#i just gots to write it :''3

[crocuta-corvax]

Got Mint? (Part 1) - Isekai Bad Batch

Author’s Notes: Crosshair loves mouth stuff, he especially loves your mouth, the mint is just an added bonus. - I'm going off the notion, if it isn't mentioned in SW canon, i can pretend if it is/isn't real, I've decided mint how we know it doesn't exist in SW universe as far as they know ¬u¬ Haha wow I finished the first half, I have more for this prompt planned. Relationships: Crosshair x Reader Tags & Warnings: Smooching, Oral Fixation, +18?? I think, it's very earnest kissies

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"What do we do if he sees us?" Both you and Crosshair had been sent to tail a target for Cid, and now together you were standing watching a nervous looking Rodian make his rounds at every stall in the bustling marketplace from a quiet off-the-street courtyard.

"Nothing."

You're familiar with his curt answers now, it wasn't necessarily from rudeness, Crosshair just didn't waste his breath on more words than were necessary.

"Right..." you huff, a little agitated at the waiting and pop a piece of gum in your mouth. Crosshair watches as you do this, he'd always been curious about this gum stuff you always had with you, but never asked, it seemed to be your equivalent of his toothpicks, an oral focus that helped him concentrate. He figured it best to leave it to you, after all, you'd been teleported here from another universe whilst you'd been out doing a "supply run", and of all the food you had with you, this was all that was left. Someone Wrecker had already eaten most of the rest, but you'd staunchly protected the gum like a Pyke with Spice. He didn't want to take your "toothpicks" from you.

You can feel Crosshair's eyes on you as you watch the Rodian slowly make his way toward your vicinity. The feel of his gaze sends a flush of warmth to your face and neck- to think you had THE Crosshair staring at you right now, if the Clone Appreciation Community back on Earth could see this, they'd flip their shit.

Over the past few months of your “accidental” arrival in this universe he'd gone from being deeply suspicious, to warming up to you, to the two of you being so comfortable just existing in each others spaces that you had no doubt that he harboured feelings for you on some level- he'd be busy cleaning his Firepuncher while you would lay across his lap doing the "homework" Tech had given you to help get to grips with this universe. You treasured your alone time, so did he, but being alone with him was somehow so much better.

And of course there was the purposefully teasing you- he enjoyed getting you riled up with rampant flirting, slightly too long hugs, lingering touches and near kisses. You wondered if that's what he was doing right now, with his eyes still fixed on you, plotting a new way to rile you up.

You dare a glance over at him and he's smirking at you, of course he is, "Can I help you?" he drawls, making you roll your eyes playfully,

"You're supposed to be watching." you sigh, casually discarding the finished gum in a nearby bin. He rolls the toothpick between his teeth while maintaining his smouldering gaze on you, "I am."

His words send another flush of heat to your cheeks and he chuckles before flicking away his toothpick and leaning over you, one arm resting on the wall above you, kriff he's so fucking tall, "Our mark is too close, we need a distraction." He gently grabs your chin as you start to turn to see, "Don't look." He leans in closer, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, a soaring feeling rushes up through your body as you bite your lip. In this moment he could do anything to you you realise, and you wanted him to.

"They always get uncomfortable with public affection." he murmurs against your mouth, gently ghosting his lips across yours as a silent request, one you eagerly permit by parting your lips and closing the searing hot space between the two of you.

Your lips practically melt against his as Crosshair gently pulls you closer into his body, one hand secure around your waist, while the other slowly traces along your jaw. Kriff, he's so warm...

Having never tasted mint before, your sweet cold breath had Crosshair intrigued. Running his tongue over your lips to gain entry to your mouth, that you so deliciously granted, had him reeling in pleasure at the taste of your tongue on his. How could someone taste so good? His grip on your waist tightened a little and the hand he had been using to send shivers down your neck moved to the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair and gripping just a little, as he deepened the kiss, causing you to softly moan into his mouth, your fingers digging into his back as you held on to him.  

After what felt like a delectable eternity of his mouth on yours, you pull away to catch your breath, and look up at Crosshair who briefly scans the marketplace before turning back to you with that sly smile of his, "I think it worked."

