#i actually saw one of these things through wow

[haveihitanerve]

@ineveryfandom last one! (i think)

Bruce couldn't breathe. He wasn't complaining, but it was starting to ache in his chest a little.

He was sprawled across the couch, wearing nothing more than his boxers, and all six of his children were sprawled across his body, or at least touching him, in some way shape or form.

Dick was collapsed on top of his chest on one side, Jason on the other, while Damian had curled up right in the middle. Stephanie had chosen to go for his legs, koala tentacled around it like an affectionate leech, and Tim had claimed his right arm, curled around it like he'd never let go. Bruce had lost feeling in it a while ago anyway.

Dick had called up Babs and given her the rundown, and she had arrived only a few minutes before, and was contently working on a case, her wheelchair parked next to the couch, Bruce's left hand on her thigh to provide contact.

It was where Cass found them, slinking down the stairs to the kitchen, and stopped the moment she saw them all. Bruce offered her a smile, not daring to remove either of his hands to wave, and in a hushed whisper revealed to her what was going on.

Cass stared at him for a moment longer, let her fingers dance across Damian's cheek (the boy had passed out not long after his brothers had) before settling down next to Stephanie, grabbing his other leg.

Bruce sighed in contentment, and Dick shifted in his sleep, lightening the load on Bruce's chest, making it easier to breathe.

"Master Bruce-" Alfred froze on the threshold of the door, and before Bruce could say anything, the butler had out his phone and snapped a picture.

Bruce chuckled, opening his mouth to tell him the reason behind his children's sudden affection attack, suddenly a little nervous, when the man lifted a hand to stop him.

"Miss Gordon has already informed me of your predicament, my dear boy. I only wished to see if you needed refreshments, then I shall depart again."

Bruce felt something simultaneously hot and cold wash over him. "oh." He managed, tongue heavy. "No- no I'm ok. Thanks Alfred." He whispered, voice tapering off.

Alfred nodded swiftly, then hesitated a moment in the doorway, uncertain. Barbara squeezed Bruce's hand, lifting it discreetly off her lap. Bruce swallowed.

"Actually- Alfie?" He hadn't used the childhood nickname in years, and if he didn't know better, Bruce would've said his employees breath caught.

"I- I uh, was wondering." Bruce shifted a little, and Damian let out the cutest little sigh, burrowing closer. Bruce clung to the little child on his chest, the children across him, using their affection, their love, as a shield to the soon to come rejection.

He lifted his hand, smiling awkwardly. "Could I- do you maybe-?"

Bruce didn't know why he'd been worried. His dad read his mind, the way he always did, the way he always had, and crossed the room in a few quick strides, kneeling down next to the couch.

"My dear boy," He whispered, stroking a hand across Bruce's forehead, and Bruce let his eyes flutter closed for a moment, treasuring the rare moment of affection. "It would by my honor." Alfred whispered.

Bruce swallowed, and Alfred clasped his hand. Bruce wasn't sure he was breathing, and he was positive Barbara was holding her breath just to be annoying.

Alfred smiled, eyes suspiciously wet. "Just as I suspected." He murmured, squeezing Bruce's hand. "My perfect boy."

Zatanna was wrong. This wasn't a curse. This was a blessing. And Bruce intended to treasure it forever.

(anon that is writing the split emotions!bruce fic here) YOU ARE GIVING ME TOO MANY BRAIN WORMS

THEY SCREAM WITH IDEAS

SO I SHALL PLUCK ONE OUT AND GIVE TO U

Bruce gets Magic-ed to make others be able to feel his emotions if they make skin to skin contact

He does a bunch of tests to see if he's safe to be around since doesn't know the exact spell he got hit by and eventually Z gives him the green light to head back home

He gets out of his suit and the rest depends on the first batkid that he runs into

Just really want them to be able to feel the love, pride, worry, and fondness he's terrible at expressing (and them [un]subtlety trying to feel his emotions towards them again)

URGH NOOO!!!

Because this could go so many ways... fuck

Zatanna waved the stick around his face one last time, almost colliding with his nose, and Bruce did his best not to flinch. "Its called a wand." She growled under her breath, as though hearing his thoughts, but Bruce wasn't much interested in what the damned thing was called.

He knew she was being so careless on purpose, maybe even hoping she'd accidentally give him a good whack, but Bruce wasn't taking any chances bringing home some dangerous magical curse, so she would do her scans as many times until he was satisfied.

"There." She huffed, sacking back into her chair, and offered him a bland smile. "Completely harmless. I told you Bruce. The only thing this weird ass "curse" can do is warmth." Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow, as he had done when she'd first told him.

"Warmth?" He echoed hollowly, doubtful still. Zatanna rolled her eyes, smacking a hand to his forearm. Immediately, Bruce felt his blood buzz under his skin, forearms tightening. Zatanna let out a little sigh, smiling at him faintly, but it was more sincere than before.

"Yep!" She popped the p and stood, suddenly more energized. "Just passes over some warmth." Her smile didn't seem all too truthfully, but Bruce doubted her sudden good mood would last if he demanded another check.

"Alright." He sighed, finally standing, and Zatanna tapped him fondly on his chest.

"Just because you have seen the bad consequences of magic does not mean it can't be good." She murmured. "And this is a good one!" She grinned, smile almost too wide. Too mischievous. Bruce's eyes narrowed. He'd seen the expression one too many times on his children's faces to not be wary. "It's been cold in Gotham recently, maybe this will be a blessing for your home." Zatanna distracted innocently, opening the door to impolitely tell him to leave.

"Hn." Bruce hummed back, slipping his cowl back over his head, his gloves following. "Thank you Z." Her smile softened as she leaned against the door, though her eyes still sparkled in the dim glow of the streetlights.

"Anytime B. It should wear off in a few days. Until then, enjoy it." And the door was closed in his face. Bruce huffed in amusement, tugging out his grapple gun and swinging towards the Manor.

"Oracle?" He clicked his back teeth, coms activating. "Am I all clear to head home?" Barbara hummed back confirmation, the familiar and soothing sound of her typing quickly filling his ears.

"Yeah- hey can you swing by quickly? There's a package for Dick and I won't see him until later, I'd rather he get it now." Bruce rolled his eyes but obediently switched routes, running along the familiar roofs that led to the Clock Tower.

"I'm not an errand boy for y'alls love letters you know." He grumbled, even as he undid the hatch and slipped inside the slightly warmer confines of their communication tower.

Barbara grinned at him from the computer, spinning in her wheelchair to roll over to the couch and grab a small rectangular package. "Long day today or why am I being greeted by the Gotham "y'all"?"

Bruce rolled his eyes again, accepting the small parcel and wedging it under his arm. "Hilarious." He grumbled, leaning forward to capture Babs in a quick hug.

She started at the sudden embrace, but quickly relaxed, arms circling around his waist in a known fashion. "Any particular reason?" Her voice was muffled by his suit, but Bruce heard her anyway.

He shrugged, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head before pulling away. Babs blinked, dazed, her hands fluttering near her head for a second, and she regarded him oddly.

"Just missing my kids." He murmured, one leg already out the window again. Barbara waggled her finger in his direction, already over her momentary lack of composure that Bruce wasn't quite sure where it originated from.

"Haven't adopted me yet!" She cried, faux dramatics and outrage. Bruce just lifted the package in response.

"If he doesn't hurry I will." It was an empty threat, seeing as both Barbara was already a legal adult and had a father of her own, but the emotion behind it was all that mattered. Barbara laughed, waving him away.

"Good night B." He smiled, slipping back into the night. His pace to the Manor increased, as Zatanna was right, it had grown exponentially chilly recently, and it was only a few minutes before he'd reached the cave and slipped inside.

"B-man!" Bruce almost jumped, almost, but the subtle flinch was enough to send Stephanie to the floor, cackling with laughter. "OH that's my best moment yet!" She cheered from the floor, grinning up at him as he loomed over her, glowering.

"Good evening." She greeted, sticking her hand up as though to shake, or ask to stand. Bruce rolled his eyes and ignored both, side stepping the child on the floor to place the package for Dick on the bat-table.

Steph sighed dramatically from where she lay on the ground, and shuffled her feet so that she was at a better angle to look at him. "Rough day today huh Boss?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he slipped off his cowl, depositing it onto the table as well. "Why are you here Stephanie?" Steph pouted, even going so far as to cross her arms.

"Sick of me already are we?" There was distinct teasing in her tone, but enough vulnerability that Bruce didn't immediately agree. Instead he rolled his eyes again, pretending he hadn't heard the moment of weakness.

"Stephanie I'm afraid you've grown on me. Like a tumor." He deadpanned instead, spinning in his chair once before smacking his feet to the ground to halt it, and leveled a hard look at her. "In order for me to be sick of you, I'd have to remove a piece of myself."

Steph laughed, and if her voice was a little scratchy he ignored that too. She lunged to her feet, using the trick Dick had taught all Robins at some point, and Bruce turned back to the computer as she draped herself across the back of his chair.

She and Dick scared him, sometimes, with their utter lack of bones. They were both limber to an incredible degree, and having lived under Selina's guidance for over a year, Steph was very much catlike in her movements, currently arching her back as she lolled over his chair. Bruce didn't even want to know how she managed to stay balanced.

"Bring me anything fun from patrol?" she asked after a few seconds of silence as Bruce filled out the usual after-patrol forms. He glanced at her, unimpressed. "From patrol?" He repeated, playing dumb.

Steph rolled her eyes. "Oh come on Boss. Don't play dumb. Did anyone have anything fun?" Bruce rolled his eyes(if he did it any more he feared they'd fall out of his head), returning his attention to his spreadsheet.

"You know my stance on taking things from the people of Gotham." Steph scoffed, rolling off the chair and instead taking a seat on the table, lounging across it.

"They're criminals." She pointed out, like they hadn't had variations of this conversation almost once a week since he'd met her.

Bruce sent her an unimpressed look. "By most people's standards, so are we." he pointed out, his usual argument. Steph rolled her eyes, dropping down onto the table, effectively cutting off his access to typing.

"Can we just skip the fight today and go to what you got me?" She asked hopefully, smiling up at him. Bruce frowned at her, tugging his hands back from where she'd flopping on top of them. Her smile widened.

Bruce sighed, tugging off his gloves, and reached into one of his pockets. Steph squealed, sitting up, hands out expectantly.

