#more glittery magic

[ataleinkedinred]

Lila Bard: pirate queen and top hat enthusiast

[dg-outlaw]

Wait?! Was that supposed to happen after I listened to Steam Powered Giraffe? I must be listening to them wrong because I'm still a cishet male. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway. I had to reblog because I saw SPG years ago at a Steampunk Con here in Texas. Loved their show, music, and crowd work and promptly bought all their CDs they had available after the show. Yes. CDs. It was that long ago.

But I also agree with OP because well... oops, I think I broke the thing.

The “LGBTQ+ is a social contagion” theory from cishet people is soooo funny to me like you’re telling me heterosexuality is SO ingrained and SO watertight and yet SO fragile that if your kid so much as picks up a fucking Steam Powered Giraffe album they’ll turn into raging queer? Do you HEAR yourselves?????

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 teach me daddy (s & f)

────୨ৎ────

boyfriend!jungkook x virgin!reader

content: daddy kink, ddlg themes, Jungkook teaching his innocent, virgin gf how to..; touch him (blowjob) and how he touches her (fingering, lil tit play) !! hickies, sweet talk, lowkey dumbification, praise, cumming on stomach, guided, petite oc!!! Size.kink. so much dirty talk. so many pet names, FILTH.

note from cherry: put my whole sopping pussy in this. im a whore. My fav trope pls i hope i did it justice

────୨ৎ────

Jungkook's lovely, borderline magical finger tips create his usual pieces of invisible art upon your skin, right underneath the frilly fabric of your pink skirt, that top of your soft thigh squished against him, because his lap- specifically the bulge inside of his grey stüssy sweats- has become your favorite spot to sit on. Somewhere in between lush kisses and feathery moans elicited by the fluttered bruises he lays down the lane of your neck, you've understood one thing;

It feels so warm- so good to sit on that tent that forms in your older boyfriends pants, visible every time you bite your lip and stare at him with huge round, pleading eyes- every passing, electrifying fraction of a moment you spend threading through his deliciously laid, tussled mullet, or tracing the colorful lines etched into his hardened muscles, almost like you're coloring the small pictures in with your glittery gel nails.

Feels so good to hear low groans from your boyfriend's throat, experiencing your clit pulsing inside those little lacy panties, while consciously avoiding the sensation of a large wet patch making them cling to your untouched folds, it felt tingly, you had just told him.

"Tingly?" he asks, plucking back a delicate strand of your hair,

"Mhm.. like it wants attention. s'how i feel when i hump my stuffies" another small- fleeting detail you deemed insignificant, however it continues to feed into the hunger growling primally in jungkook's chest, wanting to expand outward, tear out of his gentle strokes that accidentally find your nipples, on occasions where he should be content with your petite frame inside the solid embrace of his own- oh so hungry body.

But he isn't content, not now that you've revealed you're pussy has kissed the very stuffies he's bought for you, seen you go starry eyed at.

His mind races with images of you- you in your bare glory, one he hasn't seen but there is no doubt in his mind you're an angel, sat on top of that plush hello kitty, dragging your wet, overstimulated clit over it's button nose- over and over, until there's drool running down the corners of your pout- until your eyebrows crunch together in pure delight. He wonders if you're the type to beg, ramble out your needs like a lost little deer.

His cock throbbs in anticipation, his primal instincts scream for him to take care of you whole, explore every inch of your sweet, sweet vessle. Jungkook has to know more- has to know everything.

"And how does my pretty girl hump her stuffies?" he innocently questions, hiking his hands up further on your small legs, crawling to your inner thighs, the digits raise goosebumps on your skin and a pink hue on your cheeks, it complements you- he thinks, harmonizing with your glossy pink lips.

"Hmph.. jus'.. sit on them.. r-rub back.. n' forth" your whispered reply has him drop into a lower, deeper tone, assessing how your body subconsciously responds to his teasing, bucks forward the smallest, almost unnoticeable bit.

"And what happens when babygirl does that?" you whine- leaning your lips to ghost against his own, the tingly feel rises again, floods your panties in an instant because his sudden dominance drowns you in its strangling hold,

"I feel good"

Jungkook creeps his large palm up, cupping your pussy boldy through the thin girlish fabric,

"Haa-ah" moaning, you give way into his palm, playing into his hands because you belong no where else, in response, his thumb extends, rubbing over where your clit sits puffily,

"Yeah..? right here is where it feels good, doesn't it princess?" liquid smooth as he talks, applying pressure to your needy bud,

"Mhm" you nod- whimpering against his pierced lip. In the flashes of his tight circles, you cannot bring yourself to keep your mouths attached- to focus on maintaining a healthy breath when your flower is being treated with the most careful sexuality "This feels better daddy" you say airyly, lips barely touching.

His breath stalls before it hitches once again- the title found him so righteously, so naturally succumbing to his deserved role- your daddy.

"Fuck sugar, it does hm? Let daddy take care of you, make you feel all warm and tingly"

After all, you're his special little princess,

The one with a cute pout that he wishes to see wrapped around his angry cock, he had envisioned this moment countless of times, fisting himself late at night- the soft snores come from your end of the phone, purely, innocently sleeping in the white glow of your screen, big, soft facial features lay peacefully against your pillow.

Even though the sins run carelessly on his end- he never bothered to mute himself, you kept sleeping, dreaming away,

Somtimes, he desired for you to wake up; he'd groan a bit louder, more vulgar with his endless cussing, thought about how your pupils grow wide, how your lips would part into a gasp- wish that you'd timidly run your thumb over your clit at the unfamiliar warmth spreading through your little purity, ruined, emerged in his perversion.

You nod, already going droopy eyed at the simple action of his thumb thrumming your pearl,

The cold air hits your sopping cunt as he peels your delicate panties to the side, giving him a full view of your flower, skin slick with desire

"You have the prettiest little pussy, so cute, does she want to be played with?" his tone is so- so gentle, yet, its dripping with power, entranced with the view of his- yes his very own digits that faintly glide between your folds,

"Yes- nghh shit- koo" your manicured nails dig into his meaty thighs, grounding yourself in a failed attempt to hold your head up, the foreign urgency consumes your entire being with it's intensity,

"Look at me sugar" he commands, growling lowly, his eyes squint to the ones of a predator, you- his prey, look at him like he has always known you would- wide eyed, doe eyed, awaiting his instructions

"Good girl. Now tell me again, do you want daddy to show you how to feel really good hm? How to play with your tiny cunt?"

You nod dumbly, letting out the smallest sounding yes that had ever grazed his ears, he purrs, taking in the effort with an open heart,

"Suck on them, need them nice and wet, can you do that for me princess?" his fingers intrude your bitten lips, forcing his digits to collide with your tongue, eagerly- messily and uncoordinated, you swirl your tongue around them, humming as he withdraws- letting out a satisfied groan

You wince a bit upon the proding of his fingertips against your entrance, unexpectedly, you look at him- begging for him to take you with him, guide you by the hand along everything he does, take your hand like a good daddy should.

The substantial need to make you feel safe takes over again, courses throughout his entire being because you look so vulnerable like this, so barely laid out for him to consume.

"it's okay babygirl, it's gonna feel so good. Daddy's gonna put a finger inside this pussy, you'll feel a bit full, but my precious little girl's so good, she can take it all" he can feel your body relax on top of his lap, as if your muscles let go of all tension with his reassurances- he's on the edge of feeling bad for wanting to ruin your purity.

But he does it regardless.

Wet, sloppy sounds fill your ears as he pumps his finger inside of you. The rhythm starts slowly, one push- one long drag between your folds before returning to pulling out, pushing back in carefully. He studies the subtle change in your expression, diligently grasping at the strings of your arousal- his own eyes can't choose between the look of lust on your face and his hand colliding with your sweetness, feeling how you suck his finger in with every fiber of your being, so untouched, so pure- so, so needy.

You squirm, wrap your hand around his bulging bicep- "Daddy- that feels so good, feels so so good" you continue mumbling, singing the cutest moans to numb his thoughts, feed his hunger, he turns greedy- allowing himself to drown in you entirely, granting himself premission to increass his speed, push in deeper- you gratify him, become louder, whiner, give yourself over because truthfully- you didn't know anything outside of how good it feels to be fingered like this.

"Yeahhh, feels so good to have daddy's fingers? think you can take another one?" Patiently he waits for your allowance- and once he heared that needy voice of yours, calling out for him to push another finger in, he snaps,

"Fuck sugar, look at you, such good girl f'me, feel so full don't you?" His lips latch back on to your neck as he pumps into you faster, curling his fingers into you like he's crawling into your body, establishing his ability to make you squirm- make you whimper and lose that pretty head of yours in his sinful lure.

So you do lose yourself- start whining for him to keep hitting that spot- right there daddy- you beg,

"Yeah? My babygirl loves this- loves my fingers making your cunt feel good. All mine, my little pussy, no one can have you like this"

"Right there ohh? Can you say that again sugar?" Thoughtlessly, obediently ylu start repeating, rehearsing the words like you're summoning him- your legs jerk, contract the muscle with a moan so pronounced jungkook could cum all over himself at the pure nuance of it.

"mmhm! s'too much- feels like i- like i'm gonna-" Your eyes roll far into your skull at the lingering of his teeth on your jaw, his tongue that shamelessly licks a strip up to your ear so he can coax you into intoxicating pleasure.

"Like what little girl? Gonna make a mess?"

At that- at the last syllable of his sentence, you release your arousal over the whole long inches of his fingers that are still relentlessly pushing into your hole, plucking out roughly- shoved back in, "Goood girl" he rasps, slapping his soaked fingertips over your overstimulated cunt. You did not know better than to leave gasps into his now bitten, ridiculously broad shoulder, shudder in overstimulation, tug at the roots of his chocolate mullet,

Your bedroom grows quiet, pleasure rings in your ears, wrecks you from the top of your head to your toes, colorful sparks fly behind your eyelids as it keeps going, keeps flooding out of your body like it had never done before.

Your boyfriends entire demeanor changes once his ragged breathing returns to soft hums, his healing hands cover more than half of your back and he just lets you bathe in the aftershocks, "Did so well for daddy, my good girl" The whispers find your hair, his pecks follow, decorating your journey back to a grounded reality with beautiful stars, safety,

As he´s rubbing up and down your back under the fabric of your cami, your skin erupts into familiar goosebumps, only this time, he feels your stiff nipples rub against his own, sweaty chest, the friction makes you hiss involuntairly,

"How do i feel good here ?" The muttered curiosity behind your words makes Jungkook moan audibly- reaches his hands to slide around your torso, your rips flutter in response, "Let me show you"

Your cami shrivles up over the swell of your small chest, cupped snuggly in your white sparkly bra, his hands cover your entire breasts easily, the twinkle in his vision is unmistakable,

lust, utter need

"Gon´ pull these down baby, show your pretty body to me" vision going white, he rushes to wrap his lips around the stiff bud, encircling it with his tongue, "All mine, my tits, my little girl, these belong to me" He takes his time- devours you, flicking the tip of his tongue over and over, you recoil forward, moan helplessly under how good he´s making you feel,

Jungkook returns the favour, moans into your skin that arches closer into his mouth,

"Want me to give you some attention too? Gonna rub it like this baby, roll it in between your fingers" The instructions help to remember what is happening between the chasm of gasps and whimpers, the throbbing between your aching legs returns in unbearable force- rises with every collision of his rough palms rounding your soft skin, he nibbles, sucks, bites gracefully into the sensitive flesh.

"Daddy- daddy stop please" the wet sensation leaves in the blink of an eye, his gaze glistens over with worry- hands immediately running to your comfort, soothing your arms, "M´sorry my love, too much? Wanna stop here?"

You shake your head violently, wanting to sob at the thought of stopping, you´ve never felt need like this, urges like this- borderline possessed as you tug at his waistband, his eyes widen, holding both your wrists in his calloused hand "Woah babygirl, slow down, what is it that daddy´s princess wants?" He asks genuinely, running his lips over your jaw but his cock betrays him, throbs painfully as you whimper for him, mutter for him to show you how to make him feel good too. He didn't want to pretend to be innocent anymore- your boyfriend had been praying to have you like this, why would he deny you if you so desperately wish to pleasure him anyways?

Feverishly, your small hands expose his member, appreciating the hard outline in his calvins before reaching in- finding the warm length that can, in no way, fit even in the grasp of both your fidgety hands,

"It´s so pretty, so big" You praise, staring in awe at the sight in front of you, a pearl of his arousal runs down alongside the vein of his shaft, Jungkook growls, scratching your scalp with his tattooed hand,

"All yours. come on sugar, little kisses, lick it a bit, i´ll be loud for you"

It´s not like it was his choice regardless, not when you lay your tongue flat against his tip, tracing every inch of him. You lick up and down his pulsating cock, look up at him through your feminine, innocently batted eyelashes as if to ask if he feels good- he groans, tightens his hand with each torturous slow lick to him, how could he not feel good?

"Good little girl, taking daddy so well, need you to take it in your mouth now okay? Can you be good and try to swallow daddy´s cock?"

You nod- god you´d do anything he asks, hesistantly, your lips coat his fat tip, opening your throat as he feeds you his girth, hitting the back of your throat in an instant- you try your best to ignore the gag, focus on the wetness of your cunt and his breathless curses.

It´s even more erotic than he had imagined, you do pout; your lips barely fit in his cock, not able to get half of it into the confined space of your jaw- his stomach flips at your hand that wraps around the rest of him- while the other one clenches his inner thigh for support, marks his skin in reminders. The look in your willing eyes, the struggle to take his inches as your own spit escapes your mouth- it´s becoming something he will get addicted to in no time,

"Ssh i know daddy´s big babygirl, but you´re made for me, breathe through your nose, goood job baby" its fuel, fuel to your insatiable greed for him, you follow instinct, bob up and down with the help of his hand on the back of your head, throat contracting around him and shit- Jungkook is sure if your throat is this tight sucking him off, your virgin pussy must feel like heaven too.

