roaming the store. Any of them could be you, passing by without even knowing. One customer in particular had caught his eye, thumbing papers in soft greys and a pale yellow clutched in her hands. How lucky he would be if you were anything like her. He realized a bit later that his distraction had only led him deeper into his daydreams, so instead, he browsed the rubber stamps and stickers towards the end of the aisle. Would you like it if he placed stickers on his letters? Which ones would you like? Maybe the delicate cherry blossom stickers, or the pack with puppies? Did you like a specific character?

He had been so lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the ring of the vaguely familiar voice from the front of the store. He heard it every night, but never this clear. Who else could it be but you? He rushed to the front of the store, the bell chiming as it fell closed. He had half a mind to follow you into the street, seek you out finally. Maybe then he could get you out of his head. But the shopkeeper had called to him, noticing his armful of papers, and Sero knew it was too late. Even if he left now, he wouldn’t be able to pick you out of the crowd. Next time he wouldn’t hesitate.

It was easier to admit on paper. Sero wrote to you that night about how he thought he may have just missed you earlier, and how he had started thinking about meeting up. His hand trembled as he wrote about he was a bit nervous about how much he liked you. He finished the letter quickly, sealing it in an envelope and placing it in the mailbox before collapsing in bed. No taking it back now.

It had been quiet for days, and Sero was starting to feel on edge. He liked the days where there wasn’t much to do, it meant that everything was safe and he was doing his job, but multiple days in a row meant trouble. It didn’t take long for his hunch to be proven correct. Glass shattered onto the streets, metal crunched against metal, and Sero moved as fast as he could push himself to go.

Thankfully a few heroes had been nearby to assist Sero with the robbery-turned-mass-destruction. It took them longer than Sero liked, but the villains were subdued. With the criminals apprehended, Sero focused on the cleanup. He had no more than a few scratches, but he was worried about all those that may be trapped in the toppling buildings. A few buildings sat askew, steel beams exposed like snakes reaching out into the sky. It was fairly easy for him to stabilize the buildings, swinging around with his tape like a spider cocooning its prey. As each building was stabilized, he quickly scanned through the halls, escorting any remaining citizens out of the building and past the danger zone. He worked methodically, moving down the street and clearing each building before the next. Compassionate, yet logical. He couldn’t let the recent memory of his losses skew his current predicament.

Those thoughts had swum through Sero’s head until a harsh squeal accompanied by a metallic groan met his ears. He wasted no time jumping into action, flinging himself through the sky to the source. There you hung, dangling by increasingly sweaty hands as you desperately tried to get a better grip on the slowly sagging steel girder. Sero’s heart beat erratically against his chest, but his body moved on instincts ingrained in his muscles.

It always looked so smooth in the movies when the hero swoops in to save the girl. The girl would stare up at the hero in admiration as they glided through the air, as graceful in the sky as a bird. That’s not how you felt. Cellophane’s body collided against yours like a truck, pushing the air from your lungs. Your whole body lurched against his as he scooped you up. The crashing of the beam behind you echoed in your ears, you couldn’t begin to imagine what would have happened if he had been even a minute later. Cellophane may have swung through the air like he was made for it, but your body was jostled by the air beating against your face. The helmet seemed a really wise choice at the moment. As you struggled to grip onto his form, you felt the phone in your pocket easing it’s way out.

“Hey, stop squirming. I’ve got you.” Cellophane spoke to you calmly, but all you could think of was the phone that was about to shatter across the pavement far below you. Your hand reached out to grasp at the device, grasping around thin air. “It’s just a phone, you can get a new one.” Cellophane tried to comfort you as you watched the glittering of your phone exploding and becoming one with the debris of the street.

“No, I have to be there when Hanta calls!” You cried out. Today had already been hard enough, and in your frightened state, all you could think of was how Hanta would hate you if you ghosted him. Cellophane’s chuckle rumbled through where your chests touched, and you couldn’t help but smack his shoulder lightly. “It’s not funny.” Tears gathered in your eyes, all these emotions were too much for you.

