Nxck-bxtch - Socially Inept

I don’t think enough of us are taking into account the opportunity we are afforded by being able to romance/sleep with many companions in baldurs gate 3:

Mamma Mia BG3

Whose the dad? Halsin? Gale? Wyll? Astarion? The drow from Sharess’ Caress?

There are possibilities here people!!!

(Plus you know the companion guys would absolutely follow the same logic of “well we’re all the child’s father now JUST like Mamma Mia)

new reblog game. reblog to make jeff bezos die

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU VOTE!

Reblog if you think it’s okay to platonically say “I Love You” to your friends

Morning Kisses

Alastor x gn!Reader

ღ Itty bitty snip !

ღ a/n: this was originally only a warm-up posted to a discord server but a comment from @theradioshusband made me want to post it as well, so thank him :33

summary: Sometimes it’s nice waking up before Alastor because you get some extra cuddles.

ღ TAGS: sfw, just kisses and fluff

It’s rare to ever wake up before he does, the man seems to either never sleep or a perfectly attuned internal clock for dawn. But there are days like today when you rise from your own slumber with his warm body next to you, even with an arm wrapped protectively around your middle. Alastor has you pressed up against his chest, nose firmly pressed against your neck around your pulse point area, he looked peaceful while he slept, almost innocent with relaxed features with a soft smile.

Slowly and gently, you turned over to face him. You didn’t want to wake him just yet. Wanting to admire the cute sight that you’ve been gifted with. However, once you had made the 180° turn his arms tightened around you and he buried his face into your chest. You had to bite your lip to get a giggle. Not very long ago Alastor himself had protested having shared living spaces, trying to convince you that having independence from one another would be better, except now even when he doesn’t admit it he enjoyed these opportunities to hold you. Show you some affection behind closed doors and away from prying eyes.

The deer demon isn’t much for PDA, public or otherwise. He showed affection in different ways, his own ways. But there came reserved moments like these where he indulged you, and himself, in sweet touches and whispered nothings. The moments you could live in your own bubble together and ironically made your own little piece of heaven here in hell. You could stay like this forever if you could, but alas, there are duties and responsibilities that you know Alastor is nothing less than punctual to.

With a gentle hand, you run your fingers through his currently messy red hair. Your nails traced the back of his ears making them unconsciously twitch. It’s then you hear a soft groan.

“Good morning, deerling,” you whisper, leaning down to deliver soft kisses to his cheek. This is your favorite way to wake him up; peppering him with kisses while he’s still sleepy enough to not stop you from smothering him. “You were slow to rise today,” chuckling lowly your lips travel down to his to peck him, “You have to get up.”

Alastor blinked the sleep out of his eyes searching for the clock. “Good morning, darling,” the low reverb of his morning voice seemed to echo in your own chest. His radio filter is usually off until he’s fully awake. A little treat you learned about when you started waking up with him. “Seems I’ve overslept today. You’re getting me into bad habits.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that it made you giggle. “What do I have to do you waking up late?” you brush a stray strand of hair from his face, “It’s not my fault I’m comfortable to sleep with, silly.”

And yet despite his remark, he still hasn’t unwrapped from you. Alastor wasn’t that complicated of a creature, one just needed to learn to read him. He’s used to hiding or lying about his own emotions, it came as natural as breathing and that included his feelings about you. It took a lot of effort to get him to his point but there was still a lot of work to do in the spoken honesty department. For now, you didn’t quite mind it.

He hummed dismissively at your words pulling you into an actual kiss. Tender, warm. A gentleness he’s reserved for you and you alone. It’s slow, with purpose and his hand is now cradling your cheek. His thumb caresses the skin of your face, the very tip of his talon gracing it sending a shiver down your back. But the kiss doesn’t deepen or become heated. It stays just as it is; innocent and soft. The kind of kiss that has you smiling against his lips and don’t want to pull away until you need air.