"This doesn't mean I took it from anyone." He warned. Steph chuckled. "Ok old man- ya bought it. Fair and square. I got it. But you still got something for me!" He had no counter for that, so he reluctantly handed over the small gadget he'd purchased a few days ago when he'd been window shopping with Harley.

Steph stared at the small wad of black fabric, her face lighting up as she unveiled its contents. "Lock picks?" She gasped, looking at him with pure delight. Bruce nodded the affirmative.

"State of the art. I know your old ones are-" Before he could explain his observation and why he'd bought the little treasure for her(a remnant of their Batman and Robin days when she'd dropped little trinkets into the pockets that she'd stolen from criminals they'd apprehended and he started returning the gesture with his own gifts) her arms were around his neck in a hug.

Bruce startled in surprise, and his blood buzzed as her arms came into direct contact with his skin, but hugged her back. Before he had fully wrapped his arms around her though, Steph flinched back, eyes wide.

"What was that." She whispered, breathless, hand clasped tightly around his gift. Bruce frowned, before he realized what she was asking.

"Apologies for not informing you." Bruce apologized. "It's why I was home so late, Zatanna was checking it was nonlethal. I was hit with a spell that makes me exude warmth when I come into direct contact with someone." He explained. Stephanie's eyes narrowed at him.

"Is that what you'd call it?" She muttered, eyes dancing around nervously. Bruce frowned, hand reaching to touch his neck where she'd touched.

"Is.. everything alright? That's what Zatanna said it did.." he repeated doubtfully.

Steph let out a humorless laugh. "Of course she did. Fu-" Bruce sent her a warning look. "Frickin witch." Steph hastened. He nodded, a small smile curling his lips.

"Well, what did you feel?" Bruce asked, curious now. Steph hesitated, hands bunching her shirt.

"i- uh. I felt. Warm." She whispered. "Yeah... I guess. I guess I did feel warm." A small smile tugged her lips. "Zatanna was right. It does provide warmth to whoever touches you Bruce. You provide warmth."

Bruce frowned at the strange phrasing, and the sudden agreement with Zatanna when she'd previously been so vehemently against it, but as Stephanie hesitantly curled up again in his arms, muttering a thank you for her new lock picks, Bruce decided the issues wasn't worth pushing. Not so long as it wasn't bringing her any harm.

-ugh so that did not go in a way i'd planned actually- im not upset about it, it's fine and I actually did want Stephanie and Babs to be the focus of this one because my girls get way too little time with their not-dad for my liking, but it did spiral a little in the middle there and I took a second to get it back on track- anyway thanks/no thanks for infecting me with that little brain bug, but i enjoyed writing it at least!

[skitskatdacat63]

Yes these have all already been posted, but 2023 Vettonso comp post for me because I'm going to have an emotional breakdown

[seaofreverie]

I knew about the post concert depression but no one told me about the post concert constant feeling of AAAAAAAAAHHH that lasts days and makes everything much more bearable and beautiful and some sort of ethereal type of hope is restored into the world, or maybe it's just the "seeing your favourite band after first thinking that it would never happen and later spending many months waiting for it all the while fearing that it wouldn't happen after all because of circumstances outside my control or feeling like it was too beautiful and wonderful to be true so ofc it wouldn't come true" part of it all

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Multiamory Month, Day Twenty-Three: Complicated relationships (Severance AU)

We're entering the last full week of Multiamory March (as per @polyamships), and today's prompt is an interesting one -- "complicated relationships!" Because very few relationships are objectively simple, and even fewer when you bring in polyamory. Now, I could have interpreted this any number of ways -- two members of one of the polycules having a complicated relationship within said polycule. One of the polycules having a complicated relationship with an outsider. Even the family and friends of the various members of one of the polycules having a complicated relationship with each other.

But I happen to have a Valicer Severance AU. And what could be more complicated than a trio of Innies having a much different relationship than their Outies? So here's Innie!Victor worrying about that exact same thing. XD Enjoy!

--

“...do either of you ever wonder if we like each other outside of work?”

Smiler looked up from their contemplation of their latest batch of numbers to see Victor leaning on the divider, a pensive look on his face. “Not really?” they admitted. “I – just sort of assumed that if we like each other in here, we like each other out there.” They gave Victor a grin. “You’re likable.”

Victor’s lips twitched upward, but only briefly. “Thanks...but – we can’t know for sure, can we? I – I want to believe that my Outie loves both of yours as much as I love you two, but…” His hand found his tie, giving it an anxious tug. “We’ll never know what we actually think of each other when we’re not at work. Whether we’re friends, or strangers, or – or – fuck, what if we hate each other? W-what if we’re all sworn enemies and we’d be h-horrified by the thought of us kissing?”

“If that’s the case, I’m just going to kiss you more,” Alice piped up, sticking her head above the divider. “Because my feelings on the subject can be summed up as ‘fuck our Outies.’ They’re the ones who condemned us to this hell in the first place – they can live with the consequences. Including us deciding that their ‘sworn enemies’ are in fact very nice and attractive people.”

“Well said,” Smiler agreed, standing and stretching. “I mean, I hope that’s not the case, and that we’re at least just indifferent to each other – nicer to think about – but yeah. Fuck our Outies, and whatever they feel about each other. I love you two, and that’s what matters. That’s what makes me happy – and I think we deserve whatever happiness we can get.”

Victor smiled properly at that, hand falling away from his tie to rest on the divider. “Right – you’re right,” he murmured, looking down. “I don’t know why I was worried about it. Not like it’ll ever affect us down here.”

“It most assuredly will not,” Alice said, getting up and putting her hand over his. “I’m not going to worry about their feelings when they don’t worry about ours.”

“Exactly,” Smiler nodded, sandwiching her hand under theirs. “Let’s just focus on us and what we want.” They smirked and waggled their eyebrows. “Which reminds me – we’re running low on Post-It notes again, Team Lead.”

Victor grinned. “Oh, are we? I guess we’re due a trip to the supply closet then…”

[braisedhoney]

So you said a while ago underfell was your favorite au before. Is that still true or?

Also who’s your favorite character from whatever au you like?

damn, you were around for that? :'D

yeah, underfell used to be my favorite! i think it was smth about being really edgy as a kid, or maybe it was because red was my favorite color. idk man, even now i gotta admit those designs slap really hard.

i'm not really sure if i have a favorite au now though. i do have some ideas for underfell that i like, but i think i see the appeal of most aus bc i just like making new scenarios.

i like the big three a lot (classic, fell, swap). sans is my favorite in classic (predictable i know) if you're not counting gaster, since he isn't technically a canon character. i like both fell paps and fell sans equally, and swap paps is cool. i'd be buddies with that guy.

(i also really like asgore in undertale. the tragedy of the grief-stricken ruler who kills even though it's against his nature for the freedom of his people but also because he's long past convinced he's in too deep is really compelling to me, and by proxy i'm interested in the theoretical stories of all the fallen humans including frisk. also the whole thing with their broken family and chara and—

—whoops the ask is about aus not canon lmao, sorry!)

[astralmarionette]

im currently writing an atsugawa (I hate the name shin soukoku or whatever I'm sorry but I'm actually not. also I cannot pronounce soukoku {this is the real reason I don't use soukoku}) and I don't even ship it lmaoo

[yume-no-miya]

look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her

[caitlinsnicket]

viktor relationship headcanons

warnings: if you squint, you might see something a little intimate, but other than suggestions, there's nothing.

a/n: surprised myself by not only writing this so quickly but also by not including any filth. wow.

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

He lives for shoulder kisses, treating them as a sort of stress reliever.

You visit his lab, bringing him a cup of tea (to make him sleepier and get him to bed quicker), and as you pass by, you lean down to kiss his shoulder.

Even through his shirt, he can feel your warmth, and as you leave, he manages to relax a little more.

Sometimes, before you go, he'll hold your hand and kiss your knuckles, his lips wandering down your wrist and arm until you start pulling him away from the workbench.

On good days—the days when he doesn’t feel as much pain or discomfort just from breathing—he asks for your help removing the harness he wears around his middle section.

He doesn’t actually need the help, but he loves the way your skin feels against his, especially during such an intimate moment, and he savors every second with you.

Putting the harness back on is a hassle, but it’s easier now because you understand.

It’s one thing to force your help on him, and another to ask if he needs it. He appreciates that you ask—and that you back off when he tells you to.

Another bittersweet aspect of your relationship is that he’s always cold. While it’s uncomfortable for him when he’s alone, it’s the best thing in the world when you’re around.

He’ll shiver slightly, and you’ll appear out of nowhere, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and pulling him close, tucking his hands under your thighs and kissing his nose until he’s boiling hot.

You also insist that he drink more warm beverages (except coffee—you banned that from your apartment ages ago), wear thicker clothes, and even use masks in the lab because his colds are always worse than expected.

Viktor insists he’s a grown man perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but when you hold his hands in yours and blow on them, he swallows his pride and lets you. Your love comes in waves like these, and he’s learned to catch as much of it as he can.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his appearance. While that unintentionally makes him a hundred times more attractive, it becomes a problem as he grows more important. It’s hard to explain that he can’t show up to an important meeting looking disheveled and that he needs to fix his hair before leaving the house.

So, you sit him down on the little bench you use to get ready yourself, using some of your products to tame his hair, smoothing down stray locks and ensuring he looks polished. The entire time, he fights to stay awake because of your gentle touch, eventually resting his face against your belly and breathing you in.

When you’re done, it’s a bit hard to get him up and out the door, but you manage by peppering kisses on his cheeks and nose. His heart races at your affection, and he promises to return as soon as possible so the two of you can be together again.

At some point, while redecorating the apartment for the millionth time, a picture falls out of one of his books: it’s him as a child, holding up a toy boat with a huge smile on his face. The sight makes you momentarily consider starting a family right then and there, so you call him over to show him.

He stutters, trying to snatch the photo from your hands, but you stop him, giggling at his embarrassed expression.

"You were so cute as a kid! I mean, you still are, but you looked so small! Baby Vik!" you tease, and he buries his face in his hands.

You end up framing the photo and hanging it on the living room wall, right beside one of your own.

But his absolute favorite thing the two of you do together is bathing. He never saw the point of it before—showering was easier and more practical—but now, he needs at least one bath a week just to keep going.