"Just like thaaat, yeah sugar, makin´ me feel so fucking good" He continues, thighs flexing with the constricting feeling in his balls, release bubbles up fast, rapidly banging his system- your boyfriend grips you by the jaw, to have you make eye contact with his half lidded brown stars, "Lay down f´me"

Sprawled out, tummy laid open, your hair flows over your tits, eyes watch him stroking his cock in heavy, aggressive movements, rubbing his thumb over the pink swollen tip- he pants, groans so fucking loud you instinctively spread your thighs for him- clenching around nothing- begging silently for him to give you everything.

At the sight of your cunt covered in your own, copious amount of slick and previous orgasm, he´s struck down mercilessly, it rides him over the edge and soon enough, he splurts his milky cum all over your lower stomach, he shakes- calls out for you.

"My little princess, look so beautiful like this, god i fucking love you"

You giggle girlishly- a sound from the deep chambers of your now, perverted heart as he engulfs you in his hold, "Baby you´re-" his mouth finds yours again, not letting you protest but he's soft, grateful "I don´t care, you´re mine, my baby, all mine" Another kiss, another smile, "Thank you, thank you sugar" he mumbles, holding your flushed out cheeks in his big hands, searching for familiar innocents within your face and unsurprisingly so, he still discovers it.

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwith a disney princess

premise. surely there's been a mistake, cause there's no way someone out of place like you ended up at nrc, right? (spoiler alert: months later and they will fight whoever might drag you to rsa)

featuring. dorm leaders (from diasomnia to heartslabyul)

content. at best this might imply a female reader, given they're based of a 'princess' but I tried to take the gender vague and focused mainly on the qualities of them! mc has hair in the rapunzel part lol

note. no beta we die lol. I worked on this by group so i honestly don't remember if I accidentally gendered mc. I absolutely love idias part lmaoooo

malleus (aurora)

ooh intimidating x soft couple.

you look way out of place in somewhere like nrc of all places, given your mother is the infamous sleeping beauty (infamous, in the college’s standards that is.) your kindness is easily taken advantage of, even if you do realize it there is always forgiveness spared for the undeserving.

said kindness was extended to the quiet malleus.

surprise no surprise. he’s impeccably drawn to the sparkling aura you seem to exclude. malleus feels as though there are traces of familiar magic always hovering around you, like its embowed into your very being. a blessing would be a better word for it.

well, he’s just curious but if he were to ever ask he’d be met with the confirmation that you were, indeed blessed by the same three fairies your mother was blessed by (minus the curse… ironically he’s quite similar to the same lady that your mother loved and looked up to.)

he’s just fascinated. something as glittery as you, shiny like gold would’ve been whisked away to his nice tower, homey. he’d tell you. almost as if making its image seem heavenly. (lowkey highkey getting your consent for kidnapping)

animals always seem to flock around you everywhere you go, they sneak around to reach you. in your dorm, during lunch, even in class. there’s either a bird on your shoulder or a squirrel making itself comfortable atop your head. its a curious sight, critters don’t really like him much.

in short they run away, humans or animals alike are both afraid of his presence it seems.

so he’s incredibly still when you nudge an adorably round bird in his palm, peering at it with cautious eyes. tense as a statue lest it flies away.

cue staring contest.

he felt incredibly accomplished that day, and immersed him in the role of making this creature like him. leaving seeds, offering it the most sought off food from the valley, literally conjuring a small home for it. everything.

HE’S SO HAPPY.

malleus often asks of you to sing, perhaps its the blessing talking but its the most unique form of sound he’d ever heard in his life, the more he sings the more he wants to imbue his very being with the loveliness of your song.

always following you around like a lost puppy (lizard?) any evil that actually wants to take advantage of your unfortunate naive desire for peace and kindness is scared away. although malleus would never want your interactions to be reduced entirely because of him, he only starts looking like a demon one he figures out their motive is less than fitting for you.

“yeah, the ingredients were to complicated for me to remember—”

“oh! perhaps i can help you?”

spots the demon behind you (just your lovely giant staring them to their grave.)

“you know what i actually got it— sorry for wasting your time.” you watch them, confused as they dip.

you look to him, as though to ask what just happened but he merely casts you an oblivious glance and shrugs.

favorite past time → coddling you in his dragon form.

he was doubtful whether he should pull through in actually showing it to you, since you were already such an angel towards him. would it be a stretch if he let a selfish desire get in the way? perhaps you’d get scared if you see how large he is there—or if he’s—

idia (rapunzel)

okay that amazed smile on you was totally worth it.

wow your hair is fire.

he should have never made a comment about it in the first place because now you’re completely confused about his reference, were you living in like… in isolation? a cave? you’re a little less worse than the scarabia’s dorm leader when it comes to being oblivious.

just two idiots miscommunicating, he atleast is trying to make an effort to explain that he doesn’t mean it literally but his wording is so bad that you get absolutely nothing from what he is trying to infer.

okay your hair though.

“why is that person stuck in that square!?”

good thing ortho was near cause you almost charged towards a television and judging by the, pan!? in your grip you definitely would have smashed the screen trying to be righteous and rescue the character.

okay then. 1. don’t let you near electronics, specifically when its playing something.

you are a literal danger to his society. shivers

you’re always asking something like “what are those glowing balls on the ceiling?” those are lights… “why is that thing speaking?!” that’s a speaker… “why is it on fire?” oh that’s his hair, he doesn’t really know either it was just like that.

it does feel a little nice to get asked like that and he’d know the answer (its literally the most common knowledge ever but whtv)

EPIC! idia is now trying to figure out how resistant your hair is. its literally like, the most OP shield there is!

at first he had some reservations. like, used a knife once and was flabbergasted when it came back in half. your hair didn’t even move an inch. then he got motivated and tried a sharper sword, longer, and larger of course. he let ortho handle it cause he probably would have stabbed himself.

“wtf.”

flinches cause the half of the sharp end came completely off and stabbed right beside his head onto the wall.

what are the limits of it?! had some doubts before using one of the tech he came up with, it could literally cut through a diamond and he isn’t sure if its entirely safe but you’re all for it cause you were always curious whether your hair could even get cut in the first place.

anyway you’re way too happy to be near a lazer that could obliterate you and its kinda infecting him. yikes.

less than happy cause the lazer literally got reflected by your hair and hit itself so it’s just gone.

on the bright side he can use you as a scapegoat (in a good way)

alright. 2. don’t enrage you unless he wants to experience getting hit by a pan really hard.

wow. he felt that for days.

maybe its the hit or he’s just feeling a little woozy whenever you’re around.

definitely the pan.

vil (mulan)

bold x shy couple

pretty x pretty defender

he’s used to people heeding his suggestions but damn, are you a stubborn one.

not only have you not listened to his propositions for becoming a more refined person (cause the way you held yourself was too.. much for him to ignore, and it bothered him for a long time until he decided to help you.) but he can respect you, he supposes. not a lot of people can stay true to themselves.

it seems like epel, the boy himself has taking a liking to you. no wonder he’s been becoming more rebellious lately.

vil would never stoop so low to purposely direct someone advice that would change their entire self, decimate their unique traits. but all he told you was out of the goodness of his heart, if you’d be less clumsy of your ways your reputation would be better for the long run.

not being respected amongst nrc is never a good thing.

still, you’re still headstrong. never too overconfident, nor cocky. just a humble soul, that’s rare so he tends to stick by you if he ever wanted an honest opinion cause people just tell him what he wants to nowadays. vil never enjoyed the biased remarks.

more often than not he enjoys making your already pretty face, prettier than it is.

finds out you’re no bark and all bite, he never even knew you could take down someone who has an advantage over you in physical terms. come on, its savanaclaw. apparently the guy had spared him an unsavory comment and (apparently, in your defense. only told him a few words, got attacked so it was self defense.)

it came a surprise to him. seeing as you’re generally relaxed in nature, your military prowess a mystery to most since you seemed content with resorting matters with peace. though you seem to lack more restraint when it comes to your close relationships.

vil scolding you in the infirmary (you don’t have a scratch, and the guy whose pride you handed back to is in some corner lamenting cause he can hear you guys.) and you just taking it.

contrary to how you first treated to each other. you seem to be more prone to his opinions, or suggestions the more you progress with each other. he admits maybe he was too outright in his manner of speaking the first time, but it only highlights the change you’d gone through with each other.

you’re the perfect doll, in a way. not in a demeaning way or anything but its so satisfying to him to use products on your face just for the sole reason that you sit so still. his absolute favorite past time is skin care together even if you mostly just follow his lead.

you and epel must be kindred spirits, once he was on his way to retire to the indoors of pomefiore. seeing as it started raining, heavy so it meant it would stay for a while. and then paused when he spotted you both sharing words.

and planting apple seeds in the rain? both of you are stained with the rain, some dirt and mud alike. and vil had never looked so mortified. so just cause you don’t protest when he cares for you doesn’t mean you’re bothered by getting dirty he guesses.

“you both… clean yourselves up, i’ll brew medicine lest you fall under the weather.” ← disappointed sigh.

kalim (jasmine)

ended up waiting for you both to finish under the covers and ushered you both to baths.

you have a tiger!

just living char x their absolute biggest stan

wow you have a tiger.

did he mention you have a tiger?

majority of nrc knows not to mess with you haha, if it’s not obvious already with the seemingly lax tiger that behaves like some sort of overgrown cat following you around and growls at someone when you aren’t looking.

then you always raise a brow at the people who tell you otherwise. “bab doesn’t bite.”

kalim is lowkey highkey their biggest fan, i mean. jamil is having the worst year of his life dragging kalim away wherever you seem to be because the first apparent instinct of the boy is to try to pet the tiger cause it’s ‘cute’.

at some point jamil had to investigate your routine throughout the day, what you do, where you go at specific times like after classes conclude to make sure kalim doesn’t cross path with you.

well, not necessarily you but rather your… tiger. which is hard, honestly. you seem to visit scarabia a lot for a reason unknown. jamil would be suspicious you’d be planning something but all you really do is stay out on the balcony with your companion.

but alas, fate would have it otherwise.

“hi,” kalim blurts before he could remember his friend’s warning. you turn, along with your… also friend who watches him closely. you blurt out a greeting back, seeing as it’s courtesy, you seem to be amused at his fascinated eyes staring at your tiger.

“want a pet?” you offer, bab making sounds of protest.

jamil almost had a heart attack seeing the two of you attached by the hip, only calming down a few weeks later. seeing as your companion wouldn’t pose as much danger as he assumed, seeing as the tiger’s protectiveness started extending to the ray of sunshine.

rich couple ig. everyone overhears your conversations and doubles over. “i had a small statue of gold made for bab, for you.” and then a; “oh, thanks. but we already have a lot at home. hmm…”

actually it’s not really the manner of being attached, more like two following you. kalim, and then your cutie pie tiger.

your reserved nature in particular greatly contrasts kalim, yapper x listener i guess. although the object of his interest was initially because of bab, he might as well be another overgrown cat of yours cause he seems to love touch.

its concerning cause bab themselves felt challenged for your affection and when they spotted kalim’s head nestled on your lap they ‘accidentally’ kick him off.

in a way you seemed untouchable, pet included. you don’t seem to mind kalim much, people might even go as far as to say you enjoy his company. occasionally the vice of his dorm as well, the three of you have this sort of aura that screams ‘don’t approach’

said aura is in the form of a very big cat.

azul (ariel)

one time you admitted to having not much friends and three heads turned towards you. face twisted incredulously.

he doesn’t know why but you looked like you went through ten stages of grief (3 more cause the 7 definitely wasn’t enough.) when you took a glance at him, during the time you were looking around, you almost went past him, actually. but then doubled back immediately.

that’s concerning.

morally suspicious (devil in disguise) x angel

azul often asks your opinions out of habit, he himself isn’t even sure when it started but he considers you a factor in decisions. though he does prefer to keep you out certain… endeavors of his away entirely, no need to concern your innocence in his doings.

as such he often uses the twins to steer you away from trouble cause you seem to have no sense for it whatsoever, whenever there’s a fight brewing instead of walking off you stride closer. curious to whatever was happening.

and, you believe too easily apparently.

jade had held you by your shoulders and directed you away from the fight before the dispute reached you and inevitably dragged you in. “why are they fighting?”

he replied. “ah, well. they inhaled an unpleasant shroom and got affected.” your mortified face spoke you believed him. human culture! you thought.

your brain should be inspected honestly. floyd told him all about the pile of stuff you had “found” in your dorm, ranging from innocent collectibles to items that brought the question of whether or not they were really yours but you didn’t really claim otherwise, just that you found em’ so no more questioning.

azul doesn’t even wanna know why you started staring at mushrooms like they were a mortal enemy of all living forms. speaking of, the three of them didn’t even consider that you could be from the sea as well. seeing as, well. you have two feet, even if they have the same.

besides the fact you’re too clumsy for your own good you sure had no fear when you leapt overboard during a field trip cause a trinket that caught your eye fell and gave the entirety of the attendants a heart attack. floyd had patted him on the back and wishes him condolences.

also the shock of the century when you emerged, pretty tail and all. holding it the trinket up like you just found it the most fascinating thing on the globe.

since then underwater dates were a thing. which took a lot of prompting honestly, you didn’t know he was a merman either, curiously asking him what kind he was. in nature, you were persistent. like a need to sate your questions so he eventually relented.

even then, it took a while before he let you see the form. ← to his fluster you seemed engrossed in this form of his. swimming around him and asking questions.

now azul also have a small pile of items hidden in a box beneath his bed, all from you. which, upon being opened would be mistaken for unused items since its literally random stuff, and a concerning favor towards forks.

oh yeah. sometimes the tweels crash your date.

you could be in his office, going about your business. chilling on his couch and playing with one of your treasures and be completely unaware of the ominous discussion ongoing within the three about anemones? contracts?

“what are you guys talking about?”

“hairstyles for azul.”

