#moon!! ☾･ﾟ: ･

[blistexenthusiast]

good night keys

[nikswonderland]

𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰’𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴

[moonpascal]

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER ONE series masterlist

SUMMARY II WC: 3k

When a careless spell erases her memories of Theo, he’s left grappling with the pain of being forgotten. As she returns to seeing him as just another Slytherin, Theo must navigate a world where the love they shared no longer exists—at least, not in her mind. But Theo refuses to give up. He’ll do whatever it takes to remind her of the connection they once had.

WARNINGS: angst, fighting, not 100% canon compliant 

DEDICATION

thank you so much to @amiableness for helping me with chapter! i don’t know what i would do without you and giving me motivation to write this! i love you! 🤎

thank you to @mischievousmoony for helping my brain block i was having and helping me with ideas, you’re amazing and i love you! 🫶🏼

"Is the coast clear?" you whisper to Theo, your heart pounding in your chest. Sneaking into the Room of Requirement had always been nerve-wracking, but with the additional new rules Umbridge had enforced and the rising threat of Voldemort, it felt more dangerous than ever. Even more so because Theo was betraying his own house and friends to be here.

Theo takes another quick glance down the corridor, then nods. He reaches for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he pulls you out from your hiding spot.

You both move swiftly and silently toward the wall where the entrance to the Room of Requirement appears. You glance behind you, double-checking to make sure no one is following, before Theo tugs you inside.

Inside, the room is already alive with the sound of practicing defense spells. You and Theo head to the corner that has unofficially become your spot. Some of the others still cast wary glances at Theo, unsure if they can trust a Slytherin among them. Only the Golden Trio seems comfortable with his presence.

As you settle in, the adrenaline from sneaking around begins to subside, but your worry for Theo doesn’t. You can’t help but think about the risks he's taking—defying his father's beliefs, lying to his friends, putting himself in danger—all because he believes in making a change. You know how much he cares for them, and it breaks your heart that he's forced to choose between them and doing what’s right.

You shift closer to Theo, your hand resting lightly on his knee, a silent attempt to anchor him. He’s still tense, his eyes sweeping the room as if on constant alert. Instead of reaching for the textbook like usual, he closes it and sets it aside, surprising you.

“I think we both know enough for now,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Let’s practice today instead.”

You know the purpose of these meetings is to practice spells, but the thought of doing so in front of your peers makes your stomach twist with anxiety. The fear of messing up or accidentally hurting someone lingers in your mind, making the idea of participating overwhelming.

Theo, ever attuned to your emotions, senses your hesitation. He gently pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and rubbing your arm in a soothing gesture. “We’ll start simple,” he whispers reassuringly, his lips brushing against the side of your head in a tender kiss. “Just a quick Expelliarmus. You’ve got this.”

His warmth and steady presence begin to melt away your nerves, making the idea of practicing a little less daunting. With Theo by your side, you feel like you can handle whatever comes next.

Reluctantly, you pull away from his embrace, already missing the warmth. Moments like these—where you could be close to him without worrying about prying eyes—were rare. Even in the hallways, you could barely walk side by side without Umbridge or Filch barking at you to separate.

You stand, shrugging off your robe to give yourself more freedom of movement, and follow Theo to an open space.

���Alright, you know the movement, and you’ve seen it done. You’ve got this, amore,” Theo encourages, his words ringing with confidence.

Your muscles tense. If you mess up, the spell could do more than just disarm him; it could knock him out. But when Theo flashes that smile—the one that always makes your heart skip—you find yourself believing you can do it.

You take your stance, feeling the weight of the moment as Theo prepares himself, raising his wand as if ready to duel. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and shout, “Expelliarmus!” The spell shoots out from your wand, hitting its mark perfectly. Theo’s wand flies across the room, landing with a clatter as relief floods through you.

Theo’s grin widens as he claps and cheers, “I knew you could do it, tesoro!”

You watch him jog to retrieve his wand, a warmth spreading through your chest. How did you get so lucky to have him? He’s your anchor, the reason you keep pushing forward. He makes you want to be better, to reach higher.

When Theo returns, he places his hands on either side of your face, his eyes shining with pride. “See? You were amazing. Nothing to worry about,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. He leans in, and you meet him halfway, your lips brushing softly against his.

The kiss is slow and tender, each movement gentle as if savoring the moment. You taste the faint remnants of cigarettes and the sweetness of his breakfast. It’s a kiss that speaks of quiet reassurance, of the bond you share, strong and unwavering.

But then you remember where you are, in front of everyone. You pull back, your lips lingering just a moment longer before you peck his lips one last time, a small smile playing on your face.