"Oh, good. Good..." the surprise as to what just transpired has you flustered while Crosshair gazes down at you, revelling in the fact that he finally got to kiss you, and leaving him wanting more of the delicious lingering tingle of mint you left on his mouth.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[tariah23]

The manga industry, especially JUMP, needs to hurry up and do away with weekly scheduling for mangaka. There needs to better regulations put into place for their health and safety because this is pitiful. Two weeks - monthly updates should’ve already been the standard for the manga industry at this point. These money grabbers will only continue to put the lives of these artists at stake for the sake of capitalism unless some serious changes are implemented.

[sunsburns]

imagine asking wade if he still likes you when he’s literally inside you LMAOOO I just know he’d be so flabbergasted

i know a normal people fan when i see one (18+, fluff)

but jokes aside, and dicks inside, wade would likely get whiplash; his head turning so fast he can hear a crack in his neck, staring at you like you're crazy because just seconds ago you'd been running your gentle hands over his skin. your fingers brush against the divots of his scarred skin, your cheek pressed to his chest, humming softly, close enough that your lashes tickle whenever you blink.

wade's a little out of breath, sticky with sweat, and miraculously, rendered speechless. to others, a rarity, but with you, while still rare, is more frequent, especially after sex.

sure, he drops a joke or two, but there is a window where wade likes to sit there, holding you, skin against skin, in silence; listening to the sounds of your shaky breaths as you come down from your high, the sounds of the bedsheets ruffling with slow movements from the both of you, even the sounds of the old crackly fan on his ceiling.

and so, in that small window of silence, the two of you lay there in a warm embrace, listening to each other's heartbeats as wade's dick slowly softens inside you.

but then that small window starts to close, the silence breaking with you. you shift, turning to press your chin against wade's chest while looking up at him, "hey," you whisper, a smile growing against your lips.

"hi," he whispers back to you, but he continues to stare at the window, watching the soft light of the rising sun peeking in through the white lace curtains you picked out, a part of you in the dingy apartment he shared with blind al.

"we've officially gone at it all night. fucking like rabbits. and i can't believe i'm saying this but, i'm fucking spent. i might need a few weeks to recover. i asked for a bone and you threw a whole skeleton at me, peanut."

you snort, rolling your eyes, "yeah, right."

"okay, fine, a week is too long." wade hums, he finds your hair and runs his hand over it, twirling a strand around his finger, "i'll be good as new by tonight or at least by the time you scroll to read another fic of me, of course."

you're still staring at him, and wade, ever the observant, notices. he shifts, sits up, holds onto your waist, and brings you up with him. you have to bite your tongue to hold back a moan, sensitive to the way he's touching you, the way his dick keeps you full.

wade raises his brows (or at least, where his brows would be), "what? is there something on my face? i know i'm ugly but i thought we were past that. your staring is making me a little self conscious, sweetbuns."

"wade?"

"yes, cupcake?"

"do you like me?"

"what-?" he stares at you, eyes wide and nearly popping out of his head. "do i- what? what the fuck kind of stupid ass fuck ass question is that? you think i don't like you? we literally fucked all night. literally did every position in the book. i let you peg me! you might be the only person on earth that matches my freak-"

"yeah, i know but-"

"bitch, i'm literally still inside you."

that's when you can't help but laugh, grinning against his neck when he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer. you love the way his body emits warmth, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer like you want to live inside his skin.

wade holds you, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. and he groans loudly when you say, "you never answered my question."

"oh my god," he huffs dramatically, "of course i fucking like you. like no shit."

"okay, great. i was just making sure."

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hey hey hey may 31th anon! How's 2024 going? ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ This year I have for you a leaked Sherlock season 5 image. Thinking of you!! And everyone!!

[lovealwayssay]

I would pay an ungodly amount of money for a Supernatural finale where Dean rescues Cas from the Empty and tells him he loves him too, Eileen comes back to be with Sam, and Jack chooses to live with the four of them in the bunker as a happy family.

