#Starry Day

[justforficsjules]

Starry Day

Crepusculum flew up to the very peak of the mountain and let her powers shine through just after she landed. The sky lightened, becoming twilight.

It was a cold splash on a warm day, a tingling sensation in her veins. Her time was short, but she made every second last. Every detail was perfect in the sky. The same color as it was a thousand years ago. Closing her eyes, Crepusculum tried to take it all in. Every inch of that feeling of power.

“Careful to not fall off,” her brother said. She opened her eyes to look at him.

Avgí was smiling at her kindly. They were the same words he had said her for the past couple centuries. It had become boring after just a month.

“I won’t and you need to change up your introductions,” Crepusculum responded.

In fact, he was the one awfully close to the edge. It took quite a bit in her to not tear him from it. Gods can’t die, but they most definitely can feel pain.

Taming her older sibling nature, she stayed still and looked back to the sky. Her magic was fading as the sun peeked over the horizon. Dawn was here.

She patted her brother on the back, his face now a bit more concentrated. He gave her one last smile and a nod before she took to the skies and only landed when she reached a cave by the shore.

Tiptoeing her way in, Crepusculum glanced around, searching for somebody. She kept walking silently until said cave opened up into a ballroom size, not some pitiful space. And in it, was somebody she was quite happy to see.

“Mama!” Crepusculum exclaimed running forward to see her. She lover her other mom, Iméra, she really did. But it was always nice to see Nÿchta after a long night. Same was true the opposite way. Still, there was joy in her heart as her mama wrapped her arms around her shoulders and gave her hug.

“My sweet girl, how are you?” Nÿchta asked. Squeezing her tight one last time she let go, placing her hands on Crepusculum’s arms instead. She looked at her sincerely, as she always did.

Her mama had a big thing honestly and truthful words. Always spotting a lie in its tracks, Nÿchta never let her get away with anything. But if she was anything, it was a great mother (and a great warrior, though her kids always came first).

“I’m doing good,” she said with a smile. Her only response was some eyebrows rising in suspicion.

She could never get away with anything.

“I have to stay with mom for the day. There was some soldiers discussing invading the forest and the mountain. She doesn’t quite yet know what to do, and quite frankly neither do I. She wants to talk about with me, since I was there.”

Nÿchta’s eyebrows pinched together. “Yes, I do believe I heard some drunks saying that yesterday, but I had thought they were intoxicated enough that they had gone slightly crazy. It appears only the king has gone crazy,” she said with the shake of her head and a sigh. Seeing all, Crepusculum’s mama was often disappointed with humanity. About as a much as she felt joy for them.

The day was for everybody, each person who would wake up in the morning. Mostly good came from it and the sun rising above. Everybody was often transparent, carrying throughout their day without a blemish. It was so unlike night, where people did something the they would take to the grave. Secrets began to whisper between the leaves as the moon rose. This difference is exactly what separated her parents. Her mom was the embodiment of night, often secretive and sly. This would have been alright, since they were mostly just fun pranks and things that cause quiet giggles, if Nÿchta wasn’t the embodiment of day, through and through. But she was.

Crepusculum had seen many different people but none had skin as dark as her mama, something that protected her from the power of the sun well. Her figure was wonderfully chubby, crops always growing during the day because of the sun. Scars from yesterday and centuries stuck to her skin, from all the fighting in the kingdom. It was a large difference from Iméra, who was a pale as ghost (in all honesty, Crepusculum thought that if her skin would ever see the sun, it would quite literally crumble into ashes) and was exceptionally scrawny, which often worked to her mom’s advantage. People almost always trusted the small, young woman thinking she could do no harm. And that was the horrifying difference. Nÿchta needed honesty and Iméra needed her secrets, something their pride was to fond of to let go. But they both had scars. Both had felt the pain of the people. That and their children is what truly connected them.

“Yes, and we have to stop him before he causes more damage,” Crepusculum said. With teetering caution, she began to say, “I’m sure if you and mom worked together it would be easy to stop him. You would just have t-“

“No, I’m sorry,” Nÿchta interrupted. “I can’t do that. I have my followers, but there is a particular favorite. She will be sent on a quest.”

Crepusculum nodded understanding there was no way to convince her otherwise. Night and Day never touched and there was reason for it.

“Alright mama, I have to go. Are you okay?” Crepusculum tentatively asked.

“Of course. Soúroupo will stay with me then. I love you, see you soon,” Nÿchta answered.

“I love you, see you later,” Crepusculum called back, having already started walking out. There was a lot to worry about, with the king and his men but this seemed wrong. Her instinct was telling her that this time, the king would be foolish in a way that there was a large cost. She hurried out because she had to know just what he was doing and if they could even stop him.

[time-speculo]

Sorry for i am not immune to the rock lesbians

[wigglebox]

Supernatural September - Day 3 | Spellbound

Happy Dean Winchester is Saved Day and Happy Birthday Cas!

[melverie]

Just remembered that Satan in the "A World of Our Very Own" devilgram says that he believes he was "born in order to meet MC" and it always sounded incredibly cheesy to me but then I thought about it a little more and--

Originally, Satan was just a small glimmer inside Lucifer's consciousness until Lucifer's wrath reached its peak with Lilith's death which, in turn, resulted in Satan's birth

MC is a direct descendant of Lilith after she was reborn as human

If it weren't for Lilith's death, neither of them would be here

Both of their existences are directly intertwined with one another, so in a way Satan's right

They have always been destined to be a part of each other's lives

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[one-fishy-a-day]

12. coelacanth

[starrykitty013]

YJ doodles bc it’s been FOREVER!!