“I love you, Theo,” you whisper, your foreheads touching, the world around you fading away as you both savor the closeness of the moment.

But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

As you and Theo are lost in your own world, Harry is practicing a spell, the weight of the war and the responsibility of training others pressing heavily on him. The stress shows in his furrowed brow as he skims through spells in his textbook, landing on Obliviate, the charm to erase specific memories. Whatever memories Harry wants to erase is up for debate, but he doesn’t fully grasp the complexity of the spell.

With only a quick glance at the incantation, he swishes and flicks his wand, but nothing happens. Frustration builds as he tries again, more forcefully, but to no avail. Sweat slicks his palm, and with a sharp, aggressive flick, his wand slips from his grip.

Sparks fly out, ricocheting off the floor and walls. Harry tries to shout a warning, but it’s too late. The spell rebounds, hitting the back of your head and sending you flying into Theo.

Theo barely reacts in time, catching you as you collapse into his chest, limp and unresponsive. His arms instinctively wrap around you as he kneels, lowering you gently to the floor.

You look as if you’re merely asleep, but your breaths come slow and shallow. Panic seizes Theo as he brushes your hair out of your face, his voice trembling.

“Amore, come on, wake up. It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers, his mind racing for what to do.

A crowd of students gathers around you both, their whispers only fueling Theo’s panic. He snaps, his voice a sharp contrast to the desperation in his heart. “Who did this?!” he demands, his eyes wild as they scan the frightened faces.

“It was me, I’m sorry, I—” Harry begins, but Theo is on him in an instant, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him close, his rage palpable.

“You’re dead, Potter!” Theo snarls, his grip tightening.

Fred and George are quick to intervene, pulling Theo off Harry, while Ron helps steady his shaken friend. “Let’s calm down, yeah?” Fred says, trying to reason with Theo. “We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey. She’ll be okay.”

“She better be,” Theo threatens, his voice low and dangerous. He shrugs off the twins and returns to your side, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches your shallow breaths. When someone offers to help, he waves them off, scooping you up in his arms and pushing past everyone, his focus solely on getting you to safety.

Adrenaline courses through him, fueling his every step as he rushes through the empty corridors—thank Merlin—for six floors until he finally bursts into the hospital wing.

He wastes no time, laying you gently on one of the beds. Madam Pomfrey turns to scold him, but the words die in her throat when she sees your unconscious form.

“What happened?” she asks, her tone sharp with concern.

“She was fine one second, then something hit her head, and she just… collapsed,” Theo says, trying to keep his explanation as vague as possible to avoid suspicion.

“It’s okay, Theodore,” Madam Pomfrey reassures him, her voice softening. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Let me examine her. Just breathe, grab a chair, alright?”

Theo nods, though he can hardly think straight. He watches anxiously as Madam Pomfrey performs a series of diagnostic spells, her brow furrowing as each result comes back normal.

“I’m not finding anything out of the ordinary, Nott,” she finally says, puzzled. “She seems perfectly fine, just asleep.”

But Theo isn’t looking at her. He’s holding your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he wills you to wake up.

“We’ll wait until she comes around, okay? I’ll let you stay with her overnight to keep an eye on things,” Madam Pomfrey says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before drawing a partition around your bed to give you both some privacy.

As soon as she’s gone, Theo chokes back a sob, his worst fears clawing at him. He knows something is wrong—no one just falls unconscious like that from a spell. He pulls the thin blanket up to cover you and leans down to press a soft kiss against your temple.

“I love you too, amore. You’re gonna be okay, alright?” he whispers, his voice cracking as he desperately hopes for a response, his heart aching in the silence.

———

Theo stirred awake as he felt a sudden movement beneath him. His eyes opened groggily, his head lifting from where it had been resting on your stomach, his arm still wrapped around your waist. The scratchy hospital wing blanket was a far cry from the soft one you were used to, but Theo had barely noticed, too consumed by worry to care about his own discomfort.

As you rubbed your eyes harshly, Theo blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his own, running a hand through his tousled hair. He sat up straighter, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, when he heard your voice—sharp, confused.

“Nott? What are you doing here? And why am I in the hospital wing?”

Theo’s heart dropped. The way you said his name—Nott, not Theo, not love—sent a chill through him. He tensed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Tesoro, you were hit in the head, remember?” He reached out for your hand, desperate to offer some comfort, but you jerked it away before he could touch you.

“This isn’t funny, Nott! What prank are you and your friends pulling now?” Your glare was like a knife to his chest, cutting deep. Theo’s mind raced, trying to process what was happening. This wasn’t right—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm even as panic clawed at him. The way you looked at him, the suspicion and anger in your eyes, made everything clear that something was terribly wrong.

