#and you can only experience it through touch

[jmliebert]

Astarion Comforting You When You’re Sad

Astarion notices immediately when something is off. he’s usually the distant type, but with you, it’s different. seeing you upset is somehow unbearable

he approaches with a mix of impatience and concern, furrowing his brows as he says, “heavens, can you finally tell me what’s going on? or must I truly lose my mind trying to guess?”

doesn’t back down until you open up. for all his teasing, he won’t leave your side until you tell him what’s troubling you—even a little

if you try to brush off your feelings, he chides you: “darling, you’re awful at hiding things from me. don’t even try.” and it almost sound like a threat

but in reality he's just genuinely worried, and doesn't know how to cope with it

when you finally let it out, what starts with his characteristic intensity melts into something tender. his gaze shifts from piercing to understanding, something dangerously vulnerable flickering in his eyes as he listens

he’s uncharacteristically gentle. he holds you as you cry, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. there’s no sarcasm, no biting humor- he's just being there for you

he could make a quip, sure. but he stops himself. he wants to be the person he once wished for during his times under cazador’s iron grip

so Astarion speaks softly, his words brimming with wisdom and the weight of centuries of experience. in those moments, you see just how old he truly is and how much he’s been through

if words aren’t what you need, he offers silence instead. he sits with you, holding your hand, as if to remind you that you’ll never be alone—not like he was, not ever

his touch is feather-light as he brushes away your tears, his thumb gliding gently across your cheeks. he caresses your hair, his other hand grazing your swollen lips as if lost in thought

and then comes that smile—the rare, quiet one he saves only for you, it hold a silent promise you see...

he draws a hot bath for the two of you, insisting it will help. with your head resting on his chest, you feel his arms around you, holding you close and your body unbend slowly

the water is warm, your pulse thrumming softly beneath your skin, and the scent of your blood is impossibly tempting. hunger gnaws at him, sharp and insistent, but he doesn’t say a word. wouldn’t dream of it—not when you’re like this

at night, he watches over you, cradling you softly and wishing you would never be sad like this ever again. if it were possible he would take all this pain of yours and bear it himself

because he loves you so much

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

hello dove, you can find more of my works about astarion ♡here♡

[birdsandbeetlesandmoths]

So. Sonic 3. That was. certainly. hoo boy *collapses to the sound of a metal pipe falling*

Spoilers and thoughts under cut (LONG POST)

Well, my pre-movie post was SO WRONG. I think most stobotnik fans were, thinking that Stone would be the one dying. I- truly wasn’t expecting it.

I’ll get back to that in a second, let me get all of my silly things out of the way/the things i was hype about/had to crush my partner and friend’s hands about while witnessing.

The antics between Gerald and Ivo were expected but oh my GOD JIM CARREY. you are a national treasure, have fun in retirement. we will miss you greatly, but this being your final movie (probably) is a great thing to culminate your absolutely stunning career.

Anyway, their dance sequence was fucking insane, and as much as I was cringing, I was grinning through it too. The fight on the Eclipse cannon was also questionable BUT HOLY FUCK NOW I GET THE PRAYING MANTIS/FLY REFERENCE. (Thank god it wasn’t directly about stone and robotnik but i’m already cooking how i can connect them). Spanking? Also in my Sonic movie. But yeah.

Gerald and Ivo could never be more alike in intellect, but different in morals. Evident through Gerald’s fixation on avenging his daughter with no remorse or thought for whoever will get in the way, throwing away Ivo and the whole of the world as a result). He’s willing to kill himself, but as Shadow says and believes, that isn’t what Maria would have wanted.

I used to not like the Wachowskis. I was already a little unsettled when the first movie released by the fact that characters unrelated to previous Sonic media were being utilized as major plot elements, but during the second and third movies, I began to absolutely love them.

This third movie cemented that love. The father-son relationship between Tom and Sonic specifically. My heart was aching in the first scene at their little campsite, Happy BEarthday, and their heart-to-heart in Sonic’s old cave, talking about Choice (an analysis incoming) and that you always have a choice, and that your lungs (heart) will help you find the right one.

I think this movie might’ve done. One of the best jobs of displaying found family. The sibling relationship between Tails, Knuckles, and Sonic was the most heartrendingly beautiful and achingly real thing I’ve seen in a while. And it really hits you, the fact that they’re kids.

And the amount of silly little jokes, Tails having his gadgetry and Knuckles with his blunt personality, Sonic tying them all together with his wit and charm, it all became slightly surreal to see. To see something so happy, so delicately real.

Oh my god, on the trio, Knuckles saving both Sonic and Tails from falling to Earth. I was gasping that whole time, truly being sent into the moment. Movies and media rarely do that to me in the emotional sense.

AND AS FOR SHADOW AND MARIA

Holy fuck at least I was right about that part in my pre-movie wishes. I thought it was interesting how they adapted it, and it definitely made for it to be slightly more believable and less complicated.

But oh my gosh them. Skating around the lab, messing around together, introducing Shadow to that great 70s music and dancing, watching movies together and just being kids!! And don’t even get me started on the rooftop scene. Shadow was so vulnerable and self-conscious, and Maria comforted him in a way that touched me. Understands him in a way that no one else ever has, as everyone else only saw him as the experiment and the subject, while she saw him as his own person, with thoughts and emotions and curiosities.

It paralleled Sonic and Tom in the cinematography too, and the sentiment was all the same. That Shadow can choose who he wants to be. (I Am All I Am and Choice. Trust, it’s coming soon)

Maria and Shadow made me unbearably happy. It was all I could’ve ever asked for and more.

Shadow and Sonic were an absolutely crazy duo this show. Dude, in their fight versus each other? Both going Super and absolutely going at it, and Shadow having the absolute gall to accuse Sonic of not caring about his friends, that he was clearly here alone because he abandoned them, and mention Tom, which caused Sonic to go completely over the edge, and actually punch him straight into space and lose his Super.

Sonic and Shadow reconciling over their shared feeling of grief, Sonic sharing his pain, emphasizing the love that will be able to help them heal, Shadow reciprocating, and then Shadow remembering Maria after looking up at the stars, realizing, from Sonic’s words, that this truly wasn’t what Maria wanted, just that whole moon scene between them is living in my head rent free and I need to see it over and over again.

HOLYYY SHIT THEY PLAYED LIVE AND LEARN WHEN SUPER SONIC AND SUPER SHADOW TEAMED UP AND BEAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK OUT OF THOSE ROBOTS. Me and my friends were going so fucking insane in that theater.

Shadow remembering Maria (possibly for the last time) as he sacrifices himself to push the Eclipse cannon away from the place that Maria loved. Remembering all of the good moments, the love between them, that is all he wanted if he was going to leave the world for good. (Well, I mean, he’s still alive, but the amnesia route is still optional)

Sonic actually going slightly insane this movie was also very interesting to watch. His absolute- like, his vision went RED when Shadow mentioned Tom. That was what set him OFFFF. His abuse of the Master Emerald and even threatening his own best friends/siblings over this— god the emphasis of choice in this film I want to sob.

Also, yall already KNOW I WAS BALLING ABOUT THE AKIRA SLIDE, SNAPCUBE REFERENCES, AND EVERY TIME SHADOW BREATHED OR MOVED. Literally could not contain myself from absolutely sob-cry-screaming at Shadow and (Keanu did a great job btw) his entire story, his joy with Maria and his pain all after. (His Super form looked fuck beautiful, a new colorful hue every time I saw it)

All in all, Robotniks were hilarious, Maria and Shadow were beautifully tragic and just generally so so SO adorable and loving. I’m so glad that Tails and Knuckles got more serious appreciation and screen time this movie as well, because as much as Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles were sidelined in this movie (to put forth Robotniks and Shadow, understandably so), it still felt more fulfilling and real than in the second movie. Super forms continue to be beautiful onscreen, I would like to collapse and die from hearing ONE OK ROCK and Live and Learn.

AHEM. Now, clearly, I will be making a separate post solely about Stobotnik. Along with the multiple Stone-centric fics burning a hole in my brain and the choice and grief analyses awaiting my attention. Bear with me as I have SO MANY THOUGHTS.

We won. . . but at what cost.

My friends, my partner, you already know. We died and were promptly revived together in that theater.

[scoriarose]

There's something important I've been wanting to share with fellow snake caretakers, and it's that if you have been sweet to your snake and love them, they have probably told you hundreds of times they love you- but because we speak different languages most won't understand. It makes me a little sad thinking how hard they try to tell us, and some folks just don't recognize that and they hope their serpentine friends love them but never know for sure- or even believe the lie snakes aren't even capable of love at all. They are, they have brain structures similar to birds and not only are physically capable of feeling love, they also regularly display traits associated with love including empathy and self sacrifice to protect others they care about both in captivity and the wild.

Snakes express love through touch. Through cuddling, and vibing (being near someone not touching just happy to be in their company). There's another outdated lie that snakes cannot and will never enjoy being pet - likely this comes from someone seeing cats and dogs lick their young and enjoying being pet because it feels similar to what is natural to them but since snakes do not lick their young it was believed they could not enjoy this sensation outside of their nature.

But that's wrong. It IS their nature! They just don't use their tongue, they use their whole body! Thing is, a lot of people who see them slither over another snake don't realize it's more than just them going somewhere, and they think they're carelessly going over another snake. Sometimes that may be the case, but touch is also how they bond. I read an article detailing how a mother snake was tolerant of her babies climbing all over her. Tolerant? It's like if a toddler hugged their mommy and said they loved her- tolerant would be such a strange word to use. They are telling their mommy they love her through their very limited means of communication.

Isn't it incredibly sweet that a creature who is so so limited in communication made sure to have a way to say, "I love you." I think that's just the best news ever.

If you doubt what I'm saying well, a number of snake keepers can vouch for me they've also accidentally discovered that touch can also be romantic if you touch the wrong place where most wouldn't expect it to be.

But the point I'm trying to make is, I bet there's tons of people with pet snakes who are telling them over and over they love them, hoping their human understands. If your snake doesn't do this action it doesn't need they don't love you- it would come from them not having figured it out. They learn not just from instinct, but from each other. Not having a parent snake to teach them (like some species including rattlesnakes) they have to figure out everything on their own for the most part.

Many fight out how to express, "I love you" through touch. Most snake caretakers I imagine don't recognize the attempt to communicate as anything more than the animal slithering around- but if you look for it you might see your pet telling you! If they are on you and start slithering around but not going anywhere in particular (sometimes back and forth) ESPECIALLY if you pet your snake and they relax/enjoy it- they are probably trying to pet you. And in doing so, show they care about you too, that they love you.

Scoria pets me with her chin, and I've never heard of anyone else's snake do this. She has, however, taught this to her sister who now pets me both ways.

It would be neat to hear if anyone sees their snake doing this and realizing what it really means. (Your snake might have even learned another way if you don't pet them and show them love another way- sometimes they learn by copying us too.)

Hope this helps someone- please share if your snake has a way they show they love you, I see very little on this from other caretakers and would be so happy to hear if others have similar experiences.

[fy-perspectives]

A Letter to Self

Dear Future Me,

As I write this letter, my mind drifts to the deepest recesses of what it means to live a life of true meaning. Right now, I stand on the edge of the unknown, with a vision in my heart and a longing for something that feels both timeless and elusive. I feel the urgency of the moment, but also the understanding that this is not just a race to accomplish, but a journey of becoming.

I do not know where I will be when you read this letter, but I know that you are the culmination of all the choices I make today. The person you have become is the result of the small, quiet moments of reflection, the moments of profound silence, and the decisions to push through even when I felt lost. I hope you have not lost touch with the essence of who you are, for the journey ahead is not just about what we achieve, but about the way we evolve at the deepest level.

Health: A Sacred Vessel for the Soul At the core of my being is the understanding that health is not just the absence of illness but a sacred vessel that supports the unfolding of my purpose. It is not simply about eating the right foods or maintaining a routine; it is about honoring the very body that houses my soul. I feel an increasing awareness that health is intertwined with spiritual vitality—that what I feed my body, mind, and spirit creates the energy from which all else flows. I have worked to care for my body as an act of reverence, to move with intention, to breathe deeply, and to eat with gratitude. Yet, I know that true health goes beyond the physical. It lies in accepting my vulnerabilities, in cultivating emotional resilience, and in nurturing the peace within.

I hope that, by the time you read this, you have transcended the common notion of health. Have you come to understand that true vitality is a sacred alignment of the physical, mental, and spiritual planes? Do you still honor your body with the same reverence that you once set as your intention? Health is a daily commitment to being whole in every aspect of yourself, and I trust that you’ve continued to care for your vessel with the wisdom that only deep reflection and experience can bring.

Creativity: The Expression of the Soul's Truth Creativity, for me, has become something far deeper than simply producing. It has become the expression of my soul's truth. Every word I write, every brushstroke I make, every idea I birth is not just a reflection of what I know, but a reflection of who I am. I’m no longer driven by the desire to merely create for recognition or external approval, but because it is through creation that I remember myself—the raw, untamed essence of my being.

I’ve come to see creativity as an act of surrender—to let go of control and allow the work to emerge from the deepest recesses of my heart. The journey of creativity has shown me that vulnerability is at its core, and it is only by being authentically exposed that I can produce something that truly resonates. I have faced the fear of judgment, the self-doubt that lingers like a shadow, but through it all, I have learned that creativity is not about perfection—it is about truth. The truth of who I am, in each moment, in each breath.

Have you, by now, been able to create freely, without the weight of self-imposed expectations? Have you allowed yourself to simply create for the sake of being rather than doing? I trust that by now, your creative spirit has transcended the confines of the mind and entered into the realm of pure expression, where the boundaries between creator and creation no longer exist. May you be forever unafraid to express what lives in the deepest places of your soul, regardless of the outcome, for in that expression lies your freedom.

Long-Term Vision: The Pursuit of Meaning Beyond Success When I look into the future, I don’t see a destination as much as I see a continuous unfolding. The world speaks of success, wealth, and status as though they are the ultimate goals of life, but I have come to realize that they are mere illusions compared to the true purpose of living. My vision is not simply to achieve, but to become. To become the person who is not just successful by external measures, but fulfilled at the deepest level. My goal is to live a life of meaning, one in which I serve not from a place of obligation, but from a place of love, generosity, and purpose.

This vision is not limited to material goals; it extends into the realm of soulful abundance—a life lived with presence, awareness, and a deep commitment to contributing something of real value to the world. I understand that I am not just here to exist but to leave a legacy—not one of grand monuments or accolades, but one of quiet impact, where the ripples of my actions touch lives in ways I may never fully see.