[tealgoat]

It's still Bonnie's bday so have a Loop and Bonnie interaction

[justforficsjules]

Starry Day

“Don’t put daggers in your bra,” the goddess said exasperated.

“It’s inconvenient to stick a hand down your shirt in battle, not with the majority of men in this world. Plus, it may stab you. Keep it strapped to your thigh. It’s quicker and you know that you won’t grab the wrong end,” she continued. Her daughter gave her a bit of an a long suffering look, but obediently moved her hand down to the pocket and fit the small knife between the folds of her dress instead.

“What’s the dagger going to do me? It’s all stuffing,” Crepusculum bartered back, crossing her arms. And with a slick smile she added, “Not only that, but I intend to use it against unsuspecting and arrogant men who think they might own me. What a lovely surprise it would be for them, I think.”

Iméra’s pride bloomed as she looked at her daughter. She would love her daughter no matter what, but there was something special about knowing that she got her evil cleverness from somewhere. And as she looked at her, it was then that a reminder of what time was like to a goddess was thrown in her face. Being immortal changed everything, causing memories to muddle. She was more ancient then the earth, but her daughter was only a few thousands years old. If this were to be human years, she’d be a teenager (perhaps that explained the attitude, but she did enjoy harmless arguments). In fact, it was only a few centuries ago that she had called her daughter a son. The thought seemed so wrong compared to Crepusculum now. With lightly brown skin, dark freckles everywhere, a hooked nose, and hair styled in lovely braids, the only thing that stood out was her confidence. It was melded into her very skin, a part of her through and through. When had that happened? It made Iméra joyous that her daughter knew her worth, but despite seeing her every night, it was only now that she saw what had been so obvious.

With a soft look, she disregarded Crepusculum’s earlier comment and murmured, “You’ve grown.” It was more to herself than anybody else, but the goddess of twilight cocked her head at the words. They rung true, impossibly so. It was strange, that timeless feeling when your memories weigh so much that they start to crash together and become the best of friends.

She thought Twilight might say something when there was a crack of a branch. A disturbance in the silent night. And it carried fear when the voice of a man kept that silence at bay.

“We have orders and we will follow them.”

Swift as a deer, Night herself was hiding when the moon was at its highest, and her power was at its peak. But she knew that meant these men could see her. Twilight only stood still, invisible to the mortal eye. Her time was not yet here.

“The king may be cruel, but now his viciousness fights with his arrogance,” a second voice called out.

These men had no care for the animals that dwelled in the forest. They yelled as if they were free from the natural order of the universe. Perhaps they were, with their weapons swinging from their holsters. A disturbance in the food chain. It was part of a simple education that a foreign predator in a region where no one species could keep them humble, would destroy everything. Yet, mortal humans still wandered across every bit of land they could find.

She opened her ears.

“This is a sacred forest, Amal. And that a sacred mountain.” He pointed towards the mountain high above them, and so far “Why would the king send troops where we will die at the hands of the gods,” exclaimed the second voice again.

The first man, Amal, responded in a cautious tone.

“I do not know why. Perhaps the king is trying to make a treaty with the immortals. Perhaps he is trying to start a war. However, we will listen to what he says. We made an oath of loyalty to the throne. Do not forget it, Porlan.”

“Serving our king before serving those we worship is a disgrace to the very foundations of our beliefs- our world.”

“I said do not forget your oath,” Amal snapped. “Or would you like for me to speak of your words to the general. You’d be repaid kindly for them. Yes, a slit on your throat would suit you well.”

Porlan went quiet. A moment later their footsteps continued, hitting the ground stiffer than before.

Did you know divine beings can still throw up? With enough churning of the stomach it can be done. Bile filling her throat was the first sign that that was what’s about to happen. The world spun and she placed her head against the very tree she still stood behind. Iméra forgot herself for a moment, only to have hands draw her back.

Crepusculum held her mother gently. It was a strange feeling, comforting someone, when that very same discomfort wraps around you as well.

“Deep breaths.” Iméra heard the words but they left her mind quickly. She stood taller, removing her mind from plant, bark indents on her forehead. Only then did she follow orders. With a new determination she spoke.

“I will know why they walk on my land. I do care however. They will still face the consequences.” Her daughter didn’t argue, so she continued. “Please have one of your brothers cover your shift today. I understand you usually take them, but I’d like to discuss this with you.”

She turned to look at Crepusculum, remembering she was not in this alone. She had to be the one comforting those during hardships, not the other way around.

“And you deserve the rest. Though it’s your choice.” She genuinely meant every word.

“I will tell them mama, and then I will return,” her daughter responded. They said their goodbyes and I love you’s before Twilight flew off, a talent Iméra did not have. So she began to hike up the same mountain those soldiers wished they could climb.

[utterdrip]

i said i would and so i did

pt2 of some of my favorite astarion lines (mainly act one but there may be spoilers) tag ur favorite, mine is: well. tsk. to each their own

pt1 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 | pt6

[horatiocomehome]

Hi my dream last night did something to me so here's a word dump I wrote immediately after waking up so I could get catharsis.