“Please, just listen to me—” he started, but the words felt hollow. His worst fears were playing out right in front of him, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.

Theo jumped to his feet and rushed toward Madam Pomfrey, who was just arriving at the entrance to the hospital wing.

“She’s awake, but she’s acting like she doesn’t know me—please, you have to help,” Theo pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. He wasn’t one to beg, not unless it was to you, but now the words spilled out uncontrollably, fear gripping his heart.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, quickly following him back to your bedside. You were sitting up, fiddling with your hands, a deep scowl etched on your face. Theo’s stomach churned at the sight—he knew that scowl too well, but it had been a long time since it had been directed at him.

“Good morning, dear! How are you feeling?” Madam Pomfrey asked, her voice warm and calm as she began to check your vitals.

You shrugged, casting a wary glance at Theo, who hovered behind the nurse, his heart pounding in his chest. “I feel okay, just confused about how I ended up here.”

“Alright, I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability, alright?”

You nodded, and Madam Pomfrey proceeded with the standard questions—what year it was, who the Minister of Magic was, what you did yesterday. You answered each one correctly, with ease, but Theo’s dread only deepened with every word. Everything you said lined up, except for one glaring omission—there was no mention of him. Not in any of it.

Madam Pomfrey paused, her gaze flicking to Theo before she asked the question that made his blood run cold. “Do you know him?” she asked, pointing to Theo.

You rolled your eyes and huffed, your irritation clear. “Yeah, he’s Theodore Nott, Slytherin. Which I’m still confused about—why is he here?”

Theo felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. The way you looked at him, the casual indifference in your voice, transported him back to a time before everything had changed—before you had opened your heart to him. It was as if the last year and a half had been erased, and the weight of that realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep it together, but the familiar coldness in your eyes made it nearly impossible to breathe.

Theo felt his world collapse around him. He couldn’t stay in that room, couldn’t bear to see you look at him like he was a stranger. As Madam Pomfrey explained to you that you’d been hit in the head and Theo had brought you in, he bolted from the hospital wing, stumbling into the hallway. He leaned against a cold stone column, clutching his chest as panic set in. His heart raced uncontrollably, his breaths shallow and ragged. It was another panic attack, but this time, you weren’t there to help him through it. You didn’t even remember him. All those memories—the ones he cherished most—were gone. And it was all because of Potter.

His vision tunneled, everything blurring except for one thought: Harry had done this. He was the reason Theo’s entire world had been ripped away. And Harry was going to pay.

Theo knew exactly where to find him. He’d memorized Harry’s schedule down to the minute, having spent so much time with you before breakfast as you walked with Hermione and Harry. If he timed it right, he’d catch Harry just before he entered the Great Hall.

As Theo rounded the corner, he spotted the trio ahead. They noticed him too, and he saw the tension rise in their shoulders. But Theo was too far gone to care about what they thought. All he saw was Harry—the cause of all this pain.

Without hesitation, Theo marched straight up to them. His usual calm, calculated demeanor was gone, replaced by a storm of raw, unfiltered anger. He shoved Harry hard, sending him stumbling back, barely managing to stay on his feet.

“Nott, let’s talk about this,” Harry started, his voice laced with caution.

“What was the spell, Potter?” Theo demanded, his voice rough with barely contained fury.

“It was an accident!” Harry insisted, his eyes wide with desperation. “It was Obliviate. I swear, I didn’t mean to hit her!”

Theo’s hand shot out, grabbing Harry by his robe, pulling him close enough to feel the heat of his breath. A twisted smile played on Theo’s lips as he tightened his grip. “Oh, but I’m going to mean to hit you.”

He drew back his fist, ready to make Harry pay for everything he’d taken from him. But just as he was about to strike, your voice cut through the chaos, stopping him cold.

“Nott, what the hell are you doing?!” you yelled, rushing toward them, your eyes flashing with anger.

Harry immediately tried to shield you from the truth. “Trouble, it’s fine, really—”

“No, it’s not fine!” you interrupted, glaring at Theo as you pushed him away from Harry. “I’m sick of Slytherins picking on you-us for no reason!”

Theo felt his heart shatter as he watched you fix Harry’s robe, your attention entirely on his supposed enemy. You had no idea what Harry had done, what he had stolen from both of you.

When you finally turned back to Theo, the disgust in your eyes was a knife to his heart. “You’re pathetic, Nott, and you’ll never change,” you spat, the venom in your words leaving him reeling.