“I think Hanta won’t mind if you miss a call, Y/N.” He cooed. You were startled as the tears escaped your eyes.

“Hanta?” His grin was visible through his helmet as he clutched you a little closer to his chest.

“Gotta say, this wasn’t what I was thinking of when I said I wanted to meet you.” You manage to loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer, causing him to veer off course slightly. He righted himself with a nervous chuckle, landing gently on a stable rooftop nearby. “Sit tight for a bit and I’ll come get you, okay?” You could only nod numbly as he propelled himself back into the sky.

Sero may have rushed through his work, knowing you were waiting for him as the chill of the night started to set in. It had been a long time since he felt such a thrill soaring through the city. He circled lowly around the building, coming up behind you as you swung your feet off the edge of the building, staring up at the night sky. He plopped down beside you, removing his helmet and fidgeting with his sweat-slicked hair.

“So… come here often?” Sero pulled a startled chuckle out of you before you leaned onto his shoulder.

“Good one Hanta. Or should I say Cellophane? Now I kinda get why you were so reluctant to tell me your job.” You returned your sights to the sky, a little nervous to look him in the eye.

He stood then and offered you a hand. “Sero Hanta, hero name Cellophane, at your service.” He grinned down at you, and you took his hand to help you stand. You toed the ground with a flush.

“So should I call you Sero then?” It was Sero’s turn to blush.

“Actually, I was hoping this wouldn’t change much between us. I like it when you use my given name.” You nodded, finally looking into his eyes.

“Then you should use mine, too!” Your joined hands still sat between you, and although Sero had realized, he simply gave it a soft squeeze.

“Well, my place is nearby if you want to get cleaned up?” He offered awkwardly. You were suddenly and intensely aware of how all the dust and dirt clung to your skin.

“That would be wonderful.” His smile turned mischievous as he pulled you to his chest, not giving you time to get nervous as he vaulted the two of you off the roof. You had half a mind to scold him, but you were too focused on enjoying the ride. Seeing the city you lived in, the streets you walked every day, from a bird’s eye view was not something you would forget anytime soon. The biting wind stung your eyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close them.

To your surprise, Sero deposited the two of you on his balcony. Why waste time with the front door when he could meander through the sliding door? He quickly ushered you through his room. He tried to at least. You were having too much fun pretending your legs were jelly and trying to get a glimpse of his room. It was nice to know that the light-hearted chemistry you had felt over the phone was more than present in person by the way Sero was laughing along with you instead of kicking you out.

The two of you settled into his living room, cold drinks in hand as you tried to catch your breath from the whirlwind of a day. Sero seemed to be keeping an eye on you, and you wondered if he was simply looking for any lingering unease from the attack or if he was as enamored with you as you were with him.

“The bathroom is down the hall, you should get cleaned up.” He broke the comfortable silence, motioning to a door behind you. You shook your head vehemently.

“Oh no, Mr. Hero, sir.” You giggled at him, “You worked a long and hard day, I can wait.”

“You’re the guest!”

“And I’ll be a damned good one and let you go first.” Sero huffed at you before conceding, tossing you a remote to the television as he passed.

“Fine, but next time you go first.” You gasped as he disappeared behind a door.

“Oooh, so you already think there will be a next time? Hanta, I took you for a gentleman!” You jeered at him playfully. Even with the door closed, you could hear him groan.

“Shush! I have neighbors ya know.” He tried to sound put-off, but you could hear the laughter in his voice. To his credit, he didn’t make you wait very long. Steam rolled out of the bathroom as he walked out, still toweling his hair. You tried not to stare at the way his shorts hung low on his hips or the way his shirt stuck to his still-damp skin, but there was no good place to look that wouldn’t make it obvious. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice your conundrum, simply gesturing to the bathroom.

“It’s all ready for you, I’ve put out a towel you can use. Feel free to use any of my stuff, although it might smell as nice as you’re used to.” You thanked him softly as you escaped into the bathroom to hide your flush. The water still ran warm from Sero’s shower, and you were quick to strip and step into the stream. You watched in fascination as all the day’s mess ran down the drain, a sickly grey.