“what—”

“ooh. i can brush his hair so you can style it!” pulls out a fork.

leona (belle)

“oh my sevens, WAIT—”

i was having a crisis trying to think of a dynamic so why not just, beauty x beast.

leona is less than pleased to admit he doesn’t like you much. or atleast, he used to. it was clear his feelings of you was reciprocated, based on the uninterested side glances you cast him. your type, well liked, pristine, proper, and informed reminds him all to well of what mold he was forced into. though it never really fit.

you on the other hand, just dislike him in general. more pointedly as to how he acted, too self righteous in your opinion. he sure spends a lot of time moping about how he could have been king when he’s acting like he’d be a terrible one. you’d say it to his face but even you aren’t too crude.

if you’re both looking at the bright side though, you’d probably prefer each other’s company above others. you’re quiet, perfect for napping around. he’s surprisingly true to himself, his morals aren’t too bad either.

as such, to your disdain he now naps in the library. which you had titled your own space, but he didn’t really just care.

relatively you’re a lot more cool headed than he is, you told him concerns about his laziness which he weaved through. after opening up with each other… well you know how it goes.

okay, fine. you no longer berate leona for napping at the public space, quickly shut up when he threatened you. “i’m gonna tell you the real reason ‘m here nowadays if you don’t calm down. and it ain’t the peace i’m here for.” he eyes you, and you shut up after that.

leona doesn’t know if he should be amused or annoyed at the fact that you stand up to whatever he says. ‘that’s rude,’ this. ‘are you out of your mind?’ that. at some point where he doesn’t wanna admit, leona had disliked seeing you upset (particularly towards him) that he started listening.

at others is a different story though. he will gladly watch you shut down someone else.

sometimes he makes weird remarks, like. “throw an egg at them, who knows might hatch into a chick and give them the company they’ve been lacking.” ← just bullies random people while you defend them. “what? don’t be stupid, eggs that are sold don’t hatch into chicks.”

you often lament in his arms, regretting ever coming near his sleeping frame cause next thing you know you’re subjected to prison, and you had accidentally dropped the book you were reading so even if you try to reach for it he’s pulling you back.

will reach for it if you ask tho lol.

just one look from you has him suddenly behaved tbh.

bothers your productive time by crashing it with his opposite word of productive idk im to lazy to check. more often than not tramples over your things, but always looks dead to life when you end up scolding him heavily.

also kicks out the animals that gravitate towards you for some reason, got jealous of a bird nestled in your hair once cause apparently you paid too much attention to it.

apparently told ruggie to fetch books for you when you’re running out, at that point you might actually milk the nrc library with how fast you burn through them.

“you’re not even from here, what do—”

“actually. originally from times before, they—”

riddle (cinderella)

got lectured about history, eugh.

easy to fluster x enthusiastic and sweet

how are you so nice.

you’ve got most of the population of nrc enamored with your natural charm alone, though some do tend to mock you. unfortunately they aren’t wrong, you really do fit in more at a different school like rsa with your personality.

i mean you fit the bill, kind, pretty, talks to animals.

good for you though. cause riddle would prefer a behaved student than a troublesome one anyway so he would definitely dig you lmao.

speaking of. he definitely goes to you whenever the hedgehogs are lost in the maze, or the flamingos just don't wanna step out the farther spot from the pond, somehow they love you in whatever you do.

as in, you spoke to the hedgehogs with a lower tone. almost like a coo, and he almost tells you to stop because that's the universal worse tone to talk to hedgehogs until... it nuzzles into you?!

flabbergasted, he can only watch.

sevens... you're just so pleasant to be around he could die.

at some point it felt like you were the epitome of being kind. riddle understand that the virtue was just embedded into you, letting others berate you for whatever... he even thought you were too kind for a place like nrc where the complete opposite traits are admired.

you are, but only to those who deserve it. riddle had the pleasure to spot you nitpicking a crude student and they looked like they were gonna burst into tears.

so... you knew what to say almost always. when troubled, he'd learn that it's best to talk to you cause you'd know what to say to ease his worries, when you're treated wrongly? sevens.. you also know what to say.

but, in a putting whoever in their place way?

(idk man I'm just rambling at this point lmao idk how to write a cinderella reader.)

riddle has grown accustomed to random critters breaking in the door. well, he was used to animals in the first place. or atleast thought he was when he opened a door in the dorm and almost yelled at the sight of a group of mice looking like they were having conspiracies.

a few weeks after that he knocked on doors before opening them.

was also very disturbed when you announced they were your friends.

I don't know. I feel like he'd lowkey be the type to write your name in a heart on the back of his notebook and straighten his face like: 'what in the world am I doing' but not erasing it anyways.

over time, your little 'friends' got used to him, and vice versa. at the very least he isn't screaming at their sudden visits, be it flying through the window or just popping out of something they climbed on.

who's screaming though are his dorm members, and he's found humors in the encounters.

"ah, thank you, myrcella." he nods gingerly, toward the very tiny white mice who seems to twirl around, touched by the thanks. the little thing was nice enough to carry the pen he'd been using to scribble down the main definitions he'd been copying from the textbook.

in the middle of reaching for a glass of water the door opens, riddle watches one of his residents striding in rambling. probably about to be exposed to the sight of a group of mice sleeping on top of each other atop a cushion he'd personally placed for them.

and maybe the birds. whom seemed comfortable by his small collection of plants.

"dorm leader, octavinelle stude—GAHHHH—"

[ozzgin]

So do I just shove the whole delinquent fairy in my pussy or what? 🍑🧚‍♂️

Is he like the size of a vibrator bullet? Will my pussy be all glittery from the fairy dust? Will he fuck up the PH balance in my pussy? Would I have to go to the emergency room if I can’t get him out? I have so many questions…🧐

Don’t be surprised by these asks. You knew it was coming from me eventually 🙃

-👘

This actually reminded me of a funny idea I had when first designing the fairy boy. content: female reader, NSFW, unintentional forced arousal

Delinquent!Fairy has never paid attention to any of the ancient teachings. Fairies come with many powers and tricks up their sleeve, yet he always considered everything to be unnecessary, pompous nonsense.

Thus, he may sometimes surprise himself with his own feats of magic. Such as his...special pollen. Normally, a fairy would use this substance whenever they so desire; an intentional, controlled act.

In his case, he accidentally released a burst of pollen while having a particularly improper thought about you. It was a quick, flashing idea, and he promptly resumed his task, completely unaware of the massive cloud of sex particles surrounding him.

You enter the room, and immediately begin to sneeze. Even worse, your core throbs with a sudden, unexpected arousal, your face instantly flushed.

"What the hell have you done," you nearly moan in exasperation.

He stares at you, confused.

Well, someone will have to deal with it, that's for sure. You pinch him by the collar of his jacket and drag him to the sofa expectantly.

"How am I supposed to help-"

Moments later, he's laying next to you, his small body entirely drenched in your juices.

"You can go ahead and skip your next ob-gyn appointment," he says, smoothing his hair back into shape. "I've seen everything that needs to be seen and more."

[Delinquent Fairy]

[luvmanifesting]

PURE CONSCIOUSNESS 101

what exactly IS pure consciousness? well its a state of consciousness where you’re detached from the 3D and mainly aware of the 4D. your 4D is anything that is within you. (imagination, inner conversations, playing a song in your head..etc etc) THAT is your 4D, you can induce pure consciousness at any time of the day and absolutely anywhere. most people prefer to induce pure consciousness at night because thats when the body becomes more relaxed in preparation for sleep. you can always set the intention to wake up in pure consciousness, fall asleep and then lucid dream and THEN induce pure consciousness or sleep paralysis (i don’t really recommend sleep paralysis) but hey, do what makes you comfortable. you may think that its too good to be true but its not, everyone has the ability to induce pure consciousness because its simply a meditative process. the traditional way people induce pure consciousness on TUMBLR is usually by closing your eyes and repeating the phrases “I AM” or “I am in the void state” or “i am pure consciousness” it doesn’t matter what affirmation you use just as long as its the intention of inducing it. you cannot fail this because it is impossible. news flash.. you induce pure consciousness as soon as you fall asleep every night.

you cannot force pure consciousness thats a thing most of you guys do, you wanna rush because you desperately wanna show your haters wrong. stop that, you don’t force yourself to sleep right? you don’t force yourself to breathe.. so stop trying to force pure consciousness. that will only keep you in the awake state. (awake state being you reading this right now and everything you see around you).

whats also common when people wanna induce pure consciousness is they wonder when they’ll start getting symptoms (floaty feeling, tingling, senses going out) etc, guys that’s simply just your brain checking to see if you’re awake, one of the reasons you “tap out” of pure consciousness was because you placed your awareness back on your body. as soon as your senses go out then you’re there. theres no “but i got floaty feelings and then i affirmed and i got nothing” well then you were not pure consciousness. and then theres your fear that comes into play whenever inducing pure consciousness.

you’re scared of failing, (you literally can’t fail a mediative state this isn’t rocket science) you’re panicking because you swore to yourself you would induce pure consciousness over the break and live your dream life and then you didn’t. *loud heavy sigh* you can’t fail this guys, its okay to be worried but this isn’t something that just can never not work for you.

now lets see pure consciousness from a law of an assumption pov, as we all know our best friend is law of assumption, works instantly and effectively. all you have to do is assume. “well ayami how do i assume?”. my response would be that the sky is glittery with magical rainbows. you would reply with “no its not” i would reply “yes it is” 1 second later the sky is glittery and has magical rainbows. why? because it was my assumption. i didn’t need any stupid proof, it was my assumption so it had no choice to happen. now if you told me “ugh im such a master at inducing pure consciousness” and i said “no you aren’t” you are NOT going to say “oh you’re right im not” YOU ARE GOING TO SAY “um what’re you talking about yes i am? you’re just jealous i can induce it instantly and effortlessly”. okay now bam you can instantly and effortlessly induce pure consciousness whenever you want because thats your assumption and you stood firm to it no matter what was said or shown to you. starting NOW you will assume that you’re a master at inducing pure consciousness and you will stand firm in that state no matter what the hell is shown.

now go induce pure consciousness.

[malleleothreesome]

Azul Ashengrotto x afab Reader - Aphrodisiac + Breeding

💜 summary: After an alchemy accident, you and Azul end up covered in an aphrodisiac potion ༶༶༶ 💜 warnings: afab reader, smut, LOTS OF BREEDING KINK, pregnancy mention, porn with plot??? ༶༶༶ 💜 word count: 8.4k words I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED ༶༶༶ 💜 song: Vapor - 5 Seconds of Summer "I wanna feel you in my veins I want to breathe you in like a vapor I want to be the one you remember I want to feel your love like the weather, all over me" ༶༶༶ 💜 inspired by: this ask thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

As a magicless human, Alchemy had always been your favorite class at Night Raven College. Despite lacking an innate aptitude for spell-casting, mixing and crafting potions was an artform that didn't require magic in order to bring spectacular effects into the world. Alchemy classes provided a refuge—a safe space with no barrier for entry where you could excel instead of feeling singled out for being an oddity in a sea of talented mages. You relished in the opportunity to learn about new components and elements, excitedly observing as volatile chemicals bubbled in heated pots to produce glowing, glittery pastes.

Much to your suspicion, Azul had always been particularly enthused to help you with potions, boasting how he was the most adept in the class due to his academic proficiencies, and that he was certain you'd find success with his aid. He took special interest in mentoring you, watching your delicate, nimble movements as you worked, walking you through procedures and detailed steps, and speaking knowledgeably about the ingredients in a tone that oozed expertise. His tutelage had helped you reach impressive grades on even the most challenging assignments. It wasn’t long before you found yourself spellbound by his charming intellect, deceivingly sweet demeanor, and the addictively intense gaze of his unique blue eyes.

There was always a subtle mischief hidden behind the smiling eyes and the easy charisma that suggested an ulterior motive lurking beneath his silver-tongue. Based on your observations of his interactions with other students, you assumed this was a ploy in hopes that if you had taste of the sweet, intoxicating elixir of power and success, you'd become desperate for more of his help, consequentially making you subservient and open to the idea of contracting yourself to him. In defiance of your paranoia that his motivations are not entirely altruistic, you did always feel an odd prickle in the air when he stood right behind you to monitor your actions. That sensation, a fiery buzz that hummed in your lower abdomen, always gave your heart flutters and kept you on edge as Azul's calm breaths ghosted against your hair and sent ripples of warm pleasure tingling through you. Your breath hitched in your throat as his large, gloved palms gently guided you through your motions, brushing over the bare skin on your knuckles or arms, leaving electric jolts where you felt his warmth. He smelled crisp like ocean breeze, an inviting fragrance that enveloped your mind and wrenched you out of reality and into his heady fantasy—a scene in which all you can taste are the thick, sweet notes of his dark intentions, and all you could do was choke on his cloying, dominating allure. He didn't ask permission to touch you or indicate an appropriate method to teach—no, his hands simply snaked around your waist and ran along your curves, slowly learning the feeling of your soft flesh through his gloves. Each time, you couldn't help but sink a little closer to his chest, instinctively chasing the seductive ambience radiating off of him, drowning in his captivating presence as though he was the tide pulling you under. There was no denying it—you wanted more of him.

Today's lab was no different, the air was tense and thick with charged attraction, filled with sexual tension so palpable it could be cut with a knife. The assignment was to experimentally combine various liquids, mixing and adjusting for better consistency, until you found a formula to concoct a viable, bountiful healing potion that would greatly ease the effects of injury. This assignment was a notoriously difficult, energy-draining procedure that required extreme vigilance to avoid an adverse chemical reaction that would result in a completely different type of potion, although Crewel didn’t elaborate on the exact details. After carefully pouring two compounds—one a milky white, and the other a vivid magenta—into a tall, cylindrical flask, Azul cautiously peered over your shoulder to check your concoction's progress as you stirred them. With one arm outstretched against the table to secure a good vantage point, he rested his other on your waist and leaned in closer as he studied the bubbling pink mixture. After adding an infusion of ground powder, a burst of sparkles clouded the interior of the flask, a telltale sign you were on the right track. This is the portion of the experiment where you needed to take extra caution to mix the elements together in perfect precision without faltering or taking your eyes away from your project, a delicate operation requiring the utmost concentration. Suddenly, Grim barges in and jumps on the lab station in excitement, yapping about how he wants to help, despite you and Azul explaining multiple times he has a proven history of destroying your projects.