The surrounding students watched in stunned silence, the full weight of what had just happened sinking in. They now understood why Theo had been so close to breaking Harry’s face.

As you turned your back on him and walked away with your friends, Theo stood there, frozen. The disappointment in your eyes, the harshness of your words—it was too much. He felt like he might collapse under the weight of it all. But instead, he just stood there, watching you disappear into the Great Hall, his world crumbling around him.

Your words echoed in his mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he fought to keep from breaking apart. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but all he could do was stand there, helpless and shattered.

The hallway, once filled with tension, was now eerily silent, the students having scattered. Theo was left alone in the aftermath, cold and hollow, the life drained out of him in those few, terrible moments. You had been his anchor, his reason to believe in something beyond the darkness that had always surrounded him. And now you were gone, ripped away by a single, careless spell.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but when he finally moved, it was like a switch had flipped inside him. He couldn’t let this be the end. He couldn’t lose you. There had to be a way to fix this, to bring you back to him. And if he had to tear the world apart to do it, he would.

first divider @saradika-graphics

[fangswbenefits]

BYE

[ivystoryweaver]

Swimsuit Shopping

Summary: You're absolutely dreading swimsuit shopping for your upcoming trip. The Moon boys bravely weigh in.

Pairing: Steven, Jake, Marc x reader with boobs

Word count: 1k

Content: fluff, romance, body insecurities, slightly suggestive, sweet & adoring moon boys

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven notices you casually shopping on your phone. He keeps peeking over your shoulder, humming nonchalantly at each and every suit that looks like a low plunging bra.

“See something you like, babe?” You nudge him playfully before handing him the phone. “Should I just let you go crazy?”

Bright eyes go wide, hair flopping as he shakes his head rapidly. “No. No, you should get something that makes you feel confident and comfortable.”

“A diplomatic response, Mr. Grant,” you tease. “I’m not sure how comfortable this…push-up bra would be.”

“Em, well…which ones do you like?”

Your shoulders sag as you shake your head in defeat. “I don’t know, I hate shopping for swim suits. But our big trip is coming up and…” Your eyes dip in shame.

Steven lifts your chin with a soft caress. “What is it, love?”

Fidgeting uncomfortably, you slowly admit, “My old one is too small.”

Smiling sympathetically, Steven uses his hold on your chin to guide your mouth to his for a tender kiss. “We’ve been together a long time, darling,” he lovingly whispers, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately. “Surely you’ve noticed I’ve gone a bit soft around the middle?”

“What?” You giggle, poking his soft but not-at-all-big tummy. “You’re crazy. You’re…so perfect, Steven. I just want a swim suit that doesn’t make me feel awful when I put it on.”

Kissing you again, he holds up your phone. “Well, let’s find one.”

Laying your head on his shoulder, the two of you select several possibilities and every single one Steven likes is extremely revealing in the bust area.

“Steven, you just want to see my boobs - like as much as possible. I might as well be naked,” You laugh out.

“Well…if it’s comfortable…” his dark eyebrows shoot up suggestively. “Could be a win-win.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

The next day, Jake finds you leaning over the kitchen counter, still scrolling endlessly through swimsuit possibilities. Steven helped you find some cute suits, but you want to make sure you have enough coverage while not boring Marc, Steven and Jake to tears.

Easing up behind you in his typical panther prowling way, Jake breathes against your ear, making you shiver. “Whatcha doing, hermosa?” Gripping your hips, he presses his body into yours at every possible point of contact.

“Swimsuit shopping,” you languidly sigh, scrolling through the twelve suits you and Steven added to your shopping cart before starting your search all over again.

“Mmm, you should get one of those thong bottoms,” Jake casually opines, running his palm over the swell of your ass before giving you a squeeze.

“You’re hilarious,” you deadpan. “I can just see Jake Lockley on the beach - hat, jacket, gloves and boots, kicking the ass of anyone who stares at mine.”

A low chuckle rumbles against your neck. “Fair point, mi amor. Maybe like…” he scrolls down a couple of suits to a cheeky bottom - revealing but not scandalous, “Like that one. You know, enough for me to see all this - “ he swats your ass playfully, “But not enough for an ass-kicking.”

“Nice,” you chortle, shrugging him off, but only so you can whirl around and see his face. “I thought the idea was for me to feel confident and comfortable. Steven’s words.”

“Boringggg,” Jake mocks, even while chasing after your lips with his own. Kissing you temptingly, he pulls you close. “I thought swimsuits were for swimming…and letting me stare at your ass all day.” He cocks his head playfully. “Is that not right?”