Have you reached a place where your vision is no longer shaped by what others expect but by the pull of your own heart? Have you found the courage to pursue a life that feels aligned with your soul’s deepest desires, regardless of how unconventional it may appear to others? I trust that you are living in harmony with your truth, and that your work, whatever it may be, is not just fulfilling but deeply connected to the greater good. In your daily actions, do you embody the very values you hold dear? I hope so. For success is not measured by what we accumulate, but by the love and light we bring into the world.

Facing the Abyss: The Inner Journey of Transformation The most profound aspect of my life’s journey is perhaps the one that is the most difficult to articulate—the internal transformation that takes place beneath the surface. This journey is not always visible to others, and sometimes, it is not even visible to me. But I know that this transformation is real. It is the shift from fear to courage, from lack to abundance, from confusion to clarity. It is the process of shedding old identities, beliefs, and limitations that no longer serve my highest self.

In these moments, when the world feels like it is crumbling or when doubt and fear grip my heart, I remember that true growth comes from surrendering—surrendering to the uncertainty of life, to the knowing that I do not have all the answers, and that I am not meant to. I have learned that trusting the process is the key to peace, and that in the darkest moments, there is always light waiting to emerge.

Have you fully surrendered to the unfolding of life, knowing that everything, even the most painful moments, is part of the grand design? Have you accepted that the challenges you’ve faced are not obstacles to overcome, but the very soil from which your wisdom and growth have sprouted? I trust that you’ve learned to let go of all that no longer serves you and embraced the unfolding of your true self, free from attachment to outcomes.

Relationships: The Sacred Dance of Connection The relationships I hold closest to my heart are the ones that remind me of who I am and why I’m here. These connections are not defined by superficial exchanges, but by the deep, sacred bond that exists between two souls. I’ve learned that love is not just an emotion, but a sacred act of vulnerability, a constant flow of giving and receiving, where both individuals are free to be their most authentic selves.

In these relationships, I have come to understand the importance of both self-love and love for others. I cannot truly love others if I do not first love and honor myself. This is a profound truth that continues to unfold. Have you, by now, mastered the art of presence—of truly being with others in moments of silence, joy, and grief? Have you let go of expectations and embraced the beauty of unconditional love? I trust that you have nurtured your relationships with the depth, care, and love they deserve.

The Unfolding Journey I cannot know exactly what the future holds. But I do know this: I am here to become. To evolve. To step into the fullest expression of my soul's purpose. This journey is not about destination, but about becoming more authentically me with every step I take. I trust that wherever you are, you are living in alignment with this deep truth.

May you look back with gratitude for the pain and the joy, for all that has shaped you into who you are today. And as you move forward, may you do so with courage, faith, and a deep, unshakable knowing that you are exactly where you need to be.

With all my love, faith, and trust in the unfolding of your journey,

Sincerely Yours

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 7

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

CHAPTER WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT + STRAPON + CHOKING + SQUIRTING? + MAMA KINK

A/N -- this chapter is 7778 words of pure smut and filth, and this entire series is my ted talk on why p/w/plot is better xoxo

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7

Before your lips even touch, Agatha’s throat lets the softest of sighs escape and you absolutely melt at the sound; melt into her lips, her body, her arms. The moment it happens, you realise how royally screwed you are because kissing Agatha is addictive. It’s narcotic, ridiculously hot, and invading in a way that makes you want to surrender every atom of yourself to her. So you do.

It’s soft at first, Agatha letting you take, test the waters, experiment however you’d like. You kiss her gently, brushing your lips against hers as you switch between her lower and upper lips trying to get a taste of everything you can. Her lip moves with yours, sucking every second or so to pull you in. It’s sensual the way you dance with each other, Agatha letting you in the instant your tongue experimentally swipes over her bottom lip.

You lost track of time getting lost in her this way, mouths in a slow dance, sucking on her tongue a few times after memorising the whiney moan it elicits from her throat. When you finally pull back with hooded eyes darkened with desire, you see it reflected in Agatha’s eyes too. It’s wet when you pull apart, a string connecting your lips together still. The thrill shining in Agatha’s eyes shines in yours when you realise how much this affected her too.

A throat clears to your side and your head snaps to the sound. “Excuse me?” Rio scoffs, feigning her anger. A ball forms in your throat as dread sinks down to your stomach. You forgot to ask. You didn’t ask at all, asking would have been ridiculous in your head. Who asks if they could kindly kiss a person’s partner?

“I–I’m so sorry, Gosh, I don’t–”

Rio interrupts your rambling with a chuckle, her gaze darkening from anger to…to lust. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t you know it’s rude not to share?” Rio teases with an easy smirk, poofing that fear in your stomach away. Agatha feels the relief in your body as she reaches a hand around your waist, her face slithering between your neck. But she doesn’t get a chance to kiss it yet because Rio’s snapping her fingers and you’re suddenly wrapped in a green rope and dragged off the chair.

“Oh, jealousy is not a good look on you, my love,” Agatha says through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated at you being taken from her. But you’re suddenly too occupied being in Rio’s space. You stumble to stability with a gasp, standing right in front of her with your knees pressed to hers.

Rio smirks up at you, her brown eyes filled with mischief. “Well?” she lifts a brow expectantly, glancing down to her lap. She’s sat on a smaller chair and there’s clearly no room for you to sit other than directly on her. 

But this time, you turn back to look at Agatha, just to make sure this is okay. Before she can nod her head, a rough hand grips your jaw and forces your face back harshly.

You gasp and Rio grins wickedly, all teeth. “Eyes on me.”

While Agatha is all soft and sensual, Rio is pure chaos, pulling you onto her lap with urgency not caring if you stumble a little. Your hands fall to her shoulders, gripping tightly for stability and Rio, the maniac, moans at your rough touch. She closes the gap, attacking your lips with her own. You gasp and she takes that opportunity to slip her tongue in, not asking for dominance but simply taking. 

She kisses you as if she owns you, doing what she wants to do with no questions asked, and she knows you like it. You’re sure Agatha knows you like it too by the needy whimpers you can’t help but let out. Rio’s hand roams and grips around your waist while the other leaves your jaw just to hold the back of your neck. It keeps you close to her, wrapped up in her, wanting to smell, taste, feel nothing but her. And Agatha.

At the realisation, you pull back quickly. “Wait, stop,” you call out, stumbling as you slip off her lap. They both watch you for a moment, observing as you open your mouth and close it, unsure of what you even want to say. What are we doing? What does this mean? Is this not wrong? “I’m confused,” is what you end up settling on.

Agatha sighs as she stands up. She gently guides you to take her place and you sit back, tense and anxious and filled with so much desire you can’t help but feel wrong when that’s what you’ve been told your entire life. Rio comes up behind you, her fingertips glazing over your shoulders before digging in gently. You moan instantly at the relief and she takes that as a sign to continue, using her fingers in ways you’ve never felt before to ease the tension out of your body.

“What are you confused about?” Agatha asks, settling in front of you. You try to move your legs up and press your knees to your chest just to give her space, but she holds onto your ankles. She places your legs over her lap, her fingers now doing the same as Rio but to the muscles in your calves.

“God,” you groan out at the feeling of both their hands on you. Rio lets you close your eyes a moment to relish it, but within seconds she snaps her fingers, forcing them back open. 

Rio’s finger traces your jawline for a moment before gripping, forcing your head down to meet Agatha’s intense gaze. “Agatha asked you a question, sweetheart.”

A stutter slips out of your lips for a moment before you collect yourself. But your collected words end up being rambles anyway. “I don’t understand what is happening. Do you not think I’m ruining your relationship? Why do you want me? Is this not…wrong?” you ask, your mind going back to the argument and Agatha yelling at you for not being able to control your desire. 

Agatha’s expression scrunches into something between frustration and sympathy, her hands stilling for a moment against your skin. She seems torn, unsure of what to say, or how to answer your questions. She hadn’t expected it, rather thought you’d give in the moment your lips touched. She nods her head towards Rio who begins massaging your shoulders again to ease your nerves.

“We were not upset with you because of your desires,” Agatha begins, carefully choosing her words, “We were…frustrated because you seemed to want her, more than you wanted us.”

Your brows pinch together in realisation. They were jealous. They’ve wanted you all this time and you were just too blind and insecure to see it. But instead of telling you in the moment, they decided to build your confidence up and make you see it for yourself, make you want it enough to push your insecurities away. A soft, grateful look passes in your eyes as Agatha looks at you with tenderness and hope in hers. Leaning down to tug at her hand, you give your permission for her to climb on top of you, her arms falling over your shoulders. Her gaze is hot, soft, filled with want, and a mischief similar to Rio’s. She leans down for a moment, her breath hot against your lips, but instead of kissing you she pulls back, leans up and meets Rio’s lips in a hot, rough, and messy kiss. 

You can only manage to watch them for a moment before your hips start grinding up seeking friction. A desperate whine escapes your lips, wanting the attention, wanting their lips on you, anywhere, everywhere.

Blue eyes come back into your vision once they break apart, and Agatha comes down to give you a wet kiss and you moan into her mouth as you taste Rio on her lips. It’s almost too much, you think, to have Agatha kissing you with passion and fire, while Rio’s lips have found their way to the side of your neck. But you realise it’s not too much, it’s simply your excitement. In fact, it’s not enough; you need more.

“More,” you pant as you pull back, your teeth biting Agatha’s bottom lip in a demanding manner, “Need more, please,” you moan, desire clouding your mind as Agatha’s roaming hands tugging on your night clothes drives you crazy.

Rio chuckles into your ear, her hand slithering to lightly press against your neck. You gasp into her touch, arching, nails digging into Agatha’s back as she kisses across your collarbone. They’ve both mastered that balance between tender and rough, keeping you on the edge waiting for you to beg for it. And you’re more than willing to do so.

“Please,” you breathe out.

Agatha groans in response, forcefully moving Rio’s hand from your throat just so she can roughly bite, suck, lick at your neck, successfully staking her claim. Rio smirks at Agatha’s possessiveness, deciding to retaliate by fisting your hair and tugging your head back; she leans down and kisses you aggressively, tongue forcing its way past your lips and claiming every inch of your mouth. It’s rough, messy, dirty, a clash of teeth, tongue, lips; you can’t control the moans leaving your throat and Rio happily swallows them down.

When Agatha decides to give your neck some mercy, she smirks down at her work. Your neck is painted in all shades of red, purple, blue; she trails her fingertips along the patterns, slithering her hand down until she reaches low on your stomach. You gasp into Rio’s kiss, your hand gripping Agatha’s waist, silently begging for her to touch you there, to cross over that line, to let you give in to your pleasures. But her hand stays right there, slipping under your shirt to lightly circle your skin.

A groan slips out your lips as you pull back from Rio for a moment. “Agatha,” you complain, as she slides her hand further up instead of down to where you need it most. Her wicked eyes tease as they look up at you but you look down with a pout, brows furrowed and eyes almost tear-filled. The desire is too much, overwhelming you with a need that can only be filled by them. It’s all too soft, too slow; you need more.

Agatha sees the primal hunger in your eyes, and paired with that pout she could never resist, Agatha gives in. “Bedroom.”

It’s a single command, not for you but for Rio who nods and lets go of your hair. She slides by the side of the chair as Agatha slips off of you, and Rio pulls you into her arms. You yelp at the quick movement, gripping onto her bicep as she lifts you with ease, manhandling you until your legs are wrapped around her waist, arms around her neck.

“Hold tight,” she teases, pecking your lips before you all disappear in a green smoke. Your hands stay gripping the back of her neck as you all reappear in their bedroom. 

“We could have walked,” you roll your eyes jokingly. Rio lifts a brow at the brattiness in your tone, clenching her jaw before slamming her lips to yours. Her teeth bite at your bottom lip hard enough for you to whimper and dig your nails into her neck. Unsurprisingly, she groans at the pain mixed with pleasure, gently laying you on the bed without breaking the kiss.

Grinding up against her like this feels heavenly, your thighs keeping her in place as hers rests between your legs. The pressure is perfect, hard and solid against your core letting you seek that friction. Rio pulls back from the kiss just to rip your thin nightshirt off. You gasp at the strength, instinctively wanting to cover your naked chest but Rio’s hands grip your wrists, pinning them to the side. She looks down at you with wide, hungry eyes, her gaze dark and possessive as she gives in to temptation by diving down and sucking a peaked nipple into her mouth.

“Oh, fuck, Rio, yes,” you hiss, moan, whimper at her relentless roughness, arching your chest into her mouth. Suddenly there’s a hot tongue against your other nipple that has you gasping, whining, and finally snapping your eyes open to look down. Agatha has taken your other breast, both of them now looking up at you with devastatingly beautiful eyes darkened by desire. The sight paired with the pressure between your legs is almost too much already.

The contrast of their touches – Rio rough and Agatha tender – has your mind spinning, hands coming down to press against both their heads. You’re unsure what you want more, which touch drives you crazier, but eventually you realise you don’t care at all; you just want them, in whatever form they’ll let you have them. Agatha kisses up your body to your lips, smiling against them as you moan immediately at the first touch of her mouth against yours.

“Eager?” she whispers as she pulls back, then in, and back, her soft, wet kisses driving you to insanity. You nod like a lust-driven maniac, slamming your lips to hers, falling into her as Rio replaces Agatha’s mouth with a hand to your other breast. Her tongue stays at your nipple, circling, flicking, pressing hard against it until you’re arching and writhing against her touch.

“Ugh, God, I need…” you stop yourself, suddenly shy, averting your gaze from Agatha’s knowing one. 

The blue-eyed witch tilts your head back to her with her finger. “What do you need from us, little dove?” she whispers, demanding your honesty. Not just with them, but with yourself. 

You gather up that last bit of courage. “I need you to touch me.”

Agatha chuckles, low and dark, her tongue swiping your bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth to coax another moan out of you. “We are touching you.”

Rio moans in agreement from her position, elaborating with a rough squeeze of your chest. But it’s not enough. The heat and fire between your legs need to be put out. They try to search for that friction from Rio’s thigh but it’s not enough, not now that you’ve tasted them, now that you’ve felt the pleasure you can get from their mouths, their hands, from those intense gazes. A flash of Rio’s head between your thighs takes over your mind for a moment, Agatha’s hips grinding against your stomach before climbing up to your face. The image has you squirming, writhing, the wetness now uncomfortable. 

“Please, I need you to take me,” you finally whine out and see the immediate effect on the women on top of you. Agatha’s breath hitches as Rio’s rough ministrations freeze for a split second. You take that as a sign and spill the rest out with ease, “Claim me, use me, fuck me.”

The tension in the room reaches its peak, silence following your desperately honest words. The pants Agatha’s letting out near your ear are warm, doing nothing to calm the heat between your squirming legs. There’s barely any movement at your chest, Rio’s mouth long gone as she looks up at you with a clenched jaw, clearly trying to control herself. But she can’t. 