What if... instead of looping, Siffrin just came back to life?

~~~

You should've known it was too easy. No traps, only weak sadnesses, keys in relatively obvious places. It was so easy to get through the first floor.

But now there's a large sadness, and you've taken one hit too many.

As you fall to the ground you see your party close ranks in front of you. To protect you.

You see Bonnie, running up, with a crafted water.

Your vision is going dark.

There's a flicker, above Bonnie. It's…

The sadness it's arm above Bonnie it's attacking.

You tackle Bonnie. Something slams into your back.

You can't move anything except twitch your fingers you ca n't look up just at the floor

Bonnie's boots are there someone is screaming

You aren't g oing to make it.

You wanted more time w ith them you want to live you want t o stay with them you want to stay with them YOU DON'T WANT TO DIE YOU W ANT T O S T A Y W I T H TH

GAME OVER > continue > quit

You wake up from a deep sleep. You had a bad dream last night.

Someone's pulled the sheets up over your head. You toss them off.

Oh.

You aren't in your bed. You're back in your dream.

This is where you died.

It's quiet, now. No sadness. No party.

You look to the side, at the sheets you tossed off that weren't really sheets but your cloak, neatly draped over you where you were stretched out. Like a corpse.

Did you really die? But you're back here, so you couldn't have, right?

Maybe they gave you crafted water and it only just kicked in? But then where's the rest of your party?

There's a sickening certainty setting in to your gut.

You died, didn't you. And somehow you're back.

Your party left without you.

Good. They still need to kill the king.

Maybe… you can still catch up. You need to find them. You're okay! They'll be so happy to see you!

You stagger to your feet. You're a little light-headed, dizzy for a moment, then it passes. You put back on your cloak, grab your hat where it sits (right above where your head used to lie) and put it back on. Onwards you go.

There aren't any sadnesses, as you walk through the halls. Did they manage to defeat them all without you? Or was there some kind of reprieve after that large sadness?

You hope they got a bit of rest.

As you turn the corner, you see an open doorway, hear quiet voices coming through.

You don't know why you pause.

"—if we can't bring him with us, can't we bring him here at least?" you hear Mirabelle whisper, with a desperation that turns your stomach.

"I'm with Mira." Isa's voice is louder but still technically a whisper. He sounds so serious. "What if more sadnesses come? What if—"

You realize they're talking about your body. A shiver goes down your back.

"No." Odile's voice is steel in a way that makes you flinch. "We need to keep moving. We can't go back for them, or bring them with us. And sadnesses are just as likely to come here as that other room."

"BUT—" Mirabelle starts to protest.

You stop listening and force yourself to start moving forward. They don't have to fight! You're right here! You—

You freeze again as Bonnie walks through the doorway. They hug the wall as soon as they make it through the doorway, shooting a glance back over their shoulder before looking back down at the ground.

"Jus' need to make it to Dormont," they whisper so quiet you can barely hear. "I can do that. Just make it to Dormont. They'll all be fine."

They're sniffling as they shuffle along the wall towards you. Still not looking.

"I can make it back to Dormont. Then they won't worry about me and I won't hold them back like a crabbing baby and they'll be just fine and I'll freeze with all the other little kids and wait for them to—"

"Bonbon?" You ask.

They freeze, and turn towards you. Their eyes are dark and puffy.

When they lock eyes with you there's a beat and then they scream, terrified.

There's yelling from the other room. You ignore it. Your stomach is dropping like it's made of lead and you drop to your knees, stretching your arms wide. "Bonnie, no! See, look, I'm okay! I'm alright!"

They take a step back. "F-frin? Yyyou… died?"

"I got better!"

Bonnie tackles you into a hug and you don't have time to flinch as you fall back onto the tile floor, so you just wrap your arms around them. Over their head you see your other companions burst through the door, weapons at the ready.

"I HATE YOU," Bonnie is scream sobbing into your chest. "I HATE YOU I THOUHT YOU WERE DEAD YOU'RE A CRABBING IDIOT I HATE YOU."

Your heart twists but they're still holding you so tight, so you keep hugging them back. Your companions lower their weapons looking like they've seen a ghost.

Maybe they have.

You don't have time to think about it because then they're rushing in to hug you too, the warmth of their bodies pressing into yours, their tears dripping onto you—and you're crying as well, and even Odile, who hung back, has a glint on her cheek.

"I'm back," you say. Bonnie is still sobbing into your chest, but they've stopped yelling at you. "I'm alive. We're all going to be okay."

[last-starry-sky]

too sweet pt 4 - innocent!reader x graves

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

✨Thank you again to the lovely @shotmrmiller for letting me work off of her original idea!🌟

NSFW(finally, lmao) - MIND THE WARNINGS - MDNI: [lots of pet names, oral, again i’m REALLY leaning into how much of a virgin reader is, religion mention, pov switches, loss of virginity, unprotected piv (cumming inside), more of graves being just the absolute worst in both ❤️ and 💀 flavors (it’s all in his head. No harm comes to our dear reader), Phil talks you through it, this is 13 pages (5.9k words) of me absolutely lost in the sauce, so buckle up friends. a/n at the end!]

You fell the short distance out of Phil’s arms to the bed with a soft oof! You bounced up once before his pillowy comforter surrounded you, sweetly swaddling you like baby. You closed your eyes, catching your breath as you surrendered your body into the cool, linen-freshness swallowing your body. You hoped closing your eyes and a few deep breaths would stop the ceiling from spinning. You told yourself that your stomach was turning from nerves, nothing else. 

You really didn’t want puke to be a part of your first time. 

You opened your eyes as Phil ran his hands up your legs, making room to stand between them. Your dress was still rucked up to your waist, the shamefully wet gusset of your panties on display. The way he looked at you had your hands curing into the sheets above your head. It was so dark. It was like nothing you’d seen cross your sweet boyfriend’s face before. Like a wolf ready to pounce, tear apart, consume. 