“For sure, yeah,” you giggle as he nibbles at your lips, his naughty hands winding their way around to your backside once more. “I just want it to cover a little bit more of my middle than a total string bikini, you know?”

Realizing you’re serious, Jake nods, reaching to grab your phone from the counter. “Show me what you like, hermosa. My treat.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc has expressed absolutely zero interest in peeking at your phone, even when you tried temping him by asking questions about your boobs or your ass.

Between Steven and Jake, you’ve narrowed it down to about five suits, but you would like Marc’s opinion. The trip was actually his idea. He is rather well traveled, after all.

“Babe, you’ll look amazing in whatever you pick - it’s for you,” he shrugs, realizing, as the words come out of his mouth that he should probably show a bit of interest. Glancing at your phone, he shakes his head. “I don’t know. They all look good. I can’t tell on a phone screen.”

Which is how you end up in the fitting room with a rack full of bathing suit pieces and Marc licking his lips as you try them on. Normally clothes shopping would be a form of torture, but damn…

“Let me feel, baby,” he murmurs, as you slip into a mid-rise, flattering bottom that shows just enough cheek to hopefully please both you and Jake, with a coordinating top that definitely shows your cleavage.

And this is what Marc keeps doing. As soon as you get dressed, he wants to touch. Locking eyes with you, he traces the shape of you - the body he knows so well and has adored so ardently, for year after year.

“This one feels good.” His eyes darken and his voice sounds a little choked. He clears his throat. “You feel comfortable in it?”

You pause, staring deeply into his eyes.

“Because you know that’s all that really matters. The rest is bullshit. You know that, right?”

You know. But you love him for saying it.

“Yeah. I know.” Turning this way and that, you eye yourself in the mirror, pleased with the cut. The top extends down a little and the bottom is just high rise enough to give you that bam of confidence about the figure you criticize far too often.

Hand on your hip, you strike a pose, smiling at yourself in the mirror -and Marc thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

[honeycircuits]

Your f/o stopping you before going out because they need to kiss you again and again and again <3

[moongumi]

just wanna share a nsfw thot 🤭 you know with how big the na’vi are. i was thinking about how you would get annoyed because you wanna take our na’vi’s dick all at once but being frustrated to the point of tears and then our na’vi chuckling and that he’s gonna work you open until you’re wet enough and tells you to be patient and that we’ll get what we want

⁀➷ ∵  ❝ try harder❞

⟶ navi!oc x reader

⟶ cw. short thirst, navi!oc, human!reader, size difference, smut, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, established-relationship, alien x human, teasing + etc.

⟶ wc. 1k+

⟶ note. : ) tryna get back into it, i've been so busy these days hope you enjoy! I'm working on more requests now! i dont think i nailed the request BUT I TRIED

the waves crashing gets louder the more frustrated you get. you huff your breath at him. his skin glows as darkness looms over you, his light blue skin and dark stripes adorn the bright flecks of colour that reflects the moonlight on his skin.

“hfmp–” you groan getting off the ground onto your knees, feeling the tightly woven straw floor underneath your bare skin. the moonlight shines beautifully through the window, shining in your eyes.

he moves, lifting his body off the ground with his hands to right where you did. he lays, head resting on the hand-woven and stuffed pillow. he’s comfortable, resting his arms under his head in a cocky manner. throwing your leg over his waist, you slowly lower yourself onto him. it just won’t fit. “fuck–”

“it’s so cute watching you try,” he cooed, a smile stretching over his pretty face–a chuckle leaves his lips soon after. he moves his hips, nudging upwards for you to try again.

cruel.

“shut up, roa,” you whine, hands resting by his sides getting frustrated with your incapability. your head only gets hotter, heat suddenly feels like it's burning through your whole body.

tangaroa’s grin turns into a smirk. his pride is filled–your small human body, struggling with the sheer size of him fuels his lust. he sits up on his arms, his face coming up to yours–he hums, letting out a quiet coo, “my little human, so small–incapable of taking me. do you want my help?”

“no,” you spit, stubborn and determined to get it in all on your. his teeth show, his smile couldn’t get any bigger, god, he’s fucking loving it–he likes the way you're so strong-willed.

it wasn’t the first time you’ve had sex–every time it’s big, the pain feels good–the stretch is so intoxicating but usually he helps you, warms you up–he’s good at it.

it was getting to a point where you were feeling soreness in your own arms and legs, maybe it was time to give up but hell, you weren't going to give up. “i can do it.”

he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, his large hand resting on the small of your back and he pulls you up slightly making your core gush–you sounded ready to him, maybe you only needed a little push. his hands are hot, your breathing labors watching his eyes flicker between yours and your plump lips, “okay, try again, my love.”