You fill the bathroom with bubbles, scents, and soaps, and he gets to sit back and relax with you in the warm water (which soothes his pain) in a dimly lit room. He loves it: your hands gently touching him, the care you take to ensure he’s comfortable and content in the tub, and even washing his hair for him.

He finds it almost pathetic how completely in love he is with you.

[chelseeebe]

gimme a hand

okay so i saw a silly tiktok abt how guys take nudes wrong and thought our lovely best friend reader could help eddie take some !! i am a little tipsy so pls excuse any mistakes

mdni. 18+. smut. like, literally just smut. fem!reader x eddie. modern au

“so.. how are things with you and.. whatshername?” clicking your fingers in his face.

eddie scoffs, batting your hand away, “chrissy is her name,” correcting your childish behaviour, “and it’s good, we’ve been.. texting a little,” shrugging nonchalantly.

you and eddie had been best friends for years, though these hang outs were few and far between now. both too busy with the perils of adult life to sit around and smoke weed all day, like you used to.

that meant that your relationship had skewed a bit, no longer as close as you once were. though you still tried to feign an interest in his, mostly nonexistent, love life.

he understood though, your life was far too interesting to care about the very small roster of girls he was seeing.

“texting?” you exclaim, stubbing the embers of the joint out into the ashtray, “so you haven’t seen her since?”

eddie shakes his head, realising that what he had thought was an exciting update, was actually just a pathetic retelling of a long text thread.

“i think we’re just.. testing the waters,” brushing off your disappointment. he contemplates even telling you anymore but what kind of a best friend would he be if he didn’t at least tell you all the details. “she sent me pictures the other day,” wriggling his eyebrows.

“pictures?” a slight mocking tone to your voice that he doesn’t like, “what kinda pictures?”

his face scrunches up, cheeks flaming red, as if it wasn’t obvious. “you know.. naughty ones.”

you whistle, blowing the air from your cheeks in the most sarcastic manner, “naughty pictures.. wow eddie, you’re really moving up in the world. did you send any back?”

his head dips, regretful of ever sharing this with you. you had never had a lack of choice for guys lining up for you. even back in high school. of course you wouldn’t understand.

“no..” shrugging again, “i don’t.. don’t know how.”

“you don’t know how to send nudes?” utter shock rippling through your voice, “didn’t i teach you anything?”

“not how to send nudes!” he hits back, getting increasingly frustrated that you’d rather mock him than help him get laid for once.

“i can help you if you want,” you offer, “i don’t have to watch.. i can just.. guide you?” proposing the question as if it were a completely standard conversation for you two to be having.

“really?” his eyes bright and full of hope.

eddie really liked chrissy, she was sweet and the times they had hung out, they got on well. he just wasn’t equipped to match her flirting, afraid he’d overthink himself into losing her.

“sure,” you smile, grabbing his phone as you stand from the couch, “come on,” beckoning for him to follow you down the corridor to the bathroom.

you bundle into the trailers tiny bathroom, poised in front of the mirror with his phone in hand.

“you stand here..” you instruct, guiding him by the shoulders, “you need to get hard,” grinning as you look at him through the mirror, “i’ll stand outside and just.. tell you what to do, okay?”

eddie’s too high for this, wondering how you’d gone from a joint and a couple of beers to now helping him sext the girl he liked.

you disappear outside, shoving his phone into his chest, the knob clicking quietly as the realisation of what the hell he was doing sets in.

“so..” he poises, swiping onto the camera, posing himself in the dirty mirror, “pull my pants down, right?” wanting to make sure that he got nothing wrong.

“yeah, but not all the way, just like.. a little bit.”

okay, he thinks. tugging his sweatpants down just beneath his balls, his boxers following suit. he was getting hard just thinking about it, the fact that you were instructing him what to do wasn’t helping.

his fingers wraps around the base of his cock, pumping his fist a few times, stifling the groan that had settled in his throat.

this was already weird enough, he didn’t need to make it weirder.

“okay..” his voice quivering, “what now?”

you tut, “pull your shirt up.. or off, it looks bad otherwise.”

eddie does as you ask, taking his shirt off and tossing it into the floor with the rest of his dirty clothes. he peers at the image through the screen, inwardly cringing at how stupid he looked.

“i don’t know,” though his dick was already stiff, aching for him to continue. “i look stupid,” he frowns, attempting to position the phone differently, although nothing seemed to help his pathetic stature.

“no you don’t,” your voice rings through the door, “now you gotta pose it.. make it look good, sexy.”

his eyes squeeze shut, wishing you’d stop talking with that low growl in your voice. this was for chrissy’s benefit, not his. getting off to the sound of your voice while trying to arouse another girl was not the plan.

eddie exhales, opening his eyes to reposition the phone, closer to the mirror. his fist begging to move and finish the job.

nothing helped, in fact, it looked worse than before. chrissy’d block him if he dared sent anything like this.

fuck, he felt like a pervert. this was wrong. twisted.

“have you done it?” you call.

“no,” he gulps, frowning at the image of himself in the mirror.

you huff, knuckles wrapping against the door, “i’m gonna come in, okay?” giving him no time to think before you appear next to him in the mirror.

your eyes fall straight to his cock, widening every so slightly, “wow.. okay,” chuckling awkwardly as you snap back into it. “you have to..” your hand lowers his phone, straightening the camera position for him.

his breath is jagged, on the edge of exploding and splattering all over his bathroom. whatever buzz he had had from the weed had dissipated, replaced by the hazy tingly sensation of your hand near his cock.

“and then..” you look to him, in person this time, not through the safety of the mirror, before wrapping your fingers around the ones that were still lingering around his cock. “do this..” voice trailing off into a low whisper, using his fist to pump his already leaking cock.

a strangled gasp leaves his mouth, heat searing through his body. mind too fuzzy to truly comprehend the shit he was seeing and feeling.

the heat of your body presses against his back, delicate fingers still travelling the length of his cock, “film it,” not once letting your eyes fall from the side of his face while his stay firmly on the mirror in front.

maybe this way he could pretend it wasn’t real, that he was just watching some video and you weren’t actually jerking him off by-proxy.

eddie, ever obedient, presses the record button, sighing into his phone as your his hand continues to move.

his knees almost buckle, kept afloat by the sound of you panting into his ear. it was almost too much, his brain collapsing into itself as your hand takes over, ignoring the phone in his hand to continue making him whine and quiver like that.

the weight of your body presses him into the cold china basin, eyes travelling from his face to his dick and right back up again.

you could’ve told him to jump right now and he would’ve. other hand reaching around to grab onto whatever part of you he could get a grip on.

your lips trace against his neck, lingering against the skin. he couldn’t keep the phone straight, the video would just be some big blur of him groaning and the sink. not that it matters. not while you’re touching him.

“is this good?” you ask, breath tickling against his ear.

eddie nods rapidly, “good.. so good,” fingers twisting around your shirt as his eyes flutter closed. “fuck,” he gasps, the phone slipping from his hand onto the counter when your thumb circles the tip of his dick. an otherworldly feeling he had never been able to feel before.

“yeah?” you grit, pulling his hand, signalling for him to turn. his bones were jelly, body mailable and under your control. his back now pressed against the sink, foreheads pressed together.

one hand holds onto your hip while the other finds your cheek, lazily trying to connect your lips. your knee slides between his legs, spreading them just enough for your other hand to creep between and grab his balls.

“ohh shit,” eddie wails, kissing at your bottom lip, sucking at the skin.

nothing felt real, waiting for his alarm to pull him out of this fucked dream to a sticky puddle and a new perspective on your friendship.

your expert fingers fondle his balls while the other fists his dick, pre-cum making your fingers glisten and move with ease.

his throat squeaks, the most pitiful noise a grown man could’ve made, his bottom lip still latched onto yours.

ten years of friendship and yet the two of you had never even kissed before. wishing you wouldn’t have wasted so much time on actually doing it. a newfound adoration for the sweet taste of your lips and the friction of your palm rubbing against his cock.

“i’m gonna cum,” he babbles, stomach flipping, waves of pleasure crashing through his tingling limbs.

you don’t respond to his whining, your nose brushes over his as his breaths become shallow and staggered. a iron clad grip on your shirt as he teeters over the edge, hips stuttering into your palm.

“ohh fuck,” eddie mewls, bursting all over your hand, “shit.. fuck, oh god,” your eyes dark, gazing down at your hand still wrapped around him, somewhat proud of what you’ve achieved.

he lets go of his hold on your body, hurriedly trying to find the counter to ground himself. his head a million miles away on mars, his lack of thoughts disrupted by the sound of the water running.

chest still heaving as he braves a look at you, watching his release swirl down the drain. you’re chewing on your bottom lip, a sudden realisation that you had just made your best friend cum maybe. he doesn’t really want to ask. hoping you won’t regret it.

eddie picks up his phone, stopping the recording, his thumb shooting straight to the tiny trash can until you grab his wrist.

“don’t delete it,” a fire within your eyes, twisting the screen in your direction, “i wanna watch.”’

his finger hovers over the play button, looking to you though your eyes are trained on the screen, waiting for him to press play.

the video starts, shaky footage as the audio of his pathetic grunts and gasps fill the tiny bathroom. eddie can’t bring himself to watch, forcing himself to watch you rather than the video.

you’re smiling to yourself, smug at the sight of you making him crumble. he wants to be embarrassed, can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and yet, he doesn’t turn it off.

“maybe don’t send that..” you remark, finding his eye, that mischievous sparkle that eddie hadn’t seen in years, reappearing.

he needed to feel you, in the way that you had felt him. cock already reawakening when your lips twitch into a smirk.

shit.

[pinkmoontaco]

Spotlight on Us || Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Idol Jihoon x Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance Summary: Jihoon and Y/N are forced to sit together at an award show, causing endless cheers, teasing, and viral moments. From sneaky glances to Woozi protectively covering Y/N with his blazer, the night is full of heart-fluttering chaos. When Jihoon tears up during his speech and sees Y/N crying too, it becomes clear—no matter how much they pretend, everyone knows. Feel free to make requests || M.list

Jihoon knew this would happen. He saw it coming from a mile away.

Yet, here he was, forced to sit beside you at an award show, and the crowd was absolutely losing it.

Seungcheol had nearly fallen over laughing when Jihoon realized where he had to sit. Jeonghan had patted his shoulder like a proud parent.

And now? Now, he was trapped.