The moment the little cat-monster attempts to extend his claws into your precious potion, Azul reacts automatically with surprising speed, his hands fly in a frenzy to scoop Grim away from your chemistry equipment. "Get off that this instant, Grim! You have no business here! Get your little paws out of that glassware this instant before you ruin another assignment! Do not interrupt us! Get away from there immediately!" Azul scolds him repeatedly while chasing him around the room, attempting to steer him to the door. "Why you foolish beast! You're far more of a liability than an asset! This experiment requires extreme care and concentration to avoid failure—a common result of your erratic, clumsy behavior!" His expression hardens with anger, eyebrows drawing into a line as Grim hisses defiantly. The little monster still hasn't relented, his hind legs clumsily scrabbling and slipping in Azul's grip as he tries desperately to cling onto the edge of the lab table, hoping for a quick paw-hold. A heavy, frustrated sigh escapes Azul's nostrils, his face morphing into one of desperation, pleading with the troublesome cat-creature to just leave you to focus your project in peace.

"How very annoying... To think he would willingly place himself in danger without even stopping to consider the consequences... what a foolish and irresponsible creature," he exhales irritably, struggling to wrestle Grim from his precarious position as his composure begins to slip, agitation creeping through his voice and shattering his typical polished and suave illusion of unflappable equanimity. He continues to scold Grim as he chases him around your station, gritting his teeth and losing his cool as the monster's cries of distress and denial ring through the entire room. Grim is an unrelenting little bastard who won't quit squirming. There isn't the slightest semblance of remorse or pity on his stupid, feline face, and Azul feels his resolve crack as he becomes utterly fed up with this spoiled brat's behavior. Grim continues to kick and howl his way through Azul's grip, determined to aid with your Alchemy project, but his clumsy movements start causing your potion to bubble and ripple in an unsettling manner. You shriek his name, begging him to just settle the hell down and be a team player.

It happens in a matter of seconds—a fizzling sound grabs your attention. You turn back around quickly and notice your reaction beginning to froth violently. Your eyes widen in horror and your mouth drops in disbelief. Azul notices your fear-wide eyes and immediately stops his futile efforts to reprimand Grim. In an instant, his gaze reflects the alarm in yours and the blood drains from his already pale cheeks. Grim runs out in a screaming huff as he exits in a frenzied flurry, knowing when to take a hint and make a clean getaway. At this point, the compound is pouring heavily from the top of the flask, spewing out onto the heating device and coating the table below. The chemical reaction is completely beyond your control now, its speed increasing exponentially, bubbling and exploding, kicking out thick, unmanageable clouds of murky pink and purple fumes. Within seconds, it covers the lab tables in an almost misty haze as you choke and sputter in a coughing fit, Azul gasping and choking right alongside you, panic flashing across his face. An eerie glow seeps through the thick liquid as a swirling mist appears from inside the glass. Without warning, it erupts directly toward the two of you before either of you have time to take cover—shattering the flask and showering the fronts of your faces and bodies in its noxious, intoxicating fluids. Both you and Azul choke out muffled yells and groans, the sticky, glittering mixture clinging to the fabric of your clothes and the exposed skin on your faces.

The next thing either of you register is Crewel's obnoxious bark as he spits out sharp commands to open the windows and clear out all the air from the room. Coughing, you gasp for fresh oxygen, suddenly becoming very aware of how fast your heart is racing. It thumps so hard and so forcefully inside of your ribcage that the noise reverberates loudly in your ears, overwhelming your senses. However, no amount of labored inhaling can free you from the toxic, vaporous gas; every molecule in your lungs has already been bombarded and completely overcome by the potion’s effects. As its intoxication takes hold of you, a wicked fever seems to roar within you, followed by a horribly slow heat that makes your limbs ache. Every orifice of your body is saturated by the miasma—liquid slips between your lips, gushing down the front of your body to coat your exposed neck and chest. You taste the surprisingly sweet potion on the inside of your mouth; its taste lingers sweet and tacky on the flat of your tongue, coating your throat. You'd panic that you just consumed some horrific cocktail with traces of corrosion or stomach-rotting acid, if it weren't for the fact that Crewel seems more frustrated than concerned for your well-being. Rather than damaging you, whatever substance was expelled seems to be having quite the opposite effect; you feel your body becoming more energetic, your head becoming lighter, and a bubbling rush of warmth seems to radiate all over from the inside out, changing your physiology into a fertile garden in need of sowing. Adrenaline rushes through you and awakens your basal instincts, forcing you to acknowledge every excruciating detail of your body in an erotic manner. Arousal slithers through your veins like venom, poisoning all remaining thoughts and rationality, as a throbbing, almost blinding wave of pleasure overtakes your body. You become intensely, achingly aware of your physical needs, and all those needs center upon an impassioned desire to be filled, stretched, and seeded full—the frantic urge to be bred nearly splits you in half and makes your lower belly cramp in a hot flash of want. For a second, you hear Azul stutter something to you, his voice wavering on the verge of cracking with the desire that the aphrodisiac had triggered. You lock eyes with Azul, pupils blown wide as lust makes his oceanic gaze shimmer. The front of his slacks have grown embarrassingly tight with the straining girth of his aroused cock. You meet his clouded eyes, almost embarrassed by your wanton thoughts and the desperate throbbing between your thighs.

It is only a split second of recognition, a blurry, sweaty haze of unfathomable passion, before your shared moment is interrupted. Crewel shouts at you to look him in the eyes, snapping you out of your sexual frenzy, even if only for a split second. He stares at you, his gray-streaked hair framing the contoured features of his face as he cocks an eyebrow. The elder gives your flushed skin and trembling body a once-over.

"Just as I thought. It's a dopamine-based aphrodisiac. At least nothing fatal or life threatening, but enough to send you both into a delirious, euphoric-fueled rut," he assesses calmly, unfazed. "What's more, the way the explosion altered the structure of the compound has made its properties even more potent and uncontrollable. In terms you incompetent pups will understand, we're past the stage of antidote or reprieve, and you both have mere moments before the hormones will reach maximum capacity and you two will need to find some private location to release the effects..." He trails off. From his expression, you can tell there is more he would like to add to the situation, yet a worrisome crinkle furrows his brow as his eyes remain on Azul, as though assessing whether the situation is really as under control as he wishes. "Both of you bad dogs listen carefully. Do not even dare to even breathe a word of what transpired here—you are to wait in isolation for five to eight hours until its effects wear off. Under no circumstances should you share physical contact with anyone else for the remainder of the day." He holds Azul's gaze longer than necessary, silently threatening him not to take advantage of this situation—but Azul seems far too caught up in the spell and too infatuated by the burning image of you, sweating, panting, and splayed before him.

"Should anyone at all realize that the two of you have taken any sort of love potion or been afflicted in this manner, it could create a massive scandal, and I'll punish you both so mercilessly for causing such an indiscretion, you'll be licking my boots in front of the entire school!" his deep voice booms in threat. "Have I made myself understood, dear pets?" Crewel snaps, the sting of his whip making both you and Azul wince and nod profusely. He leads you and Azul to the decontamination area of the lab, ushering you two into separate stalls so you can change into fresh, dry garments and wipe off the evidence of the explosion from the potion. When you both emerge, it takes Crewel less than a second to glance from the massive bulge straining against Azul's clothing, to where your heaving, quivering chest is spilling over the low neckline, your nipples hard and pressing obscenely through the thin fabric. He glares down his nose at the two of you in distaste.

"Five to eight hours," he hisses, eyes narrowing, almost sizing you and Azul up like he's waiting for one of you to give in to the pressure of the aphrodisiac. He throws open a back door, gesturing for you and Azul to disappear. Azul leaves first, a flushed, jumbled mess of conflicting emotions that are only intensified as he can feel every agonizing beat of his aroused heart pulse in the heat of his hard dick. You follow closely behind, but before you can cross the doorway, Crewel shoots his hand out to grip you by the upper arm, turning you to him as he towers over you, giving you an intense glare before sighing and pulling a small vial of bluish, iridescent potion from his bag and thrusting it into your hands.

"Since I know you won't be able to resist such a delectable temptation from that damn fishy bastard," his words drip with annoyance as he continues, "at least be safe, Pup. Go have a nice screw if that's what you really desire. The serum I just gave you is a contraceptive—just one sip and you will have full reproductive control, in case Azul isn't a decent man about his desires." You blink up at him in utter bewilderment. "Under no circumstances will I allow my star pupils to fall prey to the temptations and consequences of unprotected intimacy in the midst of this reckless hormone rush... I can't allow something like this to affect you or your ambitions. My students can only go to greater places." You feel his eyes burning with concern as he brushes your cheek, sending you a warning in his eyes and urging you to please think it through and consider it. "You are interested in Azul, are you not? I won't allow you to get involved in anything you don't consent to. If you don't feel safe, I can escort you straight to Ramshackle dorm and I will handle Ashengrotto myself." His stare, once cold and imposing, is now warm with protective care, as he looks you up and down with a gentle softness you didn't expect from your professor. The paternalistic expression on his face strikes your soul and pulls on your heartstrings a bit. After all, it's the type of support you feared was lost to you once you found yourself trapped in Twisted Wonderland with no hope of ever seeing your family again. With all the gentleness of a father, he squeezes your shoulder and gazes deeply into your eyes. You assure him that it's okay, you trust Azul. Nodding, your professor finally allows you passage out the door.

You had barely made it beyond the courtyard doors before Azul approached you with a sickly sweet, almost giddy look on his face. His steel-blue irises burned bright with anticipation, accompanied by a hint of something dark and salacious flickering in the shadows. The corners of his lips pulled taut, curling upward in a devious smile. A tremulous shudder passed through you and prickled up your spine at the thought of those hypnotizing eyes studying you while you lay enraptured beneath him, completely at his mercy. As he takes a few tentative steps toward you, his right hand glides and rests softly on your hip, making you gasp with surprise, your heartbeat fluttering and pounding deafeningly in your ears. Azul leans close to your ear, his breath coming out in hot, rapid pants, a carnal excitement that threatens to spill over and devour you whole. You swallow in nervous expectation, hardly daring to look into his lustful gaze. With his elegant index finger, he lifts your chin up and you are left gasping and flushed beneath him, lips parted to beg him for more as his gentle caress lingers. He flashes a devilishly handsome smile before tracing your lower lip with a seductive slowness. "Please, allow me to escort you back to Octavinelle where I can properly tend to you and your condition," the breathiness of his voice and his lack of composure cause your clit to throb, your inner walls pulsating, pleading to be stretched and ravaged. His lecherous advances and insinuations combined with the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins is making you so aroused, even standing close to him is threatening to make you cum. The very fabric of his essence seems to burn a shade darker—there is a terrifying intensity to his ardent desire for you, yet also a rawness and exposure you hadn't seen on his usually suave and polished facade.

Your whole body flushes when your gaze lands upon the size of his aching erection, an impressive tent straining tightly against his immaculate slacks, begging for attention through the dark material of his trousers. There is a manic, primal gleam that's spreading rapidly across his entire visage; he looks rabid with uncontainable greed, and you shudder at the thought that Azul will use your body to satisfy his own dark and twisted curiosities. "Please... It's the least I could do. After all, our most unfortunate situation is all due to my own recklessness," Azul pleads. His tone of voice is unwaveringly convincing in its sweet charm, yet you cannot escape the licentious twinkle that betrays his intentions, eyes ablaze with passion and lips quivering at the thought of making you his forever.

"Please... Just let me serve you and tend to your every whim," he begs. Even though the tone of his voice suggests innocence, you're reminded once more that Azul Ashengrotto believes the true intent in a plea is only to benefit his own ambitions—how ironic, then, that you find yourself overwhelmed with the desire to listen to the velvety cadence of his whispered sweet-nothings until you orgasm multiple times around the girth of his hard dick. Before you can speak, he reaches out and threads his fingers between your own. It was impossible to say no to the lilting honey of his tone, nor was there any will to fight as his firm and commanding hands ushered you towards the teleportation door. He practically pulls you into the mirror with him, and with a twinkly, delighted laugh, his covetous hand grasps you harder than ever as the portal draws closer, his eyes and touch almost reverential—eager, desperate, craving. The surface of the mirror swallows both of you up as the shadows distort the edges of your vision. The whole world spins around you both before the smell of the sea overwhelms your senses—the crispness of ocean air fills your lungs, and a feeling of cool relief washes over your flushed skin. In seconds, Azul is shoving you into an elevator and hitting the button to his suite. When the metal doors slide open, he gently shuffles you forward as he urges your body closer and closer toward his bedroom.

After his dorm door slams shut, your bodies mindlessly work to free the other's of their pesky and offending clothing, eager and restless fingers tearing and ripping at each article as though your lives depended on it. As each piece of clothing is discarded on the floor, new heated skin presses desperately into another as your erotic moans reverberate through the air. It feels electric, the way your sensitive, exposed bodies seek each other out, pawing and grasping at any available flesh and kissing any naked skin you can reach. Your hot, yearning mouth hungrily seeks Azul's for an urgent, feverish kiss—it is sloppy, desperate, almost savage as you share the intensity of your lusty feelings, gasping into each other's mouths, sucking, nibbling, tasting the sweet and sticky aphrodisiac concoction still lingering on both of your tongues. When Azul finally sheds his trousers, his painfully erect member juts out, throbbing and eager, bouncing happily and proudly as it quivers with eagerness. His knees weaken at the sudden release of the tension he'd suffered since the accident, the air a bit brisk against the heat of his erection, which begs to nestle itself securely into an inviting heat and fill your womb with the lusty seed it desires to spurt forth. His cock is ruddy and reddened, and his sack hangs swollen and tight with pent-up pressure. He doesn't think it possible for it to throb and swell even larger, yet its angry head and veins grow dark and twitch from his hot blood pumping. His hand mindlessly falls to his cock, and at the first stroke to his aching member, a needy whine catches in his throat. There is no time for shyness or apprehension. Whatever spell you were both under was driving you forward—like two planets caught in the gravity of an irresistible force, each gravitationally pulled toward the other with no means to stop. The rational part of his brain has been overwhelmed by an urgent instinct. Azul knows without a shadow of doubt that the only cure for this overwhelming haze of sexual depravity is to thrust himself deep inside the hot, velvety cunt of his precious lab partner.