It worried you, but you were still hitching your knees around his hips, pulling him closer. His hands squeezed at your hips. His dark visage took on a little of his old self as his eyes dipped, a playful smile creeping across his mouth.

Why were you such a liar to yourself? He could never scare you. He excited you. Every single time.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hands smoothed up to, then over, your underwear. You expected him to rip them off. Instead, he circled your waist, urging you to sit up as he pulled your dress off your body. 

“There y’go, baby. Hands up,” he said, an edge of his usual humor in his dark voice, as he finally pulled the tight pink thing off you. 

He doesn’t watch where he throws it. Somewhere in the room behind him, you think. You don’t know either. You can’t make yourself meet his stare, focusing your wobbling vision instead on your hands clenched in your lap, of the warmth of his body pouring into the space between you. You know he’s staring at your exposed breasts. That’s all that matters to him. A soft whistle falls from his lips as he wraps his hands around your thighs. 

You hide your blush by ducking your head into your chest, reaching up behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. He stopped you with a hand on your chin, making you face him.

“Leave it on, doll,” he says before hauling you in for another kiss.

You don’t know why, but this kiss felt so more intimate than the others. You’re flushed and panting against him as he holds your jaw against his, slowly stroking your tongue with his. Maybe it’s because you’re almost completely naked, his warm hands brushing down your chilled back. Oh, you could just about beg him to keep touching you. It could be how he’s got you pressed flush against him, your nipples hardening against the cool cotton of his button down shirt and legs hitched on his hips. His hard dick is nudging at your pussy through his pants, making you whine when he ruts just right against your clothed nub. It feels weird, like nothing you’ve felt before. Weird, but damn if some basal part of you doesn’t crave it. 

He broke the kiss, peeling himself away to pick you up again, just enough to throw you to the middle of the bed. He gets right back into position between your legs as you settle back into the fluff of his blankets. You don’t know what to do now as he takes a second to shimmy out of his button down. What does he expect of you? Should you lay back? Before you can overthink, you fall back onto your forearms. He tossed his shirt off the bed, his hair all ruffled, white undershirt pulled up to expose the muscles of his stomach, as he turns back to you. 

“Fuck are y’ gorgeous like this, darlin’,” he says staring down at you while unbuckling his belt. 

You wonder if he can feel your legs shake. You feel a fresh blush flush down your body. You chew on your bottom lip, trying not to stare as he lets his trousers fall down to his knees before kicking out of them. There’s a muffled metal jangle as the whole lot falls off the end of the bed to the floor.  

“Now where were we . . .” he mused with a quiet laugh as he crawled over you, pushing your back flat to the mattress before cradling your head to his for another kiss.

You thought it wouldn’t be so different, having him on top of you. You had been grinding against each other for going on hours at this point. You were slowly getting used to what he felt like, how your bodies slotted together best, how he touched you, and where it made sense for you to touch him. The addition of his weight, though? Amazing. You loved it. The feel of all of his muscle and bone, being free to feel each other’s skin free of clothing, it had you trembling underneath him. To have a whole person, let alone this powerful, muscled man, resting between your thighs, your chest squished to his as he sucked open mouth kisses under your jaw, had you clawing at his hair and moaning sweetly into the dark. 

“Thas’ it, baby. Tell me how y’like it,” he sighed as he continued kissing down your neck, his hands running down your sides, forcing a bow in the small of your back. 

You moaned a high pitched ah! when he placed a delicate kiss to your nipple. 

“Oh. Y’like that, do ya? My sensitive little thing,” he asked sucking the little nub into his mouth. 

You answered with a high-pitched keen, your hands pressed into the pillow above you. It did feel good. So good. Your body felt so hot and damp, sheets and hair sticking to your skin. He continued to suck at your nipple, every once and a while catching it with his teeth while playing with your other. He rubbed smooth little circles around it until it was hard, then pinched it, forcing a whiny, pained moan from you. 

Why was he doing this? He would make you feel so so good you felt like you were floating, just to turn on a dime to bite or pinch you were you were the most sensitive, pulling you out of the moment. You didn’t understand him. 

You looked down. He had that wide, wry, hungry smile. Eyes hooded and dark. Dangerous. You gasped when he suddenly looked up, catching your stare like a predator.

“Sorry baby,” he said syrupy sweet, giving your nipple a quick kiss. “‘m playin’ with you. I know. Don’t mean to. Gonna make you feel good.”

You didn’t understand what he meant until he slid farther down your body, pulling your underwear with him as he rocked up onto his knees. Your eyes quickly snapped up to the ceiling. You couldn’t help but tremble, knees knocking together until he pulled your panties past them. He took your feet in hand as he shucked them off you completely. There was a light sound as they hit the hardwood floor somewhere in the abyss behind him.  

He threw one of your legs to the side with a hand on your knee, stopping you from closing it back by slotting himself deftly back into place. You heard him breathe out a shuddering breath as he finally got a good, full look at you. His hand swept down your leg from your knee, falling closer and closer to your aching core.

“Phil,” you whined, so muffled by your arms covering your face that even you barely heard it.

A hand pushed your arms above your head, exposing your tear-filled eyes. He stared down at you, pushing your arms into the pillow with one hand, his other coming to rest on your stomach, just above your pussy. 