The moment the camera panned over to your table, the cheers hit like a tidal wave. The entire venue shook with the sound of fans screaming their lungs out, and Jihoon could already see the headlines forming in real-time.

"Woozi and Y/N: Power Couple of the Century?"

"Woozi's Reaction to Sitting Next to Y/N is Priceless!"

"Destiny? Fate? Coincidence? We Think Not!"

He sighed, rubbing his temple as Seungcheol cackled beside him. "Hyung, it's like a concert in here," Dino whispered, wide-eyed.

Jihoon glanced at you, only to find you smirking. "Did you plan this?" he accused.

You feigned innocence, sipping your drink. "Me? I would never."

Liar.

The second the camera landed on your table, the screaming was deafening. The venue, which had been relatively calm just moments ago, erupted.

Jihoon fought every urge to groan as he kept his expression neutral, while you—completely unbothered—smiled and gave a polite wave. You were enjoying this way too much.

"Look at you," you teased, voice barely audible over the noise. "Are you blushing?"

Jihoon scoffed. "It's hot in here."

"Uh-huh, sure," you mused, nudging his knee under the table.

And then, as if things weren’t bad enough, the host on stage decided to make things worse.

"So, I think we have to talk about one of the most beloved pairings in the industry right now," the MC said, grinning. "Our audience is going crazy for these two—Woozi and Y/N, everyone!"

The camera panned right back to you both, a split screen of your reactions broadcasting to millions.

Jihoon shut his eyes. "Kill me."

Meanwhile, you? You blew a kiss to the camera.

The screams reached another level.

The members of Seventeen lost it. Seungcheol clapped like a seal. DK was howling. Jeonghan actually got out of his seat to dramatically bow in your direction, like you had just won an Oscar.

"You're enjoying this," Jihoon muttered, side-eyeing you.

"Oh, absolutely," you replied, resting your chin on your hand as if you lived for this moment.

His phone vibrated. Another message from Jeonghan.

[Jeonghan]: Just kiss on camera. I dare you.

Jihoon choked on air. You glanced at his phone and laughed. "What's he saying?"

"Nothing," he snapped, locking it immediately.

And then, it got even worse.

A special segment played—a montage of all the best collaborations of the year. And right there, in full HD, was a clip of you and Jihoon from a previous music show, standing way too close, exchanging small smiles.

It ended with a close-up of Jihoon watching you perform, eyes soft in a way that was damning.

The camera cut back to you both just in time to catch Jihoon covering his face with both hands.

Absolute pandemonium.

Even you were giggling now. "Wow, you really don’t help your case."

"I hate this," Jihoon grumbled into his hands.

You leaned in slightly. "Hate it enough to run away?"

Jihoon peeked at you through his fingers.

You smiled. The same smile that made his heart stutter every single time. The same smile that made him—despite all his complaining—stay exactly where he was.

Every time the camera even slightly panned in your direction, the audience roared in approval. At one point, the big screen accidentally caught Jihoon sneaking glances at you when you weren’t looking, and the fans lost it.

He knew the fancams would be everywhere by the time he got back to the dorms.

And then—disaster struck.

During a short intermission, you shifted slightly in your seat, adjusting your dress, when you realized—it was shorter than you thought.

The realization hit at the worst possible moment because, just as you moved, the camera cut back to your table.

You froze.

Jihoon noticed immediately. His sharp eyes flickered to you, then to the screen, and without thinking, he reached for something—his blazer.

With swift, natural movements, he leaned in and draped it over your lap, completely casual, like he had done it a million times before.

The camera caught everything.

A split screen showed Jihoon placing his blazer over you while you whispered a flustered, “Jihoon, what are you doing?”

"Just wear it," he muttered, pretending to focus on the stage.

Fans erupted.

Jeonghan burst into laughter, clapping his hands as if Woozi had just confessed on national television. Seungkwan gasped so dramatically that DK had to hold him back, and Mingyu was already on his phone, probably tweeting about it.

The big screen replayed the moment in slow motion, zooming in on Jihoon's effortlessly protective gesture.

Jihoon stiffened when he saw it. "You have got to be kidding me."

His phone blew up.

[Jeonghan]: ROMANTIC LEAD ENERGY!!!

[Mingyu]: Jihoon, OUR SWEETHEART???

[Hoshi]: THIS IS CRAZYYYYY

[Seungkwan]: GOODBYE, WORLD. THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN.

The captions wrote themselves.

"Lee Jihoon, the definition of boyfriend material."

"Woozi naturally protecting Y/N?? We are living in a fanfiction."

"When will my boyfriend be like this?"

Meanwhile, you were trying so hard to hold back your laughter. "Did you have to be so smooth about it?"

Jihoon cleared his throat. "It wasn’t smooth."

"You literally just gave me your blazer without blinking."

"Because you needed it," he huffed, crossing his arms.

You peeked up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. "…Thanks, Jihoon."

He looked away immediately, ears turning red. "Shut up."

Jihoon should have known the night wasn’t over yet.

After all the teasing, the chaotic fan reactions, and the never-ending camera zoom-ins, the moment had finally arrived—Seventeen’s category was being announced.

The entire group sat up straighter, hands clasped together, nervous energy crackling in the air. You could feel it from your seat beside Jihoon, his usually steady hands slightly curled into fists on his lap.

“And the winner is…”

The pause was agonizing.

"SEVENTEEN!"

The entire venue exploded.

Seventeen shot up from their seats, hugging each other tightly, overwhelmed with joy. Fans screamed, members cheered, and Jihoon—despite his usual composure—looked stunned.

You watched as Seungcheol pulled Jihoon into a tight hug, and that’s when you saw it—his eyes, glossy with tears.

The camera captured the moment perfectly. Jihoon, the man who poured his heart and soul into every note, every lyric, standing there, wiping at his eyes as the weight of everything hit him all at once.

And suddenly, your own eyes burned.

You covered your mouth with your hands, trying to hold back the emotions bubbling up inside you. You had seen Jihoon work himself to the bone, staying in the studio until dawn, striving for perfection in everything he did.

He deserved this. They all did.

Jihoon stood on stage, microphone in hand, staring out at the sea of fans and glowing lightsticks. The award sat heavy in his grasp, but not as heavy as the emotions swelling in his chest.

The cheers had barely died down when Seungcheol, ever the leader, began their speech—thanking the fans, the staff, the families, and everyone who had supported them.

But when the mic was passed to Jihoon, the crowd fell into an expectant hush.

Jihoon took a deep breath. “Um…” He let out a small chuckle, voice already wavering. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.”

The audience cheered, as if encouraging him to let it out.

Jihoon swallowed hard, gripping the microphone tighter. “This… this award means a lot. More than I can put into words. We’ve worked so hard, and to be standing here, receiving this, it still feels unreal.” He exhaled shakily, blinking rapidly, but the tears still escaped, rolling down his cheeks.

Seventeen members immediately reached for him—Jeonghan placing a hand on his back, Seungkwan nodding at him reassuringly. The crowd cooed, some fans already tearing up themselves.

The camera panned across the group, capturing their emotions, before shifting—straight to you.

Sitting at your table, eyes glassy with unshed tears, you watched Jihoon with nothing but pure admiration and pride. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until the camera lingered on you, your lips pressed together to keep from outright sobbing.

And just like that, the entire venue reacted.

Fans screamed.

The members on stage noticed, and before Jihoon could even process what was happening, Jeonghan grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face the screen.

There, clear as day, was you, wiping at your cheeks, eyes fixed on him like he was the most important person in the world.

Jihoon's face turned red instantly. He quickly turned back, covering his face with his sleeve, but it was too late.

Mingyu burst out laughing, Joshua clapped his hands like an excited kid, and even Seungcheol cracked up, patting Jihoon's back.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones crying,” Seungkwan teased into the mic, making the crowd go wild.

Jihoon groaned into his hands, but despite his embarrassment, he peeked up at the camera again—at you.

And in that moment, as he saw you smiling softly through your tears, he couldn’t even be mad.

Because no matter how much he pretended to ignore it, no matter how much he groaned when the cameras caught you both—deep down, he knew.

There was no one he’d rather share the spotlight with.

[landoughnut]

Dream Girl

♡masterlist - request

♡ pairing - lando norris x fem!reader

♡ summary - when being interviewed, the conversation gets on the topic of you, lando's long term obsession crush, never in a million years did he think you would actually notice him

♡ warnings - obsessed/simp lando

♡ w/c & a/n - 0.85k | I hope you all are doing good! as usual send any requests xoxo

"Good afternoon, Lando! We're happy to have you here with us today," the interviewer smiles, sat across from the driver.

"Great to be here," he nods, putting his hands on his lap and leaning back into the chair, "Wow, nice chairs you've got here."

The interviewer laughs, "Glad you approve of them. So, let's get started with the questions, shall we?" Lando nods and the lady clears her throat, "First off, when racing at the high speeds you do, what are some things you're thinking about? Or maybe I should say, a someone?"

Let's rewind. If there was one thing, besides being a Formula 1 driver, that everyone knew Lando Norris for, it was having the world's most massive crush on you. In fact, pretty much everyone was aware of this; except for you.

You wouldn't call yourself oblivious, per se. You just weren't really one to be online, so you never saw all the drama surrounding Lando's infatuation with you.

He has been enamored with you for about three years now, and he made it everyone's problem. From liking instagram updates of you, to commenting on pictures and videos of you, to even reposting edits of you. His friends must have sat through hours and hours of hearing him just speak about your beauty and personality.

His friends teased him about it quite often, though he was never really embarrassed over it. He truly just found everything about you beautiful, you were his dream girl, everything he'd ever want in a woman.

"Well, uh, I think about, you know, winning. Also what I'm going to eat after, and uh.. my girl," he nods with a slight grin.

The interviewer raises her eyebrows, "I wasn't informed you finally got a girlfriend," she says, surprised.

He laughs and shakes his head, "No, no. She's not my girlfriend... yet. Although I'm not even sure if she knows that I exist, but I'm working on it."

"Ah, I should have known," the lady smiles at his flustered state, "I wish you luck with that. Now I believe we should move onto the more important questions, before I get in trouble," she taps on her clipboard.

The rest of the interview seemed like forever for Lando, now that he was thinking about you again, as he usually is.

You're in your bed, watching one of your favorite shows, How I Met Your Mother, when your phone starts to blow up with your friends messaging you and sending you a link to a YouTube video of some F1 interview.