Next thing you knew, you were pushed roughly, falling backwards before connecting against the smooth, luxurious blankets covering his mattress. He follows eagerly, letting his entire weight drop against your form and trapping your supple body beneath his. It was then, right then, when Azul found that the feeling of his aroused cock pressing against your thigh was unbelievably divine—a warm and pleasant tingling sensation spreading all over his hot, hard shaft and emanating out from his loins. With a contented hum, Azul can't resist the urge to buck his hips against your warm skin, stroking his arousal a little further, groaning at the exquisite friction. What a delicious sight you are—all nude and aroused—splayed and exposed across his bed. The effects of the potion have left you looking thoroughly wrecked, legs open, dripping and hot with an aroma so alluring, it nearly knocks the air out of his lungs. You are positively lovely, just as he'd always dreamed, with your petals unfurled and beckoning, enticing him further and drawing him in as your soft moans coaxed his cock in closer. To see you writhing and panting, the flush of your skin as you burned with longing for him...it was exactly as he'd always wanted it, almost as though someone had crafted the perfect image just to fulfill his darkest wishes. A surge of erotic fantasy comes upon him, and Azul's breath hitches in his throat as he ponders, briefly, about your womb filled with his seed, his beautiful angelfish round with child. He wants nothing more than to unceremoniously bury himself as deep within as he can, to push his thick, pulsating shaft as far as you could manage and stay buried to the hilt for days. His body quivers with excitement as a particularly vulgar dream reenters his mind. He had longed, always, to possess a most lascivious power over you—the power to make you writhe and squirm in bliss, and more importantly, in total and unbreakable dependence and submission for him—the neediest, sluttiest mess imaginable. Perhaps he'd have to thank Grim later for consequentially bringing about this fortunate chain of events.

Azul begins stroking himself fully, unabashed in his view of the sight before him. You don't protest the show. In fact, a high pitched, whimpery moan escapes you as you bite into your thumb to stifle the volume, but the sound is not missed, the harsh pang in his cock proof enough. After some thought, he realizes that he much preferred when you had been writhing and moaning quite uninhibitedly a moment earlier. You shift uncomfortably underneath his heated gaze as his eyes drink in every little curve, every little wrinkle and fold of your dripping pussy. Your toes curl inward and the ache deep within you demands attention. "You're so perfect, my little angelfish. Your body is exactly as I imagined," his saccharine voice admits as he leans forward, letting his fingers dance across the swell of your breasts. His left hand cradles your jaw and throat as his right continues its delicate massage across the plush pillow of your breasts, toying with the perked nubs of your nipples as his thumbs swirl small circles against the delicate flesh.

Azul's gentle touch ignites flames under his fingertips that follow his descent down to the juncture of your legs. The first brush against your swollen bundle of nerves and slit has your spine arching upwards, making his cock throb even more painfully, stiffening under the visual of your trembling body. A whine escapes and your hips grind involuntarily, the heat building intensely as his fingers begin to experimentally spread your folds slowly, running the tip of a finger from your core to the hood of your pearl. Without warning, Azul swipes upwards, expertly pulling back the hood and exposing the raw, sensitive flesh of nerves underneath, pinching down on the fleshy bud and causing you to yelp loudly in shock. With a satisfied grin, his forefinger begins to toy and tweak the hardened bud, rubbing gentle, rhythmic patterns over and over against the bundle as a chorus of delightful, high-pitched squeals fill his dormitory. After a few more ministrations, his hands continue down, delving his fingers straight into the moistened and heated opening, swiping up the slick mess you had coated his palm in. Two long fingers deftly slip right between your folds, caressing their way around your labia, your wet walls clenching around his fingertips desperately. "This wetness, for me?" Azul chuckles wickedly, crooking his fingers upward and brushing your g-spot with a knowing curl of his fingers, sending you spasming, gasping, and writhing in ecstasy, eyelashes fluttering wildly. "Oh, my dearest—so precious, my angelfish. That's it, so beautiful, just for me..." His voice drips with lecherous intent, his body moving without even the slightest hint of hesitation as though you were merely an extension of his own and not even a separate entity. Your wetness coats his fingers easily as Azul keeps sliding his fingers into your wet heat until the pads of his fingers touch all your deepest, hidden places, causing more sweet moans to fall from your lips and echo through his room. He scissors and curls his digits inside, stroking you slowly as though wanting to feel every bump, crease, and ridge along your walls, claiming his ownership over your deepest parts with a sinister delight.

A pressure builds and teeters precariously right at the precipice—the curling of his digits work feverishly to milk every drop of pleasure he can from your shuddering body, the warm flood of wetness drenching his eager fingers and making his head fall back with a sensuous moan. He continues with his relentless assault against your pussy, whispering filthy compliments about how badly he wanted to fuck you and how sexy it is when you take his fingers so well. Your legs flutter open wider, inviting his slim and nimble digits deeper within you, fucking them vigorously as your release begins to pool, rising closer to the boiling point. The aphrodisiac grips its poisonous talons deeper into your mind, warping and bending everything into an unshakable desire to submit yourself and your pleasure to the hands of the devious sea creature above you. He leans down, his silvery eyes roving over your face in an intense appraisal, his features drawn in with concentration, mapping out how to unravel you—there wasn't an emotion or micro expression that slipped past his vision as he carefully considered all the factors of how best to please and overwhelm your body with incomparable rapture. There isn't anything else beyond the present—no outside forces, nor worries about the consequences of being intimate. There's simply no room in your mind to think at this point, the cloudiness of the effects rendering your body vulnerable—you give yourself up entirely. He drinks up every breath, every shake and shiver, as he continues calculating your climax, relishing in each tiny noise or action he drew from you, meticulous with the acquisition of your bliss.

"Yes. Give in." he laughs maniacally, his face fully consumed in the intense madness of his lustful insanity. "Give in to every sensation. Let me drive you wild... Do as I command and cum," Azul demands you through his laughter, his breathing rapid and heavy as he watches your eyes rolling back. He moans in awe as the loud, slick sounds of his hand filling your soaking cunt meet his ears and a deep flush travels across his collarbones. His own needy cock leaks, eagerly anticipating what's next as its engorged state bulges obscenely, its every vein throbbing with virile desperation. Your high-pitched moans continue for some time as his pace stays fast, until you can finally feel your entire body tensing up, the fire coiling inside your gut ready to explode any moment. Everything builds higher and higher to the peak, every muscle and nerve fiber in your body primed to receive that last push that would send you catapulting over the cliff. As he feels your walls tremble, Azul moans along with your high-pitched wailing. A deranged smile stretches across his face and his silver eyes fill with amusement and fascination. 

Azul leans into your ear, whispering sweet nothings mixed with commanding, demanding words to finally succumb, "That's it...Let go..." He twists and digs deeper, stroking the perfect places inside you, hitting the correct spots relentlessly in an overload of mind-bending, debauchery-fueled, electric-spark pleasure, forcing your senses to dissociate from reality. His thrusting hand matches the frantic racing of his own heart, unable to keep the carnal fever down. "Give in... submit yourself fully, and surrender that orgasm. It's mine. I've worked for it, and now it belongs only to me." He whispers in a devilish growl, nibbling on your ear as his strokes become rougher, harder, faster—you can hardly stand the overwhelming force of your pleasure before its sweet relief crashes like waves. A broken moan leaves your mouth, a pure exaltation of uncontrolled passion. Noises come tumbling out and spilling over until you finally dissolve into a messy orgasm, shrieking his name in pleasure as his hand slows its motions but doesn't stop, keeping its pressure steady and rocking the whole of your existence until your mind goes blank. "Such a good, obedient angelfish, giving me all of your sweet, succulent cum... all for me, yes?" Azul hums sweetly, teasingly. "Oh, this is so precious," he sighs, feeling the quaking and trembling of your fluttering walls. His expression melts into one of deep satisfaction and pride.

"There you go, my lovely angelfish. Just as I said I would," Azul croons. Without another word, his hand, wet with your desire, abandons its ministrations, pulling from your depths with a slick pop, leaving your empty cunt to tremble from his absence. Azul brings his fingers to his mouth for a lewd taste test, licking the juices from his hand as a self-indulgent smirk plays upon his lips. As he rolls the digits around his tongue, sampling the essence of your cunt, a sharp groan rumbles deep from within his chest, the vibration coursing down his spine and directly into his throbbing member. Even as his breath grows heavy from the feeling of his needy cock, the smug, triumphant smirk doesn't disappear. He enjoys the honeyed, tangy sweetness and savors the lingering sensation on his taste buds—another string attached, making it utterly impossible for him to let go. A low chuckle is heard from deep in his chest, dark and hauntingly mirthful. From his pleased sigh, you could easily read the insatiable hunger growing within his gleaming eyes—clearly the lust in his loins has only been ignited further—a starving, manic beast hungry for even more from your yielding form, an insatiable craving that can't be satiated so easily. His cock visibly twitches, begging for him to mount you and thrust his painfully aroused length as far as he can manage deep into your eager, spasming pussy. The aphrodisiac courses through his veins with all the potency of a tropical storm, whipping every nerve into a frenzy as the instinct takes hold in Azul's most primordial thoughts and drives all those cravings with an irrepressible urgency—he simply has to get your pregnant. Azul's cheeks flush with a reddish-pink shade as he fixates on you, the hunger in his gaze absolutely feral, filled with a single-minded lustful determination to breed you.

When your eyes meet his maddened, love-struck stare, you are overcome with the same desperation radiating from your womb, urging to be stuffed and claimed by his thick load. At last, the two of you had connected in this all-consuming fire—a conflagration of desire so severe and a love so encompassing that both of you could do nothing more than dance on the ashes and burn with the flames. In that moment of recognition, an irresistible, bewitching aura emanates from him and mesmerizes you as the air of mystery dissipates from his visage, the eroticized specter of the fearsome and dangerous, devious mogul melts away to reveal the raw intensity of the young man underneath, exposed in all his ardent, unfettered passions. Here stands Azul, naked with vulnerability, desiring only a love that no other has been able to truly give. He's always tried to prevent access to his real emotions, afraid of the kind of cruelty they would reap upon him if they were found. He didn't believe himself to be worthy of their regard, let alone capable of receiving someone's genuine affections. With you, though, there were none of his signature theatrics, no polite deflection, nor charming evasiveness; he gave you full permission to view him and all of his repressed feelings on full display. An open book, Azul trusts you enough to expose his heart fully, so transparent in his neediness. Since he brought you to his bedroom, there was never the slightest hint of deception in his tone—not once had he attempted to distract you, nor used a tactic or trick. Perhaps his true intentions for getting close to you were more admirable than you thought, his desperation to get close to you was merely just a pining for your love rather than a sordid trick. His earnest, loving gaze, combined with the grip of your desire, makes something finally shift within, like the turning of the tide—a sense that it was fated for you to fall and crash so desperately, madly, and completely for him—a long-awaited inevitability, just as he had already done for you long before this Alchemy accident. Azul was an adoringly gentle yet brutally powerful force, a pillar in your life you can lean into without hesitation. All of your fears, worries, and frustrations are suddenly null, evaporating into the thin air of Octavinelle, carried into the gentle waters outside the window and disappearing into the seas.

Nothing is more erotic than seeing his carefully maintained veneer crumbling before you and letting himself fall apart at the seams. No longer hiding his desires or his ambitions for you, Azul's lusty hunger has you excited, aroused, and turned on like never before. You return his lustful, hazy expression and Azul is drawn right into the softness of your inviting stare. Your mouth parts to allow a needy moan to pass as you buck your hips slightly, inviting him to finally claim your body as his, a beautiful sacrifice you're eager to make for a beautiful siren such as him. With a deep, lewd groan, Azul pushes off your trembling body, propping himself onto his knees and groping at your chest, making you mewl. There's no trace left of the smooth businessman persona, not even a hint of it lingers when his wet mouth kisses at your mounds and his large hands explore the contours of your curves, his fingertips desperately memorizing the way you're put together, tracing every bit of available flesh. His eager tongue swirls at your peaked nipples, moaning in appreciation and delight. Your mind is being swallowed by a bubbling wave of bliss that has no end as his hand trails across your hips, his touch is as gentle as a ripple in the water. With a shyly embarrassed flush and a sigh of wanton abandonment, you surrender entirely to him—letting the sea creature drown you in ecstasy, deeper and deeper, into the endless ocean. He caresses your stomach gently, the calloused pads of his fingers exploring the sensitive skin where he knows your womb lies. Your heart stumbles as his lips twist upward in an impish smirk at the thought of all the cum he's soon going to pump straight into the cavity. He palms your belly, which would soon carry his progeny as an inevitable result of this union, imagining his angelfish's stomach rounded and taut with his unborn child, perhaps, even more than once—Azul's thoughts are full of fantasies about filling you and fucking your pretty little womb over and over until he succeeds and you're blessed with his babies. Azul hums at the image of your pregnant body, worshiping the slope of your thighs and rubbing his hands up your waist and the undersides of your breasts. Azul knows that even if it doesn't work right away, he is more than prepared to breed you again and again as many times as necessary. He is more than certain you'll eventually give him a consortium of little octopus-human hybrids. After all, you'd offered yourself up in the end. Who was he not to take what was freely given?

He grasps the back of your knee to prop up your leg in the air, shifting closer. In one fell swoop, your tender thighs are flung open, revealing your glistening cunt. Azul moans, running the rough pad of his finger right up the slit of your lips. You're already a mess, his slick hand had not been able to satisfy your heat at all, it only created a further yearning deep within that could only be satisfied by his aching cock. Azul settles against the fronts of your thighs, letting the stiff heat of his bulging erection nestle against the dripping lips of your cunt, already poised and eager for insertion. The anticipation causes the two of you to tremble slightly at the intimacy, your lips wet and sticky as they run against the length, his cock drooling freely from the tip and leaking beads of sticky, precum fluid right across your folds. With one more affectionate, sweet peck against the corner of your lip, and another one right upon your forehead, Azul slowly glides inside. A shared cry of euphoria leaves your mouths simultaneously as Azul buries the full length of his throbbing cock into your sopping entrance, thrusting powerfully to hilt balls-deep. The pure, erotic rapture of finally consummating your love floods both of your veins. His dick is filling you in the most indescribable way and stretching your cunt so deliciously that stars appear behind your eyes. A glorious symphony of relief sings in your blood while his hard girth massages your innermost walls as though he were meant for no other—like he was perfectly made to be the puzzle piece filling your immaculate pussy. You both gasp sharply in unison as the sensation sends tremors down his shaft. Every vein, ridge, and inch of his length drags deeply with each thrust as he grinds you thoroughly, bringing your clits into tantric connection and rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth in perfect time with the rocking motion. Each snap of his hip makes the two of you share a joyful sob as he pleasures you in the most divine manner.