Sero waited for you on his couch, still pristine. He frowned, realizing that you had probably stood the whole time as to not dirty his furniture. You were too stubborn for your own good, it seemed. He mindlessly flipped through the channels, wondering vaguely if he should just watch one of the many shows he neglected. It wasn’t until he heard the soft padding of your feet that he pulled himself from his thoughts. You stood at the entrance of the hallway, covered only by the fluffy towel he had left for you. Your face was fully flushed, and Sero tried to convince himself it was only from the shower.

“My clothes are completely wrecked, do you have anything I could change into?” Your voice was soft and reluctant, and Sero was quick to pop off the couch, slipping slightly in his haste to help you once again. He tried to slip past you to his room, but he couldn’t help stopping as your skin brushed against his. You looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning.

Sero prided himself on his control. Out of all of his friends, he was known as the level-headed and logical one. Even so, that restraint only went so far. Seeing you in such a state of undress, looking up at him so earnestly, it broke the dam holding back his desires.

His hands tangled in your wet hair, pulling your lips to his with bruising force. You gasped into his hold, dropping the towel as you draped your arms around his neck. Clothes were forgotten as his hands traveled down your neck, moving your head to fit against his better. His tongue traced against your lips with agonizing slowness, but his hands held no such restraint. His rough fingertips drifted down your neck, ghosting past your nipples as they made their way to your waist. He didn’t hesitate to lift you by the thighs, making you anchor your legs around him.

Sero staggered to his room, never once compromising his hold on you. His body followed you down onto his bed, not letting his lips leave you for more than a moment. When he finally broke away, eyes hazy with lust, he gazed down at you.

“Is this okay?” He wanted you to be sure. You were, especially after his question.

“Yes, Hanta. I want you.” Your voice was heavy with your desire, driving him to strip his shirt with an urgency he rarely felt outside of work. The fabric flew into the darkness of the room and his lips were on you shortly after. He let his hands roam now that you were in his bed, kneading experimentally at your breasts. You pushed your chest into his hold, encouraging him to give you more. Your hands found their way to his navel tracing down the path of dark hair. Sero was already straining against the fabric, and you softly swirled your fingers over the tip. He groaned darkly against your mouth, pulling back to rip the shorts off of his body. His lips descended on your chest, harsh nips and soothing licks raining down on your skin. You were so focused on the way he wrapped his lips around your nipple that you hadn’t noticed his hand grazing your skin down to your core. Sero swirled his tongue around your nipple, lavishing the other in rough pinches and soothing circles.

Your back arched off the bed as he spread your folds, skimming over your clit. You bucked against his hand, desperate to feel his fingers against you.

“You’re so wet for me.” He panted against your chest, staring up at you with dark eyes. “Did you think of me after our calls? Did our talks make your heart race like they did mine?” You nodded helplessly.

“Please Hanta.” You begged for his touch and he was too enamored with you to resist. His finger entered you deftly, his palm rough against your clit.

“I had hoped so, ya know I liked you even before I saw your face. Now I know how good you look, I don’t want to let you go.” He finished his breathy sentence with a nip to the underside of your breast, making you squirm against him. He moved back to watch you, adding another finger and then two. The squelching noises coming from his fingers would have normally embarrassed you, but you found yourself lost in the way that he stared at you like an oasis in a desert; like you were something he had been waiting for so long to indulge in. “I already knew you must be beautiful, just from your voice, but fuck, you are so much more than I could imagine. I think I could be happy to spend the rest of my life in this bed with you if you kept looking at me the way you do now.” His hand retreated from your heat, and your body tried to follow. “I’m sorry, I can’t hold back anymore.” He panted, fisting his weeping length before sliding it through the slick collected between your legs.

It was a sweet stretch as Sero sunk into you, a few thrusts before he was fully seated inside you. You reached for him, scratching at his shoulders as you tried to roll your hips up to meet him.