You open the video is none other than the very cute, Lando Norris. Of course you knew who he was, you kept up with Formula 1 on your free time and enjoyed watching the races.

As the video is playing through, you open the comments and your eye go wide at everyone saying your name and commenting on how hot of a couple you two would make. You furrow your eyebrows at some comments talking about how devoted to you he must be for liking you for several years without a single interaction.

You continue to watch the video and your cheeks turn pink as he talks about, well you. You couldn't believe that he liked you like that, surely you were well-known, and you weren't too bad looking, but one of the best current racers in the world crushing on you?

After the video ended you messaged your best friend back, asking what you should do. She, of course, told you to message him on instagram.

You thought over the idea for a bit, before nervously clicking on his account and following him back before beginning to type.

Lando was hanging out with Oscar around the garage when he hears his phone ping with a notification. He glances at it and turns his phone off again before doing a double check to make sure he saw it right. You had followed him.

"OSCAR," he yells and turns to his friend, holding the phone in his face, "SHE FOLLOWED ME, LOOK," he waves the phone.

Oscars jaw drops, never did he see this day coming, "Wow! Mate, thats fantastic, and look! It seems like she just sent you a message!"

"What? I might faint, Oscar," the boys hands shake with excitement and nerves as he clicks on your message. "Hi! I saw your interview, and I must say, I'm truly flattered," Lando reads as his face turns dark pink, he didn't think you'd see it, guess he was wrong.

Oscar starts laughing, "Text her back!"

"I don't know what to say, I've never spoken to her in my life," he panics.

"Mate, she saw you call her your girl, it's a bit too late to be nervous," Oscar smiles, patting his friend's pack. Lando chews his lip and writes back, heart pounding.

After a few messages were exchanged and an anticipated Oscar waiting for an update clears his throat, Lando looks up from the phone with the brightest smile Oscar has ever seen on him, "Guess who scored himself a date with his future wife this Saturday?"

[keirareidss]

the ink on your skin - s.r

♡ summary: spencer is obsessed with his girlfriend's tattoos pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader wc: 1.1k

Spencer Reid had a thing for tattoos. Specifically his girlfriend's. One of his favorite pastimes was tracing them with his finger. Exactly what he was doing now.

He laid in bed, the early morning light peeking through the cracks in the blinds, painting the mattress in golden stripes. His deft fingertips traced the black ink decorating your skin. He followed the lines, recreating the intricate pattern with his touch.

"What are you doing?" Came a sleepy mumble from beside him. He looked up from your back, glancing towards where your face was buried into the plush pillow, arms curled underneath it. Your eyes were still closed but your face was turned towards him.

"Nothing. Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No." You hummed, snuggling closer. "I dreamt about you."

"Really?" He asked, his fingers skimming down to the side of your thigh where another tattoo laid. He gently began tracing it. You weren't even sure if he knew he was doing it.

"Mhm. We were just walking around the city. Running errands and stuff. It was pretty domestic actually."

"That sounds nice." Spencer murmurs.

"It was." You both fell into a peaceful silence, your eyes still closed while Spencer traced over your ink from memory.

You dropped the clasp again, huffing in annoyance. Why is it so hard to put on a necklace? You didn't want to go without it though, it really accented the dress you were wearing. Backless with a deep V in the front, hugging your curves nicely. You tried again to clasp the necklace behind your neck, internally cheering when you succeeded.

"Hey, are you ready?" Spencer asked, walking into the room, adjusting his tie. He froze when he saw you, barely keeping his jaw from dropping to the floor. "Wow, you look... amazing."

"Thank you. You look awfully handsome yourself."

"Is, um, is that a new necklace?" He asked, unable to stop his eyes from dropping to your cleavage.

"It is. I got it when I went shopping with Penelope last weekend." You said, stepping closer to him. His hand instinctively moved to your waist, the other moving to the necklace. He fiddles with the charm, a small silver S.

"S?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"For Spencer." You grinned up at him as his knuckles brushed your chest. He blushed, glancing back at the necklace. His eyes caught on something else though, the tattoo trailing down your cleavage into the hem of your dress. His fingers leave the small charm to brush over the ink. He traces the design forming a vine as it descends down your chest, watching his own finger skim along your soft skin.

"Spence?"

"Hmm?" He asks, snapping out of his trance.

"Are you ready to go?" You asked in a soft, teasing voice.

"Mhm." His eyes finally lift from your chest to look into your entrancing eyes.

"C'mon babe. We're gonna be late to our reservation." Spencer trails behind you his eyes caught on the way your hips sway. It was gonna be a long night.

The case was rough. Weeks of work and the victim barely made it out alive. Now that the BAU was back on the jet, they all stayed pretty quiet, sitting with the after effects of the case. You sat across from Spencer, headphones in, music nearly blasting in your ears to drown out the memories of the case. Spencer sat with his back to the kitchenette, nose deep in his notebook, drawing something. Derek got up for the third time, getting another coffee for himself. He headed to the kitchenette, refilling his cup. When he turned to go back to his seat, he noticed something. He stepped closer to the back of Spencer's seat, peeking over his shoulder.

"What is that?" He asks, making the genius turn around.

"Wha- none of your business!" He says, pressing the notebook to his chest to hide it from view.

"Nah, that looked familiar. Lemme see." He reaches for the notebook but Spencer jerks back.

"No! It's- it's nothing." His face is bright red by now. He glances across the table to see you looking up, pulling an earbud from your ear to tune into the conversation. Derek uses this distraction to snatch the notebook from Spencer's hand. "Morgan-"

"Hang on, is this... is this what I think it is?" Derek grins teasingly.

"No." Spencer defends pathetically.

"It is. You're doodling your girlfriend's tattoos."

"Just- give it back." He yanks the notebook back, tucking it to his chest again.

"You are?" You asked, taking your other earbud out.

"Maybe..." Spencer blushes more, if that's even possible.

"Which one? Show me." You said. The flustered man across from you slowly hands you the notebook. You look down at the drawing your eyes widening slightly at the detail. "Wow. This is good."

"Thanks." Spencer rubs the back of his neck and Derek ruffles his hair, smirking as he heads back to his seat. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad? This is amazing. You should draw my next tattoo." You said offhandedly, sliding his notebook back across the table to him. You moved to put your earbuds back in but stopped when he spoke again.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I can draw something... if you want."

"That'd be awesome, Spence." He smiled to himself, burying himself back into his notebook.

It had to be perfect. He wouldn't accept anything other than perfect being put on your body permanently. Since you told him he could design a tattoo for you, he hasn't stopped thinking about it. He's been brainstorming and sketching but nothing has felt right. He crumbled up and threw away yet another sheet of paper containing a design that was still not good enough.

"It doesn't have to be perfect, Spence. I'll love anything you draw. Promise." He shakes his head.

"You don't know that." He muttered, shifting to get more comfortable. He was sitting in the dining room chair at your apartment where he had been for almost the last hour. You sat down next to him, taking his hand.

"Honey, it's not that big of a deal." You reassured him, smiling slightly, amused at his determination.

"It is a big deal! This will be on your body forever!"

"If you're this stressed about it, you don't have to do it."

"Do you not want me to?" He tilted his head, his brown puppy dog eyes boring into yours.

"Of course I want you to. It'd be great to have a little piece of you everywhere I go."

"Wait... I have an idea." Spencer says, grabbing his pencil and starting to quickly sketch. He's done in a few moments, sliding the notebook over to you.

"Is that...?" You smiled, looking down at the sketch.

"It's the day we met. And that's a carnation. Your favorite, right?"

"Yeah. It's perfect." You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his winding around your waist. "It's perfect." You murmur again, this time into his neck. His arms tighten around you, smiling at the promise of permanent ink on your body, tying you together. Forever.

[heliosunny]

pls pls pls yandere!blade?? 👀👀i love the lucky egg one of him 🫣

Yandere!Blade x Reader

The rain hadn’t stopped all evening, and the alleyway smelled of damp earth. You hadn’t planned on stopping, but the faint sound of something rustling near a pile of discarded crates caught your attention.

A cat—if you could even call it that—lay there, drenched and motionless. Its sleek black fur was matted with rain and speckled with blood, its body tense despite the clear exhaustion weighing it down. But what struck you most were its eyes—piercing crimson, burning with unmistakable fury.

When you took a cautious step forward, the cat let out a low, warning growl. Its ears flattened, tail flicking sharply despite its weakened state.

You crouched down slowly, keeping your hands in view. “Easy… I’m not going to hurt you.”

It didn’t believe you. Even now, it refused to appear weak.

A sigh escaped your lips as you reached into your bag, pulling out a piece of cloth. “You’re hurt. If I leave you here, you’ll only get worse.”

The cat didn’t move. Carefully, you extended the cloth toward it.

For a long moment, it simply stared. Then, ever so slightly, the rigid tension in its shoulders eased. It wasn’t trust, not yet. But it was something.

And that was enough for now.

Bringing the cat home had been the easy part. Getting it to actually accept your help? That was another story entirely.

The moment you stepped through your front door, the black-furred creature tried to wriggle out of your grasp. You set it down gently on a pile of fresh towels, but it still glared at you with pure contempt, eyes practically screaming, Don’t touch me.

“You’re really something, huh?” you mused, grabbing the first aid kit. “I’m trying to help, you know.”

The cat didn’t respond, obviously, but the way it flicked its tail and tensed when you got closer made its thoughts clear enough. You started tending to its wounds, expecting it to lash out at any moment. It never did.

But as days passed, something changed. The hostility remained, but it grew quieter. The cat still refused to be held, but it no longer flinched when you reached out. It tolerated you.

And then one night, after a particularly stubborn staring contest, you found deep scratch marks on the wooden floor. Letters, etched with deliberate precision.

B L A D E

You blinked. Then looked at the cat, who sat there with an expression that somehow felt smug.

“You’re smart for a cat” you murmured, watching as it flicked an ear in response.

But instead of calling it Blade, you tilted your head and smirked. “Bladie, huh?”

The cat’s tail flicked, and it shot you the nastiest glare you’d ever seen.

From that moment on, the name stuck.

Even after it healed—after it was strong enough to leave—Bladie never did. You expected it to slip out the door one day, disappearing back into the streets, but it never came. Instead, it lingered. At night, you’d wake up to find it curled up at your feet.

-----

The moment you stepped through the door, you practically beamed with excitement. “Bladie! Guess what? I got myself a boyfriend!”