A sound akin to an animal growling escapes Rio’s throat, croaky and dark, and she rests a hand by your hip to push herself up. Agatha doesn’t want to get in the way of a predator, so she slides off and instead settles behind you, watching over with a smirk as you gulp, wide-eyed and terrifyingly wanting more. Agatha’s hands hold yours back, keeping you locked in your place for Rio to do as she pleases.

“Is this what you wanted?” Rio’s tone is dripping with control, power, and hunger. Her eyes darker, the warm brown a deeper shade mixed with black, but still wide and as honest as ever. Something you’ve learnt about Rio is she never lies, never hides; it’s almost as if she doesn’t have the ability to do so because her eyes are so expressive. And right now, they’re screaming for you.

“Yes, please,” you whimper as she growls again, this time pairing it with eager hands tugging at your pants until nothing is left but your naked skin. It’s vulnerable, raw and you, and, again, part of you wishes to hide it all away but the way Rio’s eyes widen slightly, tongue peaking out to lick at her lower lip in hunger has your thighs opening up wider for her. It’s almost subconscious how your body reacts to her.

Agatha hums a soft, “Good girl,” behind you, nipping at your ear as she says so. Her hand creeps around to your chest, fingers pressing gently, experimentally, seeing what you like best.

A firm but warm touch on your inner thighs draws your attention back to Rio whose fingers are trailing higher and higher. You’re breathing faster by the second, practically a panting, waiting mess by the time Rio’s fingers finally slide through your folds. It’s a touch, a brush, really, but it still has you moaning, throwing your head back to rest against Agatha’s shoulder. The witch takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, happily marking whatever clear skin you have left.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Rio mutters almost mockingly, pouting up at you, “Have we been neglecting you that long?” she teases, “You’re soaked, baby,” she observes in awe before sliding through your slit again, gathering your wetness on her fingers. But before she gets a taste, she reaches up. Your mouth opens up instinctively and Rio grins wickedly at your obedience, but she passes by you and instead offers her glistening fingertips to Agatha.

The blue-eyed witch hums in appreciation, flicking her tongue out for a taste. The moan she lets out permanently imprints itself into your head; you’re seemingly addictive enough for her to wrap her lips around Rio’s fingers, eagerly sucking and licking every drop she can. The act itself is enough to have you whimpering and grinding your hips upwards, trying to bring Rio’s attention back to your aching, swollen cunt. That’s all it took, which doesn’t surprise you given the way she’s been looking at you.

“Fuck,” you groan, drawn out and guttural as Rio’s tongue suddenly invades your warm, swiping up your slit to your clit, circling it teasingly, “Please,” you easily beg, trying to pull your hands down to tug at her hair but Agatha’s hands come back to hold your wrists in place.

You can feel the smirk on Rio’s lips against your lower ones, but she doesn’t seem in a teasing mood after getting a taste. No, she looks like she’ll do anything to absolutely devour you and nothing will stand in her way. She circles around your clit once, twice, and then finally presses her tongue flat against it, giving you the perfect surface to roll your hips against.

The pleasure takes over and you grind your hips without a hint of shame, chasing your high. Her tongue is firm and warm against you; Agatha’s fingers suddenly flicking at your nipples only adds to your pleasure. They’re eerily silent as you use Rio’s tongue, wanting to memorise every sound that comes out of your mouth; a high-pitched moan as Agatha pinches your nipples curiously, a whimper as you grind fast enough for the tip of Rio’s tongue to probe at your entrance, a groan as Rio’s hands find their way to your ass to dig her fingers into.

Agatha’s shaky breath behind you makes you wonder if this is also too much for them, if they’re just as affected by you in all of this, if they’re struggling to come to terms with the fact that they can finally have you like this. Just as Rio’s tongue takes back control and slides right past your leaking walls, Agatha attaches her lips back to yours, eagerly swallowing your surprised moan, which only grows louder when you realise you can taste yourself on Agatha’s tongue.

“Look at you, my little dove,” Agatha whispers against your lips, her eyes lidded and voice so incredibly raspy it sends shivers down your arched spine, “Look at you,” she says again, this time breaking your gaze with a hand at your neck, forcing your face down to Rio’s eyes.

Your breath hitches at the intensity in them, the hunger and possessiveness as she looks up at you. When your eyes meet, she growls into your cunt, holding your legs further apart so she can dive her tongue in even deeper. It expertly slithers, twists and turns and curls with precision, as if Rio knows exactly how to drive you to insanity.

It won’t take much longer, you know it, they know it. But it definitely doesn’t matter because they will be nowhere near done with you after you reach your first climax. Rio’s tongue continues thrusting in and out, your wetness clearly coating her nose, her chin, your own thighs. This is what Agatha meant. Look at your mess. It’s beautiful.

You sigh deeply, body relaxing into Agatha’s as you throw your head back again, seeking her lips. She gives them to you with a soft, tender smile, letting you kiss her gently. It’s all surprisingly soft and intimate, the way you exchange quick pecks, your tongues coming out to shyly meet. The way Agatha’s hand strays, coming up to rest tenderly against your cheek. Before you know it, her other hand sneaks down your body and suddenly presses against your throbbing clit. You gasp into her, arching your back as you run up that cliff faster and faster. 

The tension in you coils, your hands finally coming down to grip Rio’s wild locks. Her eyes encourage it, flashing with approval and you tug and tug until she’s moaning between your throbbing walls, the vibrations sending a shiver through you. It doesn’t take a moment longer as Agatha’s fingers rub firmly, her teeth biting down hard into your neck with a growl, a silent statement screaming mine echoing in your head. With a final arch, you freeze, tense and overcome with pleasure. It rushes through you, Rio’s tongue and Agatha’s fingertips not stopping for a single moment to allow you to breathe. A strangled cry escapes as you finally fall off that cliff and all you hear is white noise, all you see is darkness as your eyes shut tight, and all you can feel is them. All over you, all inside you, taking over who you are until they are all you know.

When Rio’s tongue finally slides out, you sigh a strange sound of both happiness and disappointment. You wish for her to stay but you’re also so content with them this way, still in disbelief of what just happened. You wish for it to never end, you think, smiling softly as you lazily blink up at the ceiling.

Agatha hums behind you, laying a soft kiss just below your ear. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” she husks, genuinely checking in, but there’s a hint of impatience beneath the surface as if she’s struggling to wait her turn.

“Amazing,” you sigh, twisting your head around to feel Agatha’s addictive lips against yours again. 

Getting lost in the kiss, you twist around until you’re lying on top of her, deepening the kiss with a passion that wraps around your insides. Agatha kisses you like it’s all she’s ever wanted, but with such tender restraint too. Gentle fingertips trace your jaw, tuck your loose hair behind your ears, and wrap around the back of your neck to keep you close and secure. 

Feeling braver and braver by the second, you risk a wandering hand down the beautiful curve of Agatha’s hip, wrapping around to pull her closer to you. Adjusting yourself, you press a thigh between her legs and she instantly breaks away to gasp; a similar sound escapes your own throat at the heat and wetness you can feel against your skin, even through her nightdress.

“I want to feel you,” you whisper against her lips, unable to resist the urge to kiss them again, and again, until Agatha whines into your mouth, tongue swirling against yours in a beautifully tender dance.

A chuckle from behind interrupts your kiss. “Oh, did you think I was done with you?” Rio rasps, asserting her dominance with a slap to your behind, soothing the wound with a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, God,” you moan at the pain, rolling your hips down against Agatha’s. You can feel Rio’s intense gaze as she watches for a moment, indulging the two of you as you seek pleasure with your grinding hips but find that it’s not enough. Before you can turn over to glimpse the brown-eyed witch, she’s settling in behind you, forcing you back down with a hand to your back. Your breasts press up against Agatha’s through her nightdress, the thin material doing nothing to hide how hard her nipples are.

Rio growls behind you and flicks her fingers, green tendrils coming out to magically remove Agatha’s clothing. A croaky groan echoes in the space as your naked body is finally flush with Agatha’s warmth, the wetness between her legs unmissable now. Rio’s strong hands move you and Agatha as they please, positioning the two of you until you’re straddling her waist.

A strangled, desperate moan suddenly comes from Agatha’s lips, her neck strained as she throws her head back. You frown, wanting to turn back and see what Rio’s doing but her hand remains strong against your back. Whining in frustration, you grind down, whimpering as your clit brushes against Agatha’s wet core. You’re sure you’ve absolutely soaked her trimmed curls by now but she pays no mind to you, completely wrapped up in the pleasure Rio is giving her. 

Then you hear it. A squelching sound as something thrusts in and out of Agatha’s tight heat. It’s as if Rio senses the moment you realise, chuckling low and dark, leaning down to leave teeth marks at the junction of your shoulder.

“She usually likes it when it hurts,” Rio murmurs into your ear, “Hence my wooden creation you saw that night,” she reveals, surprising you, but she continues before you can react, “But this one is leather…Agatha’s just getting it nice and wet for you.”

Agatha groans aloud at the words, her nails finding their way to your back as if you’re Rio atop of her, fucking a leather cock into her. Those nails dig into your shoulders painfully, causing you to hiss, but it quickly mixes with pleasure as Rio’s fingers slide into your slick entrance with unsurprising ease. 

Both you and Agatha moan filthily in unison, Rio groaning at the power she holds as she pistons her hips and fingers into the two of you with precision. There’s barely a moment to breathe, the overstimulation getting to you already. Agatha’s hard nipples brushing against yours, her intoxicating moans and hot breath directly in your ear, Rio’s fingers curling to perfectly brush against the spot inside your walls to drive you to insanity, the way every thrust has your clit rubbing against Agatha’s.

You’re just a few thrusts away from reaching another climax but before you can, Rio’s fingers suddenly disappear. Whining at the loss and pushing your hips back does nothing to temp Rio; she remains firm as she tuts at you, swiping her wet fingers along your skin.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she chuckles again, “So greedy,” she punctuates with a bite to your shoulder again, her eyes gleaming as they meet Agatha’s over your shoulder, “You don’t get to come again, not until Mama does.”

Primal desire takes over you at the phrase, your eyes wide and wanting as they meet Agatha’s as hers flutter open. It’s soft and tender, but also dominant and powerful, especially as her hand creeps up behind your back to pull you down into a rough kiss. All you want to do is make her feel good, you realise, rolling your hips now not to seek your pleasure but to push Agatha over the edge.

“Oh, just like that, little dove,” Agatha whimpers into your lips, sighing deep and low, pressing her forehead to yours, “You’re doing so good,” her nose brushes against yours as you lean down to kiss her quickly. Just a peck, you tell yourself but groan as you push into her again, sliding your tongue across her bottom lip until she lets you in. She hums, playing with your hair, tugging and twisting, gasping and moaning as Rio thrusts harder, faster, angling her hips to push deeper.

“She’s close,” Rio says. You can practically hear the smirk on her lips as she casually swipes her thumb through your slit just to see you jump in pleasure, “Careful, don’t come before Mama,” Rio warns again, this time pushing her thumb in, pressing inside as if she knows exactly what buttons to push. Agatha’s mouth drowns your moans, her tongue curling inside your mouth to taste all of you. Rio doesn’t stop her thrusting, replacing her thumb with two fingers and a third within a minute, filling you until you’re gasping and writhing on top of Agatha.

But you remember Rio’s words, and see how close Agatha is. Her kisses are sloppier, messy and wet, her moans now high-pitched as they escape from those bruised, pouty lips. She sounds just like she did that night, you realise, and the reality of the situation sinks in, sending a thrill through you. Determined to get her to make those sounds and reach her climax, you sit up slightly, the angle putting more pressure against her clit. She groans, her hands sliding to tightly grip your waist.

You moan seductively on top of her, grinding your hips bouncing against her clit and on Rio’s fingers as your own hands wander, tracing meaningless patterns across her stomach. It’s your next action of curiously flicking and pinching her sensitive nipples, paired with your words that send her brutally over the edge. “Wanna make you feel good, Mama,” you whine, throwing your head back as you seek your own pleasure. The grind feels too good. With your slick mixed with Agatha’s, there’s barely any friction but she looks so good, sounds so unbelievably filthy; you could have come just by looking at her unravelling as she does now.

Her body arches beautifully, and you swear if she were a sculpture frozen in time you would believe in no other religion but her. The veins across her neck and on the side of her temple throb as she tenses. You can hear the wet sounds of Rio’s hips refusing to stop her fast pace, thrusting into Agatha’s throbbing hole. The squelching is louder, as if Agatha’s tightening as she comes, and you can’t help but wish it were around your fingers. You wish to feel her, taste her, know it were you that pushed her over the edge. But she finally flutters her eyes back open and they let you know that it was you.

That’s enough for you to shudder, bouncing up and down as you arch your back. Rio’s fingers remain trapped between you and Agatha’s bodies as you use her hand to reach your own climax. It only takes another few seconds before you’re panting and moaning obscenely, grinding against Agatha’s clit to prolong her pleasure. Rio eventually forces your hips to slow, giving you a reassuring kiss on your back as she gently guides you off to lay on the bed by Agatha’s side.

You lay on your stomach, sighing deeply, smiling contentedly as Agatha softly brushes your hair out of your eyes. She grins at you, leaning over to leave a lingering kiss across your temple.

They let you rest for a moment, your eyes fluttering shut in peace, but then you hear a ragged breath followed by a wet sound and have to open your eyes in curiosity. Agatha’s now sat up, back resting against the headboard with Rio on her lap. She’s still wearing the leather cock which you finally get a glimpse of; it’s black, glistening in the candlelight and still somehow dripping with Agatha’s slick. 

The movement beneath it catches your attention and you inhale sharply when you realise Agatha’s hand has slipped beneath the straps holding it in place. She’s rubbing at Rio expertly, her years of experience mapping out Rio’s body making it easy for her to know exactly what the brown-eyed witch needs. Their eyes are locked together in a deep, intense intimacy that has you breathing heavily, a simple observer to the love they hold for each other.

But then you remember what they said that night you saw them in their bedroom. How badly they wanted you, and it seems as if now you’re looking in at a private moment between them, a silent conversation of ‘Finally. Doesn’t it feel amazing? To finally have her?’ It takes less than a minute for Rio’s panting to turn into grunts and guttural moans, her limbs freezing as Agatha’s arm moves faster, the pads of her fingers rubbing circles to push Rio over the edge.

By the time her eyes flutter back open, a soothing satisfaction in them, your legs are pressed against each other in desperate want. You hadn’t realised you’ve been practically humping the bed until their heads turn to you with matching smirks.

“Turn over,” Rio commands and you follow with quick ease, your eyes drawn back down to the intimidating leather piece hanging between her legs. It’s thick, long enough to reach deeper than anyone, any woman’s fingers from your past.