“Listen to me now, baby, okay?” he said lightly tapping your mons with his thumb, refusing to let you break eye contact. “‘m gonna make you feel good. You know that, right?” When you didn’t answer, he leaned down over you. “I’d never, ever, hurt you,” he whispered, nose nudging yours as he spoke. “Love you too much. Want you . . . want you to enjoy this as much as I will.”

You were shocked silent for a moment. Tears dried in the corners of your eyes before you were able to squeak out, “Love me?”

“‘course,” he said pecking a kiss to your bottom lip. 

You wanted so badly to grab him, to hold him close, to force him to kiss you again because, well . . . did you really need a reason? He just told you he loves you! You’d hoped for months that what you felt - you were over the moon for him from the moment you met - wasn’t really just a crush, a passing summer fling. You wanted to know that he was just as serious about your relationship as you were. You’d worried that the summer would end, you would go back to school, he would go off to some exotic and exciting place halfway around the world and your relationship would slowly peter out. 

Eventually, you knew, he would forget about you. After all, you had been denying his advances to make your relationship physical for a while. No matter how gentle they were or how nicely he took your refusals, you knew he would get tired of asking eventually. Guys were like that. Or so you’d been told. 

But now, he’d said he loved you. With those words, all of your anxiety washed away in one clean wipe, like a wave washing up the shore. All was good in the world. It put your mind at peace. Your apprehensions dissolved into his feather-light kisses and gentle touches. The only thing you wanted was to hear him say it over and over again but your couldn’t. All you could do was uselessly clench your hands in his strong grip. 

His fingers stroked ever so slowly down the seam of your pussy. He was treating you like a feral cat or an unbroken horse; with a light touch, soft words, and persistence. 

“Breathe,” he instructed, nuzzling into your neck again to kiss at the spot under your ear that made you moan. 

You did, pulling in a deep, shuddering breath that cleansed your need to cry. He placed another kiss on your neck as he let your hands go. Finally. You laced your free arms around his shoulders immediately, feeling him smile as he continued to mouth kisses over your pulse.

“That’s good, darlin’. Relax. Just like that,” he whispered as he ran his hand down your side, still soothing you. 

A moan punched out of your lungs when he pushed past your outer labia with a single finger, stroking just once, top to bottom, through your slick folds. You were sloppy, dripping wet. His head collapsed into the crook of your neck, a muffled, “fuck” following. He didn’t move, you trembled as his finger swirled up to circle around your clit.

“Ah! Phil,” you whined.  

“I know. I know,” he huffed breathlessly, lifting himself off you. 

He looked down your body to watch himself rub tight circles around your nub for a moment. He groaned before pulling his hand away. You cried out when he stopped, but he left no time for argument. He was grabbing the backs of both your knees, repositioning you open and shuffling backwards out of your grasp, laying kisses down your chest and stomach as he went.

“Lemme, fuck . . . just lemme make y’ feel good, sweets.” His mouth working farther south until you could feel his breath tickle your pussy. “Make you cum, promise,” he whispered, his next kiss tonguing at the base of your clit.

Your back arched, a needy “oh!” punched from your lungs. He didn’t wait for you to respond to dive in, thankfully. You were beyond words, already shaking from nerves and pleasure. 

“Want to taste you so bad,” he mumbled as he kissed slowly down the hood of your clit before swiping at the exposed head with his tongue, a spike of pleasure following.  

The feeling was amazing, unlike any pleasure you’d been able to bring yourself. You’d experimented before, by yourself, of course. Always in the dead of night, when you were certain your parents were asleep. You would wake up hot, a dream you couldn’t remember troubling you, making you ungodly slick in your pajamas. You would guiltily snake a hand down your body, trying not to move or make a sound as your finger slipped through the sopping mess you’d made. Those stolen moments were always something you would think of again in church with burning cheeks: how you’d sinned and now you must beg forgiveness. Not that you thought God would care, but you never could bring yourself to completion. You couldn’t find that beautiful, spine-chilling, white-hot peak that so many romance novels described. 

It made you worry, as Phil gently swirled his tongue around your clit making you shiver, because he was clearly putting in a lot of effort. You really didn’t want to disappoint him. Didn’t want his first intimate memory of you to be one where he couldn’t make you cum.

“Hey,” he whispered, pulling himself out of your pussy just enough to look at you down your body. You squirmed as he held eye contact while licking another swipe up your clit. “Clos’ y’ eyes. Breathe. Relax.”

After you did all three, exactly as he asked, he gave your hip a squeeze before nuzzling himself back between your thighs. 

“That’s my girl,” you heard him say before the lewd, wet clicking of his mouth against you filled the room. 

He continued to gently lick at you, drawing loose circles with his tongue before sucking your nub into his mouth. He continued that pattern: slow, patient movements with an ungodly endurance, until your thighs started to shake against his head. You had been here before. A lovely hot coil budding in your gut, wrapping tighter and tighter. But this time, it wasn’t stopping. 

Maybe this is what you had needed all along: someone to take control and do all the work for you. Someone who wouldn’t stop to look nervously toward the door, or worry if someone down the hall could hear, or even think about if this was morally wrong. All he cared about was you. Your pleasure, the soft plush of your thighs around his head, your voice cracking as you moaned his name and rocked your hips against his face. 