The black-furred cat sat atop the windowsill, bathed in the dim evening light, tail lazily flicking as it watched you.

You pursed your lips, placing your hands on your hips. “Wow, nothing? No hissing? No dramatic reactions? I thought you’d at least look offended.”

Maybe you were just joking. Or maybe this supposed ‘boyfriend’ wasn’t even worth acknowledging.

But then the next day came.

And you—of all things—brought Blade with you on a date.

You had tucked him into your arms, treating him like some pampered pet, completely unaware of the way his gaze sharpened the moment he saw the man waiting for you at the café.

This man—this supposed ‘boyfriend’—was pathetic.

Everything about him screamed weakness.

Useless.

And yet you sat there, sipping your drink, completely oblivious.

Blade’s tail flicked once. Twice. If this man thought he’d be keeping you, he was sorely mistaken.

“I’ll be right back, Bladie. Be nice, okay?”

You ruffled the fur between his ears before heading off to the bathroom, completely unaware of the tension crackling in the air the moment you left.

The man—your so-called boyfriend—let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. Then, just as quickly, his friendly mask cracked. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.

“Well, well… What are the chances?”

“You look miserable like this” the man mused, tapping a finger against the table. “Not so high and mighty now, are you?”

The man smirked. “What, nothing to say? Oh, that’s right..you can’t.” His voice was full of mockery. “Maybe I should tell them the truth? I bet they’d love to know what kind of monster they’ve been-”

It happened in an instant.

Blade's claws sank deep into the man’s forearm before he could react. The wizard yelped, jerking back, but Blade didn’t let go. His fangs sank into the man's flesh.

"Tch—! Damn beast—!"

Chairs screeched. Silverware clattered. The café burst into chaos as Blade tore into the man, aiming for veins, for weak points. His claws raked across the wizard’s cheek, leaving deep, bleeding gashes.

The wizard barely managed to shove him off, staggering back.

The wizard cursed under his breath, wiping the blood from his face. “You should’ve stayed a stray.”

Blade growled low in his throat. If this man thought he could take you, manipulate you, he was dead wrong.

The café was a disaster.

Tables overturned. Chairs knocked aside. Silverware scattered across the floor. Your so-called boyfriend stood there, pale-faced, clutching his bleeding arm. And in the center of it all sat Blade.

You were speechless.

What the hell had happened while you were gone?

The manager was already shouting, other customers whispering, but you barely heard them as you marched over and scooped Blade into your arms. He didn’t resist—just let himself be carried, still eerily stiff, still glaring daggers at the man.

You didn’t say a word. You just turned and left.

----

That night, the moon was full, bathing your room in silver light.

Blade lay curled at the foot of your bed, unmoving. You sighed, shifting under the blankets.

“What am I gonna do with you…” you mumbled, “I should be mad, you know. That was crazy.”

Then, in the dead of night, something changed.

Where there had been a small, black-furred cat…Now stood a man.

Blade flexed his fingers, feeling the weight of his true form again. His expression remained unreadable as he took a slow step toward your sleeping figure.

Blade knew his time was short.

The moment he had awoken in his human form, he had felt it—the lingering pull of the curse, the weight pressing against his chest, ready to drag him back into that pathetic, weak cat body. He refused to let that happen. Not when he had finally regained himself. Not when the man who did this to him still breathed.

He left silently, slipping through the open window into the night, vanishing beneath the full moon’s gaze.

The wizard wouldn’t have gone far.

The scent of blood led him straight to his target.

The wizard sat in an abandoned house, muttering under his breath, fingers weaving through the air as he tried to reinforce his spells. His wounds from earlier were hastily bandaged, but Blade could see the sluggish way he moved.

The wizard’s head snapped up, “You—!”

The wizard barely managed to conjure a barrier, sparks flying as Blade’s weapon crashed against it. The force sent him stumbling back, and Blade didn’t let up—

The wizard threw a desperate bolt of energy, but Blade twisted mid-step, dodging effortlessly before lunging, grabbing the man by the throat and slamming him against the wall. Blood smeared across the stone.

The wizard gasped, clawing at Blade’s grip.

“You thought you could reduce me to nothing?”

Without hesitation, Blade drove his sword straight through the wizard’s chest. “Fool.”

The wizard let out a strangled gasp before finally going limp.

The curse was broken.

Or at least… it should have been.

But as Blade took a step back, he felt it—that familiar aura.

His body shrank, fur replaced skin, claws replaced fingers. His vision lowered as the world warped around him.

And just like that, he was back in that miserable, feline form.

So killing the wizard wasn’t enough.

Then what the hell was?

----

By the time Blade returned to your side, he was full.

The wizard had been weak, but at least he had been useful in one regard—his body had provided a satisfying meal. It wasn’t the first time Blade had consumed flesh, nor would it be the last, but there was something particularly enjoyable about devouring the man who had cursed him.

And now, with his hunger dealt with, exhaustion settled in.

The entire day passed like that. He barely moved, barely opened his eyes, simply existed in his comfortable, satisfied state.

You, of course, were clueless.

“Oh my god, Bladie, are you sick?”

You had hovered over him in concern when evening came, poking at his fur. He cracked open an eye, unimpressed.

“You never sleep this much. Did you eat something weird?”

At that, his tail twitched. If only you knew.

The curse hadn’t lifted.

Even after killing the wizard, even after ripping him apart with his own fangs, nothing had changed. He was still bound to this ridiculous form.

To break the curse…

He needed a true love’s kiss.

Blade almost vomited at the thought, but what else can he do.

He had spent years rejecting such foolish, sentimental nonsense. Love? Affection? Worthless. He had never needed such things.

And yet, now, it was the only way he could think of.

If this was what it took, then he would endure it.

But there was a problem.

You, in all your obliviousness, had no idea.

So under the limitations of his cat form, Blade began to subtly encourage you.

More physical contact. More attempts to be endearing. More ways to push you into doing what needed to be done.

You, of course, noticed the difference immediately.

“Bladie, what’s gotten into you?” you murmured one night as he climbed onto your chest, pressing his forehead against yours. “You never do this.”

He stared at you, crimson eyes unblinking.

“…Are you trying to tell me something?”

Yes. Obviously. Hurry up.

Instead, you just laughed, scratching under his chin. “You’re acting like you actually like me or something. Did I feed you something weird?”

Blade resisted the urge to dig his claws into your shirt in frustration.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

Blade had never known true suffering until now.

Days passed, and you remained completely, hopelessly clueless. No matter what he did, you simply dismissed it as odd behavior, laughing at his attempts instead of realizing the obvious.

He nuzzled against your cheek? You cooed about how adorable he was.

He pressed his forehead against your lips, waiting? You thought he just wanted attention.

He climbed onto your lap, curling up and flicking his tail in an almost inviting manner? You took a damn picture and posted it online, calling him the “cuddliest little guy.”

Blade wanted to scream.

But he was determined.

So he tried everything.

He’d stretch lazily across your desk while you worked, rolling just enough so you’d notice the perfect placement for a forehead kiss.

He’d ‘accidentally’ brush his face against your lips while you were half-asleep, but instead of kissing him, you just muttered, “Ugh, Bladie, your fur is all over my face…” and rolled away.

He even went as far as faking slight injuries, limping over to you with the most pitiful look he could muster.

You panicked. Rushed to his side. Held him carefully.

“Oh no, you might be sick! I should take you to a vet.”

…Wait.

What?

That was how Blade found himself at an animal clinic, held in your arms as some stranger in a white coat examined him like he was nothing more than a common housecat.

“Nothing’s wrong with him” the vet finally said, shaking their head. “He’s perfectly healthy. Probably just being clingy.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, thank god. I was worried.”

Blade, meanwhile, wanted to die.

You had just wasted hours of his time—his precious, limited time—only for a vet to confirm what he already knew.

By the time you brought him back home, he was done.

This was pointless. Completely, utterly pointless.

He gave up.

But then, the unthinkable happened.

That evening, you got a message from your friends. Some last-minute invitation to hang out.

And without hesitation, you grabbed your bag, ruffled Blade’s fur, and left.

Just like that.

Blade sat there in stunned silence, staring at the door.

He was alone.

For the first time in weeks, you had left him by himself.

…Oh.

Oh.

If you could leave him once, you could leave him again.

And that… was unacceptable.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Blade wasted no time.

He leapt onto the windowsill, tail flicking with irritation as he tracked your scent. It wasn’t difficult. He had spent his time memorizing everything about you.

Finding you was laughably easy.

Your friends surrounded you, their presence invading what was his.

No.

They had to go.

The first one left quickly.

A minor inconvenience, really. All it took was a perfectly timed ‘accident’—a tipped-over drink spilling onto their lap. They yelped, cursing under their breath, and excused themselves to clean up.

The second was harder.

They were persistent, staying far too close, their gaze lingering on you in a way that made Blade’s claws twitch. So he stepped things up- A sprained ankle.

Another one gone.

One by one, they left.

Some to clean up a mess, some to answer an urgent call, some simply feeling an inexplicable unease clawing at their senses, whispering to them that it was time to leave.

And eventually…

It was just you.

You frowned, looking around in confusion. “Huh? Where did everyone go?”

Finally.

Now, all that was left… was to bring you back.

A familiar tug at your sleeve.

“Bladie?”

Your cat had somehow found you, his small black paws gripping your sleeve, tail flicking in agitation.

“Did you follow me all the way here?” you sighed, bending down to scoop him up. “You really don’t like being left alone, huh?”

But before your hands could reach him—

Before your eyes, the small form of your cat twisted, stretching, warping. Fur faded into skin, limbs lengthened, dark robes manifesting around a lean, powerful frame.

A man.

“…Bladie?”

“Took you long enough.”

The moment your brain finally caught up with what you were seeing, panic hit.

You screamed.

Then, before you could think, before you could rationalize, your body moved on instinct. You didn’t care about the stares of the people nearby. You didn’t care about the fact that you had just left Bladie—or whoever that was—behind. Your legs just moved, carrying you as far away from that impossible, terrifying sight as possible.

That’s not real. That’s not real. That’s not—

A sudden rush of wind behind you.

Something grabbed you. You barely had time to react before a sharp tug yanked you backward, knocking you off balance.

Bladie—no, Blade.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

And before you could say a word, his hand cupped your jaw and he kissed you.