[sceletaflores]

•｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ i just want to sit on his lap FUCK || MDNI

The crackle of the fire plays a soft counterpoint to Joel's slow, steady breaths. You've been perched on his lap for who knows how long by this point, your back pressed against his broad chest, his strong arms wrapped around you in that possessive way that always makes you feel entirely his.

The warmth of him has seeped into your skin through the thin layer of your top, his rough palms sliding up and down the soft expanse of your inner thighs as they're draped over his own, spread so wide it has your muscles aching.

"Quit your wrigglin', baby," he mutters, voice gravelly against your ear. He nips at the shell of it lightly, his beard scraping along your jaw. "Keep 'em spread for me."

You gasp as his fingers slip through the mess of wetness between your thighs, his touch calloused and rough against the throbbing bud of your clit. Your hands grab desperately at the scratchy fabric of his jeans, palming the thick muscle underneath.

You try to stop the tremor of your thighs threatening to snap shut around his wrist, but it's all in vain. It's been minutes since he pulled the soaked fabric of your panties aside to expose your slick pussy to the cool air of the cabin, and every passing second since has left you teetering closer and closer to the edge.

Joel's only been toying with you—rubbing tortuously slow circles over your puffy clit, dragging his fingers through your drenched folds to press against your clenching hole but never enough to delve inside, all the while whispering filth directly into your ear with that low, smoky, rumbling tone that drives you crazy. The tone that pounds through you like a second heartbeat.

He's brought you to the brink over and over again, just to deny you when you're finally straddling the line of your own sweet release.

Your hips buck up against his hand impatiently, chasing the friction Joel insists on cruelly rationing out. You let out a frustrated whimper, the sound swallowed by the steady snap of the fire and the deep chuckle reverberating through his chest.

Your hands grip his thighs tighter, nails biting into the denim as if the sting might tether you to sanity. "Joel."

His name slips from your lips in a plea that feels both helpless and demanding.

"What's that, honey?" His lips brush the curve of your jaw as he speaks, his tone bordering on mocking. "You gotta use your words for me if you want somethin', you know that."

The smugness in his voice should irritate you, but it only sends another rush of heat pooling between your legs. "Please,” you beg, your voice trembling as much as your thighs. “Please, Joel, I–”

He hums breezily, the deep vibration sinking into your bones as he finally moves his hand with intent. Two fingers dip into your aching hole, thick and unyielding and stretching you deliciously as they sink knuckle-deep.

The sudden fullness knocks the breath out of you, a devastatingly desperate noise bursting from your lips as your head falls back against his shoulder. 

“That what you needed, pretty?” Joel soothes, curling his fingers to brush up against that spongy spot just behind your clit. “Christ, you’re fuckin’ tight. Strangling my goddamn fingers.”

He shifts slightly, spreading his knees to angle you impossibly wider. His other hand comes up, tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it up so his warm, rough palm could roam over your stomach. He was everywhere at once—teasing, stroking, claiming.

"Such a messy pussy," he drawls, his fingers speeding up inside you. "She’s gettin’ my hand all wet. You like when your old man touches you down here, darlin'?"

A loud moan tears its way out of your throat, your back arching off his chest as Joel sets a relentless pace. 

He’s right, you’re so fucking wet. The squelch of your pussy around his fingers makes your ears burn, shame mixed with arousal churning through your core at the filthy, wet sounds that fill the room. Your juices drench his palm, dripping down his wrist to trail along the skin of his forearm where it seeps into the fabric of his rolled up flannel sleeve.

Your cheeks warm at the idea of your essence staining his shirt, at the idea of Joel wanting that. Your claim on him as he patrols, as he helps Tommy finish patching up the cabin's roof, as he cleans his guns in the living room–a dirty secret only the two of you know about.

It has your whole body tensing, sparks shooting up your spine, lighting up each notch of vertebrae on its way to burst bright white through your brain. The spring inside of you coils tighter and tighter, threatening to snap any second.

‘’That’s it, baby,” Joel growls, his voice molten in your ear. “You gonna come for me? I can feel how she’s clenchin’ up, desperate thing.”