Phil wound his arm around your leg, pressing your hips to the bed with a firm hand on your lower stomach. He used his leverage to splay you open before diving back in at that relentlessly slow pace. You threw your head back, a string of breathy pants falling from your mouth until Phil reached up to place your hands on his head. Your fingers carded through his soft hair. He tipped his slick-coated face to the side to sneak a peek at your blissed out face as his tongue pressed up the side of your clit. Your fingers tightened, grabbing a fistful of hair, as a delicious tingle danced at the edge of your clit, right were his tongue flicked. 

“So sweet. Taste so good, baby,” he said in a breathy whine. 

You couldn’t answer, only able to buck abortively against the strong arm holding you down, hoping it would make him pick up the pace. He laughed before lowering back down. His actions became harder and faster: nipping at your hood at every rotation as his tongue flicked aggressively against your poor, exposed pearl. 

It was frustrating. He was no longer pulling you higher and higher as effortlessly. Everything he did, no matter how good it felt, was just maintaining your buzz. You could feel your clit vibrating you were so close, but he wasn’t pulling you over. It’s like he was teasing you with that tingle in your belly, giving you just enough to keep you moaning, begging, as you fell into the hot wet swipes of his tongue, before pulling back to make you work for it all over again. It made you cry in frustration. 

It wasn’t enough. You needed more. 

Your eyes were screwed shut when he pulled away and asked, “What, baby? What-”

“More!” you squeaked. “Please, more!”

He nodded as he readjusted your body to sling a leg over his shoulder. You cried out as his finger pressed to your spit-slicked clit with a pressure that you’d never felt. Your hands just couldn’t compare to his. It wasn’t fair. Electricity shot up your spine as you shivered in his arms at the white-hot pleasure that flared out. 

“That’s my girl. There you go,” he whispered as he kissed down your clit to where his finger worked in hard, tight circles. You bucked into each roll, your hole clenching uselessly against nothing. “There you go,” he repeated as you shuddered, tip-toeing closer and closer to that edge.

Want became your mantra. You could feel it. You wanted it. You want. You want. You want.   

“Please, Phil. Please,” your voice a thready whine. “Want to cum, so bad.”

“You can do it, baby,” he cooed sweetly against your mons. “I can feel ya. So tight. Y’so close.” He laid a kiss on your clit before looking up to catch your teary eyes. “Cum for me,” he commanded, with a voice fucked out, rough, stern.

And, oh, did you follow him. 

It was just enough. Like a breath blowing the head off a dandelion, it sent you scattering into a million pieces. You snapped beneath him, a scream tearing from your throat as your leg clamped down on Phil’s shoulder. Your fingers tore at his hair, the only thing grounding you, as you lost control of your body. You writhed against the sheets, struggling to draw in air as electrical pleasure fried your brain. It was beautiful at the top. A pure and white peaceful glow: no sound but your own breathy moans, no feeling but your boyfriend’s fingers swirling again and again over your twitching clit, extending your flight. 

You never wanted to forget this moment. 

You rolled your head to the side as over-stimulation hit, whining at the feeling of the cool pillow beneath you. A sudden jolt back into the real world. Phil stopped touching you without you having to tell him, which was nice. Your whole body went slack, dazed, pliant. You didn’t think you could form words at the moment even if you wanted.

Phil groaned as he rose up from between your legs. The sudden loss of his warmth made you whine again. You were struck with this intense, emotional need to keep him next to you. He’s yours, an animal part of your brain told you. Do not let him go. 

It made you roll your head to the side and open you eyes. You were just in time to see him pull his undershirt off his head, wiping his mouth with it before rolling it down his arms. Your eyes widened at the dark design across his left pectoral, right above his heart. You looked up at him nervously, wondering why he never told you he had a tattoo.

“Yeah,” he said looking down at the eagle topped globe, an anchor roughly rendered behind it, swiping at it with his thumb like he wanted to wipe it away. “Got it when I was young. Stupid. Too much money,” he said with a small smile as he finally tossed his shirt to the side. He rubbed your hip as he looked down at you with a smoldering gaze. “Hope that doesn’t ruin anything.”

“No,” you whispered, head rolling back and forth as you suddenly found the courage to let your eyes trail down his body.

Good God, what a body he had. You knew he was fit from the tight fitting t shirts and shorts that fell just above his knees that he wore all summer. He had been on the edge of bulky when you first met him but had tapered down into a more lean physique through the long, lazy summer. His chest and arms were his pride, you’d gathered, from how he refused to let them go soft with the rest of his muscles. After all, he needed a place for you to rest your head, didn’t he? And how could he let himself not be strong enough to pick you up and carry you around? To have everything revealed to you, to see how his chest tapered into his waist, how his hips (now supporting your legs) poked above the band of his briefs . . . that he was rolling down his thigh with his free hand. 

Phil didn’t break his gaze, drinking in the nervous, almost fatally curious, expression on your face as he took his time shuffling off his underwear. He went a little bit down on one side, just  to the bend of his hip, then slid his hand across the elastic, ignoring his cock, to push the other side farther down. It was unnecessarily slow, but he loved teasing you. Loved watching you react even more. One of your hands was already clenched around nothing as it rest against your stomach. The other was plastered across your mouth. Your hand couldn’t cover how wide your eyes were, or how your eyebrows went from bunched in concern to halfway up your forehead in surprise. 

It made him smile as he finally pulled himself from his briefs, revealing himself to you. Your eyes darted suddenly away, but you couldn’t smother the soft, “oh” that fell from you lips or the fresh blush spreading down your chest. It was delicious. 

He took his time pushing his underwear down his muscled thighs, stepping toward you on his knees to get them shuffled down his lower legs. The time it took was no bother. Why rush when he had the most beautiful creature in the world right in front of him? 