You gasped, hands instinctively pushing at his chest, but it didn’t matter—because the moment his lips touched yours—His body lit with a strange, pulsing energy, golden threads wrapping around his form, weaving light into his skin. But not for long, later, the glow flickered. Then shattered.

Like glass splintering under pressure, the light broke apart—and in its place, you watched in horror as his body shrunk.

He was a cat again.

Just a cat.

“Oh my god, oh my god—Bladie!” you hissed, scooping him up into your arms like he hadn’t just assaulted your lips in public, “What the hell was that?!”

He let out a furious yowl, clawing weakly at your sleeves like he was trying to explain himself but had no words.

“No—don’t you dare yell at me right now, mister! You’re the one who—we need to go!”

You held him close, bolting down the street in a panic, heart still thundering in your chest.

“Please let no one have recorded that—oh my god—”

Blade buried his face into your arm in pure shame.

This was not how that was supposed to go.

Your feet had barely hit the floor of your apartment before you dropped Blade onto the couch, hands on your hips, pacing in a frantic spiral of frustration and disbelief.

“I kissed my cat.” You clutched your head. “In public! In front of people!”

Blade, now a thoroughly pissed-off ball of fur, sat sulking with his ears flat, tail lashing violently across the cushions.

“And you—what even was that?! You’re not just some weird guy with a curse—you kissed me! You turned into a man, kissed me, turned back, and meowed like it was my fault?!”

He meowed again—defensive.

“Don’t ‘meow’ at me!” you snapped, pointing at him like he was on trial. “I’ve let you sleep in my bed, eat my food, ruin my curtains, and now I find out you’re not only human but also a problematic one?! I’ve been out here feeding wet food to some man disguised as a floofy stray!”

Blade flopped over dramatically, tail still twitching. He would’ve flipped you off if he had fingers.

You groaned, flopping down beside him, hand dragging over your face. “This is… this is too much.”

That’s when the window shattered.

You didn’t even have time to scream before the shadows surged in.

Hooded figures in blood-dark robes, sigils glowing faintly on their skin, their voices hissing in a language that made your bones ache. You were shoved to the ground. Another snatched Blade, forcing him into a glowing cage that hissed with energy and burned his fur.

Then everything vanished.

In a breath.

You landed in a dusty, crumbling tower, stone walls etched in cursed runes.

You tried to scream for him, but they yanked you away.

When Blade woke up, his body was human again. His wrists burned where the magical shackles bound him, but his expression was blank—bored, even—as the cultists circled like vultures.

“You killed one of our own” one of them hissed. “The curse you were bound to—it was ours to control.” “You consumed his flesh” another said, voice quivering with disgust and reverence. “That’s an ancient taboo. Even for us.”

Blade shrugged. “Tasted better than he looked.”

They didn’t like that. Several took a step back, one nearly gagged.

“The sentence is death.”

“Great” Blade muttered, rolling his eyes. “Let’s skip the ceremony and get to it.”

“And your owner corrupted with your presence… They will be executed alongside you.”

“What?”

“They took you in. Sheltered you.”

“You’ll burn together”

“You picked the wrong bargaining chip.”

The tower shuddered.

Blade… no longer looked bored.

“I warned him…” he murmured low, as if to himself. “Told him I’d kill everyone.”

The shackles cracked.

A cultist stepped back. “He’s—he’s breaking containment—!”

Snap.

One cuff shattered, then the other. A surge of corrupted energy burst from Blade’s core, black and red streaks tearing through the air like living claws. And Blade rose, his long hair flowing with the sheer force of pressure now rolling off his body.

“You should’ve touched me” he whispered. “But you threatened Y/N.”

The first to die barely saw it coming.

Blade moved and punched through the cultist’s chest—his bare hand ripping out a still-beating heart with such force the ribs cracked outward like shattered wood. He dropped the organ.

The second tried to cast a binding spell, but Blade was on him in a blink, his nails extending into claws. He slashed across the man’s face, slicing the top half clean from the bottom. Skull and jawbone split open like ripe fruit, blood spraying in an arc across the stone walls.

Blade enjoyed this.

A woman tried to flee. Her legs carried her nearly to the stairs before Blade’s shadow stretched unnaturally, and something reached from it— A clawed hand gripped her ankle.

“No—NO—!”

Her screams were cut short when Blade’s boot came down hard on her throat—once. Then again. And again.

Her windpipe crushed. She gurgled as blood spilled from her nose and mouth, eyes wide with horror as her final moments played out beneath the heel of the creature she helped summon.

“You can’t kill us all—!” one screamed.

Blade tilted his head. “Watch me.”

He lifted his hand—energy surging through his arm like fire. A spike of steel tore through the stone floor and impaled one through the gut, lifting him into the air where he writhed like a pinned insect.

The final cultist turned to run—only for Blade to appear behind him.

“I should keep you alive,” he murmured, claw tapping the man’s cheek, “but I’m done being kind.”

Then he tore his throat out with his teeth.

The man gurgled, choking on his own blood, before falling to his knees—eyes still wide in disbelief.

The tower stank of blood and fear.

Corpses were scattered like broken dolls.

“…You better be safe.”

And with that, he turned to find you.

Blade moved through the carnage.

Two more cultists emerged from an upper level, unaware of what lay below. They were mid-conversation, arguing about keeping you under control.

With a blur of motion, Blade appeared before them like a phantom.

Blade’s hand snapped forward and seized the man’s wrist, yanking it forward.

“Wha—?!”

The cultist screamed as his own fingers were twisted into a casting sigil.

“Don’t waste it” Blade growled.

He forced the man’s hand forward like a weapon—aimed it at the other cultist and triggered the spell before the man could resist. A streak of cursed lightning blasted the second cultist straight into the wall, caving in his chest on impact. The body slumped down in a mangled pile of meat and robes.

“P-Please—”

“…You helped them cage Y/N”

“No—I didn’t mean to—!”

Blade ripped the man’s arm from its socket, using his own spell-casting hand to burn his face off.

He tossed the scorched corpse aside and kept walking.

Room after room, hallway after hallway—he tore through the place, destroying anyone who dared to appear in front of him.

From above.

Blade’s head snapped up. He heard a scream.

There was a sharp gust of wind—stone crumbling from the high spire—and when he ran to the window, what he saw made his blood boil.

You—held at the edge of the highest balcony by another cultist. Wind whipping your hair, your arms flailing as you kicked and screamed—

“Let go of me!!”

The robed figure hissed something in an arcane tongue, clearly intending to toss you over as a final punishment—

Blade launched himself out the window. The wind howled in his ears, but his eyes were locked on you. You were falling now, pushed over the edge—screaming, plummeting.

And he caught you mid-air, arms wrapped tight around your waist, bodies spinning violently from the momentum. You crashed down hard on a stone ledge below, but Blade took the brunt—grunting, blood splattering from his mouth as his back slammed against the stone.

But you were alive.

Held tight in his arms.

“…You alright?”

You blinked in shock. Your hands gripped the front of his blood-soaked robes as you stared up at his face.

“…Bladie?”

Blade pulled away from you, his grip lingering for a moment longer before he stood.

“Stay here,” he ordered, “I’ll clear out the rest.”

He vanished into the shadows like a wraith.

And you… sat there, wrapping your arms around yourself, staring at the blood smeared on your hands and clothes.

What were you supposed to feel?

What were you supposed to think?

Just days ago, he was your stray cat—your grumpy, clingy, ridiculous little Bladie. Now…

Now, you had seen him rip people apart like paper.

Your hands clenched.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The sounds of slaughter echoed distantly—cries of agony, bones snapping, wet thuds against stone.

And he finally returned.

Blade stood before you, drenched in the aftermath of his rampage—His eyes still gleamed with the remnants of battle, but they softened—just slightly—when they met yours.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed you.

His lips, tainted with the scent of iron, pressed against yours.

You shoved him back instantly, your pulse spiking.

“What was that for?!” you gasped, wiping your mouth instinctively, the taste of blood lingering.

Blade blinked, entirely unaffected by your reaction. “To see if I changed back.”

You stared at him.

“…And?”

He lifted his hands—still human. Flexed his fingers—still normal. Glanced down at himself—same old, blood-covered menace.

Everything was normal.

His lips twitched upward, just barely. “Guess I’m stuck like this.”

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temples. “I cannot deal with this right now.”

“Then don’t.” He tilted his head, “Let's go home.”

“…Home?”

He nodded once.

He wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.

No matter how much you tried to process everything that happened

No matter how much you questioned reality itself

Blade was going to follow you home.

Just like he always did.

[randofics]

Dante x reader headcannons

18+ MDNI

Sorry ya'll, I'm still working on Pain and Warmth pt.2. I figured yall could use some headcannons in the meantime. Some wholesome and spicy.

Link to Pt.1

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Sweet

He can't ever say no to your puppy dog eyes when you ask him to buy you something just as long as he can afford it. But if you aren't wanting for much and you mention something you thought about getting off-hand, he'll definitely get it for you even if he has to save up for it.

---

You definitely have competitions to see who can say the most one-liners before the other can't think of any more. You compliment each other for especially good ones.

---

Dante, ever the romantic, has definitely picked you a bouquet of wildflowers at least once. Maybe you're allergic or maybe not, but either way, you think it's sweet of him.

---

If he wants to do something for you (aside from cooking cause that didn't go well), you had better let him do it! He won't take no for an answer unless you give him good reason not to.

---

If you're ever under the weather, he'll wait on you, hand and foot. He's never really been sick, so just seeing you out of commission with a cold or stomach bug, and he wants to make certain you'll survive it. He's basically immortal, so he doesn't want you going into any afterlife before your time.

---

He loves your food. And even though he still eats a lot of pizza, if you plan on cooking, he won't even think of ordering any pizza. He also makes sure to ask you whether you plan on cooking or not.

---

While most people see Dante as an ignorant playboy or jock you know just how nerdy he can be. He's pretty well read, and while he mostly flips through magazines, you've seen him with a few novels in hand around his place. He's even gone to the library with you on occasion. The first time you saw him with an actual book, he smiled. "People really shouldn't let someone's looks fool them."

---

Spice

Dante definitely has a thing for short girls. He's 6'3". That's a whole inch taller than Ghost from COD. If you're any shorter than his chin, he'll definitely tease you about it. But it also means you get to use him as a ladder to reach stuff. He doesn't really complain, especially when your thighs are squeezing his head as you dust the top of the shelves.