“Fuck, babe. You’re pulling me in so good.” He groaned, placing sloppy kisses across your shoulder. He pulled out to the tip, teasing himself as much as he was teasing you, before slamming home with a lewd smack. Your keening moan set him off, pistoning into your tight cunt without remorse. His fingers dug into your thighs as he tried to angle them higher without slowing. Sero’s hands slid up to the underside of your knees, almost bending you in half as he rolled his hips viciously, grinding up against your engorged clit with every thrust.

“I can’t get you off of my mind. F-fuck, I can’t let you go now. You’re stuck with me.” His hips stuttered against you as he spoke, slowing down to edge himself. The slowed pace had you writhing, not able to buck up against him well in this position. He chuckled softly, his breath hot on your skin. You were so focused on chasing your high, your eyes shut tight and head thrown back, that you barely noticed the tearing of tape coming from Sero. He deftly crossed your legs, attaching the tape to his headboard off to the side in a way that still allowed him to see your face. “Goddamn, babe, you’re so tight like this.” His breathing was erratic as he placed his newly-freed hands on your ass, separating them until he could clearly see himself sinking into your warm cunt. You gasped under his intense gaze, clenching around his cock. The veins were clear in his neck as he tried to hold himself back, his voice caught in his throat.

Then he snapped, a low groan resonating throughout the room. He was all fast, demanding thrusts and blissful praises. You responded in kind, wordless wails of pleasure and breathless gasps. “I’m not gonna be able to last much longer. Cum for me, baby, please.” He pleaded with you, his voice gravelly and needy. His calloused fingers found your clit easily, rubbing figure eights just on the right side of pain. Your legs struggled against the tape as you tried to grind yourself more on his length, pushing his cock into the spongy area that craved his attention. You felt yourself wind up, breaths shallow as you stayed rigid against his passion, desperate for him to keep rubbing against that spot. Your head was swimming with the lack of oxygen as you held your breath long enough for the tension to snap. Sero’s head flew back with a moan as your walls started to drag him further in, constricting his cock with an encompassing ecstasy. He sped up, keeping you on the precipice of over-stimulation. With a final wet smack, he sheathed himself within you, pulsating as the warm ropes of his cum branded your insides.

He stayed within you as he gently removed the tape from your skin, leaving soft kisses on every reddening section of skin. His hands rubbed soothing circles into your thighs, moving down to your calves. “Are your legs sore? I probably should have asked sooner.” He looked a bit ashamed as he asked, only relaxing once you shook your head. “Good.” He pulled out of you slowly, your combined fluids steadily flowing from you.

He quickly ran to his bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it with warm water. Once he returned, he returned to his spot between your legs, delicately wiping up all remnants of your fluids. His touch was careful against your swollen sex, and the warmth soothed away any ache that may have remained. He cleaned himself quickly after, only settling himself in bed once he deemed you were taken care of. Once he collapsed onto the bed, he pulled you onto his shoulder.

“So… would it be presumptuous of me to call you my girlfriend?” A thread of nervousness weaved through his voice as he tucked your face away from his flushing face. You allowed yourself a tired giggle.

“I think that’d be nice, Hanta.” He shuddered at the feeling of your breath against his neck.

“Oh, great! Well then, does my beautiful, caring, amazing girlfriend want to stay the night.” You could feel his grin against your head and couldn’t resist the one on your own face.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I don’t have work tomorrow, so why not.”

#sero x reader #sero hanta smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #nyx writes #bnharem collab

[lovelyirony]

for my lovely friend @kimannhart, who is one of my favorite people and the best at writing, honestly. i hope you enjoy this! 

Bucky has been having a very bad day. He got back from a mission, but only because Steve launched them out of the plane they were in, and they managed to land closer home than anticipated. (Stupid alien invasion on the ship.) 

He then has to be in a meeting for two hours, which should count as cruel and unusual punishment, and now he’s watching Clint burn dinner and call in the worst takeout food ever. 

It sucks. He hates it. 