He pulls his fingers out suddenly, not even giving you any time to protest before he’s sliding them over the wet expanse of your pussy, from your clit down to your abused hole in quick succession.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, phantom flames licking at every inch of exposed skin. Your nails dig into Joel’s thighs even more fiercely than before as you feel the signs of your release building from deep within you.

Joel’s hand is a blur between your legs, slick fingers slipping over your swollen, puffy pussy fast enough to send your head reeling. His name falls from your lips in a breathless chant, and he chuckles against your skin, dark and smug.

The spray of your release around the flat of his fingers is sudden, a gush that washes over his hand and the couches upholstery. 

Your body trembles uncontrollably, your hips bucking against his hand as every nerve feels like it’s sparking to life. The pleasure floods through you, dizzying and relentless, blurring everything but the feeling of Joel’s touch.

Joel groans like he’s the one soaking the floor, his lips pressed to the crown of your skull. He doesn’t stop. His fingers never slow, circling and tweaking until your thighs finally clamp shut around his hand. The wetness of your orgasm coats his skin, slick and messy, and his growl of satisfaction is the only thing that pierces through the white noise rushing in your ears. 

It takes a few long moments for your breath to even out, for the aftershocks to stop rippling through your limbs. Joel finally takes pity on you, his touch gentling as he withdraws his fingers with care, his hand stroking your thigh in lazy circles.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, his tone brimming with pride as he lifts his slick-coated fingers into the firelight, letting the evidence of your pleasure glisten before his eyes. “So fuckin’ good for me.”

Your cheeks burn, a mix of exhaustion and lingering desire blooming across your skin as you slump against his chest, turning your head to meet his gaze. Joel’s eyes are dark, hungry, and so utterly possessive it makes your stomach flip.

Without breaking eye contact, he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low hum of satisfaction.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk. “Reckon I’ll need to have another bite soon.”

Your body trembles in response, knowing damn well he’ll make good on that promise before the night is over.

mini nat's note: idk i was in a mood...fill out my taglist if you want more joel content :)

[radiance1]

Danny often felt tired, as of late.

He wasn't certain as to why he did, though. It happened after his, apparent, coronation as the Prince of the Infinite Realms and after finally getting a boyfriend out of that damsel in distress who made him into one.

Which was unfortunate, because though he may try, it was very hard to pay attention on dates when Danny felt he just came from using the Ecto-Skeleton and no amount of sleep would make it go away. Fortunately, however, Billy was very understanding and accommodating of his plight, letting him sleep on him whenever he wanted and having their dates be less mentally/physically demanding things.

Man, Danny loved his boyfriend.

Unfortunately, he was away on one of his Justice League mission things.

Another thing he noticed, is that he liked to sleep in more cold places now. Very, very cold places.

So much so, that he genuinely debated moving to the Far Frozen if not for his parents turning his room into a literal walk-in freezer for him.

Did he ever find out why he needs to sleep so much? No, not really. But man.

Danny could go down for a nap right now.

---

Pariah was having a good, very good day.

He woke up, stretched, ate some food he didn't actually need to, did some light exercises after aeons of not using his sword and just fighting in general and sat down for some tea.

Even had a letter from the Master of Time with a P.S that two humans would be busting down his door!

Wait what-

"Ghost King!" Came the rather loud, effeminate shout accompanying the loud slam of his castle doors. "Where is our son!"

Honestly, Pariah is impressed by the lungs on that human.

"You heard her!" He looked down calmly at the... Actually, what in the infinite is that? Since when did humans go walking around with cannons??? "Tell us where our son is our so help me! Ghost King or not we'll exorcise you right where you stand!"

Pariah blinked slowly, very, very slowly.

Then took a sip of his favorite ghost blend then calmly placed the cup back down.

"You must be the boy's, human, parents I presume?" He asked calmly, gaze sweeping over them both. They seemed to be prepared for war, a burning fire in their eyes as they stared down the very King of Infinity and saw only an obstacle.

Oooooh, how that made the part of him that longed, sung for battle purr in sheer delight.