the metkayina men are a lot bigger than the others. larger in every single way. even straddling his waist was almost a struggle in itself. you take initiative, dropping lower on his body. his cock stands tall, soaked in your attempts. sitting on it’s shaft you ride on it, rubbing its length between your swollen lips–gosh, the sounds they make, is like music to his ears.

his lips part, and he lets out a pleased sound. he makes the most pretty noises, you feel the lower part of your stomach warm the more his voice sings to it.

the head is thick, larger than the shaft, that in itself was stopping you–the sheer girth and weight of it. “you can play on it all you want, i know you want me inside of you–all of me.” he enjoyed the way you were practically teasing and edging yourself but it was hard for him to hide his own desires.

his hand takes hold of your jaw gently, he brings your face towards his–eyes darkened and his lashes long, flutter against your cheeks. he parts his lips more, he wants it–he knows you do too. you press your lips against his blue ones, the kiss wasn’t slow or gentle at all. its rough, teeth clanging together–his fangs bite down on your lips as they intertwine just like he was trying to devour you. you turn your head, deepening the angle allowing him to only need the slight swipe of his tongue to enter you. his tongue engulfs you, tasting like pure honey–sweet and impossibly delicious. moans leave your lips, getting swallowed by his lips.

his free hand makes it’s way toward your bottom half, gripping your cheeks in them. he parts your cheeks, hearing the way your arousal smacks and sticks to you. “let me help you.”

“but i wanted to–” your lips quiver as if tears wanted to release. frustration to the max, to the verge of tears.

“i know, i know–but i can’t wait, fuck–i want you too much.” he groans through the kiss, rubbing your nape gently to reassure you, “next time, you can take your time–you’ve teased me all day, i can’t help it–you are too fuckable in our clothes.”

his lips leave yours to bite and mark your neck. he sucks and presses his fangs into your skin. his arms are long enough for him to prod his fingers that tickles your core to navigate toward your heat.

it was the first day you truly felt like you belonged here, he'd adorned you with leathers, beads and shells. practically making it known that you were his for his entire tribe to see. it was the most exposed you've ever been but, you didn't feel strange–no, because here everyone was dressed that way–no one looked at you differently. only him, his eyes glued to you all day in those small pieces of clothes.

he feels how much wetter you’ve become already, practically dripping–he breathes heavily onto your collarbone, dropping his head down to suckle at the skin of your breasts, marking the heavily as you could cover them.

his thick fingers poke and pry at your raw and pulsing lips, overused from the attempts of pushing him in. he tuts, feeling bad for you, “at least you tried, hm? such a good girl.” he chuckles, teasing you to get a cute reaction from you.

you whine and pout at him. pushing your ass back into his fingers making them dip into your cunt a bit. you muffled a moan, pushing your head into his braids.

“do not keep those noises to yourself, if you do–i will stop.” he presses his lips to the shell of your ear, "be patient, hm, and you'll get what you want from me."

“okay. please, roa, don't stop."

© moongumi 2022. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

[lgbtqtext]

[twink-between-worlds]

ravio gets rambley when he's tired and legend just listens to him even if he isnt being coherent

thats it thats the hc

[moonrevolutions]

‹𝟹♡ ̆̈༝༚༝༚ here are some overlays / gifs i conjured for headers, graphics, etc etc and never used! maybe someone will use them. idk and idc. like and reblog if you found useful. or don't, i'm not your mom. + credit not necessary. hmu if you want the longer / larger versions i wanted to upload, but tumblr hates happiness. happy late vday!

[mirangel]

Appears (hi I’m a new follower sorry if I’m a bit awkward!!!)

Uhm uhm

can I please request some kind of rivalry between reader and Kaeya? Sorta like he gets fed up with the reader’s attitude and puts them to better use rather than letting them continue???? (If I’m allowed to choose what happens maybe bj and then being bent over his desk or somethin??)

kaeya dark nsfw drabble 1

cw: noncon, bratty reader, degradation, oral sex (character receiving), usage of sweetheart and slut (1), dacryphilia, gagging

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

kaeya is so sick of you and your insubordination. he can’t help but let his visible eye twitch when he sees you sway your hips mockingly with that stupid smug expression on your face. one that still remains despite him yanking you to the other side of his large desk and shoving you to your knees, all while you run your mouth and frustrate him further. he likes you more when you’re below him, a defiant look on your face that drops when he cages your body with his legs, unzipping his pants to reveal his hardened cock, although he’d never admit to you that he particularly enjoys when you’re being bratty like this.