Once you’re on your back, Rio steps off the bed and stands at the foot of it. She grips your ankles and pulls you towards her with ease, smirking in amusement as you squeal and giggle. 

“Oh, this is funny, huh?” she says playfully, spanking the inside of your thigh to earn another squeal, “Are you going to behave for me?” the glare on her face has a layer of intimacy and adoration beneath it, and you cannot miss it, not with her expressive eyes shining brightly at you.

A wide grin spreads across your lips and you bite your lower lip seductively, urging her in. Your legs spread for her, the wetness and slick coating your thighs all over. Rio can barely control herself, clenching her jaw as her hands ball into fists. She wants to tease you, to draw this out, but you’re so inviting, so wet for her, and you’re here, wanting this, and she can finally have you after waiting so long.

“I can’t–I, uh,” Rio stutters for a moment, gulping as her eyes flicker from the mess between your legs to your marked chest and neck, and then your eyes, wild and wide and so free compared to how they were when she first saw you. She did this; they did this. A sense of pride swells in her chest.

You’re shocked seeing her so uncomposed for the first time, so much so that you close your legs and sit up slowly, urging her to come towards you. She does after hesitating for a moment, and she’s suddenly descending to her knees to meet your eyes. Your hand slides up her neck, thumb circling over her jaw as your eyes flicker with affection. Pulling her in, she sighs immediately into the kiss, letting you show her that you want her. It’s soft until it deepens, Rio growling with newfound hunger to devour.

She stands and shoves you back on the bed, tugging your legs again until the leather cock presses against your wet slit. A strangled cry croaks out of you at the simple touch, a warning of what is to come. It’s far more intimidating when you feel it, the head probing at your entrance as it soaks itself in your glistening heat.

“Wait, wait,” you begin to panic, pushing against her chest lightly, “You’re big, I–I don’t know–”

Rio shuts you down with a laugh, leaning down to kiss you reassuringly. “You can take it, sweetheart. I know you can,” she says simply, pressing the head against your entrance again. You moan as you leak around it, “And Mama’s right here to distract you from the pain.”

Your head snaps to the side, remembering Agatha who’s now crawling over to you after catching her breath. Agatha was content watching the two of you, but Rio involving her certainly is a plus for her. She lays by your side, playing with your hair with a reassuring look in her eyes.

“You can take her, little dove,” she whispers, kissing down your jaw to your neck.

Rio uses the opportunity to push the head past your entrance. You immediately hiss at the stretch, arching your back at the invasion but Agatha’s there to soothe the pain with a gentle kiss to your lips, swallowing your sounds. Her hand comes up to grip your chest, squeezing to give you a mix of pleasure, while Rio’s fingertips rub tight circles over your clit.

“Fuck, oh, fuck, please,” you cry out, not sure if you’re begging for her to have mercy on you or push in deeper. But the mix of pleasure quickly takes over, leaving you panting, the stretch now maddening.

Rio pushes in deeper as your eyes lock, a darker look in yours now as the pleasure takes over. “Agatha,” Rio calls out, her lips parted as she stares at you. The blue-eyed witch turns her gaze back to you, her breath hitching at the change in your expression.

“More,” you pant out, demanding it, needing it, craving it. Rio slowly pushes in deeper, panting with you as if she can feel how tight you are against her. You groan deeply at the invasion, at how full you feel and then the realisation that she’s nowhere near done, “God, I need more.”

“I’ll give you everything,” Rio promises, whining as she thrusts deeper, her eyes locked to yours in a hypnotic gaze.

Agatha’s kisses trail down from your neck to your chest, her tongue pressing firmly against your peaked bud; you arch into her mouth with a gasp, your hand coming up to press against her head as your fingers tighten in her wild curls. Agatha’s hand slithers down and slaps Rio’s away, replacing Rio’s fingers with her own. Tight circles around your clit to tease you until you’re writhing, only giving in when you let out that obscene whine that is beginning to become her favourite sound.

Agatha gathers some of your wetness before bringing her fingers back up, brushing them against your lower lips. You open up obediently, breaking your gaze with Rio to look into those darkened blues as you suck Agatha’s fingers into your mouth. You twirl your tongue expertly around them, licking every inch of your slick off of them. Agatha pants at the feeling, suddenly pushing her two fingers deeper until you unexpectedly gag. She smirks at the sound, pulling out to slide them back down for another round but you hold her wrist in place.

“No,” you protest, shaking your head, gasping as Rio thrusts deeper, a reminder of the pleasure waiting for you.

Agatha tilts her head at the slight sign of disobedience. “No?”

“N–” you groan at another push of Rio’s hips, deeper, stretching you more than you’ve ever been stretched before, “No, please, I–I want to taste you.”

Rio pants softly as a silence falls between you and Agatha, the latter’s eyes switching to something territorial, primal, and wicked. Agatha leans forward and you ready yourself for a kiss, but instead her hand rests against the sides of your neck and squeezes until you’re gasping, and she sucks those sounds in as if taking your power. Within seconds, Agatha climbed on top of you, now grinding high up your stomach. She’s leaving her slick behind on your skin, groaning at the pressure against her clit.

“My love,” Rio calls out between her groans, Agatha looking over her shoulder sensually to meet her partner’s eyes, “Face me,” Rio commands, sending a shiver down Agatha’s spine. The blue-eyed beauty gracefully turns over, sliding up slowly until her dripping lips are just over your face. The heady scent immediately makes your head spin with pure hunger, tongue already coming up to try to catch a taste but Agatha pulls up teasingly. Her eyes are locked to Rio’s as she does so, and the brown-eyed witch is fuelled by the action, thrusting her hips forward fast until she’s completely buried deep inside you.

“Fuck, Rio,” you moan her name out, the sound immodest at best. Agatha shuts your moans out quickly by dropping down, finally giving you what you want. The vibrations of your pleasure go straight to her clit and she reaches down to stabilise herself with strong hands to your chest.

“Y/N, darling, yes,” Agatha moans deliciously, rolling her hips against your firm, eager tongue. 

Rio groans at the sight, pulling back just to slam back in, suddenly starting up a rhythm. Your moans get louder by the second, thighs already shaking from the stretch and brutal pace as your walls cling to her cock. She keeps you in place with a strong hold on your hips, pressing down which somehow makes it feel as if she’s thrusting even deeper inside you.

“Let her use you,” Rio pants, and through your narcotic haze of everything Agatha, you realise she’s talking to you, “Until she gets close, and then take control again. She likes to be teased,” Rio guides you through it and you think this is probably the best lesson you’ve ever had with them.

You do as told, keeping your tongue firm for her to grind against, the mix of sweet, salty, and something distinctly Agatha coating your tongue. You swallow eagerly, refusing to let a drop of her sweet nectar go to waste.

“Good, so good, little dove, my good girl,” Agatha pants above you, already losing control as she squeezes your chest in her hands, only adding to your pleasure. Rio pulls your thighs apart, pushing them back as she puts a knee on the bed. You immediately whine at the change of angle, your mind too foggy to think any coherent thought but Agatha and Rio, but you feel it in your stomach, poking, prodding, finding that spot that will push you over the edge over and over again.

Agatha’s thighs tighten around your head and you immediately slide your tongue into her hole for the first time, pleased with the reaction of a drawn-out gasp that catches in her throat. Rio lets out a gasp of her own as she thrusts down into you harder, deep inside to start grinding her hips seeking that pressure of the toy against her clit. Agatha bounces on your tongue, her claws coming out to play as she leaves red streaks on your stomach. You’re not sure where you haven’t been marked yet; if you didn’t think they were possessive after their reaction to the Innkeeper’s daughter, you definitely know it to be a fact now.

“You’re still so tight, baby,” Rio groans, eyes locked to your cunt, “Taking me so well, so pretty, so wet, fuck, tell me it’s for me.”

The sound is muffled by Agatha’s cunt covering your mouth, so she answers for you, gasping as you curl your tongue inside her. “It’s for you,” Agatha pants, Rio’s eyes snapping up to meet hers, “For us,” she says again, desperately clawing her hands forward until they pull at Rio’s hair, tugging so hard the brown-eyed witch moans lewdly at the show of power.

“For you,” Rio pants back, “Us,” she moans, brushing her nose against Agatha’s as she thrusts harder and harder, deeper and deeper until she hits that spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars, and she stays there as you scream into Agatha’s wet lips, tongue pulling just for her to grind her clit against again, “She’s ours.”

It all snapped for you at the same moment. Rio’s words and her thrusting up against that spot inside you sends sparks through you, her thumb coming down to rub quick circles over your clit despite the fact that she’s grinding her own hips down to chase her own high. Agatha and Rio are locked in a kiss as they come with you, Agatha’s movements slippery and manic, desperate and raw. Your entire face must be covered in her slick by now. You’re writhing under them both, clawing at whatever your hands find, hips twisting as the pleasure becomes too much, but Rio doesn’t stop. Her thrusts only curl deeper, her thumb circles faster until you’re falling again, this time able to breathe in a gasp as Agatha sits up.

“That’s it, that’s our good girl,” Agatha pants out, still catching her breath after coming down from her climax. Her hand creeps around your neck, pulling your head up so you can see the maddening look in Rio’s eyes, “Look at what you do to her,” she whispers to you as you both watch Rio’s wide, almost black eyes fixated on your red, swollen cunt. The vulgar sounds of your hips meeting, of your cunt meeting her cock has you whimpering, and it seems your sounds of pleasure fuels her even more. She thrusts harder and faster, fingers bruising your hips, and the pressure builds impossibly fast, “Let go, little dove, you can fly now,” Agatha whispers again, holding onto you tight as you fall.

Your thighs immediately start shaking as the dam breaks. An orange glow emits from you, your Magick coming out uncontrollably. It heightens everything, all your pleasures, Agatha and Rio’s eyes turning orange too, influenced by your power. They gasp as Magick connects all of you together, as if they can feel it as you build and build, finally gushing out against Rio’s cock. The pressure is too much for her to keep thrusting. She has to pull out, her gaze burned into your skin as she looks down, mesmerised at the wetness flowing out of you. She pulls back in again, and out, in, and out, watching in awe until you collapse with a raw moan coming from the deepest depths of your soul.

Your eyes flutter shut in exhaustion, and the last thing you feel is Agatha and Rio all around you, pulling you into a deep embrace.

masterlist + guidelines

VOTE RN IS P*RN W/ PLOT BETTER YES OR NO

[merrinla]

Cut banters in the Ossuary

These lines were cut, though some were replaced.

Not sure, but I think this banter was supposed to be triggered in the elevator.

Rook: So… the wings. Lucanis: They come and go. Bellara: That's not usually how it works. Abominations… stay that way. Harding: That's… nice. Usually it's flesh lumps, goop, and too many teeth. Neve: I've never heard of a demon altering its host temporarily. Lucanis: He doesn't want to be here.

Rook: This would be the way through, if the bridge hadn't collapsed. Lucanis: Maybe it still is. The Veil is weak here. It's making my eyes itch. Lucanis (Spite): It's mine.

Differences in the game

Rook: So your target… Lucanis: Calivan. The warden of the Ossuary. He oversees everything here. Bellara: So, where are we going? Harding: So, where do we find him? Neve: Oversees it from where? Lucanis: He'll be in the most heavily fortified part of the prison. But first, we have to find where they're keeping my blood. I cannot touch Calivan until it's dealt with.

Differences in the game

Rook: Undead. Corpses possessed by demons. Lucanis: Failed experiments. Abominations who did not survive the… process.

Differences in the game

Rook (mage): The Venatori should be able to command the undead they created. Rook: The Venatori created the undead. Shouldn't they be working together? Lucanis: Blood mages lose control of abominations all the time. And these demons never wanted to be here in the first place.

Differences in the game

Banter in battle if the demons killed most of the Venatori.

Rook: They're losing ground to the demons. Lucanis: Good.

Calivan used not only demons and clones in battle, but also Venatori came to his aid while he was protected by the barrier/shield. If the player killed the Venatori before removing the barrier, it buffed Calivan.

Calivan: Venatori, to me! Calivan: Venatori, bind them! Calivan: Venatori, cage this rabble! Calivan: Now, Venatori! Calivan: You are nothing to the Venatori! Calivan: Fool! Their blood only makes me stronger! Lucanis: We need to take out the barrier first!

Bellara: Oh, that shield's a problem! We can't touch him while it's up! Harding: He's shielded! We can't touch him! Neve: Calivan's shield needs to go! Lucanis: I can handle that.

[deadhands69]

*❆ Candy Cane ❆*

MDNI

Loser!Shigaraki x gn Reader

loser!Shigaraki gets a cute Christmas present after you tease him at the tree lighting not explicit, just strongly suggestive

“Didn’t wanna be here,” Tomura Shigaraki’s voice is muffled under the layers of scarf wrapping his face. 

“Oh come on,” you quip, grabbing his arm to pull him along with the group, “you'll live.”

If you were anyone else, he would have fought back. Anyone else and he wouldn't be so nervous, tensing under your touch. 

But you're you. 

So he follows. 

Admittedly, you were finding that you don't really want to be here either. Since when were tree lightings so boring? 

You find yourself standing in front of a dark tree with a long countdown. Listening to the same music you've heard for weeks now, watching the crowd shuffle around you. 

There's not even the thrill of being caught in public, when you're all so bundled up no one could possibly recognize you.  You've accepted that the evening peaked when you all bought hot chocolate and candy canes. Now, you just have to get through it.

“Who's idea was this anyways,” you ask from under the balaclava covering your face, “to show up this early?”

“If you don't show up early, you don't get a good spot,” Spinner asserts. “Plus, not everyone here has done something like this. It'll be a better experience for them.”

He's right, you think to yourself. Suck it up for them. Toga and Dabi both had such limited childhoods it’s hard to deny them these fun new experiences. There's probably still some magic left in Christmas, for Toga at least. You doubt Dabi cares too much. 

Shigaraki groans next to you. He still looks grouchy. Hands stuffed under his arms for warmth, closing himself off from the world. You know he's probably never been to anything like this either but you can't imagine it means anything to him. Holidays never do, yet even he showed up for everyone else. 

Maybe you should reward that and make this a little fun for yourself. He's cute, in a bumbling way, and teasing him had become your biggest hobby lately. 

Shuffling slightly to your right, you lean into his arm. He assumes it's a mistake. That you've accidentally bumped into him because what else could it be? He steps to the side, giving you some space that you immediately fill again. Eyes staring into his, half pouting.

There are at least eight layers of clothing between the two of you, but that doesn't matter to him. Your sleeve is touching his. 

You're close. 

On purpose.

The countdown hits a minute and the crowd begins to shift their attention forward. Well, everyone but Tomura. 

His eyes are locked on you. Breathing, forced to appear regular but you know he's an absolute mess in his head. 

Through the two thick layers of pants he's wearing, you can still see a bulge beginning to form. 