"Why don't you join me for tea?" He said, waving a hand and conjuring forth two extra, human sized, chairs on the opposing end of his table alongside two more tea cups. "And explain whatever is going on, while you're at it."

The two shared a glance between each other, then slowly lowered their weapons down to a point where they could still draw them at a moment's notice, yet not actively antagonizing the king at the same time-

Oh, he just loves these types of mortals.

-before slowly making their way to their seats, which were right next to each other of course. Married and whatnot.

"Tea?" He flicked a finger, filling their cups with the same that was in his cup but before remembering. "Ah, right. Human and your mortality." He casually mentioned, flicking his finger and changing the liquid to one of the few mortal blends he could still recall. "Worry not, for they are not poisoned." He chuckled lightly.

Honestly, doing such a thing would be beneath him, especially when faced with mortals of such fire.

"Now," He brought his cup to his lips. "Why don't you inform me as to what, exactly, has brought you to my doorstep prepared for battle?"

They, once more, exchanged a glance between each other, making sure the king was still in sight before Maddie opened her lips.

"Our son is missing."

---

The summoning was a success.

A terrible, terrible success.

One that the Justice League, One John Constantine especially, had valiantly attempted to stop.

But, unfortunately, once it got going it seemed to be incapable of stopping.

Faced with an entity being summoned from the Infinite Realms, they had called all of the heroes who were capable that weren't occupied. Shazam, unfortunately, was one of said heroes occupied.

Superman and Wonderwoman? Were not. So, at the very least, they had two of their heaviest hitters available.

The circle glowed a toxic green, growing and growing in glow until it reached its zenith.

Then was snuffed out as brightly as it glowed.

The air stilled, followed by a chill that rivaled the chilliest of snowstorms as if they were standing within one that very moment.

The next moment?

Ice.

Pure, unflinching, jagged pillars of ice rose from the circle the same moment it glow returned. Sticking out from the circle haphazardly and nearly impaling those that stood too close.

Mist, thick, blue mist. Rolled from the pillars of ice, descending down onto the floor with a gentleness that was almost deceptive if not occupied by such cold and being completely and utterly unnatural as it was.

The Justice League readied themselves.

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[x-i-l-verify]

Something that I've noticed ever since the Smiling Critters were introduced is that they can so easily be paired off into complementary duos, ones that are specifically designed to teach children fundamental lessons about life and self-care from two different angles. It's really interesting to me.

Like obviously you have Dogday and Catnap, with their sun/moon, dog/cat dichotomy, that stress how important it is to have fun and get things done during the day, but also that it's important to wind down, relax, and get a good night's sleep.

-

Bubba Bubbaphant and Craftycorn were introduced as a duo in the Smiling Critter show's intro, and their dichotomy is quite obvious. They are basically the right and left sides of the brain personified. Bubba is the left side of the brain, logical, analytical, focused on math and science. Craftycorn is the right side of the brain, creative and imaginative, focused on the arts and self-expression. They represent learning and academia in all its forms, the different ways people engage with and understand the world.

-

Hoppy Hopscotch and Kickin' Chicken form the sportsmanship duo. They are both portrayed as enjoying sports and the outdoors, but in different ways that highlight the different ways sports can be played and enjoyed and also what it entails to be successful at them. Hoppy Hopscotch may be loud and impatient, but she is also a team player, shown in her willingness to slow down her fast pace to make sure none of her friends are left behind. Kickin' Chicken, on the other hand, is laid-back, relaxed, and chill, the described "cool kid" of the group, but he's also described as having a ton of perseverance, more of a "slow and steady wins the race" type of person.

-

This leaves Bobby Bearhug and Picky Piggy as the last pair. Fittingly, these two are all about how to meet the fundamental needs of yourself and others. Bobby teaches children how to nourish themselves emotionally through showing and receiving care from others, while Picky teaches them how good food is important to nourish the body and soul. Depriving oneself of either of these things only makes oneself and therefore everyone around one miserable, because those fundamental needs are no longer being met.