A low and sinful groan passes through your lips as your hands grip him tighter, begging him to increase his momentum and pace. Azul's hands clutch you in a tight embrace, his chest to yours with every inch of his hardness fully embedded into your velvety passage, sending white-hot sparks of pleasure shooting to the deepest recesses of your innermost being, triggering the sudden rush of a climax that is starting to rise to its precipice. Azul groans as your juices run down his balls, pooling around his sack and providing more lubrication for his relentless drive inside of you. You clench and flutter around him, squeezing your inner walls with every desperate urge for friction and movement, drawing Azul's eye right up to yours in a lusty daze. His body is coiling for release, ready to cum, and there's a glitter of utter happiness in his expression. His lips quiver with desire and he smirks as he feels you clamping and spasming around his rock-hard dick, begging him to breed you like the little slut that he secretly knows you are, all while knowing deep down you'd get so unbelievably plump and swollen with his hatchlings, he'd hardly be able to move his tentacles with all the kids crawling over him.

It's more intense, and far more electrifying than the filthy fantasies that had invaded his sleep every lonely evening whenever he gave in to his insufferable yearning for you. He'd envisioned this, over and over—what it would feel like to make you orgasm, just how satisfying it would feel to cum with you at the same time, and how heavenly it would be to stretch your cunt so snugly—and yet, in this moment, it surpasses his imagination exponentially, eliciting a complete flood of sensual pleasure all throughout his senses. Not even his wildest wet dreams had prepared him for the heady intoxication and undeniable high he experiences with you—being passionately and physically intertwined, wrapped around the most sublime euphoria that was possible—a wave so dizzying that there's absolutely no going back to life without the other once your bodies have succumbed and reached that ultimate, highest peak.

When Azul hits the point of no-return, his legs start shaking as though his limbs were going to fall off. His fingers tangle roughly in your hair as he drags your mouth closer to meet his. With each heavy thrust, he swallows every moan that erupts from your throat. His movements become less coherent, rougher, and disjointed as the strength of your cunt's embrace pulses tightly around his shaft and urges him toward the edge. Suddenly, an intense wave of satisfaction takes hold and shoots to the tip of his cock, pulsating violently in need to release its seed. Azul can't help but groan loudly into your ear as he slams his cock into you with ferocious strength, fucking the life and soul right out of your being while a high-pitched scream accompanies the splash and squelching noises of your pussy. Your mouth has gone slack, jaw dropping as you cry out his name and climax with such power that it whips you into a complete frenzy of desperation, sending your vision dancing with lights. You quake and shiver under the force of his fervor and ecstasy, writhing on the mattress and throwing your head backward to soak in your overwhelming, toe-curling rapture. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pounding you fiercely as you wail and shatter with a rush of emotions so intense, you don't know if you will ever put yourself back together. A strained whine and a few sharp pumps later, a surge of hot, wet euphoric heat shoots from Azul's balls and spurts out in ribbons of his own spent climax as he spends his load of pearly cum directly into your waiting womb, splashing your tight channel with a continuous stream—painting every crevice of your silken, fluttering, vice-like depths a glossy white. Azul is unable to help himself as his hips start grinding into yours with slow rolls, fucking and stuffing every drop of his sticky cream deeply and ensuring it remains securely nestled in your folds. Every remaining bit of sexual tension floods out as though you'd been submerged in the most heavenly waterfall of pleasure imaginable. Azul whines weakly into the pillow and your moans join, eventually dissipating into a heavenly silence as you sink heavily back to reality.

Time slows to an almost stop and your vision gets a bit hazy and bleary as the aphrodisiac magic completely pulses away. You two lay side by side on the soft blankets, still in the bed and soaked with sweat. Neither of you move for quite some time. Just in the wake of your post-orgasm, everything becomes intensely surreal. You try to breathe quietly so Azul doesn't hear and as his head rests on your breasts. He, too, is heaving with difficulty, each inhale is a conscious decision. He clings tightly against you, hands threaded together like a lifeline, afraid to let go. One last sentence leaves his mouth—a whisper that could have easily been missed by anyone except for you. It was a question.

"Are we both in love?" Azul asks with such hesitance, you think maybe you've misheard his inquiry. He is lying right by your side. His face is dangerously close to yours, and the way his stormy, ocean azure eyes reflect every emotion swirling inside allows you to see the years of hurt that's plagued him. He's absolutely enchanted, like you are the perfect dream come true—everything he'd ever imagined in one living, breathing, precious human body—a lover so magnificent he could hardly comprehend. He studies your expression with awe and reverence. A look so intensely raw it burns right through your heart and lights up the space in your soul that you never before realized was reserved just for him. "Because I love you... Truly and deeply. So much that I don't know how it was possible, even," Azul admits freely, without the least hint of apprehension or nervousness. You can feel the intensity and honesty of his words radiate through his trembling fingertips, through the places where his naked skin touched yours—he doesn't try to mask the pure unadulterated warmth and delight that leaks through the shaky but firm expression on his flushed face.

A wide, cheerful and genuine grin breaks out against your features as you nod enthusiastically, and it is almost as though a heavenly, soothing light has poured over his entire world. It feels like a dream, a fairytale that is too good to be true. Yet here you both lie, doused in the magic of the concoction, clinging to each other and to that euphoric elation after giving in to the passions and the chemical bonds. It felt incredible, it felt natural and familiar and right. This wasn't anything artificial, rather the long overdue acknowledgement of feelings that were there all along—a kindling of romance that was never forced, but rather fanned to life after many days spent as Alchemy partners. After seeing each other every day, getting to know each other's quirks, and learning of each other's daily habits, the intimacy had bloomed and nurtured into something tender and real. The closeness the potion provided simply allowed the two of you the confidence needed to step across a boundary and pursue things.

"This won't be something short lived... you understand what I am saying, yes?" His tone has a tinge of fear creeping in and you can't help but stroke the outline of his cheekbones. This feeling will not end with a simple fuck, you knew that deep in the marrow. There will be more of that to come. In fact, the thought of it has your cunt pulsing, your sex aching at the idea. "I simply won't have you anywhere else but with me, and here in my dorm. I just won't be able to be happy otherwise..." Azul's voice quivers as the vulnerable sincerity flows.

"Yes, Azul. Yes, I understand and I feel the exact same," you chuckle and cradle his head. His blue eyes crinkle slightly from the beam across his lips, and Azul can't resist pulling you in for a feverish kiss, groaning from the rush. That familiar, sinfully blissful high is starting to take hold again, the rush of the aphrodisiac stirring something fiery back into a pleasant burn. The chemical’s grip on the two of you continues. After all, nothing will stop the magic from bringing you closer together. He murmurs a seductive promise into the curve of your throat that he won't stop until his load drips and slides right out of your swollen cunt—he's going to breed you the rest of the night and spill as much of himself deep within as he can. He has no doubt you're going to give him a child that will cement this loving bond permanently.

Listen I don't know HOW this HAPPENED, I DON'T understand how I wrote this much. I am DELIRIOUS and I need to go pick up some pizza for dinner, so I wish I could say more here but I can't right now. I'll update this part when I get back home. I just needed to get this out into the UNIVERSE. THANK YOU ALL!!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! <3333 Erica Malleleothreesome

[tswiftupdatess]

Taylor Swift talking about working on The Eras Tour, re-recording, performing with a broken heart and the joy and safety the Tour brings to fans at The Eras Tour Book:

“I'll never forget the call when I explained my idea of the concept for The Eras Tour to my team. At the time, I was working on the Midnights album and if we were to do what I've always done, I would've embarked on planning The Midnights Tour. But there's nothing I hate more than doing what I've always done.

“We're going to call it The Eras Tour and each album will have its own chapter, it's own world.” I told them that I want to fully commit to each era, musically, stylistically and aesthetically. They should feel like time capsules. If we do this right, I said, we can celebrate and honor both new fans and fans who have been here from day one.

It had been 6 years sice I'd toured. In those 6 years, a lot had transpired for me creatively. I release Lover, folklore, evermore, and eventually Midnights. In another real of my priorities was my passion project: re-recording my first 6 albums that were sold away from me by my former record label. Reclaiming my past made me fall back in love with it. Revisiting that past work made me want to honor it and honor what the fans had done for me with the Taylor's Version albums. And so the new albums and my re-records left me with the dilemma: HOW on Earth are we going to play all of this music live? I decided to create the longest, most ambitious show I'd ever even attempted. Averaging at 3 hours and 15 minutes, with 45 songs played. My goal was for every fan to leave that show knowing I gave them absolutely everything I had. I made a promise to myself to be physically and mentally tougher than I ever had been before. To be more disciplined and commited to my health, fitness, and stamina. Thankfully, I'm surrounded by my incredible crew, band, singers, and dancers who all matched my dedication to the massive scale and challenges of this show. We would go on to play this show in the pouring rain, in the blazing heat, in the thickest humidity, in the wildest winds, and in the bitter cold. We would do it if we were sick or exhausted or injured. We would do it with a broken heart. We do this because we love having the rare opportunity to create happiness and wonder up on that stage. We do it because we know it takes time and effort and money and energy to plan out coming to a concert. We do it because every friendship bracelet traded has the potential to become a new friend, and you never know what dreams can be sparked if we succeed in painting a dreamscape in every city we visit. We do it because people need an escape from how brutal life can be, and it is the honor of a lifetime to be that for them, if only for a night. And although we are all on our own in this big scary life, somehow it doesn't feel that way when we're singing the same words as 80,000 other people wearing glittery face paint. We do it because life comes in waves, in phases, in brilliant flurries of magical moments, and all of these things come together to create…Eras.

Here is the official retrospective of the most wondrouds tour of my life, my beloved Eras Tour.

See you next era..”

(November 29, 2024)

[nikkento-writes]

"Look!" 

Nanami glances up from his newspaper, brow raised as he watches you stick your ass out, showing off your new pair of underwear. He squints, reading the words printed in glittery font. "Sweet, sweet, sweet...?" 

You beam at him, nodding. “Aren't these cute? They had a sale online so I got a bunch with different patterns and sayings.”

Surely you know that parading around in your panties, regardless of how innocuous or risqué they are, stirs something in your husband. He folds the newspaper, setting it down on the nightstand. “Come here,” he beckons you, patting your side of the bed. 

You reach for your pajama bottoms in the drawer, but then he says, “No pants. I want to take a closer look at them.”

There’s a flutter in your belly at the way his voice sounds, stern and domineering. You don’t question him, making your way to the bed and kneeling next to him, waiting for his next command. 

“Turn around,” he tells you, and you obey, facing away from him. His hand hovers your ass, finger barely tracing the letters etched on the fabric, making your skin buzz. “Sweet, sweet, sweet,” he repeats, breath hot on your ear, a slight tremble in his voice. “How about the other side?” He pulls you towards him, his legs spread out so you can sit with your back pressed to his chest, his erection throbbing against your tailbone. He rests his head on your shoulder, looking down between your legs, thoroughly inspecting the bow stitched on the front. “Is that it?” He slides his hand around your waist, thumb grazing the waistband.

“Yeah,” you answer him, swallowing the saliva collecting on your tongue. You’re certain there’s a wet spot forming at the crotch of your panties now, your arousal growing each passing second. 

He tuts disapprovingly, nipping at your ear lobe. “We can’t have that, can we?”

You moan loudly as soon as he presses his fingers to your aching clit, massaging deep circles through the thin layer of cotton. A growl escapes him. “These will be much prettier with your cum, don’t you agree?”   

“Kento,” you whimper, turning to kiss him sloppily on the lips. 

With his free hand, he grabs hold of your chin, keeping you in place as he ravishes your mouth with an eager tongue. His fingers continue to work magic on your swelling bud, the fabric darkening with your arousal leaking through. He smirks, whispering, “Good girl. My sweet, sweet girl.”

It’s not enough for him. He won’t stop until your panties have been properly ruined. He reaches for the top drawer of the nightstand to retrieve your vibrator, pushing it thrice to the highest setting, his entire grasp buzzing from the vibrations. "Right here, huh?" he purrs, pushing the fluttering tip to your clothed clit. Pleasure courses through your body, limbs shaky and twitchy from the sensation, toes curled against the sheets. “That’s the spot.”

Your mouth hangs wide open, eyes glazed over, face tacky from sweat. He chuckles as you clench up, climaxing into your underwear, the material sticky on your wet cunt.  “Look how pretty it is now with all your cum.” He gently pats your pussy, smearing your arousal deeper into the fabric. “Such a good girl, making a fucking mess for me.” He hooks his finger on the waistband, tugging it down to see it for himself, the cloth glistening with your orgasm. “Fuck,” he curses, his breathing labored, unable to contain himself any longer. “Take them off, sweetheart. Let me taste you.”

Soon, you’re straddling his face, fucking his mouth, his tongue and lips relentless on your clit. All the while, he has your wrecked panties wrapped tightly around his cock as he strokes himself fast, ruining them even more with his own cum. 