---

He loves making you squirm and writhe for him in bed. To him, it's all about you. He sometimes actually forgets that he can have pleasure as well, but you're good about reminding him.😏

---

He's definitely one to mark you on purpose. Hickeys or bites on your neck, chest, and thighs are his preferred spots, but he has left some on your back and abdomen in the past.

---

He prefers the missionary position because he can see your reactions easier, and he loves it when you wrap yourself around him. Nails digging into his back and teeth in his shoulder as you move your hips with his.

---

One time, you stole his coat while he was taking a nap at his desk and put it on over a brand new pair of lingerie. You found red with black lace that matched his coat and immediately bought it. After letting him sleep a while longer, you woke him wrapping your arms around his neck from behind his chair. He almost immediately looked to the coat rack behind him and realized it wasn't there. "Is my coat in the wash?"

"No..." he spots the red sleeves on your arms as you run your hands over his chest. "Hey! Wha'cha wearing my coat for?" You stand, and he spins the chair to face you. It's wrapped around you, so he can't see what's underneath. Moving between his spread legs, you let it fall open. His jaw practically hit the floor at the sight of you. "Holy...Wow! You look gorgeous in my colors, baby!"

It's safe to say he enjoyed getting you out of that lingerie just as much.😏

[clairerosetarot]

PICK A PIC! Your Future Spouse’s Kinks | 18+ 💦

Also: Don’t give to much meaning to the words in parenthesis, they are just used to specify which gif is which, try to focus on the feeling instead! 🤭🧘‍♀️

Well hello there guys!!!! I’m so sorry that I took so long to get back, March is really kicking my 🍑 lol. Anyways I’m back and wont take a break again for quite a while I hope. :) Let’s get started with the reading.

Decks Used: Rider-Waite and The Golden Future (oracle) by Diana Cooper

Pile 1 🌊

Cards: The Lovers, Illuminated Light, Family Relationships.

Wow, This is really interesting Pile 1! I’ve never really heard of this before but it seems like your partner has enveloped sexual energy with a light, almost healing, loving one. I believe they have a ‘love kink’ is that even a thing? lol 😆 Or perhaps a mutual praise kink. Showering you with expensive gifts and travels too. I swear I had a pile similar to this in my last reading so if you picked that as well then this is definitely for you.

I feel like your partner didn’t have all the love in their household available to them growing up. Maybe their parents were divorced, or just always away for work. They saw this and wanted things to be different, imagined a life for themselves where they marry who they really love and shower them in it everyday. If their parents weren’t divorced then maybe they just come from a culture where showing love outwardly isn’t expressed and they felt like a black sheep for wanting that. They want to engage in extreme sensory pleasures with you, pile 1. No pain, just pleasure is what i’m hearing. Massage oil, feathering touches and caresses in between soft kisses, chocolate honey and strawberries (Food is coming through here - could be a Taurus ♉️), maybe some flavored lube lmao 🤣 They are sort of cracking me up with this and if you are a sort of ‘bossy’ type of person and having trouble receiving such affection I get that, but they will also make you feel good AF!! “Just lay back and left me try to make you squirt” Is what i’m hearing LMAOO they are kinda freaky but wrap it in such love and respect they hold for you. If you were expecting hard bondage and slapping i’m sorry my dears, this person probably doesn’t get that but will do it to make you happy i’m hearing.

Overall Your future spouse will love you in the most tender and heartfelt way! You’ll feel adored, cherished, and supported every single day. The future looks bright and full of love! 💕🌟

Hope that brings a smile to your face!

Pile 2 🌊

Cards: The Star (why so many major arcana already lol I think my readers rate attracting some big time freaks 🥵), The Waters of the Planet, The Super Love Portal, The emperor jumped out also.

Okay, can somebody say dom?? Even if you are to wed a women pile 2, your future spouse will be dominating AF. They might like to hear you cry Mommy/Daddy for them 🫣. You guys are the type of couple that falls into these roles very easily in bed ( or elsewhere 😏) and keeps it up until old age. Big “old couple grinding on each at the nursing home” energy here lmao. They will also have a voyeurism kink, I think they are little too possessive to actually have s*x in front of other people, but perhaps letting others know in a sneaky way by leaving hickeys on your neck or scratches on your back.

You know how some people are subjected at work by their boss so they become dominant in bed? Well, your future spouse is the opposite. They have a dominant almost domineering presence at work and a loving, but also just as firm role in s*x. They could be an ENTJ, i’m not good with mbti but they fit that vibe. As for signs i’m getting Scorpio or Capricorn energy, not necessarily their sign just the energy they have. I feel like this person is cold to certain people, especially at their job, however when it comes to you, let’s just say they indulge in you in extra special treatment. You definitely get pretty princess treatment with them, that’s how you’ll know they’re the one! But be careful pile 2 as if you are not used to this treatment it will attract jealousy. My advice is to mediate and communicate well together outside the bedroom since your chemistry is so electric within it. 😉❤️‍🔥

Overall Your future spouse will be a strong, dominant, and confident person, but their love for you will be equally strong and full of devotion. They will protect, lead, and support you in ways that make you feel safe, loved, and empowered. Together, you’ll conquer the world! 🌍💪

Hope this reading resonates with you! 🌟

Pile 3 🌊

Cards: Page of Wands, Our Beautiful Planet, The 12 Chakras,

Let me set the scene for you my pile 3s: you can tell your partner is a little nervous, they don’t give themselves to just anyone. They are sensitive, sweet, smart and highly spiritual. You two get close and you ask them lightheartedly flirting what they like in bed. Still their cheeks warm just thinking about it. They muster the courage themselves to tell you; Making you c*m with me.

Pile 3, your future spouse is definitely the shy and sensitive type. The type you want to bring home to your mother and keeps an open mind about all your tarot-loving hippy dippy stuff. They feel bad about it, they really do, but when you’re around looking the way you look to them, they think of nothing else but making you c*m. I think they will have a kundalini awakening with you that causes this. When you to come together… and c*m together, it feels earth shattering and universally orgasmic. 🤤

I almost don’t want to say to much in comparison to the other piles because of what a sweet soul they are, but they could be bullied in the past and that causes them to have a lot of empathy or others, especially for women. Unlike many they want to know how to make a woman reach her climax and they get off more on that sometimes than taking. I’ll leave you on that delightful note to ponder, pile 3.

Your future spouse will be a warm, sensitive soul, giving all their love and care to you. Their deep emotional connection will make you feel safe and loved, and they’ll always put effort into making your relationship flourish. Together, you’ll build a beautiful, loving life. 💖🌟

I hope this reading fills you with love and positivity! 🌷✨

—

That’s all y’all! See you next time, and remember if it don’t apply let it fly!

[starkeyisthelastname]

OHHH ANOTHER THOUGHT!!!!!!!

idk how the porn community works HALSJKS but if its a thing to like ….. ship them ig??? … how would rafe react to r’s video with another dude being posted on twitter (maybe the first vid she’s made since her vid with rafe) and everyone’s in the comments being like “omg yas this is so hot!!!” “omg this is so much better than her and rafe!!” BALJEKS IDK

the first time someone’s talked negatively about him and it’s actually effected him 😅 he doesn’t like this ego being bruised

It was rare that Rafe checked social media, he just didn’t care about what people thought. He was pornstar and was used to being judged for his career choice and especially for the brutal way he fucked his costars. It was the Twitter notification he got though, with his name and your name tagged along with someone else’s who he didn’t know that caught his attention.

He opened the video, his blue eyes darkening as soon as he saw what it was. It was some nobody with a dick half the size of his, trying to make you cum. He could tell by the moans you were giving that it was all an act, and it ignited something in him he didn’t like. Watching another man fuck you, even if it was your job wasn’t something he particularly was a fan of. He had always loved pussy and money, and never once thought of ever quitting his rather successful porn career for anyone, until you started occupying his mind all day every day. He just couldn’t bring himself to end it yet, his addiction to sex and money way too deep.

As he went to exit out the app, a comment caught his eye. “Wow. She’s a pro at taking dick.” He scoffed as he read it out loud. What dick were you takin? That clown was the size of a pinky compared to him. It was the next one down that had his head raging in a way he had never experienced. ‘Her and @therafecameron video was weak compared to this. 🤣’ He seethed, these stupid idiots comments getting to him and bruising his extremely high ego. His knee bounced rapidly, thumb at the edge of his mouth as his mind raced wildly.

It was the phone, turned into landscape mode as Rafe’s long arm aimed it down to let it capture you taking dick. His free hand was wrapped in your hair, yanking your head back as he drilled into you at a brutal speed. The makeup you had on was smeared, tears streaming down your sparkly cheeks as he had some point to prove. He didn’t exactly say what, but it was a chance to get fucked by the man you were becoming obsessed with.

“Who’s fucking dick are you takin?” Rafe asked, his voice dripping venom as he yanked your head to make you look at him. His blue eyes, peered down at you in a predatory manner as he forced you to give him an answer.

The answer you gave was incoherent, your words coming out in babbles as an insane amount of pleasure was taking over your body. Your eyes rolled back, his huge dick tearing you apart as he wrapped his fist around your hair even harder. The phone that was recording the raw homemade scene was now shoved in your face, his hand on your head forcing you to look at the lens.

You were still so pretty, completely cock drunk off his monstrous ways as you were being his good personal whore. He leaned down, mustache brushing over your ear as he looked at the camera. It was quite a sexy sight to see his wild hair and striking blue iris’s making eye contact with the phone. “Tell them who’s dick your fuckin takin.” He spoke lowly, eyes watching your face through the screen. “Don’t make me repeat myself, I swear you’ll fucking regret it.” He gritted out, toned hips slapping against yours.

You cried out, his hand removing itself from your head to force your chin to look at the camera. You had no choice but to let out a loud whine, screaming the man’s name that you just wanted as yours. “Rafe Cameron! I’m t-takin Rafe Cameron’s dick!” Your voice cracking as you clamped down onto his cock.

As soon as heard that, a smirk came to his face and his nuts tightened. He tilted your chin towards him, sloppily kissing you with his tongue as the camera caught something Rafe never did with anyone. If the kissing wasn’t enough to make people a little shocked, it was that he posted it to his Twitter account, caption reading ‘The only dick that can get her screaming 😱 remember the fucking name bitches.’