-

Like fr, this is some pretty genius marketing right here. You have enough characters that every kid will have their favorite, but not so many that any would get lost in the shuffle, because the lessons each one of them would teach would be integral to the group as a whole. It really makes me that much sadder we saw basically nothing of the Smiling Critters during the game itself, because Mob Games struck gold with this concept, only to ultimately do nothing with it. :/

But I guess that's what fandom is for, eh?

[torchstelechos]

I love that Isabeau is the one to bring up the "what do we do if you die" conversation cause its a very good insight to his character at the very start of the game. Isabeau is practical, smart, and loves everyone dearly and wants to know how to help them when shit goes sideways. He's the one to ask about Bonnie too, which is a delightful read on how he thinks because everyone else shuts that down instantly as a "That wont happen and cant happen" but we see later in the game it can happen which is such a startling thing for a game to do but justifies the foreshadowing of Bonnie can die what do we do if that happens? Isabeau, despite everything, is also the one who gets to the heart of the matter even if its not something must people are willing to talk about. All without it being part of his friendquest, thats just him naturally. Which! Says so much about him and how he is! His character when its not about his relationship with Siffrin is a very intriguing thing because it feels like a very classic hard intellectual stance that's been softened after many years of learning to better communicate healthily with others. A reflection, if you will, of Odile but in a very drastic direction. I find him fascinating and I also want to scoop his brains out and study them under a microscope to see all his little brain thoughts.

[heich0e]

natsuo sits with you in the bathroom while you bathe pretty much from the very beginning of your relationship. he's a bit clingy, even so early on, but he makes no attempt to convince you otherwise. though a bit awkward at first, the routine soon becomes normal and easy: he perches on the closed lid of the toilet and chatters away about his day, or asks you about yours, as you wash away any lingering traces of the day from your skin. but something you always find a bit strange is that he never takes you up on the offer to join you, and finally (years into establishing this easy habit) you reach out with a wet hand and clutch at the sleeve of his shirt, firmly insisting this time that he get in.

he looks away, grimacing a little, a flush crawling up his throat. "oh, no," he says, shaking his head. "i'll get in once you're done, that's alright!"

you frown.

"nat," you say to him, your fingers still twisted into his shirtsleeve, clutching him tightly as though the strength of your grip might sway him. "please get in."

your insistence, though quiet, seems to make him falter. his cheeks flush even more and he hangs his head.

"...cold."

you cock your head to the side, having lost half of his sentence to the way he mumbled it. "hm?"

he peeks up at you, his lashes fluttering when he meets your gaze. his lips are pursed in the sweetest little pout, slight but still there. "i'll make the bathwater cold."

you blink for a moment as you process his words.

"you're worried... about the bathwater?"

he looks away again in embarrassment. "yeah."

he reaches up and takes the hand you have gripping his sleeve in his own, his touch cool against your bath-warmed skin. he twines your fingers together, watching raptly at the way his own hand seems to just fit with yours.

"i don't have a very strong quirk, you know that," he mumbles, his voice almost a bit shy. "but when i'm with you, it just... i can't help it. it slips out."

you already know this about natsuo. already had a conversation about it early in your relationship. he tried to explain the physiological side of things to you in terms you didn't really understand, but sensing your confusion, he then put it simply: you make my heart beat really fast, and it makes my temperature drop.

now you're used to his cold fingertips tracing along your body. used to how his tongue is always cold and slick. used to how you can sometimes see the faintest cloud of his breath on his exhales when he's panting over you in bed, or find delicate swirls of frost marks on the headboard where he was gripping it.

no. more than used to it. you like it.

"natsuo,"—you hold his hand a bit tighter, squeezing his fingers with your own—"i don't care about the bathwater."

his eyes snap up from watching where your fingers are tangled together, meeting your gaze. his cheeks are still pink, but his eyes are hopeful.

you guide his hand up to your cheek. his palm is cool against the heat you feel burning underneath your skin.

"please. get in with me?" you ask him again.

and this time he doesn't deny you—not least of all because he knows that when you've got your heart set on something you won't give up.

but he's used to that part of you, too.

(and he likes it.)