“Simply starting the day off the right way, dear.” And with a last kiss to your forehead, he untangles himself from you to get out of bed. You almost want to groan at the loss of contact but you know there wouldn’t be any convincing him to stay any little longer. He already woke up “late” by his standards. So instead you watch him as he dresses and fixes himself up in his usual dapper attire ready to go about the hotel as per usual.

“You can sleep in here longer if you wish, sweetheart. It’s still pretty early for you,” he offered coming up to the foot of the bed, his hand coming to rest atop your head, patting you. “But don’t sleep for too long. It’s not good for you to be in bed for so long.”

With that, he vanishes into the void. Not without his shadow lingering behind for a second longer, he grabbed the shadow of your hand that dangled off the edge of the bed kissing your knuckles before also scurrying away. You giggled to yourself thinking, progress.

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

—

word dividers were done by ME with @ cafekitsune template — give proper credit if you use it.

Jean: *avoiding stepping on cracks in the sidewalk*

Mozart: What are you doing

Jean: Avoiding the buttcracks on the pavement

Mozart:

Jean: Dazai has informed me that stepping on them will guarantee that ma mère will break her back

Mozart: Jean your mother has been dead for centuries

Jean: You... are not wrong

Mozart: And she was awful to you

Jean: She was?

Mozart: Did you not read your route?

Jean: Barring the fact that I can't read, how does one read a path? Are you referring to palm-reading? *stares seriously at his palm*

Mozart: No, Jean. Your story in the Ikemen Vampire dating simulation

Jean:

--- Yanderepuck's Jean-panic-digging-graves hc made me think he'd freak out about this kinda thing too, as would probably any normal human being

Ladynoir

I’m so sorry… Shota Aizawa

ok, so i want to know

when you look at this image, reblog and tag the first character it reminds you of

This is fantastic, thank you!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Sam Winchester x female reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 |  All this time, you’ve been certain that your feelings for Sam have been unrequited. Until you’re forced to make a demon deal to save the world and everyone you hold dear - and everything changes. Takes place at the end of season 7 (the one with the Leviathans). 

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 |  angst with an ambiguous ending, protective Sam Winchester, romance 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6 k  

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 |  angst with an ambiguous ending (let me know if I should write part 2 for this story!), canon-typical violence, blood 

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝🖤

The road to Hell, they say, is paved with good intentions.

It’s the truth, at least in your own case.

In all this time of hunting with the Winchesters, you should have learned to never strike a demon deal – least of all with the King of Hell himself.

And yet, it’s desperation that guided you here, to the lonely crossroads outside of town, underneath a night sky of towering clouds that suffocate the pale light of the stars. The air smells of rain and the coming storm. A first droplet falls down on you as you wait, running down your cheek like a stray tear. 

At first, nothing happens. There’s only the chill early-autumn wind that sweeps over the abandoned crossroads, making the stalks of dried corn that flank the lonely country road on all sides like silent sentinels sway and rustle; an eerie melody like a choir of whispering voices that sends shivers skittering down your spine like spiders.

“Do the demigods in flannel know you’ve strayed from the flock, little bird?”, Crowley’s voice drifts through the cold night, its dark timbre swirling in the air like the fog rising in the fields.

“Why?”, you quip with a belligerence that even surprises yourself, so in contrast to the frantic, frightened thrumming of your pulse, “Scared they’ll whip your ass if you make a deal with me, Crowley?”

Crowley’s answering chuckle is low, like the purr of a cat to match the feline smirk which plays on his lips while he strolls towards you with the slow steps of someone who knows he has all the time in the world. And in contrast to you…he has. Why hurry, when the prey sought him out all on its own?

“You know, of your pesky little party, you’re the one I’ve always liked best,” the demon finally drawls before coming to a halt in front of you, his glittering gaze sweeping over your surroundings before it comes to rest on you.

“Seems like I did something wrong, then.”

Another low, rumbling chuckle; another slow step towards you. The gleam in Crowley’s dark eyes is as unsettling as ever.

“Or right, considering you’ve called me here to make a deal.”

You’re clever enough to know this plan of yours is stupid beyond measure. It’s also the only ace left up your sleeve.

“I need your blood.”

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