He held your legs open, petting your skin with slow, soft circles, as he looked at the glossy mess he’d created between your legs. It was amazing. You were wet from your bikini line to your thighs, and it was sweetly pooled in every crevice. He couldn’t help but reach out, running the tips of his fingers through the slick pooled around your clit.

“Phil-” you cried, covering your face with both hands.

You tried to jerk your legs closed too, but he was too quick. He caught them, forcing your knees back around his hips. This was as good a sign as any that it was time to move things along.

“Shhh, baby. It’s okay,” he whispered, leaning down on his elbows to hold you in his arms. 

He had to peel your hands away from your face to get a look at you. There was no way he was going to miss out on how you looked through all of this. He knew this position wouldn’t be the most comfortable for you, but he couldn’t help but be a little bit more selfish. You would understand one day that your pain was worth the look he caught as his cockhead nudged accidentally against your clit, sliding effortlessly up through the combination of slick and saliva. 

You just looked so helpless, so lost. It should have hurt him, how could you not trust him after everything he’s done so far? Nevermind the amazing orgasm he just gave you. But he was an adult: a man with a deep, dark, corrupted soul, so he understood. You needed him to continue leading you. Lucky you, leadership came naturally to him.

He wiped a line of tears from your lashes as he held your face in his hands. 

“What’s wrong, darlin’? Doin’ okay?” he asked.

You shook your head yes, squeezing out fresh tears from your eyes as you gripped his hands.

“Just . . .” you warbled out, trying to catch your breath, “just scared.”

“Why you scared, baby?”

“It’s . . . is it . . .” you said trying to turn your head to look down your body to where he was pressed to you, cock barely humping through that sinful slick. “Is it gonna hurt?”

He let out the breath he was holding. “No, sweetie,” he said shaking his head. “Not if you listen and do what I tell you. You can do that, right?” 

He added a little smile at the end and you smiled back with a nod, tears drying. He felt his cock pulse as he leaned down to kiss you. Of course you would be so good, do as you’re told, let him take care of you.

A path straight to hell, and you’re paving it with easy choices and good intentions.

He pushed further down to deepen the kiss, tongue laving over your lips until you tipped your head back with a sigh, opening your mouth, letting him in. It would be a good distraction for what he had to do next. He propped himself up with his free arm, reaching down to notch his cockhead at your entrance. It’s rough and sloppy, not being able to see where he’s going. The mess between your legs didn’t help either. He slid his cock around through your slick, coating his hand as he barely missing your vagina several times before an aggressive nudge of his hips popped it in. 

It knocked the breath out of you. He felt you clench at the head of his cock, breaking away from the kiss with a breathless whine. He stopped you before you could protest. 

He nuzzled into your neck and groaned, “Fuuuck, baby. I’m in. That’s it. I’m in.”

You still squirmed and whined. He should have known you would need more direct instruction.

“Listen to me, darlin’,” he said breathless, picking himself back up to look at you, nudging his cock around experimentally, trying to work himself further into that tight, heavenly chanel. “Look at me,” he commanded.

You stopped, opening your eyes. They’re rimmed with fresh tears. 

“Gotta relax okay, baby? Or else it’s gonna hurt. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

He watched you let out a few shallow breaths, chest heaving with each one, before inhaling one deep one. You held the breath for a second before pursing your lips in a pretty circle, blowing it out. 

“Better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod.

“‘kay. Now, listen to me,” he said leaning over you enough to let his hair brush over your face, mattress squawking as he pressed your legs to your chest. A low ohhh wringing out of your throat. Your heels caught on his hips. “Gonna push in a lil’ bit, but you gotta stay relaxed. Can’t clench, okay?” 

Not that he couldn’t wait to feel you clenching around him. Fuck, he couldn’t even imagine how tight, how wet, how fuckin’ good, you would feel around him. He was pulsing just imagining it. You were his little virgin, after all. He was going to be your first and only and he was going to feel it, all of it. 

“Let me know if it hurts and I’ll stop,” he said with a groan, forcing himself deeper inside. 

You didn’t say anything, just wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, forcing his face down into the crook of your shoulder. He placed a kiss there, right on the chain of your necklace. He waited a few seconds as he held your hips, then finally began to pull his cock in and out just a bit. Good Lord, he was fucking you. Finally fucking you. A low whine, like a wolf or coyote howling far off in the distance, rattled in the back of your throat, almost too quiet to hear. 

He pulled against your arms, breaking your weak hold easily, to look at you again. You looked tired. Fucked out and exhausted, with half-lidded eyes barely able to stay open. That sheen of glitter-like sweat was back, sparkling down the column of your neck and across your temples. You had let your arms fall over your head, and there they still lay, heavy against the pillow. His poor girl was tuckered. 

“Okay?” he asked, trying to keep the movement of his hips smooth and shallow. 

He’ll do whatever he has to now to have you enjoy this, however slow and gentle he had to be. It’s bait. He needs to plant himself in the back of your mind. That will get you to come back for more, to want to stay, stay here with him. That’s when he’ll work his magic. Ambushing you right when you feel safe. Catch his pretty little prey in his snare and never let you go. Unfortunately for him, that meant not blowing his load the second he felt your slick run down his shaft.

“Yeah,” you croaked. Keeping your eyes open and following his voice taking all of your sapping strength. 

“Hurt?” he asked, picking up his pace, but not trying to force anymore of his cock in you. 