[archangeldyke-all]

All I can think about with sevs new hair is clipping back the pieces that get in her eyes with the most ridiculous clips (like those hello kitty ones with a million charms and beads)

this is so cute hehehe

men and minors dni

there are a lot of fun things about having two girls living in your house.

movie nights are much more lively; you and sevika have had a blast introducing the girls to classic horror movies and watching them squeal.

jinx is surprisingly helpful around the house, so while there's more dishes and laundry to be done every day, you actually do less chores than when it was just you and sev.

and, best of all, the girls are always adding some color to your lives. whether it's through jinx's oil crayons, isha's handmade jewelry that you and sevika are far too sentimental to take off, or the hundreds of funky accessories that start to accumulate in your home-- there's always something glittery and rainbow on you at all times.

sevika's the same-- despite how much she pretends to hate it.

while you tend to use isha's nail polishes for a manicure, or steal jinx's boots for a day; sevika's started dipping into the girls' shared hair accessory box in the bathroom.

it starts subtly.

her new haircut is so fucking hot-- but it's inconvenient when she's trying to do anything practical. so, sevika starts with a few simple black bobby pins pinning her fringe behind her ears while she works or reads or cooks.

then isha gets her hands on a pack of sparkly purple barrettes, and sevika couldn't resist adding a little bit of her favorite color in her life.

it only takes about a week for her to move on to something more.

jinx and ekko go to a rave, and jinx decks herself out in hello kitty hair clips. of course, after the big event jinx rarely uses them, so sevika starts to claim them as her own.

vi crashes on your couch for a week after her and cait go through one of their classic week long breakups, and she leaves behind her a few of her mini scrunchies when she moves back out. sevika will occasionally use one to put her hair in a single ponytail at the top of her head. it's ridiculously cute.

isha actually squeals in the store when she sees a big pack of bug hair clips, so of course you buy them for her. the first time she notices sevika wearing two of her beloved bugs in her hair she gasps, then runs to the bathroom and puts a few in her own to match.

after she sees how happy it makes isha to match her, sevika kinda gives up on trying to keep the sparkle to a minimum.

every morning she'll go in the bathroom with jinx and isha, braiding jinx's hair as jinx braids ishas, and then isha will pick out hair clips for her and sevika to wear for the day.

it's the cutest thing in the world. you have a picture of your girls doing their hair together in the morning as your phone's background.

sevika ends up wearing some pretty ridiculous shit. it's adorable.

fuzzy pompoms in the shape of hearts on valentines day, shiny sequined butterflies in the spring, unicorns when isha's feeling magical, and sparkly dinosaurs when she needs some courage.

you and jinx will occasionally join in, letting isha pick out some clips for your own hair. but most days it's just isha and sevika, giggling with each other as they discuss their options in the morning.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 The Love Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: When you and Spencer have no one to spend Valentine's Day with, the idea of watching movies together can save, at least, the night.

Words: 4,4k.

Warnings & Tags: this works as a standalone one-shot but also is a prequel to a series. two idiots obviously in love. fluff. painter!reader who was a cat. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Happy Valentine's Day (belated) to all💝✨ I hope you enjoy this little glimpse into the past amidst the chaos of the line that follows my series.

Valentine’s Day had a way of making the world feel like a glittery, rose-scented battlefield for the lonely. Everywhere you turned, there were smiling couples wrapped in each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Heart-shaped balloons swayed lazily in the wind outside storefronts, red and pink ribbons draped over every available surface like a relentless invasion of affection. Cafés played catchy love songs on repeat, each chorus drilling into your skull, a painful reminder that the day belonged to those who had someone to share it with.

The worst part? The flowers. Gorgeous arrangements of deep red roses, soft pink peonies, and delicate white lilies, displayed in neat little buckets with tiny price tags that felt like a cruel joke. You could have them, sure, if you were willing to stand in an endless supermarket line, clutching your own bouquet like a pathetic consolation prize, enduring the cashier’s judging glance as they scanned the barcode. The same went for the chocolates. Expensive, gold-wrapped, promising indulgence and romance, except, in your case, the only romance involved was between you and your impulse to stress-eat.

But despite the bitterness that curled inside your chest, you didn’t hate love. If anything, you craved it, even if you pretended not to. Romance movie marathons were a blessing, an escape into a world where grand gestures and heartfelt confessions always led to a happy ending. You’d curl up under a blanket, eyes glued to the screen, soaking in every lingering touch, every whispered “I love you,” letting it fill your chest with warmth. And yet, no matter how deeply you immersed yourself, the magic always faded when the screen cut to black. The credits would roll, white letters against a dark void, and you’d be left staring at your own reflection in the blank screen, heart aching with a longing that never quite disappeared: the relentless, unshakable desire to live the love you only ever watched from afar.

All the February fourteens you remember were like this: lonely, with chocolate and romance movies.

Wait. This time was different.

This time, however, you were no longer alone, but accompanied by Spencer Reid. The room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the soft glow of a few scattered candles and the flickering light of the television, which cast shadows on the walls of your apartment. He was sitting next to you, leaning against the edge of the couch with his usual distracted air, his long limbs stretched out on the cushions, but his mind was clearly miles away from yours. He was not fully present, his attention wavering between the screen and the incredibly large world inside his own head. His leg brushed against yours with a nonchalance that only made it more noticeable; the slight warmth of his touch made you feel it every time it happened. You still tried not to notice, to pretend it was nothing, but there was something magnetic about the way he moved, as if the world around you tilted a little every time he was near.

Your hand brushed over his from time to time as you took chocolates from the heart-shaped box you shared and had gotten on sale at the supermarket. You could feel the coolness of his skin under your fingers, his touch lingering too long, as if he, too, was aware of the connection in the simplest of gestures. But Spencer, ever observant and living in his own head, didn't seem to care. He barely glanced at you, too absorbed in the ridiculousness of the movie to register the subtle moments between the two of you. With his mind constantly buzzing, analyzing even the most mundane things, it was almost as if his body knew more than his brain, his closeness a silent declaration that he was comfortable with you in a way he didn't seem to be with anyone else.

The movie on the screen was the kind of clichéd romance that made you cringe on a regular day. The kind where the couple was destined for each other from the moment they met, their chemistry so palpable it felt as though the universe itself was conspiring to bring them together. The dialogue was saccharine, the plot as predictable as a heartbeat, but you couldn’t help it; you loved every moment. The grand, sweeping gestures. The whispered confessions. The inevitable kiss in the rain. You had chosen it precisely because you knew how much Spencer would question everything from the nonsense in the dialogue to the false number of minutes the characters claimed they could travel from one part of the world to another.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice thoughtful as he absently reached for another piece of chocolate, “it’s statistically improbable that two people, just by chance, would fall in love in such a perfect, linear way.” He paused, glancing at you briefly with a look that was almost apologetic for ruining the mood. “I mean, the chances of all those factors aligning—timing, location, emotional availability—it’s…it’s not as simple as it seems.”

You tilted your head slightly, listening intently as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging in the air. He had always been the one to find patterns, to dissect everything until there was no mystery left. But you weren’t in the mood for logic right now. Not tonight.

Before you knew it, the question slipped out, unexpectedly blunt in the stillness of the room.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The words lingered between you, weighty in a way that surprised even you. You hadn’t meant to ask it like that—so direct, so raw—but now that it was out, you couldn’t take it back. It felt as though the question held something more than just curiosity. It felt like a delicate invitation into a part of Spencer you weren’t sure you had a right to see.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered back to the TV screen, his eyes unfocused as though the question had thrown him off guard. There was a pause, a shift in the air, a subtle change in the way he sat. His posture stiffened just enough that you wondered if you’d crossed some invisible line, if you’d pushed him somewhere he wasn’t ready to go.

Finally, he shifted, voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I thought I was closer…But saying it out loud makes it sound kind of stupid, considering I never even got to kiss her.”

The words hung between you, fragile and unguarded, their presence stretching the silence like a thin thread threatening to snap. You could feel the weight of his hesitation, the quiet vulnerability in the way he avoided your gaze, fingers twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to fidget. It was as if he was standing at the edge of something, testing the waters before taking a plunge, unsure if he could share a truth that had settled deep inside him. Even after two years, two months, and ten seconds since the first words you exchanged in the hallway, even after all the late-night conversations, the shared laughter, the comfortable silences, and all the times the two of you acted as if your apartments were just one. If he bothered to calculate, he had spent more time with you than he had spent sleeping soundly in years. And yet, despite all of it—the familiarity, the trust, the way he let you curl up on his couch as if it were your own—he still hesitated, like he was afraid that if he told the whole story of his tragedy, there'd be no going back.

“I think you can love someone without kissing them.” The honest tone of your voice and the way you didn't laugh at him or look at him with pity surprised him.

Spencer glanced at you then, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even if you’ve never seen them?”

“Oh,” you whispered, your mind trying to catch up. You hadn’t expected that. You hadn’t expected him to go there. “Never? Never?”

He chuckled lightly, but it wasn’t the usual, lighthearted sound. It was dry, tinged with something that made you want to reach out and pull him closer. “Yeah. That’s usually the reaction I get.” His tone was self-deprecating, a little uncomfortable.

You shook your head quickly, trying to right the atmosphere, to assure him that you weren’t dismissing his feelings. “It’s not that I think it’s foolish,” you said, the words tumbling out before you even fully processed them. “I just think you’re the kind of person who needs constant reassurance. Like a hug, a kiss, or even just a touch or a smile to remind you everything’s okay. That’s how you like to be loved. So it’s hard to imagine you loving someone without all of that.”

A moment of silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, until you could almost feel the weight of his gaze on you. You turned your head, just enough to catch his eyes, and found him still looking undisturbed, as if frozen in place. But there was something in his eyes, something soft, almost vulnerable: curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper, a fleeting glimpse of a side he wasn’t used to showing. It didn’t last long, though. It couldn’t. Because if there was one thing he wasn’t accustomed to, it was being the subject of such focused attention. He had spent his life observing, and studying the little details of those around him, recognizing habits, memorizing routines, and quietly cataloging every nuance. It was his skill, his way of moving through the world. He was always the watcher, the one who gathered knowledge and surprised others with what he knew. But now, as your eyes met his, it was as though the roles had reversed, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to handle being the one under the microscope.

Then, as if he wants to flip the conversation entirely, his tone turns curious. “And you? Have you ever been in love?”

The question catches you off guard, the sudden shift in the air surprising you more than you’d care to admit.

“No,” you say, your answer quick, almost instinctive.

His eyebrows lift, and the surprise is clear in his expression, a small wrinkle forming between his brows as if he’s trying to process your words.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” you say, pointing at him, half-amused, half-defensive. “Don’t judge.”

“I’m not judging,” he insists, rubbing the back of his neck, the familiar nervous gesture betraying his discomfort. “I just…didn’t expect that answer.”

You sigh, leaning back into the couch, trying to find a way to make the silence feel less loaded. “Yeah, well. Neither did I. I used to think that by this age, I’d have it all figured out. Love, relationships, the whole thing.” You pause, your gaze drifting to the flickering TV screen before adding dryly, “But love is a tricky subject. Kind of like my finances.”

Spencer’s eyes flicker with something like amusement, but it quickly turns into that familiar glint of curiosity, the one that always makes you feel like you’re on the receiving end of an interrogation. You brace yourself, almost expecting him to start spewing facts about some obscure subject. And he doesn’t disappoint.

“Well,” he says, his voice taking on a tone that’s both analytical and oddly comforting, “there are studies that show people are more likely to find love later in life than they think.” He pauses for a moment, clearly enjoying this little fact-dropping session. “In fact, statistically speaking, people in their 30s and 40s have a higher success rate in finding lasting relationships than those in their 20s. It’s because they’ve had more time to understand themselves, their needs, and what they want out of a partner. It’s not about rushing into something, it’s about finding someone who fits, someone who…gets you.”

You blink, the ease with which Spencer switches into research mode never failing to surprise you. You knew he could recite statistics and facts with ease, but hearing him speak about love in such an objective, factual manner felt…oddly reassuring. The gentle, even tone of his voice made the whole thing seem less daunting, less like a puzzle that needed to be solved, and more like something you could take time with.

“No one gets me except my cat and you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. It’s a light joke, but there’s truth in it, at least partly. “I adopted my cat, and you live next door. You don’t really have a choice; you have to talk to me.”

“No,” he says, almost like he’s contemplating the weight of his own words. “It’s not like that.”

You blink, feeling an odd, almost electric shift in the air between you. Something in his tone is different, softer, more vulnerable. The casual banter, the easy comfort you’d grown accustomed to, suddenly feels far away, as if the room had expanded and narrowed all at once. You weren’t sure what had changed, but you felt it, felt him, in a way you hadn’t before.

Your heart picks up a rhythm that’s a little too fast, but you don’t look away, not this time. You study him, trying to decipher the change, the subtle change in the atmosphere. Was it just you, or was he feeling it too?

“It’s not just because I live next door,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper but clear enough that you can hear the rawness in it. He’s looking at you now, eyes soft, his gaze not shy but steady, like he’s inviting you into a space only the two of you occupy. “I think it’s because you make it easy. To be around you. To talk to you. I don’t have to try so hard with you.”

The words settle between you, heavy and unspoken, filling the space in ways that neither of you expected. You open your mouth to respond, to deflect with another joke or lighthearted comment, but something in you pauses. The atmosphere has shifted, and the words feel too thin, too trivial to layer over what’s hanging between you.

There’s a small silence that follows, the kind that feels comfortable in a way you can’t quite explain, but also a little unsettling, like you’ve accidentally wandered into a territory neither of you are sure how to navigate. Spencer doesn’t break eye contact. His presence feels different, more present now, as if he’s allowing himself to be seen in a way he never has before. It’s raw, but not fragile. Honest, but not vulnerable in the way you’d expect.

You chuckle, trying to break the tension, but it comes out as a soft snort. “Congratulations. You’ve just been promoted to vice president of the ‘people who tolerate me’ club.”

He hums thoughtfully, the quiet sound of it warm and easy. “I don’t think it’s about tolerating you. I think it’s about understanding you.”

His words, simple as they are, land with more weight than you expected. They’re not teasing. Not a casual remark. He’s being serious, and that sincerity makes something shift in you, just slightly, in a way that catches you off guard.

You sink back into the couch, your mind slowing down to catch up with the unexpected shift in your thoughts. You hadn’t realized how much you were holding back, how much you’d been avoiding, until you said it aloud. “Understanding is a rare thing,” you say quietly, more to yourself than to him, but you know he hears you.

“It is,” he agrees softly, almost like he’s mulling over your words, letting them settle in the space between you. “That’s why, when you find it, you hold onto it.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He’s still looking at the screen, but his gaze is distant, lost in thought, like his mind is somewhere else entirely. The flicker of the TV casts soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the gentle furrow in his brow, and for the first time, you realize how much you’ve been paying attention to him without meaning to.