[valentjin]

[14dayswithyou]

Hi, Howdy! Hey! I really love your novel!! I got a little confused by the 4 day, may maybe you help me please? who is it? why we got the bad end staying the night in Ren’s apartment and he disappear of the home screen? I can’t understand “unset memory” game, sorry if I wrote smth wrong or smth sounds rude, I swear that I didn’t mean it if happened, I’m really a fan of the novel, I’ve been playing the game since day 1 or 2 I guess, probably day 1, english isn’t my first language, but I tried lol

⌞♥⌝ I hope you don't mind me answering these as bullet points!! ^^

"It" will be revealed later in the game! So I won't reveal too much right now.

You can only get the Dead End in Day 4 by staying at Ren's apartment — the rest of your choices before that don't matter. I'd also pay closer attention to the black smoke and Ren's reaction towards it!

Ren disappears from the home screen because he promised to help the player out (and stop them from getting the Dead End again). Try replaying the game again from the beginning for a surprise!

"Unsent Memories" was another visual novel (initially being written by @10chimes / @unsentmemory, though the project has since been dropped and handed back to me /pos) and is set in the same universe as 14 Days With You. Its storyline and characters are completely separate from 14DWY, so you don't have to worry about them while playing 14DWY.

[becca-e-barnes]

I need more of needy Bucky who loses control from the feeling of being inside your pussy. I need him to fuck me like a rag doll and to carry me over his shoulder around the house like his personal flesh light.

Fuck, this has always been one of my very favourites to write. I really like to imagine that he struggles to last but he can keep going after he finishes 🙈 it's my lil filthy fantasy

But imagine spending the morning in bed with him. You both wake up around 6am and you spend the first little while just touching and chatting before a couple of hours of sex. Now it's maybe around 11am and after lying there together for a while, you're both in the mood for something to eat.

You pull a robe around you and that's just about as much as you manage before Bucky's scooped you up, carrying you to the kitchen.

"You don't need to carry me everywhere!" You tease, remembering that he'd carried you up the stairs to bed last night too.

"I know. But. Carrying you means. I. Can put you. Exactly. Where. I want you." He peppers kisses over your face and neck, tenderly capturing your bottom lip between his before he sets you up on the kitchen countertop.

There's no point arguing with him so you sit there quite happily. He makes up a quick pancake mix, washes some berries from the fridge, preps the coffee machine and sets the little dining table for the two of you.

Somewhere in between, you got a little distracted, perched on the counter scrolling on your phone. You hadn't noticed the way he's looking at you.

He's so caught up in the little things; the way the light hits your shoulder, the curve of your hips, the way the silhouette of your nipples are visible against the satin robe.

"Look at you, sitting there all sweet like your cunt isn't so fucking full of me."

That's got your attention.

You squirm a little, your body fluttering at how shamelessly vulgar he's being but nothing's stopping you from doing the same.

You spread your legs, exposing the slick mess coating your inner thighs. It's a mixture of your own arousal and Bucky's cum, dripping out of your sensitive cunt.

Your fingertips trail lazily over your exposed sex, your skin glistening in the natural light before you bring your fingers to your own lips, sucking them clean, giving him a little bit of a show.

"Tastes amazing, sweetheart." You groan, noticing the growing bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms. "But I lost track of how many times you came inside me this morning. You came so deep, most of your cum won't have dripped out yet. Bet I'm still totally stuffed full."

He sinks to his knees in no time, settling his head between your thighs, breathing in the faint smell of your arousal. His tongue presses flat to your sex, trailing from your hole to your clit and back, gathering as much of your combined release as possible.

He groans, low and pathetic, allowing his tongue to dip inside you as deep as he can bury it. He savours every drop of cum he earns back from your body.

When his tongue alone isn't enough, he slips a finger into you, followed quickly by a second, curling them against your sensitive inner wall.

"Bucky baby, please don't make me cum again." You groan, your fingers tangled in his dark hair but you know he's not giving you that choice. Not when his free hand is furiously stroking his own cock, desperate to ensure that when he's finished licking his cum out of you, he can flood your cunt with another load.