Just have to get in a little more, he tells himself. Work her open a little more and then you can.

“No . . .” you said with a whine, letting your head roll to the side, eyes closing, as you fell into his comfortable rhythm. Phil watched as your breasts swirled in time to his thrusts. Such a pretty dance they did. He had to bite his lip from leaning down to nip at them. “Just a little sore.”

“Like you pulled a muscle?” he said with a smile, brushing the sweat-slicked hair from your forehead. “That’s normal, babe. You’re doin’ so good.”

You nodded back at him, cheeks flushing as he trailed his fingers down your face. You were so cute like this. He let his hand brush innocuously over the little silver cross in the hollow of your neck as he pulled it back. 

What a good girl you were.

“‘s lot for your poor little kitty to take all at once, honey,” he said sweetly, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth. He was ramping up his pace as his own pleasure curled within him, his hips snapping into yours with a wet smack as they met. He felt himself push deeper and deeper into you, your greedy pussy swallowing everything he gave you. Before he knew it, fuck, he was right where he wanted to be. “Don’t you worry, you’ll feel all better by the mornin’.”   

You turned to meet his mouth with a whine. He caught you, sealing his lips over yours as he pounded full thrusts into your wet hole. His need was clouding his mind, narrowing his vision to a pinpoint centered on the thought of his cock bruising your sweet little cervix. You opened your mouth, to scream or moan he’ll never know, but he was right there, prepared, diving in to silence you with his tongue. You clenched down on him as he smothered your voice and it had him seeing stars.

Not that he had to make this last any longer, but it just felt so good. He would have fucked you all night if you let him, pulling back as he came close to that peak, denying himself climax until the very end, until you begged him to finally cum in your sore pussy. 

Later. One day, he told himself.  

Tonight was the end of phase one. Tomorrow began phase two. It was the next step of the plan he had so carefully executed over the last couple months. If this went well, he was in the clear, golden. He sighed with contentment as you tipped back your head and moaned. He would have you, completely and finally. All he had to do was follow his plan.

He couldn’t ignore how badly he wanted to cum anymore. His cock was so engorged it was getting increasingly harder to pull out of you, especially now that you were clamping down on him every time he managed to nail you right in the cervix. 

He pulled himself out of his head and let his body control the last of his actions. He pulled you into his arms, buried his face in your neck and whined out, “Fuuuuck baby. Fuck. Feel so good. I’m gonna-”

When he felt your legs wrap up around his back with a whine, he sent out one last message from the rational part of his brain: Don’t pull out. He could only hope the other side of him would obey.

He didn’t remember much once the endorphin rush of his orgasm hit. He felt you wrap your arms around his neck, and your heels bury into the small of his back. You might have even whined out his name. All he could follow was the play-by-play of those last few seconds after: ramming himself in as deep as he could, the feeling of his cock expanding within you, pushing back against those taut muscles, then he was lost in the rush of his seed pumping deep deep within. 

He remembered a groan as he reluctantly pulled himself off, then out, of you. How small you looked, sweating and trembling against the sheets as he searched the bed for a blanket. He was still in a haze as he pulled your back to his chest, pawing at the blanket with no motor control in an attempt to share it between the two of you. 

It felt amazing to finally have you here: falling asleep, skin to skin, in his bed. He let out a long breath, stretching his legs down the bed, as his mind cleared. He could still feel your heart pounding where he held you in his arms. How quickly you had surrendered to sleep. He buried his face in your hair and inhaled the last remnants of your fruity shampoo - or was it your body spray? he didn’t remember - through the sweat and sex in the air. Only then did he finally let himself doze off.

He needed all the sleep he could get. Tomorrow was a big day. 

a/n: hello. it’s me. The girlie who ACTUALLY popped her cherry in her late twenties :) Also, sorry this took so long!!! I have no good explanation besides the fact that I was working on other things for lovely anons. I took a lot of time trying to get everything feeling just right and I still feel like it’s not great :( (i feel i will never write a good orgasm i s2g) but here it is! It’s also very loooong because i wanted all of the sex DONE and in one goddamn chapter. Anywho, hope you all like it! 

[potato-lord-but-not]

happy bi visibility day have some girlfriend doodles 🫶

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone Danny Masterpost

So its been like, almost a week since the first part of clone danny came out and, in unsurprising Starry fashion, I already have six parts out. Granted they're not very long but six parts ARE six parts, so here is a masterpost!

Part 1. Danny Fenton Lives!! And also becomes a vigilante

Part 2. More Danny Fenton Trying To Be Phantom

Part 3. Danny finds out he's a clone. Oh and look Bruce is here too

Part 4. What to do when your genetic donor is suddenly in the same building as you: a guide to avoidance

Part 4.5. Dani's Got The Scary Dog Privileges: More On That Here

Part 5. Damian is a menace, and so is Ellie, actually.

Part 6. The Waynes Leave, finally!… And Danny ends up in Gotham

Part 7. Danny's still in Gotham. Send Help

Part 7.5. Remember Dan in part 2? he's back in an interlude :)

Part 8. Danny Gets His Phone Call

Memes PT1 Memes PT2

A Reflection On Danny's Reaction To Being A Clone

Other:

Au of an Au: combining two clones Clone^2 snippets More Clone^2 danny's hands

Danny becoming Phantom (Clone^2 AND Clone Danny applicable)

Starry geeks out about her unintentionally putting meaning behind Danny being Phantom without powers.

Tag for @gin2212 bc you wanted one when the masterpost went out

[thunderblazz]

starryeyed? 😒 YURI starryeyed? 😍⁉️

[starryluminary]

I don’t know if its because I’ve been seeing and picturing them together for nearly a decade,,,, but I think their character designs complement each other really well