This is too good. 

Leaning in even closer, you whisper in a voice you know only he can hear. “Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

It's cheesy, absolutely. You know that. But it does the job, his face glowing more red than the lights that just filled the tree in front of you. 

Upon returning to the LOV headquarters, the group is determined to keep the party going. Bottles of champagne and sparkling cider are being popped. Jackets are strewn across the chairs and table while everyone peels off their outer layers. 

Tomura wanders down the hall, not pausing for a second. He'll come back to the celebration but you know that first he needs to tend to the raging boner you gave him just by standing too close. 

You follow him. Something about his demeanor struck a nerve in you. After months of this, you can't deny that watching someone so powerful become so pathetic doesn't do anything for you. Especially when you're the reason for it. 

No one notices as you run down the hallway around the corner, catching him just before he disappears to his room. As he turns to see who came after him, you shove him into the wall with a thud. 

“That's dangerous. Sneaking up on me. I could have touched you, you know.” 

“Tomura, you have three layers of gloves on. What were you going to do?” you laugh. 

Reaching towards his face, you begin to unwrap his scarf. 

“What are you doing?” he barely whispers, the tent in his pants becoming increasingly obvious. 

“Just because it's Christmas,” you answer, making him wait for what that means while you pull the last layer of scarf from his face. 

“...and just because you get so cute when you're flustered…” you trail off, bringing your face closer. One of your hands cups his jaw while the other runs through his unruly hair. You can feel his breath on your skin before your lips connect with his. 

His lips are sweet and sticky with peppermint. He's obviously never kissed anyone before, moving clumsily but still returning the kiss more than you expected him to. 

In something between a groan and a whimper, he bites your lip. Gasping for air while he clutches your shoulders for support. 

“I… sorry,” he mumbles before turning to lock himself in his room in embarrassment. 

Merry Christmas to you too. 

m.list

I love canon Shig but there's something so fun about someone so powerful absolutely losing their shit over you sooo I'm gonna keep writing these

[dilftaroooo]

hello hello helloooo. this is a continuation of my gym bro gojo imagine. You search through gojo’s hamper and fap to his dirty briefs eeeww. the events aren't in chronological order, just the reader's horny experiences

tags: minors dni + gn!reader + reader's sex is unspecified + graphic blowjob + very uhhh testicle-centric ig + satoru rides ur face + oral sex + sex scenes are just fantasies (not real) + perverted reader again + underwear sniffing + scent kink.

You never thought you’d swoop this low. It was beyond an invasion of privacy; crossing the morality border and arriving in the field of degeneracy. Resting in the palm between clammy digits lay a pair of gray briefs -- your roommate's briefs -- Satoru's briefs. You found it by thoroughly searching his hamper, hiding underneath the pile of graphic tees and wifebeaters (don't ask why you were sifting through his dirty clothes in the first place). It's riddled in his potent musk meaning it's been there for a good minute and the scent only reinforced your presumption.

Your flesh crawls under the gusts of wind blowing from his ceiling fan, initiating your blooming wariness as you stand in the middle of his room. You glance to your left at the open door of Satoru's room.

Gojo had left temporarily to pick up some snacks (most likely an abundance of goodies tainted with added sugars and grease). He wouldn’t know what you took from him. How long would it take for someone to find out their briefs were gone? Undergarments are the last thing people think to go missing, right? No. You shouldn't keep them. That would be too over the top.

You decide to sit at the edge of his bed as you fight with yourself internally, staring at the piece of cloth -- cloth made for the most intimate part of the human body. It conceals his groin, from the leaky tip of his mushroom head to his hanging balls. Your mind wanders to something more lascivious as you inquire if he still keeps his pubes. You can imagine him keeping his happy trail, trimming it up a bit, just to keep minds fresh with lust as they look at silver strands of hair starting below his cute belly button and ending beneath the hem of his sweatpants.

Though, you believe the hairs on his balls would be gone for his hookups to gargle on them. He'd be aware of how uncomfortable the hairs would be down their throats. The pleasure would be mutual since he'd be able to feel their wet tongue directly lick the loose skin of his sack. The tendons of his legs would tighten and his toes would clench the floor underneath him as he attempts to keep his groans at bay.

It would be hard for him, undoubtedly so. The wet swell of the appendage would skillfully cup his testicles, sucking in their cheeks and releasing with a degenerate 'pop'. You can envision him tilting his head back to look at the dim ceiling, growling out a shakey 'fuuuck' as he grips the scalp of his fervid hookup -- bobbing their head and relishing in the struggled intakes of air.

You struggle for your own breath as Satoru's room starts to get humid. Materialized images of your hot roommate's sex life plague your head. You were completely unaware of the hand that found itself touching the fabric that barricades your genitals. Fingers grope you in mannerisms you only know; familiar flicks, strokes, and taps composed in patterns you could only produce. A question arises within you: When did you start touching yourself?

Satoru's dirty briefs find solace beneath your nostrils, the crotch region burrowed deep in your face. It was tainted in sweat. It stunk. It stunk with Satoru's smell. However, humiliation was nothing but a distant stranger as it remained near your nose and your fingers continued to dance along that spot that made you writhe.

Another fantasy covered with unapologetic libido haunts you again as Satoru hovers over the apex of your face. Nearly sitting on your collarbones, the base of his cock drifts along the tip of your nose and you juggle his balls with your tongue, the frantic piece of muscle excitingly glides around him, sucking out an unrestrained moan from him. He'd put one hand on his headboard while the other finds purchase on your cheek -- the bulging vein that crawls along his index finger fills your peripherals.

"Look at you, a good little thing taking my balls down your mouth. This is what you've been wanting for a while, huh?" is what he'd say between quivering lips.

His stamina was of a revved-up motor, grinding on your face with sloppy thrusts in search of climax. He'd want you to come with him too, of course -- ordering you to keep pleasuring your filthy fucking sex as he humps your nose like a sly dog. You'd dig the nails of your left hand in his perk ass and he'd clench them in response. You know you'd come for him. You were just as close as he was once you felt his quads shiver near the shell of your ear.

His cock tip would leak precum and your genitals would begin pulsing to the beat of Satoru's thrusts. His sweat glands would open up, seeping out his natural, potent odor. It's bliss for you as you deeply inhale its chemicals like it's gasoline. Sniffing in the toxic fumes for its scent is addictive.

The mere sight of him riding your face as though he's in heat, his must that taints the room, his clenched jawline as he feels himself close to ejaculating; it was all enough to make you cum. And he'd follow suit.

The ropes of semen shoot in the locs of your hair, gluing the strands together. He'd love how it'd decorate you. Like a fucked up Christmas tree. His smile would shine brightly before his form would disintegrate, fading away into atoms.

You'd blink once. Then twice -- man. You finally find the gall to sit up from his bed, making sure there are no bodily fluids left on his sheets before walking up to his hamper. Sinister, opaque clouds slowly start to invade his room, progressively making their way over your head as shame pours over you. How could you do such a thing in HIS own room? A long disappointed sigh sneaks out of your lungs. You'd continue to mope in your room before he catches you standing in his room, caught red-handed.

You were about to throw his briefs on top of the dirty pile of clothes until you saw something peculiar. Bending over to pick up a piece of cloth, you inspect it.

Its red hue was obnoxious and its style was unfitting for Satoru's stature -- or rather his style in general. You rotate the undergarment to find out that it's unexpectedly in your size. You and Satoru weren't even remotely close in size either. He's a big man with big muscles and you're not even in that caliber of staggering height and bulging veins.

You squint at the cloth, deep in thought. Where could these come from? It felt like ages until your eyes widened at a distant memory of laundry day and a feeling of something being missing as you folded each of your clothes to be put away.

Satoru took your underwear?!

[stellarsecrets86]

Neptune in the Houses of the Groom Persona Chart

Other posts you might like:

Masterlist

[In the chart of the groom, Neptune reflects his idealistic nature, romantic fantasies, and his emotional and spiritual connection to his partner.

The house placement of Neptune will show where he feels inspired and drawn to create a dream-like experience in his life, and also where he may feel confused or disillusioned and needs grounding and clarity from his partner.]

(PS: For entertainment purposes only. Have fun 💚)

1st House

Neptune in the 1st house makes the groom dreamy and charismatic. With much sensitivity, he often senses events intuitively. He can be very romantic, almost ethereal, in marriage, but he may also have problems setting boundaries or expressing what he needs since he might be lost in his partner's wishes. His ideal spouse will appreciate his sensitivity while keeping his feet on the ground. This placement suggests a groom who looks upon marriage as a union of the soul, but he should beware of idealizing his partner.

2nd House

Neptune in the 2nd house, the groom's values and attitude toward material security are tinged with his idealism. He may look to spiritual or emotional riches rather than worldly goods, often valuing what pays in meaning rather than profit. He looks for a partner in relationships who shares his values and understands his unconventional approach towards money. This makes him generous and altruistic at the same time, but maybe a little confused or impractical when it comes to dealing with resources. The partner should balance his dreams with financial stability so that their common goals are realistic.

3rd House

Neptune in the 3rd house indicates that the groom has a poetic and intuitive way of communicating. He shares his deep connection with his partner through meaningful conversations and shared dreams. His thoughts are always flowing with creativity, and he may have a peculiar way of expressing love. His idealism can sometimes bring about misunderstandings or failure to address practical matters. His spouse should encourage clarity while appreciating his imaginative nature. This placement often reveals the groom who looks toward marriage as a meeting of minds and souls, with emotional and intellectual harmony being strong factors.

4th House

This placement reveals the type of groom who seeks his emotional and spiritual fulfillment through home life. He is very connected with his family and might be idealistic about domestic bliss. In married life, he aims to establish an environment that is caring and serene, being mostly supportive to his partner emotionally. The only problem could be when his idealism meets a reality that does not fulfill his dreams; his partner should help him strike a balance by offering practical solutions. Generally, this placement indicates that the groom seeks spiritual development and emotional healing through his family life.

5th House

Neptune in the 5th house suggests a groom who approaches romance and creativity with an ethereal touch. He is deeply romantic and seeks a partner who inspires his imagination and artistic side. In relationships, he is drawn to grand gestures of love and thrives on emotional and creative intimacy. However, his idealism might sometimes overshadow reality, leading to unrealistic expectations. His spouse needs to inspire him to channel his imagination into some practical pursuit with a practical vision. Generally, this position denotes a bridegroom for whom marriage is an inspirational source and mutual passion.

6th House

The bridegroom is tenderhearted and usually seeks meaning in being of service to others. Neptune in the 6th house suggests that he approaches marriage with a certain level of selflessness and concern for the well-being of his partner. This, however, can make him idealize his role and perhaps overwork or forget his own needs. His spouse should, in turn, help balance his serving nature with taking care of his needs. This placement also suggests his spiritual growth may come through daily routines and acts of kindness, making his marriage a partnership rooted in mutual support and shared values.

7th House

Neptune in the 7th house reflects the bridegroom who feels marriage is a spiritual companionship. He will look ahead to a soulmate with whom he will share mental and spiritual compatibility, almost completely forgetting the worldly compulsions. While this factor makes him really loving and sensitive, it also causes disillusion in case his bride fails to meet his idealistic expectation. His spouse should make it a point to be openly communicative and facilitate him to take the actual realities of the relationship for acceptance. This placement often shows a groom who is a very romantic person but needs to balance his dreams with the realistic viewpoints of partnership.

8th House

The marriage will be with someone intensely emotional and spiritual, an individual craving transformative experiences that see his relationship as one in which growth and healing mutually occur. While his intuition and empathy make him a deeply loving partner, his tendency to idealize emotional connections might lead to unrealistic expectations. His spouse should encourage honest communication to ensure their bond remains grounded. This placement often indicates a groom who experiences profound spiritual growth through his marriage, learning to balance vulnerability with emotional strength.

9th House

Neptune in the 9th house indicates a groom who seeks a partner who shares his love for spirituality, exploration, and higher learning. He is drawn to philosophical discussions and dreams of traveling the world with his spouse. While his idealism inspires him to pursue meaningful experiences, it might also lead to restlessness or disillusionment if his expectations aren’t met. His partner should feed his sense of adventure yet help him come back to the shared reality. This placement promises a marriage of exploration and spiritual growth together.

10th House

Neptune in the 10th house means that the groom identifies his marriage with his public image and life goals. He searches for a partner to inspire him and share his dream for the future. While his idealism inspires him to great achievement, he may often be cloudy as to how to direct his efforts. His wife can help him to apply his vision to concrete, constructive ends. This placement frequently produces a groom who considers his marriage as an equal partnership in building a lifelong legacy of accomplishment, and a very goal-oriented marriage, inspiring each other.

11th House

The groom is deeply connected to his ideals and social networks, often seeking a partner who shares his vision for a better world. Neptune in the 11th house would suggest that he sees marriage as a union of shared dreams and aspirations. Idealism inspires him, yet it may sometimes create unrealistic expectations of his partner or social circles. His wife will encourage open communication and help balance his dreams with reality. This placement often indicates a groom whose marriage plays a central role in shaping his social contributions and shared goals.

12th House

Neptune in the 12th house suggests a groom of great emotional depth and spiritual insight. He seeks a partner who understands his introspective nature and helps him navigate his inner world. Marriage can bring to the surface many of the hidden fears and desires, thus fostering growth and healing within a person. While he is deeply empathetic and intuitive, he might struggle with expressing his emotions openly. His partner should provide a safe space for vulnerability and encourage self-discovery. This placement often reveals a karmic marriage, where important lessons to be learned are forgiveness, trust, and spiritual change.

[daryltwdixon]

Teach You II

Daryl Dixon x Reader

warnings: smut

word count: 5.4k it's uhhhh a lot longer than the first part

summary: a continuation of part I: daryl has 0 game, 0 experience, and is eager to please. oral (both receiving) still foreplay only. reader is gentle with Daryl.

notes: back from my writing hiatus to give you a little somethin' special.

“Come with me.”

The room is quiet, the air thick with heavy breathing but undeniably warm. Daryl’s chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, his skin still tingling from the intensity of their last kiss. He’s never felt anything like it before—never let himself feel anything like it before—and now, as she pulls back slightly, her face flushed and open, he wonders how he’s even still breathing.

He watches her for a moment, his heart thundering in his chest as he nods. The flickering candlelight catches the sheen of her skin, the rise and fall of her shoulders, and he can’t stop staring. When she reaches for him, her fingers lacing with his, the simple touch sends a jolt of warmth straight through him.

She doesn’t bother pulling her shirt back on as she takes him through the house and eventually toward the bed, her movements unhurried, deliberate. He watches the curve of her back, the gentle dips of her hips as she leads him into her bedroom, where the candlelight casts a soft glow over the walls. The space feels like her—calm, unpretentious, and more inviting than any place he’s ever been. The scent of her lingers in the air, and he wonders if she knows just how intoxicating it is.