“open wide, sweetheart.” he sneers, unbothered with the way you struggle to take his full length, tears filling your eyes as you gag on him, and he swears he could’ve came from that alone, but he’s not so sensitive like that, he should at least play with you more. he lets out a shaky moan when he breaches your throat, a tanned hand on the back of your head with a smirk on his face. “you look so much better like this when you aren’t so noisy.” he coos, using his other hand to caress your cheek. “such a slut for me, aren’t you?”

he can’t deny how unbelievably attractive you look when he shoots his load into your mouth, your face teary eyed from the unexpected bitterness of his cum, you try to spit it out, but he clamps your mouth shut. “swallow, else i’ll make it worse for you.” once he sees the bob of your throat go down, he lifts you up from the floor, bending you over on his desk. “it’s time for the main event now… i’ll be sure to properly punish you for your insubordination.”

KAEYA MY BELOVED IM SOOO IN LOVE WITH HIM GNAWS ON HIM WITH MY TEETHS

[blistexenthusiast]

tarot card wax seals

[moonpascal]

VOODOO DOLL II T.N

summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song

warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k

authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes

“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.

Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.

The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.

“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.

Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.

But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”

He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.

“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.

“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.

“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.

“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.

“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.

“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.

He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.

“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.

“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.

Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.

“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.

“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.

Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.

Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.

———

Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.

His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.

You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.

To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.

The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.

“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”

He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.

Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.

“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”

You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”

Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.

“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”

He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.

“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”

“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.

Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.

The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.

As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.

The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.

When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.

But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.

“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”

You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”

Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”

As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.

After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”

Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”

“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.

“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.

“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.

Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.

Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”

Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.

“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”

Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”

“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”

They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.

“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”

Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”

“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”

Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.

Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.

As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”

You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.

The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.

“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.

“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.

“I haven’t done anything—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”

You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”

Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”

Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.

The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.

“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.

“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.

He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.

———

Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.

Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.

He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.

By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.

Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.

“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”

He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.

Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”

You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.

“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.

Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.

“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.

©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024

[felinewanderer]

See you in Tural.

[ivystoryweaver]

"There is a simmering, molten lust turning over and over..."

Summary: You feel awful and Steven makes it all better. Or, I've read the amazing period fics. What about the sometimes-hell of ovulation? Pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader Word Count: 1.3k Content: nsfw, ovulation, breast and nipple play, oral - f. rec., fingering, hair pulling, breeding kink suggested, not beta'd ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You're ovulating, like...to the extreme.

There's a heaviness in the center of you - different from cramps, not exactly bloating...

Your boobs aren't merely sore, they're...straining.

Your nipples have stood erect for a day-and-a-half, to the point that pinching them almost feels better than them brushing against your t-shirt, as you attempt to lounge around the house after work.

They're poking, quite obviously, through your pajamas, even through your bra, earlier.

Steven comments more than once, assuming you're cold.

"No...fuck, I'm...so horny," you finally admit...somewhat embarrassed by your own wording.

...drawing his earthen gaze straight to your chest - before his eyes drop to the center of you.

No, in your core, it's not (merely) cramping and bloating. There is a simmering, molten lust turning over and over, making you constantly wet.

Steven pushes off the chair he was sitting on to read after dinner, halfway scolding himself for not noticing your distress - for not offering to assist with such a predicament.

Honestly, you've been a touch moody and he didn't want to push you

Your sweet Steven is suddenly a panther on the prowl. Whoops.

"No, I'm not like...it's not that I'm trying to..." You attempt to find the words to explain that your brain isn't completely in the mood but...

...hell - if he would just grope your breasts, take the weight off for a few minutes, fondle your nipples, roll them between his fingers. Maybe suck them...

Steven is on his knees before you, ready to please - cheeks flushed as a careless curl tumbles across his forehead. His lips part in anticipation.

"I'm ovulating," you decide to admit, with a defeated huff. "So...we can't, you know. I accidentally missed a pill, and we shouldn't - not until I'm sure - ugh..." Your head drops to your hands in frustration. You have got to change birth control methods, to something less daily.

Nodding once, Steven's eyes darken, locking on to yours. "Let me take care of you."

Your breath trembles at the gorgeous man on his knees for you. "Steven...we can't - we shouldn't - "

"I heard you, love," he evenly responds, the heat of his lustful stare setting you ablaze. Pushing his fingertips underneath the hem of your t-shirt, he offers, “Stop me if it's not what you want."

Then this man - this socially awkward, brilliant, beautiful man who loves you like an ancient legend - peels your clothes from your body, almost reverently, kneeling beneath you like you're one of his sacred goddesses.