But he gets to see Tony again, who is the only person to save him from this terrible day. For once, them being apart coincided: Tony had a business trip that lasted as long as Bucky’s mission, although he had loads more fun, probably. 

(Not probably: Tony had to listen to people prattle on endlessly about stock points, and while he’s been in business for years he never actually attended any sort of official business college classes: everything he learned, he learned through osmosis from Rhodey taking business classes.) 

But Tony’s not coming back until late that night, and so Bucky is screwed. 

He’s already frowning up a storm, Friday has issued warnings of his “attitude of the night” to five different team members, and sent a text to Tony separately. 

Tony knows exactly what to do. 

For his own personal amusement, sometimes he buys Bucky things that are...unlike him. Bucky is a proud owner of pastel-pink-duckling socks, one sweater that has an embroidered teddy bear on it, and is now about to test-run a set of headbands. 

Fun ones. 

Ones that have cute patterns, one that holds your hair back while washing the face and is frog-shaped, and all of them are Bucky’s to try on. 

The minute Tony touches down and Bucky pulls him into a slightly-rough kiss and a grin, he smiles right back. 

“Honey, I got something for you to try.” 

“Something fun?” He asks, eyebrows raised in excitement.

“Of a sort,” Tony grins. “Come upstairs with me.” 

Bucky was expecting something different from Tony digging out four or five bags from his luggage. 

“Did you...did you get something special?” He asks tentatively. 

“Yes!” Tony says proudly. 

Bucky gets excited. 

And then is met with a...terry cloth frog? 

“This is for washing your face and getting your hair out of your face instead of what you do, which is shove it back and get frustrated,” Tony says. 

“Oh,” Bucky says. “Should I, um, try it?” 

“Yes!” Tony cheers. “You’re gonna look so cute!” 

Bucky rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he puts it on, giving Tony a face. 

“I used to be a feared assassin.” 

“You’re still scary,” Tony coos. “Scary adorable.” 

Bucky huffs, but looks at himself in the mirror and is happy to find a smile on his face. 

Yeah. He’s glad his guy is back home with him. 

#lovelyirony writes #joanis is sincerely one of the sweetest people on this hellsite #it was also her birthday recently! this is coming late #i have been busy this week and i completley missed it :( #my bad jo #i love you! #winteriron #i haven't actually wrote winteriron in a while it was fun!!! #tony stark #bucky barnes

[the-unaligned-player]

Not the absolution you expected.

Dream has been reduced to a green and white smear on the weeping obsidian floor by Tommy.

Bones shattered, flesh rended from the graveled bone, organs forced to burst under excess pressure.

Through it all he maintained that damned unflinching smile.

The blood (if the neon green fluid that first appeared when Tommy broke Dreams right arm backward could even be considered blood) and remnants of strange organs (not that Tommy ever intentionally examined what internal organs looked like) that Tommy was covered in made a macabre if slightly humorous sight. 

If the origin of the mess wasn’t made clear, one could mistake Tommy for being covered in paint and clay from an particularly enthusiastic art project.

Huddled up in a corner Tommy stares over his knee’s at the chunky puddle with broken quartz shards that used to be the rat bastard. It was easy. Tommy had had enough of being around Dream, had had enough of Dream existing. So the decision was made to murder him. He didn’t even struggle, despite clearly seeing it coming. Even gave pointers on how to more effectively tear him apart.

He ignored the explosion of vibrations coming from his communicator, not even registering the dread of facing everyone in clothes stained with dried blood and viscera.

His sleep was oddly calm for the events that transpired, though it did not last for a whole cycle. A crackle like fire was the sound that finally woke him. His gaze snapped to the lava, hoping to hear the hum of redstone and clank of piston against blackstone and obsidian. That hope was dashed to be replaced with confusion as he heard that crackle of fire once again. Turning to the sound his confusion became horror as he beheld what was once a puddle of blob god.