She turns to him, her hands sliding up under his shirt, up the planes of his chest. The soft caress of her hands over the coarse hair of his chest leaves goosebumps along his skin.

“Is this okay?” she asks, her voice low and steady, like she’s offering him an escape if he needs it.

His breath hitches. It’s not just okay—it’s everything. Still, his words come out clumsy. “Yeah. It’s… yeah.”

As her hands lower, fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt, Daryl feels his breath hitch. His heart thuds loud in his chest, and his thoughts start racing. The scars. They’re all he can think about now, the pale, crisscrossing reminders of a past he’s tried to bury.

His first instinct is to stop her, to pull back and keep those parts of himself hidden where they belong. He’s spent years keeping people at arm’s length, guarding the worst pieces of himself, and the thought of her seeing them now—seeing all the damage—it claws at the edges of his resolve.

But then, her touch pulls him back to the present. To the here and now. Her fingers don’t rush; they’re slow, deliberate, full of a gentleness he’s still learning to trust. He looks at her, at the way her eyes search his for any sign of hesitation, and something in him shifts.

More than anything, he wants to feel her. Every inch of her. The soft peaks of her breasts against his chest, the warmth of her arms wrapped around his middle. He wants to let her in, to feel what it’s like to be vulnerable in a way that doesn’t tear him apart.

For her—for this moment here and now—he would.

He exhales shakily, nodding slightly as if giving her permission without words.

“You okay?” she murmurs, her voice soft and steady as her hands linger at the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah,” he says, though his voice wavers. He clears his throat, his hands sliding over hers to still them for a moment. But despite the anxiety, despite his uncertainty, he nods. He wants this. More than anything.

Her lips quirk in a soft smile, and she leans even closer. “Let’s take it slow, okay?” she reassures, “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

When he shakily exhales with another nod, she carefully eases the fabric upward, revealing the hard planes of his stomach first. His skin jumps under her touch, his muscles taut, but he doesn’t stop her. When the shirt clears his chest and flits over his head, his instinct is to curl in, to shield himself from her gaze, but he doesn’t. He forces himself to meet her eyes.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stare. Her expression doesn’t shift into pity or disgust like he feared it might. Instead, her fingers brush lightly over his chest, tracing the lines of old scars with reverence, like she’s trying to memorize him.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion.

His chest tightens at the tenderness in her, like she’s peeling away all the walls he’s spent years building. “You… you ain’t gotta do all this, y’know,” he mutters, his voice rough.

“I want to,” she says simply, her fingers soft along his bare shoulders now, “I want you, Daryl. Just as you are.”

The word seep into him, sliding deep into the cracks of his heart, where he never thought a person could reach. His lips part, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know how to tell her what those words mean to him—that he’s never heard anything like them in his life.

When she kisses him again, slow and deliberate, it feels like she’s giving him a chance to breathe. His hands find her waist instinctively, trembling against her warmth, but for the first time, he doesn’t pull back. He lets himself feel it.

The sensation of her bare chest against his overwhelming in a way he wasn’t expecting, every nerve in his body alight. He feels her heart beating against his, steady and strong, and it grounds him even as it sends a rush of adrenaline through his veins. Her skin against his is like fire and silk, all at once. He can’t stop the shudder that runs through him when her chest shifts against his, her breath mingling with his as her hands move to cradle his face. It’s so intimate, so raw, that it takes his breath away, and all he can think is that nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing has ever felt this right.

Their tongues slide against each other now with a growing ease, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. Daryl loses himself in the rhythm of it—a soft push and pull, each movement teasing and tender, punctuated by the faint, electric graze of teeth. He doesn’t mean to, not really, but when his teeth catch her bottom lip, just barely nibbling, the sound she makes—sharp and breathless—lights something molten in his gut.

Her gasp breaks against his mouth, and his hands tighten instinctively on her waist. “Was that okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and shaky, his lips brushing hers as he speaks.

“More than okay,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering open. Her cheeks are flushed, her pupils wide, and he can’t help but stare, trying to etch the image of her into his memory. “That was… really good.”

Something in him twists—pride, maybe. He doesn’t feel it often, but the way she looks at him, the way she shivers between his hands, makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he’s doing something right.

“You’re full of surprises, Dixon,” she teases softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. 

A quiet chuckle rumbles in his chest, surprising even him. Then, she guides him backward, her touch so gentle it makes his skin prickle with awareness. When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, he freezes, panic flickering in his chest. But she’s there, grounding him with her hands on his arms, her voice a soft murmur.

“It’s just me,” she says, her eyes holding his, “You’re alright,”

She catches his chin again, drawing him back to her, her fingers brushing tenderly along the scruff of his jaw. “Don’t stop,” she whispers, her voice laced with a mix of want and encouragement. 

The words send another surge of heat through him, his skin buzzing where she touches him. He finally sits back, with her following, and he leans in again, his lips finding hers with more confidence this time. Their mouths move together, building a rhythm that feels as natural as breathing. As she sits on her knees between his legs, her fingers tug gently at his hair, the feeling of her nails causing a low groan in his throat, and she answers with a soft, breathy sound that sends his pulse racing.

“I want to show you something,” she says, her voice quiet but full of intent.

As she pulls back slightly, his eyes fall to her face, and he feels his breath catch. The bright flush of her skin—warm and glowing—paints her cheeks, her neck, and deeper still, crimson splotches blooming across her clavicle. It’s breathtaking, and he’s completely transfixed by it.

Her hands drop from his chest to rest on his knees, palms gently massaging the muscles along his thighs in slow, soothing motions. The air around him feels thinner as her hands shift slightly higher, moving inch by inch toward his lap but still keeping a respectful distance from the ache that’s grown there once again. His heart thuds heavily in his chest, his nerves and desire tangling together in an electrifying mess.

“Let’s get these off of you,” she whispers, her fingers pinching the denim clinging to his thighs.

He hadn’t realized it in the heat of the moment, but the earlier debacle in his briefs had gone from wet and sticky to dry and tacky, leaving him desperate to shed the discomfort. Embarrassment flashes hot in his chest as the thought of taking them off in front of her settles in his mind. She sees his hesitation, and coos gently, reassuring with softness in her voice, and tenderness in her touch. Together, they work to shed his jeans, the rough fabric slipping from his legs with her help. His briefs follow soon after, discarded onto the floor and forgotten.

The freedom of the warm air makes Daryl sigh in relief, though his nerves spark alive again as he watches her intently, searching for any sign of trepidation or uncertainty in her expression. No one has ever seen him like this—laid bare, vulnerable, and so… needy. His cock stands hard and flushed against his stomach, the tip red and eager for attention, but his gaze stays locked on her face, waiting for a reaction.

Her eyes widen slightly as she takes him in, her lips parting in what looks like awe. He holds his breath, unsure what it could mean, but before his mind has the chance to spiral, her gaze lifts to his again.

A fresh wave of blush paints her cheeks and neck, scarlet creeping up as her eyes meet his, and it’s so breathtaking that it steals his breath all over again.

She leans in, her small hand wrapping around him with a gentleness that has his head falling back, his breath choking in his throat.

Her hand is soft, impossibly so, her touch smooth and steady as it slides along his length. The feeling is so overwhelming that it nearly knocks him flat. Even through the grit of the apocalypse, her hands are silk against the hardness of him.

“Daryl,” she breathes, her voice like a caress as she leans closer. Her hand moves with excruciating care, testing, learning, and every brush of her fingers sends sparks shooting down his spine, pooling heat in his belly.

His eyes flutter closed, his breath ragged as he tries to focus, but then—suddenly—he feels something else. A warm breath against him.

His eyes snap open, wide and disbelieving, just as he feels it: hot, wet, incredible lips wrapping around the sensitive tip of his cock. His entire body jerks at the sensation, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat as if his lungs have forgotten how to work. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, his hands gripping uselessly at the bedspread, trembling with restraint as every nerve in his body seems to spark to life.

She doesn’t move at first, holding him there in her mouth, letting him adjust to the new, overwhelming sensation. It’s as though she knows how much he needs this moment, to gather himself, to breathe. Why would she do this? Why would she want to serve him like this, so beautifully, so selflessly? He can barely fathom it, barely believe this is real, and not some dream he’ll wake from, empty and aching. He’ll never take it for granted, never forget this moment for as long as he lives.

His breath stutters, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves, “Holy shit,” his voice full of awe, his fingers curling deeper into the bed beneath him.

She hums softly around him at his words, the vibration sending a shockwave through his body that makes him groan, low and desperate. Slowly, achingly slow, she takes him deeper into her mouth. His breath hitches, his hands twitching at his sides as he watches her, utterly transfixed.

The thickness of him stretches her mouth wide, her jaw looking like it nearly unhinges as she pushes him further in, her lips sliding down the shaft with deliberate care. When the tip hits the soft, warm walls of the back of her throat, his entire body trembles, a broken moan escaping him before he can stop it.

“Y/N,” he gasps, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. His hands suddenly lift to hover above her, unsure, desperate to touch her but afraid to break the moment.

She pulls back, her lips slick and glistening, and looks up at him through her lashes. Her eyes are warm, inviting, and he swears he’s never seen anything as beautiful in his life. Gently, she lifts herself off of him for a moment, though her hands stay wrapped around the base of his cock.

“You’re doing so good,” she murmurs, her voice full of praise and affection, “Put your hands in my hair, show me what you want, Dare.”

His heart skips at the sound of his name on her lips like that, soft and coaxing, full of trust. His hands hover in the air for a moment, trembling, as though he’s unsure if he’s allowed to take what she’s offering. But the way she looks at him—her eyes warm, encouraging—gives him the courage to move. She leans back in, hand sliding up to meet her lips again, stroking him gently as she waits for him.

Slowly, his fingers thread into her hair, strands sliding between his calloused fingertips. He’s gentle at first, testing, his grip hesitant as he tangles his hands deeper into her hair. It feels surreal—too good, too much—but she hums her approval, the vibration sending another jolt through his body that makes his hips shift instinctively. She starts again, taking him deeper and picking up the pace this time, her tongue swirling around the head before sliding down his length in a way that makes his whole body tense with pleasure.

“Jesus,” he chokes out, his voice raw, his fingers tightening in her hair without meaning to. He starts to pull back, afraid he’s being too rough, but she makes a soft, pleased sound and moves her head forward, taking more of him.

The wet heat of her mouth surrounds him, and he can feel the deliberate care in every movement. Her hand works in tandem with her lips, stroking him in perfect rhythm, and all he can do is hold on, his chest heaving as she drives him higher and higher.

“You feel so good,” she whispers, pulling back just enough to speak, her lips brushing against his head with every word. “Don’t hold back, Daryl. I want all of you.”

Her words undo him, and the next time his cock hits the back of her throat, it sends a wave of desperate need crashing over him that leaves him trembling beneath her. His hips buck despite himself, and she meets his movements with ease, her lips stretching around him. 

The sounds that escape him are raw and unrestrained—a mix of whimpers and low, guttural groans that fill the air around them as he cums. He can’t help it, can’t hold back the shaky, desperate noises that tumble from his throat as she works him over with her mouth and hand. Each movement of her tongue elicits another broken moan, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

“God,” he gasps, his voice cracking as a strangled whimper slips out, followed by a low, drawn-out groan that vibrates deep in his chest. He tries to stifle it, biting down on his bottom lip, but another sharp cry tears free when her tongue presses flat against the sensitive underside of him, milking every last drop from him as she moans with fervor.

His fingers tighten in her hair, not pulling but gripping like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality. The noises keep coming—soft, needy breaths mingled with shaky groans and whispered curses, each one raw and involuntary, spilling out of him without thought. His chest heaves, his body trembling beneath her as he rides the waves of his release.

When her lips finally slide away, his eyes flutter open, the haze of pleasure leaving him dazed and breathless. He watches her, transfixed, as she wipes the spit from the corner of her mouth with a slow, deliberate motion. Her tongue swipes along her top lip, catching the lingering taste of him, and the sight makes his cock twitch, a mix of overstimulation and desperate loss tightening low in his belly.

His gaze locks with hers, and the look in her hooded eyes mirrors his own—heat, awe, and something deeper that neither of them dares to name. 

The room is quiet now, save for their shared breaths slowly evening out. Daryl watches her with wide, glassy eyes as she shifts back to sit on her heels, her movements graceful and unhurried. Her touch is soft, almost reverent, as she trails her fingers along his thighs before leaning over him to press a tender kiss to his lips. It’s slow and gentle, nothing like the fire they just shared, but it makes his chest tighten all the same.

She begins to stand and tugs at his arm, coaxing him to move, and he lets her guide him like he has since the start. She helps him ease back onto the bed, pulling the covers loose and gesturing for him to crawl beneath them. He feels awkward and out of place, the aftershocks of what just happened still sparking in his nerves, but the way she looks at him—warm, steady, so damn sure—makes it impossible to refuse.

Sliding in beside him, she nestles close, her body fitting seamlessly against his. The heat of her skin against his own feels like nothing he’s ever known, and his arms instinctively wrap around her, holding her close. He’s stiff at first, uncertain, but the steady rise and fall of her breathing against his chest calms him, slowly easing the tension from his limbs.

Her hand drifts lazily over his stomach, her fingers tracing the lines of his scars in a way that feels more like a silent promise than a question. His fingers twitch where they rest on her back, unsure of what to do, but when she shifts even closer, pressing her nose against the crook of his neck, he lets himself relax into her touch.

The quiet feels different now. It’s not heavy or awkward—it’s warm, safe. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the sensation of her fill him completely. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, but his heart slows, steadying against the soft weight of her head on his chest.

But the thoughts creeping into his mind refuse to leave him alone. The memory of her—on her knees, lips wrapped around him, giving so selflessly—sends a mix of gratitude and longing coursing through him. He swallows hard, his breath hitching slightly as the question forms at the edges of his mind.

His hand tightens on her back, just enough for her to notice, and she shifts slightly, looking up at him. He can feel the heat crawling up his neck, spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his voice.

“Can I…” His words trail off, rough and barely audible. He can’t bring himself to meet her eyes, his throat tightening with nerves.

She waits, her expression patient and kind, her hand still tracing light, soothing patterns on his stomach. The steady rhythm of her touch is the only thing keeping him in place as he struggles to force the words out.

He clears his throat, revising his previous start. “Will you show me,” he whispers, the words so soft they almost don’t make it out. His heart pounds, each beat rattling against his ribs. “Show me how to…”

Her lips curl into a small, knowing smile, her head tilting slightly as she looks at him. He can tell—she knows what he means. Of course she knows. But she doesn’t let him off easily, her eyes glimmering with playful intent.