"Not cold then," he murmurs, brushing his fingertips over the round swell of your breast, his breath ghosting your pebbled flesh. "Just desperate." He doesn't give you a chance to refute him, capturing your nipple between his plush lips and sucking gently.

And ohh fuck, it feels good.

Your breasts get sore from time to time, during your cycle or mid-month, but this particular month has you so tender for some reason.

You feel the warmth of Steven's tongue laving as his hand cups your other breast, gently massaging - dragging the pad of his thumb over your other greedy nipple.

Then he sucks you hungrily, like he's feeding from you, for a full minute longer. Your back arches, thrusting your chest further into his warm, wet mouth. Pulling off your tit with a pop, his eyebrows shoot up, a slight smile turning up the corner of his mouth.

"Better? Or worse?"

"Good - it's good, baby, come here," you gasp, eagerly reaching to bring him to your other breast, threading your fingers through his thick curls as he lavishes your nipple with attention from his tongue, teeth and lips, sucking and fondling until you are a squirming mess.

He releases you and surges up on his knees to meld his lips with yours, licking into your waiting mouth. Taking your face in his hands, his thumbs stroke the apples of your cheeks as his fingertips trace the shape of your jaw.

He kisses you so good, you lose your mind and forget all your bodily complaints, the kiss lingering on and on, until you part for breath, inhaling and exhaling one another as if each of you needs to other to survive.

(You do.)

He lays you down on the couch where you sat, fidgeting uncomfortably all evening, cute little huffs and puffs letting him know you were distraught on some level. Those huffs are now pants of desire.

His lips meet your bare stomach - your most sensitive and self-conscious body part, breath fanning over all the dips and valleys he adores. He kisses down to your joggers, pulling the tie loose before easing them over the swell of your hips and down your legs.

He smiles to himself at your superhero boy shorts - you’re definitely one for comfort. He smells you now - wet and eager to be touched, to be fucked - the core of you dampening your panties.

So he pulls those down and off your body too and, by the time he kisses an adoring trail up your inner thigh, you're trembling - whimpering, too.

"Steven, Steven, please..."

He answers with his tongue, licking up the center of your sex, collecting your juices, his cock twitching as your back arches violently off the couch.

You feel him smile against you. Steven is The Needy One so this must be quite fun for him...

Your mind goes blank as he fucks his tongue into your hole in a slow, taunting rhythm, holding steady, soaking his lips and the stubble on his chin with the tang of your sex.

Dragging his tongue back out, his lips wrap around your throbbing clit, sucking vigorously as you twist your fingers though his hair, yanking just the way that gets him feral.

He moans against your core, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure through the center of you, and just when you think nothing has ever felt better, he slides two fingers into your dripping cunt.

This was exactly what you needed.

“Yes…oh god, Steven…”

Grasping the meat of your thigh with his free hand, he hooks one leg over his shoulder, driving deeper into you.

With your grip almost painfully threaded through his soft curls, you push and pull his face against your cunt, rocking your hips faster with each pass, your moans a scandalous crescendo of lustful desperation.

The dull, aching want in the center of you swells like a throbbing balloon, ready to burst, and Steven rumbles out a Jake-worthy chuckle between your legs as you find yourself shrieking like nothing he’s ever heard before.

He curls his fingers into the spongy softness deep in your walls, the steady suck of your clit finally drawing you into absolute rapture. Pleasure surges through your body, releasing soreness and tension as your cunt gushes all over your lover’s mouth, soaking him from nose to throat.

He lets you ride it out, pressing sweet, wet kisses to your tummy, brushing his fingers over your thighs, telling you how beautiful and perfect you are.

“So good, mon cœer, love the sounds you make for me.”

“Thank you,” you gasp, as he climbs back up your body and pulls you against his chest.

He kisses your temple, ignoring, for a moment, his blatant erection. “Good, yeah?” His eyebrows shoot up in adorable self-satisfaction.

“So good.”

He lets you recover, keeping private thoughts of how, when you're ready, he would love to fuck a baby into you and take care of your moods and your tits all the time, as your body grows his child.

You can feel the tension rolling off of him, almost chuckling as his gaze falls to your abdomen, his hand gently caressing you there. "I'm not ready right now - not at all, but...I would want it to be with you," you quietly confess.

He swallows thickly, nodding as his forehead drops to yours. And you breathe together, in and out, inhaling and exhaling one another as if each of you needs to other to survive.

(You do.)

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Steven Grant-Centric stories

Moon Knight Masterlist

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updates blog - @ivystoryupdates

[honeycircuits]

For people who have multiple f/os

Imagine all of your f/os in a single house, how does it go? Well? Horribly bad? Or is there a bit of calm before chaos ensues?

*proship safe*