Where once was a smearing and splattering of neon green blood and tissue against every surface of the back of the cell, lied a perfect circle of Dream parts that didn’t even look like it had dried for a second. Looking down at his clothes and arms Tommy confirmed the gnawing suspicion. There was nothing on him. No blood, no chunks, not even a stain. As if he hadn’t butchered the monster himself.

He heard the crackle again and looked towards to the puddle to see no obvious changes. He should have walked up to the puddle. He should have taken every piece of pastel white flesh he could find and used it as a mop for the blood and threw them into the lava. It wouldn’t have helped much, but it would have slowed things down.

With the terror in his heart however, he merely watched as bit by bit, the pieces of bone he had graveled reformed themselves. Then came the popping and slotting of bone into their proper places. Up next were the major organs forming out of the organic slurry Tommy had reduced Dream to, to be placed neatly over eachother. 

Tommy will never forget the sight or sound of nerves and veins crawling out of a puddle like snakes or particularly autonomous plants.

Finally, flesh, fat, and muscle formed to cover up the internals and fill out the reformed body of Dream.

Dream: ...

Tommy: ...

Dream: ...Aw man. That was my only jumpsuit.

Tommy: ... What the hell are you?

Dream: Three off the correct question but since it’s gotten you talking I’ll indulge you. Consider a creature that exists to foster community. What would fracturing that community do to it? Hurt it of course as it is failing it’s reason to be. It does not break however as it is not weak, though doubt has entered it’s mind. 

Tommy: ...

Dream: The pain however would compromise it’s belief in the Light of the world. Such corruption is minor however. It tries to return it’s community to it’s previous form and pretty much succeeds, But it’s kindness betrays it. It gives the rot a chance to reclaim the stolen parts of his community. Yet again his kindness bites him as he waives the victory in favor, of mercy at a price.

Tommy: ...

Dream: Of course despite the act being of his own foolish volition it still hurts. His kingdom is still fractured. Splintered. Against itself. But he endures. It can’t be that bad after all right? Will just take some getting used to. Then he came. That pathetic brandy ram. Took the splintered of piece of his community and turned it from gray to black. Another jab to his belief. He was meant to maintain a community. Cultivate and spread a Light throughout the world.

Tommy: Did a shit job of that, monster.

Dream: Oh yeah I agree he did an awful job at it. People always forget the PR aspect of things, and it always ends up with things in flames. Anyway I won’t prattle on for longer as even you can see where this is going. Things go wrong Dream attempts to stop it form doing so and eithers succeeds at a cost or fails. Breaking his belief a little more. Even ignoring that losing his friends did a lot to help him-

Tommy: Get to the point bitch!

Dream: Right right no more prattling. The point is there's only so much damage to ones belief that one can take. Eventually a person’s gonna break, and at some point he did. Not all the way he didn’t expresssly desire to cause suffering for sufferings sake, but he did enjoy it while he worked to get his community as unfucked as he could.

Tommy: So yeah you revealed what you always were: pure evil.

Dream: Sure let’s go with that, anyway with the destruction of his beliefs he just needed a little push off the edge to finally die and voila he’d be gone for good, even beyond the normal reach of mortality.

Tommy: What the fuck is with your third person shit?

Dream: That’s the clincher Tommy, I’m not Dream!

Tommy: Shut the fuck up.

Dream?: Yeah as it turns out murdering someone, even an immortal, hurts them emotionally. So with three deaths by the person he despises the most Dream legitimately died after your savaging. Congratulations! *Deadpool Clapping*

Tommy: Then who the fuck are you?

Dream?: Oh I guess you could called me their kid, if you wanted. More accurately I’m their skill talents and knowledge divorced of his perspective via agony and death, but child of Dre is snappier.

Tommy:... ohgodohgodohgod.

Dream?: Yeah it’s a bit of a mouthful even then right? Gotta come up with something better. I’m currently feeling... Tulpa.

Tommy: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Tulpa?: You know a god form from the wish of the masses? A bit pretentious but I’m hoping to live up to it.

#mcyt #mcytumblr #dream smp #dream #dreamwastaken #c!tommy critical #SMP!Tulpa #tommyinnit