“I want to make you feel good,” he blurts out, the words tumbling out in a rush, his voice rough and raw with vulnerability.

Her smile widens, warm and teasing all at once. “You do, huh?” she murmurs, her hand pausing on his stomach, her fingers curling lightly against his skin. “What do you want me to show you, Daryl?”

Heat floods his face, spreading down his neck and chest as he glances away, his hand flexing where it rests on her hip. “You know what I mean,” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse.

Her laughter is soft and melodic, her fingers drifting up to brush against his jaw, coaxing him to look at her again. “I do,” she admits, her voice dropping to a tender whisper. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

His eyes find hers then, and for a moment, he just stares, taking her in. The way her smile lights up her face, the way her gaze is steady and sure, like she has all the time in the world for him. It’s disarming, leaving him with a warmth blooming in his chest that he doesn’t know how to describe.

He can’t fight down the grin that spreads across his face, his mouth twisting as his eyes crinkle at the corners. Emboldened by her openness, her patience, he finally lets the words spill out, low and rough, “Wanna taste you. Let me.”

A brand new flush paints her cheeks, the pink spreading down to her neck and chest as she nods, her voice soft but sure. “Yeah, alright.”

“Dunno—” he starts, squirming a little where he sits, nerves creeping in again, but she stops him before he can spiral. Her hands cup his jaw, warm and steady, grounding him instantly.

“It’s alright,” she whispers, her thumbs brushing gently along his cheekbones as she tilts his face to meet hers. Her lips hover close, brushing against his in the faintest of kisses. “Remember how we kissed?”

He nods, swallowing hard, though he doesn’t lean into the closeness this time, waiting for her to go on.

“Kiss me,” she murmurs, her voice low and inviting, her gaze holding his with unshakable trust. “Down there. Just the same.”

The words send a shiver through him, equal parts anticipation and awe. He exhales shakily, moving his body to hover over her. She hums to herself, the warmth of him on her a welcome touch. 

His lips meet the bare skin of her chest first, pressing soft, reverent kisses along the curve of her breast before trailing lower. His movements are deliberate, his lips peppering gentle pecks down her stomach, lingering just enough to feel her shiver beneath him. When he reaches the waistband of her shorts, he pauses, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His hands rest lightly on the fabric, already loosened from earlier, but he doesn’t move further. Daryl is nothing if not careful. He needs to be sure she wants this just as much, needs to see it in her eyes before he lets himself go any further.

Her smile widens, her cheeks flushed, and she nods softly, her hips shifting up in quiet encouragement. He takes her silent permission, his hands steady as he slips her shorts down her legs. The fabric pools on the floor beside the bed, forgotten, his attention entirely on her as she opens her legs for him.

Glistening, wet and welcoming, his eyes look at her center. It’s like some sort of innate human instinct to want to bury himself between her legs. He forces himself to go slow, his hands moving almost on their own to slide along her thighs, his touch careful and deliberate as he shifts down the bed. The warmth of her skin beneath his palms steadies him, guiding him as he settles between her legs.

Her breathing deepens, her chest rising and falling as his lips brush softly against the inside of her knee. The first kiss is tentative, testing, but when she lets out a quiet sigh, her fingers threading into his hair, it’s like every hesitation in him melts away.

He kisses her again, further up this time, his lips grazing over her sensitive skin. Each press of his mouth grows bolder, his confidence building with every soft sound she makes above him. Her thighs tremble slightly under his hands, and the sensation sends a thrill through him, igniting a need to keep going, to keep making her feel this way.

When his lips finally find her, the heat of her, he swears the world stops. His breath catches as he pauses, letting himself take it in—the softness of her, the warmth, the way her body seems to move toward him instinctively.

“That’s it, Dare. Kiss me there,” she says again. So he does, his lips pressing against her pussy with the same care he gave her mouth, slow and deliberate, learning her like he’s memorizing every inch.

Her gasp is soft, a mix of surprise and pleasure, and it drives him on, his tongue darting out to taste her for the first time. The sound both of them make in response—her low, breathy sigh, his guttural groan—is enough to send a spark of pride and awe coursing through him, his hands tightening slightly on her thighs as he settles in to show her just how much he wants this.

Her moans are soft, delicate at first, but as his tongue glides against her, teasing and testing, they grow richer, her body responding instinctively to his every movement. The sounds she makes—half sighs, half gasps—wrap around him, filling the room with something intimate and electric.

His hands remain firm on her thighs, grounding him as he works to memorize the way she feels, the way she tastes. Every motion is deliberate, his lips and tongue tracing her with a quiet intensity that feels more like devotion than anything else. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t push too hard, letting her body guide him as he explores this uncharted territory.

Her fingers thread deeper into his hair, tugging lightly when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, and the quiet, breathless “Oh, Daryl,” that follows makes his head spin. His chest tightens, and a groan rumbles low in his throat, vibrating against her in a way that makes her hips shift toward him, seeking more.

She’s soft and warm, and the way she moves—deliberate but unthinking, like her body can’t help but reach for him—sends another jolt of confidence through him.

“You’re… so good,” she breathes, her voice trembling as her hips tilt toward him.

Encouraged, he presses closer, his tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves he’s just beginning to understand, his lips closing gently around her. Her body arches in response, a sharp gasp escaping her as her thighs clench slightly around his head. He groans again, the sound low and guttural, and shifts his hands to hold her hips steady, guiding her gently as he continues.

Her breaths grow faster, more uneven, and the tension in her body builds beneath his hands. He can feel it, the way her thighs shake, the way her fingers tighten in his hair, and it drives him to give her more. Her sex pulses as he continues, moving his tongue with growing confidence, drawing her higher and higher, until her soft, shaky moans turn into something louder, more raw.

“Daryl,” she gasps, her voice breaking as her hips jerk against him. “I’m—oh, God—right there.”

The words send a surge of determination through him, and he doubles down, his tongue and lips working together to push her over the edge. Her body tightens suddenly, her back arching off the bed as a cry spills from her lips, raw and beautiful, and he holds her through it, his hands steady on her hips as she rides out her release on his tongue.

When she finally begins to relax, her body softening beneath his touch, he pulls back slightly, his lips and chin slick, his breath heavy as he watches her, planting more kissing along her inner thigh and at the crevice of her leg and center. Her chest rises and falls in shallow gasps, her skin flushed and glowing, and her eyes flutter open to meet his.

The look she gives him is full of wonder, her lips curving into a soft, breathless smile. She reaches for him, her fingers untangling from his hair to brush against his cheek.

“Daryl,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “That was… incredible.”

He swallows hard, his cheeks flushing as he pushes himself up, crawling up the bed to settle beside her. His movements are tentative, his arms hovering for a moment before he wraps them around her waist, pulling her gently into his chest. “Yeah?” he asks, his voice rough, almost hesitant, like he can’t quite believe her.

She nods, her smile soft and full of warmth as her hand comes up to wipe his chin gently of her slick, “Yeah,” she murmurs, her gaze meeting his.

His heart stumbles in his chest, and he can’t hold back the lopsided grin that tugs at his lips. “Never… never done nothin’ like that before,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

She leans in, still holding his chin between her thumb and finger, her lips brushing his in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, full of unspoken affection. Her hand slides up to cup his jaw, her thumb stroking lightly over his scruff as the kiss deepens. It’s different from before—softer, unhurried, as if she’s savoring every moment.

“I know, baby,” she says gently against his lips, “but it was perfect,”

His cheeks burn hotter, and he huffs a quiet laugh, pulling his head back slightly to look at her despite the flush spreading down his neck. “Ain’t perfect,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words, only quiet humility.

She presses a kiss to his jaw, then to the corner of his mouth, and his hold on her tightens instinctively. “You are to me,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the quiet of the room.

They shift together, her naked body fitting snugly against his as they settle under the covers. The warmth of her skin against his, the weight of her head resting on his shoulder, feels impossibly right. His hand drifts up to stroke her hair, his fingers tangling gently in the strands as her arm drapes across his chest.

For a while, they just lie there in silence, the steady rhythm of their breathing filling the space between them. Daryl’s mind buzzes with thoughts—gratitude, disbelief, a quiet, overwhelming sense of wonder—but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

Instead, he tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to her hair, and lets himself hold her close.

[roseburning]

I've been thinking about those soulmate AUs where whatever happens to your skin translate's to your soulmates, so when you get hurt, they get hurt as well. Those can be really cute with other ships when one doddles on their skin, or if one works as vet and has weird scratches.

But Cherik. Fuck, Cherik.

Kurt beating Charles up and Erik thinking that the bruises he doesn't remember is just Shaw experimenting on him while unconscious. That's just the tip of the iceberg.

One random morning when Charles is a kid, he feels this excruciating pain and numbers appear on forearm. From that point beyond it's just downhill, everyday he screams like it's torture, because, well, it is.

It gets to a point where even his negligent mother can't ignore and takes him to a hospital, he gets tested for every single type of chronic pain possible, but it all turns negative, so they think he's faking it/ it's psychological. But his shitty family still doesn't want to deal with that, so they lock him up in the hospital, so the doctors can "treat him" and "ease the pain", however nothing works — because the it's not Charles', it's Erik's.

At this point some might suspect it's soulmate induced, but what kind of person would be torture this much for so long?

Raven is the only one who keeps visiting, disguised as a nurse or a doctor, she's the only one who believes him. Until the late 1940s, when the pain stops. Erik is free from the camps. Charles is discharged from the hospital.

It's not until some years later, the world learns the the horrors the Nazis were doing, and my god the tattoo — that's when Charles understands what kind of person his soulmate is. He never cried so hard as that night. Raven hugs him, saying that his soulmate has to have survived, or else he'd be dead too, right? Right?

They want to search for his soulmate, but all they have is the numbers (and they'd assume it's a girl because of period typical homophobia). Besides, if they're soulmates, the universe is going to put them together, right?

And then Charles saves a random man who was going to drown trying to throw a submarine at a Nazi yacht. Their minds touch, and it's like they've known each other their wholes lives, it's beautiful.

Charles shows him his numbers and Erik shows his, and they match — because of they do — and my god, IT'S YOU!!

Erik didn't even thought he had a soulmate, thought he was doomed to be alone, but Charles is cheering and hugging him because IT'S YOU WHO I'VE BEEN IN HELL FOR! oh my god you've been through hell OH MY GOD WE'VE BEEN THROUGH HELL!

Raven is crying in the background because she has a new brother-in-law. Erik is a bit confused in the beginning, but as soon as he realizes Charles has suffered in Shaw's hands as much as he did, he hugs him to never let go. He cries variations of ‘I'm sorry’, but Charles reassures him it was never his fault.

And they go hunt Shaw together, holding hands. And Charles doesn't protest when Erik wants to kill him with the coin. He endures holding Shae still while Erik gets his closure, he endured so much for Erik, it's just one more thing, once and for all. It's revenge for us both.

There's no beach divorce.

They live happily ever after.

[jediwrites]

slice of life: jedi edition ch.1

//Anakin Skywalker x Jedi Knight Reader

this is pure fluff and nothing more. (+1k)

warning: a lot of kissing and nonsense stuff that came out of my head

Your fingers brushed the soft curls of Anakin’s hair, his head resting in your chest, while his arms surrounded you. The sound of your calm heartbeat and the gentle cuddling was making the man fall asleep again. Unfortunately, the shy sun’s rays entering through the window indicated that soon you would have to part ways.

"Ani, you already gave a class to the Younglings, right?"

"Yeah… why?"

"Master Yoda asked me to take care of them this week." You said. “I’m trying to think about some things I can show them.”

Anakin stayed still for a moment, making you think he slept again. But without a warning, he tightens his arm around you, making a sound like he is straightening out. Laughing, you tried to push him off.

Anakin raised his head, one of his arms over your belly, while the other was supporting his body. Gazing at you, he gave you a faked pity look. “That’s a horrible thing to ask someone, doesn't he know that?” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “It’s not that terrible.”

“If you say so.” He said with a sarcastic tone, burying his face in your neck, making you giggle. "If I remember right, I tried to tell them about my own stories, but they only wanted to know about lightsaber tricks."

His eyes got back to yours, a boyish grin plastered in his face. "Though I can't blame them for that, they know the fun part."

You snorted. "I don’t know about that, levitating things with your mind seems more fun." 

His lips curled, saying in a playful tone “Maybe you’re right”, before locking your lips together.

After some time, you and Anakin had to rise from the comfort of the bed. You finished putting your belt over your clothes and looked at him, his back to you while he picked up his tunic on the chair. You smirked, an idea passing though your mind.

“I was thinking-”

“No,” Anakin said flatly, putting on the tunic and turning to you.

“You don’t even know what I have to say,” you huffed, exasperated.

Crossing his arms, he gave you a look. “You don’t need to, I know exactly what you will say and my answer is no.”

“You clearly don’t.” You imitate his pose.

“Okay, so continue then.”

You got to him, putting your hands on his shoulder, feeling the man softening under your touch.

“I was thinking that would be perfect if you showed up.”

“No.” Giving a quick peck on your lips, he got out of your embrace, catching his robe and belt off the floor. 

“Come on, Ani,” you begged. “You are not that bad with children, they love you, it will be amazing.”

“I already had an experience with them worth a lifetime, darling, I don't want to repeat that.” He finished with his belt, and looked at you. “You’re asking for an impossible thing.”

“Fine.” You crossed your arms, with a little pout on your lips that made him chuckle.

He then stepped to you, pulling you by your hips and closing the gap between your lips.

It was now your time to melt under his touch.

You were standing at one of the windows of the Jedi Temple’s corridor, sight fixed at the skyline of speeders going on in the distance, the hurried pace of Coruscant seemed to be the same as your heart. Sighing, you gazed at the final of the corridor, expecting to see Master Yoda, but he was nowhere.

You shouldn’t be so nervous about having to take care of the Younglings — it would be only a few days, a break from the battlefield. However, to you, as a Jedi Knight, everything that involved teaching the Jedi Younglings — and Padawans —, seemed to carry a heavy weight to it. They are the future of the Order after all. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to ease your feelings, focusing on the warmth of the sun in your face. Inhale. Exhale. After some time you could only feel the Force through your body.

“This view is really beautiful, don’t you think?” Someone said behind you, getting you out of your meditation. 

Turning to the familiar voice, you got Anakin looking directly at you, a smile on his face. Grasping his comment, a smile emerges on yours, with your heart going back to the rapidly beating from early, but now for a different reason.

Before you could respond to him, a group of Jedi Padawans entered the corridor, making you stiffen in your positions, the warm smile fading away. Anakin sighed.

“I thought you were with the Chancellor,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“We will meet later today.” Anakin looks around. “So, where are they?

“Who?”

“The Younglings, I thought we would show them some lightsaber tricks.”

The sudden appearance of Anakin made you rapidly forget about your upcoming task. You arched your eyebrow. “We?”

“Well, I changed my mind.” He shrugged.

The group passed you two, some greetings were exchanged between you before they got going down the corridor until they were out of sight. Coming closer to you, Anakin whispered. “And to be honest, even if I find it terrible, what I wouldn’t do for you, hm?”

You crooked your head, a smirk appearing in your face. “Actually, there are things-”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “For the last time, I won’t let my beard grow.” 

The first time you said such thing, he shot you a look that you will always remember and laugh at. 

“Fine, your choice, but know that you are preventing all of us from witnessing a masterpiece.” Touching this matter seemed to get under Anakin’s skin for some reason, and you found it very funny. You strongly believed in your assumption, though. “And I said to let it grow when you get older, Master Kenobi is such a cute with that beard of his.”

The disbelief in Anakin’s face was noticeable, but before he could respond, a thud startled you. You stepped away hastily. Turning to where the sound came, you face Master Yoda, a bengal stick in his hand and a questioning look. 

“Master Yoda.” You shifted your gaze to your hands. “Hope the Younglings are fine for today.”

You hold yourself from cringing at your own words. You definitely could pretend better than that, but not with Yoda, it seemed. 

“Very excited they are, young one.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I come together, Master,” Anakin said, trying to ease the tension.

“He offered to help me today.” A smile brightened your expression again. “I clearly wouldn’t declined this kind offer.” 

Anakin playfully rolled his eyes, exchanging looks with you.

“A surprise, this is.” Yoda looked at the two young Jedi. “Skywalker coming back to work with the Younglings, had never thought I would see.”

“Sometimes it is good to give a second try.”

The older Jedi shotted him a smile. “Right you are, young Skywalker.”

A/N: after so many tries, i was finally able to write one of my ideas down. i didn't liked it that much (idk i feel like i dont know how to write anakin yet), but eh anyway :)) i tried to revise throughly this one before posting, but if you find any grammar mistake, please let me know. dividers are from this post.

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

a reminder to all translators: YOU ARE AN ARTIST!

Translation work *is* art, and it's truly incredible what you do and you touch so many more lives than you realize- and often, those who's lives you touch with your translation work never realize just how much thanks they owe you, but from the bottom of my heart I want you all to know how grateful I am for all people in fandom and outside of it who translate things, those who do it professionally, those who do it for fun, what you do cannot be replaced by a machine, yes maybe it can give a literal translation but it cant really offer any of the human experience or creative choices that actual translators put into things! TO ALL MY BELOVED ANIME AND MANGA LOVING FANS ESPECIALLY i want to remind you to show some love to translators who make it possible for us to enjoy our favorite shows, as well as a special thanks to those who make fan translations of anime openings or things that never recieved an english translation! Pokemon fans you guys should get this especially, remember those guide books that answered so many questions we've had in the west that only got translated thanks to fan efforts and translators who were paid to translate some of the earliest guide books? Naruto fans! If you dont know, but you might, theres also a naruto radio show that theres translations for online that we ONLY have acess to because of fans efforts!

Don't get me started on all the people who make translations and EVEN SING THEM! remember how amazing some of those anime song translations and make them *actually singable?* Don't forget that doing that is a very creative act too! and people who translate fan comics!!!! or fanfictions!!!! please! appreciate them! It takes so much skill to translate the experiences of one culture into another, to make it understandable and meaningful across cultural and language barriers and to make it sound good on top of it all.

Tonight I cried reading an old translation of harmonia, one of my favorite naruto endings, it's 15 years old now, and i used to listen to it and sing it (with the help of that translation) with one of my little sisters, and its one of the only happy memories I have from that time in my childhood.

and so many other magnificent translators filled my childhood with wonder and joy, giving me the meanings of songs that changed my view of the world and helped me cope with hardship, and grow into a person i'm very proud of being.

Thank you, you'll never know just how many lives and hearts you touch. You are loved, you are appreciated, and anyone who thinks your art form can be replaced by a machine doesn't understand language well enough or culture well enough to know just how difficult it really is to capture the essence of someone elses art and I think in many ways, translation is a field where that which we call the soul of an art piece is most tangible, and can be most clearly seen, as it takes human experience and conscious choices based on an actual understanding of the real world and life itself to express that which is human in art. thank you, so so much for all you do.

i could go on for hours, but this is all to say, thank you

and if you THINK you can be replaced by machine translation please just go through an ensemble stars fan comic through google translate its utterly incomprehensible-

[alittlesongbirdchirps]

OOOH DEATH, I MEAN DICK GRAYSON.

(I know Death already has a personification of a female in DC but pretend they don’t for this AU.)

Death wasn’t a skeleton with a robe made of black or a scythe. Death was more of the delivery person and sometimes could end life with one simple touch.

One day, life, bored from existing since the beginning, challenged death to a game.

“Since you are so cold and indifferent to those whom you take, why don’t you experience what they do? Why don’t you leave?”

It was an intriguing proposal for death, who had never really cared too much for life’s creations. Only a few small and innocent ones ever got a soft and caring voice from death.

“Death cannot be around the living, nor touch it.”

Life smiled softly.

“Maybe for a time it can, a short time, but enough to learn why death is so frightening to those who live.”

Death agreed to this game, and life constructed death a body that death wouldn’t be able to use its power, not unless it truly wanted to.

The body would be more like a vessel to contain death; if death used any hint of power, the body would begin to crack, almost like ice.

And thus Dick Grayson was born; of course, Dick didn’t know the requirement to live was to not know what was waiting on the other side.

But then Jason died, and when Dick returned from space, he sat at Jason’s grave. He didn’t get to say goodbye; he was angry with himself, angry with Bruce, and furious with the Joker.

“He can’t be dead. I didn’t—

His train of thought stops. ‘He didn’t what?’ He wonders why he lost his train of thought.

Jason ended up being alive, a miracle, but then after that so much happened.

Like John Constantine, a man he only heard tales of, stops dead in his tracks when he sees Dick, and he looks terrified. Normally, heroes find comfort in his presence and enjoy his company, but Dick didn’t even get to speak before Constantine disappeared, and Jason ended up laughing along with Tim and Steph, whereas Damien stated, ‘Constantine is a fool Grayson, a drunken fool; don’t mind him.’

And weird stuff like that kept happening. The weirdest one was when Darkside came, a being who represented death, but when Dick finally arrived right before Darkside prepared to kill Captain Marvel, Darkside paused, looking around almost in disbelief and confusion before dropping Captain Marvel and, funnily enough, quickly leaving.

Yet Dick still didn't connect anything or question it, but Tim and Duke began to.

(Dick sort of doesn’t remember what he truly is, and this is more of a game playing human but he feels and knows things deep down like Jason was supposed to die and stay dead, and Dick didn’t want to be close to him because some part on a deeper leveled remember that, and then when Jason died the human part was angry allowing a small part of his true self to leak through creating a small crack, so when he trails off he almost was gonna say I didn’t take him, and his close relationship with Damien because of the Lazarus pit he can sense that in Damien blood practically even though he doesn’t know it, Constantine dipping compared to other magic users like Zatanna is because the others don’t know and most people when they die, find death peaceful so that and Dicks charming personality is why heroes and others like him all find themself comfortable around Dick. whereas Constantine is different when he dies it won’t be peaceful he will be in hell, so he feels overwhelming death instead of happy vibes.)

This was just another silly idea.

(NOT EDITED LOL, SORRY FOR SPELLING MISTAKES, ME SICK TOO.)

[theflagscene]

15 Day BL Challenge (part 4)

59. What's a hill you're willing to die on when it comes to BL?

Omg, yes, someone asked me!!!!!

I will die on this hill, fite me.

*ahem*

Cupid’s Last Wish is a good series!

I know there is a shit ton of hate for this series and I have absolutely no idea why. It is a masterclass in physical acting, seriously, it is phenomenal! The story is very basic, because the focus of the series is the character’s journey and self discovery. Korn and Win already knows they’re in love, the story begins with them already knowing that they love one another, they just haven’t acted on those feelings nor have they admitted their feelings to one another. But never once does the narrative act like we the viewers are supposed to wonder if they love one another, that’s not the point of the plot. It’s how miscommunication and grief can blind someone so much that they lose themselves within those feelings.

In the case of the series, Win literally loses himself thanks to his anger. He nearly kills his body and damns his sister’s soul, so he must go on a pilgrimage with Korn to heal his own soul whilst his body is wavering between life and death which could very well take his sister’s soul with it. Korn, his best friend of 22 years and soulmate is the only person who can see him whilst trapped in his sister Lin’s body, because Korn always sees Win for who he really is. And of course we have the conniving mother, a well meaning family friend and a mysterious monk.

This is some of Mix’s best acting, not just as Win since Mix doesn’t usually play such a toxic character. But because for most of the runtime he is playing a male character trapped inside a female’s body, trying to trick everyone expect for three people that he is in fact a woman. Jan is fantastic in the role as well, because when she’s onscreen she must act as if she is a male stuck in an woman’s body with a male’s mind, trying to convince people she’s a woman.

It’s a complete mind fuck! Mix and Jan are fantastic as Win, the way they carry themselves, walk the same, stand the same, take up the same space, speak the same way. But don’t think Earth has it easy in this series either, because he had to make sure he held, touched and spoke to Mix and Jan exactly the same way. So when they edited the scenes to overlap, seeing Jan’s body instead of Mix’s, Earth is in the exact same position with both of them.

Seriously, if you dropped this series, try it again. Watch it just for the acting, because it’s phenomenal.

Also it has what might be the best onscreen reaction to menstruation from a male’s point of view without it being misogynistic, gross or rude. They make some jokes, like Korn not knowing what kind of pads to get for Win when he starts his period, and of course how Win feels having to care for and clean his sister’s body in a respectful manner. How he experiences her emotions, her hormonal shift, the pain of cramps, the way his whole body aches and how sick he feels. Korn is also so caring, trying to help Win through something he’d never experienced before without crossing a line with Lin’s body because whilst it’s Win, his best friend and love of his life, and when he looks at Lin he sees Win in his mind, it is still Lin’s body physically there. And as much as he loved Win, wanted Win, Lin was a baby sister to him and he could not, would not, touch Lin’s body in a sexual manner.

At the end of the series when he admits to Win and Lin’s mother that ‘something happened’ between him and Lin (it was Win, but in Lin’s body) all he meant was that Win had kissed him. Yes, he had kissed Win, shared a bed with Win, but he knew how that looked to people who didn’t know it was Win in Lin’s body. So to keep Lin from being shamed he agreed to marry her, instead of trying to explain to their mother that the assumption she was making about Korn taking Lin’s virginity was wrong.

There are fantastic villain characters in the form of the scheming aunt and uncle. Not to mention the family secret, Win and Lin’s mother facing her homophobia concerning her son, Lin being in love with someone else and of course Korn being forced into a mess that he did not want to be a part of but considering he had been friends with Win for 22 years and loved him more than life, how could he say no?

It’s a beautiful story, it’s funny, well acted and has Mix working with animals!

[mars101]

S1E16: y/n fell even more

WRITTEN PART -> (0.7k) -> ss after text

OUTSIDE ON THE SNOWY PATHWAY WERE YUNHO AND Y/N. The two hand in hand enjoying the comfortable silence between them. Y/n's eyes wandered around, gazing at the snow falling while Yunho's eyes stayed glued onto the sight of her.

“I used to hate the cold.” Y/n said as she uses her other hand to bundle herself deeper in the scarf around her neck. “Last year on our trip, it was me and Liz inside sipping on hot chocolate while everyone else was outside.”

Yunho makes the two of them stop in their tracks as he moves to stand in front of Y/n. “What changed this year?” He says with a teasing smile.

“Come on, do I really have to say it?”

“You know what I want to hear,”

“You..” She grudgingly says.

He leans down closer, turning his head so his ear is right by Y/n's lips, “I'm sorry, what was that?-” Yunho's smile stays glued on his face as he feels Y/n's breath tickle his ear.

“Oh my god, it's you! Some guy named Jeong Yunho came along this time and made this year different.”

“A bad kind of different?”

Y/n's hands rest on Yunho's cheeks as she turns his face so that they're eye to eye. “It's the good kind of different.” At her words, Yunho nudges his face closer so that his lips plant a soft peck on Y/n's own lips.

Despite the cold feeling that the flakes of snow bring around the two lovers, they feel nothing but warmth from each other through their connected lips. Yunho can't help to engulf Y/n's face in his hold as he parts their lips so he can plant little kisses all over her skin.

“Oh my god! Yunho- You're drowning me with kisses-”

“What a way to go then,” He cuts himself off to leave one last exaggerated kiss on Y/n's lips. Smiles are shared through the kiss, and giggles escape their mouths as they continue on walking together hand in hand.

“These two are disgusting by the way..”

“Mingi shhhh-”

At the sound of whispers, the couple (actually, it was only y/n..) turned their heads to the source of the sound, and all they saw was a bush shaking and the view of a phone case with a large cat charm sticking out the top of the bush.

With a confused but knowing expression on her face, Y/n turns back to Yunho but before she could say or do anything, her foot slips on a thin sheet of ice making her land into Yunho’s arms. Again.

A gasp escapes Yunho's mouth as he looks down at Y/n with stars in his eyes. “You know what this means, Y/n? The Earth thinks you're meant to be in my arms..” He leans in to kiss her once more, but before their lips touch, a hand on his chest stops him.

“Do you see them??” Y/n whispers against his lips.

“S-see who..? Who's there..?” He tries to move his head to look, but instead, Y/n's hand grabs ahold of it.

“I don't know- But I do know I see San's stupid phone case I bought him.”

“Oh! Are they watching? Let's see how long we can stay still before they say something.”

Y/n lets herself go limp in Yunho's arms, “Are you sure you can hold me for so long?” In response to her words, Yunho decides to lift up Y/n's legs to fully carry her.

“I could do this all day.”

“Can you guys just kiss instead of doing whatever this is, please??”

As the couple turn their heads they're met with the sight of an annoyed Wooyoung standing with his hands on his hips, Mingi sitting on the ground with his hair and hoodie covered in snow, and San wearing a hat, sunglasses, and fake mustache while holding his phone up.

“…Yeah, sorry, Y/n and Yunho, I'll put my phone away..”

synopsis = the ‘college experience’ for some it includes joining a frat/sorority or parties every night or drowning in the amount of school work. but for y/n it means making a podcast with her friends…

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taglist:

@atzhouse, @boomhoon , @sanasour , @loonaluvz , @mingis-mizu, @iminluv1117 , @mimikittysblog , @miniature-tragedy , @wooyoomeow , @roserperfume , @staytinyluv , @n4migrl , @tinyteezer , @mooniicore , @yvnhoos