The space between you feels comfortable in a way that’s new, more intimate than you thought it could be. The quiet stretches, wrapping itself around you both like a blanket, and you realize how much you’re here, in this moment, with him. It’s strange—peaceful, even—like time has slowed down and all that matters is this tiny bubble of calm you’re both in.

Without thinking, your body shifts slightly, leaning into him, your head dipping just enough to rest against his shoulder. It’s not something you plan, just instinct, like your body already knows what it needs before your mind catches up. Spencer tenses, a quick intake of breath, but then the tension melts, and he exhales softly, the air between you warmer. His sweater is soft against your cheek, faintly smelling of books and coffee, a quiet comfort that sinks deep into your bones.

He doesn’t move away.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he does something so small, so careful, that you almost miss it. He turns his head just enough that his cheek brushes against the top of your hair, as if making sure you’re okay, but without disturbing the delicate space you’ve found. The contact is so light, so gentle, that it almost doesn’t feel real, but it settles in your chest like a secret, a silent promise.

A few minutes passed, maybe more. You weren’t sure anymore. The movie played on, the soft glow of the screen casting shifting patterns on the walls, but neither of you were paying attention. The warmth of the room, the steadiness of Spencer’s breathing, the gentle pressure of his shoulder beneath you—it was all lulling you into a hazy, dreamlike state, where time felt like it had slowed just for the two of you.

Spencer’s hand moved then, hesitating only briefly before he let it rest—gentle, careful—on the back of your head. His fingers barely grazed your hair, but the touch was grounding, a silent reassurance that you were welcome here, that you weren’t imposing, that this, whatever this was, was okay.

“You okay?” He murmured, his voice so low it barely disturbed the quiet.

You nod slowly, your eyes still closed, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Yeah,” you whisper, barely audible. “I’m just…comfortable.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you feel him watching you, quietly studying the way your breath has slowed, how you’ve settled, how the weight of the day has melted away from you. You’re not sure how you know it, but you do. You can feel him there, his attention soft, and thoughtful.

A small sigh escapes you, a quiet expression of contentment. His thumb brushes over your hair, the touch light but lingering, so tender it feels like something private, something shared only between the two of you. It’s a simple gesture, but it makes something warm unfurl in your chest, the kind of warmth that stays with you.

And just as sleep began to pull you under, in that delicate space between waking and dreaming, you heard it.

So quiet.

So soft.

Like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“You’re not as hard to love as you think.”

If you were fully awake, maybe you would’ve stiffened, maybe you would’ve asked him to repeat it, maybe you would’ve tried to decipher the meaning behind his words. But you weren’t awake.

Spencer hadn’t realized how much time had passed, how long the two of you had been sitting there in complete silence. The soft, almost imperceptible hum of the television played movies he didn’t even register anymore, their sounds blending into the background as though they were no longer a part of the world. His attention was entirely consumed by the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, the quiet rhythm of your presence against his, steady and soothing. Your warmth had become a part of him, so natural.

He hadn’t intended to just watch you sleep. But there was something about the peacefulness of it, the way your face softened in sleep, the little sighs escaping you every so often, that made him forget about the passage of time. His gaze lingered on you, not in an intrusive way, but with a quiet kind of reverence, as if he were trying to commit the moment to memory. The soft glow of the TV reflected on your features, casting gentle shadows and highlighting the small details of your face that always seemed to captivate him. Like the way your eyelashes fluttered even in sleep, or how your lips parted just slightly.

The steady beat of his heart, the subtle pulse of his chest, seemed to synchronize with the silence that wrapped around him, blending together like a soft, unspoken lullaby. He let himself be carried by its rhythm, a rare, peaceful kind of quiet he hadn’t realized he’d been longing for until now. How precious it was to just be here, with you, with nothing to investigate, nothing to analyze, nothing to figure out. No puzzles to solve, no complex patterns to unravel. For the first time in what felt like forever, he could just be, and he didn’t want it to end. Never had a night off from work felt more necessary, more perfect, than this one.

His fingers twitched absentmindedly, brushing against the fabric of your sleeve as though needing to reassure himself that you were still here, that you were real. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, or why he was so fixated on you in this moment, but it felt safe. His body was heavy with the weight of it, content and grounded.

Hours passed, unnoticed.

It was only when the sharp sound of his cellphone pierced the stillness that he snapped out of his trance, blinking in surprise. The ringtone, abrupt and insistent, felt jarring against the soft cocoon of silence that had enveloped everything.

He glanced at his phone, his mind still hazy, still wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. His eyes immediately flickered to you, still nestled comfortably against him, breathing steady and slow, unaware of the world outside.

The phone kept ringing, louder now, demanding attention.

With one hand, he pressed the phone to his ear, the other reaching out to adjust your position ever so gently. He wanted to make sure you were still comfortable, still blissfully lost in sleep, without waking you.

“Reid! Are you hurt?” Penelope’s voice burst through the speaker in his ear, sharp with concern.

“Uh…no?” He murmured, his voice thick with sleep, barely audible. It was more of a question than an answer, the words slow and unsteady, betraying how distracted he was.

“No?” she repeated, her tone morphing into something a little more teasing. She huffed loudly, her curiosity piqued. “Then why aren’t you here right now?”

“Where exactly?” Spencer asked, his voice a little groggy, still half lost in the fog of sleep.

A beat of silence. Then—

“Oh.”

He frowned, lifting his head slightly to look down at you. His thoughts were tangled, the confusion thick in his chest. “Oh?” he repeated.

“Oh.”

His brow furrowed further. “Why so many ‘oh’s?”

“You’re thirty minutes late,” she said, the realization in her tone quickly morphing into something suspiciously close to delight. “You sound confused but…happy. You, Dr. Spencer Reid, who is never late for anything, are sitting somewhere, all content and cozy, completely forgetting the concept of time on the day after Valentine’s Day.” Another pause, and then, with a sudden squeal of excitement, she practically shouted, “You celebrated Valentine’s Day!”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, the words surprising him in a way he wasn’t quite ready for. “Not like that,” he said quickly, almost too quickly, his voice rushed, as if trying to distance himself from the thought. But even as he said it, there was something about the way his voice faltered, something that made him unsure. He couldn’t help it, his eyes drifted back to you.

“Oh, you totally did!” She gasped. “You adorable, lovestruck genius, you did it! You let someone in! This is huge!”

His eyes darted to the clock on the wall then, his heart stalling for a moment as his gaze lingered on the time. Thirty minutes late. The realization hit him like a wave, and he felt his pulse quicken. This has never happened to him before.

“My alarm didn’t sound,” he muttered, almost to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn’t figure out how he had missed it.

Garcia scoffed. “Your alarm didn’t sound?”

He could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

“Think of a better excuse for Hotch on your way here,” she said, the teasing evident in her voice. “And save all the details of your lovely night for me. I need to hear about your real-life romance.”

Romance? His chest tightened at the word. No, this wasn’t like that. This was…just friendship.

Spencer exhaled sharply, glancing down at you once more. His chest tightened as he took in the sight of you, still sleeping soundly in his arms, your features relaxed. There was a part of him that wanted to wake you, to say something, anything, but he couldn’t bear to disturb this rare moment. He longed to leave you something, maybe breakfast or a note, before he rushed out the door.

He sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “Tell Hotch I’ll be there in fifteen,” he said quietly, almost too quietly to be heard.

Penelope’s voice hummed knowingly through the phone. “Okay, lover boy,” she teased.

He hung up before she could say anything else, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

And then, all at once, the realization hit him.

He had spent the whole night watching you sleep. Not even the sunlight creeping through the edges of his poorly closed curtains or the distant ringing of his alarm clock had been able to pull him away from you. From this.

Oh, that’s when he knew.

He was in love. Deeply. Madly. In love.

Tag list ❤︎ ︎: @burningwitchprincess @withloverosse @fairiesofearth @pleasantwitchgarden @ximensitaa @lover-of-books-and-tea @cherryblossomfairyy @cherrygublersworld @i-need-to-be-put-down

Send me an ask or comment here if you would like to be added or removed!

[writingsbychlo]

MIDNIGHT MAGIC | TOM RIDDLE

SUMMARY: tom doesn't always get it right, but he tries. WORD COUNT: 2515 NOTES: happy valentine's day, my lovelies!

Your fingernails drummed against the hard, cold stone surface of the large protruding boulder you’d perched yourself on almost two hours ago. New nails, freshly done with little pink hearts painted on to make yourself feel the romantic energy of the holiday a little more. 

Your good luck charm, you’d deemed them. Some kind of enchantment, you’d thought. Because as you’d been returning to the castle six days ago, admiring the glittery pattern of pretty pink hearts that reflected under the torch lights, Tom had stepped into your path. That small twitch of a smile was on the corners of his lips, the one that he reserved only for the occasional use, and only with you. 

“You’ve been out all day.” He’d mumbled, blunt and to the point in that direct way you loved about him, and your own smile had grown. 

“I’ve been in Hogsmeade, getting my nails done.”

He’d hummed. His eyes flicked down to them as you held your hands up between you both. He’d shuffled his folders between his arms, talked for five minutes about the project notes the two of you had been working on for the last two weeks, handed you his half, and then turned to leave. Only two steps had been taken, before he’d turned back to you, a flurry of dark robes and a hushed voice as he asked you whether you’d want to join him for some late-night magic practice out in the woods on Friday night. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked you to hang out outside of your scheduled study sessions, but this Friday was supposed to be different. 

Today was supposed to be different. It was Valentine’s Day, for Merlin’s sake. 

And yet, here you were. Sitting on a rock, cold and bored in the middle of the Forbidden Forest, wrapped up in a coat against the bitingly cold February winds, because the little dress you’d put on for the session was clearly an error in judgment and the warming charm you’d cast was failing you. 

This was, by no uncertain terms, not a date. Tom hadn't spoken for twenty minutes, mumbling to himself as he took notes, swirling patterns in the air and practising spells that weren’t exactly illegal, but weren’t strictly legal, either. The frowned upon, not curriculum friendly, spells. And had it been any other circumstance, you wouldn't have minded. 

Godric, your friends had thought you insane for months now. Pining after the lonely, grumpy Slytherin boy whom people whispered about as he walked by and cowered out of his way when he walked towards them. But they just didn’t know him, didn’t know how fascinating and wonderful and curious he was. 

But today, you were mad. You were sad. And most of all, you were embarrassed about the way you’d obviously read into things. There was no romantic moonlit picnic, there was just the mud and the stretching quiet. The hardest part was, that he genuinely didn’t seem to get it. As he laughed quietly to himself at another successful spell, an irritated huff escaped your lips, and you hopped down from your seat into the damp grass. 

“Tom.”

“Did you see that?” He said, spinning to face you with a grin on his face as the tip of his wand smoked from the explosion of sparks that had emerged from it. He didn’t seem to take notice of your mood, or the arms crossed over your chest, as he began drawing runes in the air between you both with the lit tip of his wand. 

“Do you really not get it?”

“Get what?” Tom muttered, tone belaying his distraction as he focused on the series of glowing symbols in the air before him, the tip of his wand spitting small sparks that floated away to the ground like burning ash. “I did that spell perfectly. I—”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Tom!” You snapped, and his eyes connected with yours, his face illuminated by the glowing, incomplete symbols hovering in the air before him. His lips pressed together, and a few beats of silence passed, before he uttered a single syllable. 

“Oh.”

“Oh?” You repeated, following it with a miniature scoff as he just fixed you with that intense, unwavering stare, and shoulders set. “Right.”

Turning on your heel, you gave up, letting the disappointment swallow you whole, succumbing to the consuming sadness of a failed Valentine’s date, and a wasted evening. Before you could even fish out your wand to light the way, you were hardly a few steps from Tom’s little set-up when your inappropriate footwear caught on a slippery rock, and you felt a horrendous drop in your stomach as you slipped. 

Before hitting the ground, in a scene that would have truly topped off your humiliation for the night, familiar hands caught your shoulders from behind, steadying you as he rounded your body. Those hands slid down, holding your wrists lightly as Tom came to stand in front of you. He was a man of few words, only when it mattered, and always concise, but right now, you could tell he was speechless. His lips were parted, short breaths and inhaled like he was about to speak, but almost a full minute passed before he finally spoke. 

“I didn’t know.”

Your brow, perfectly manicured for the evening, just like every other part of yourself that you’d put effort into for the night, rose slowly. “You didn’t know it was Valentine’s Day. Despite all the propaganda around, and the buzzing excitement of all the couples, and the fact it’s the same day every year?”

“I truly didn’t. I don’t keep track of that sort of thing. What’s the point?”

“What’s— What’s the point? It’s an annual, globally celebrated holiday, and it’s also one of the most magical days in the Wizarding World, for Divinists and Seers. I would’ve thought you’d at least know the magical lore.” He shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. “It’s the day of love, Tom.”

“I suppose, but… not for me.” He spoke softly, tone one of the softest you’d ever heard him express. “If this day means that much to you, why did you agree to come?”

You stared at him incredulously, anger melting away into confusion and adoring pity, as his gaze honestly searched yours for an answer, as though it wasn’t obvious. “For someone so smart, you can be really dense sometimes.”

His thick brows furrowed in puzzlement, processing your words for a moment, two, and then they shot up in surprise. His cheeks took on a faint glow of pink in the torchlight. “Oh.”

Your lips pressed together, warmth rising to your face too. 

“You thought this was a date.”

Smoothing your hands down over your dress, you cleared your throat. “Well, yes.”

“And… you agreed to come?”

“What?” Your head snapped back up to him, and his head had tilted to the side, one of those rare small smiles playing on his lips now. 

“You agreed to a date on Valentine’s Day with me.”

His blunt statement of the obvious made you want to cower under his heavy gaze, but you held your head high, arms crossing protectively over your front. “Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?”

“Why would you?” He snorted, in a way so unlike himself that it caught you off-guard. An unforeseen moment of self-deprecation, a crack in his usual unwavering self-assuredness, “I’m not deaf, or blind, or ignorant. I know that I am not well-liked. People don’t enjoy my company, they find me strange and unsettling and too ambitious. They laugh behind my back. You could’ve had a date with anyone you wanted, I know for certain that several people asked you.”

You weren’t aware he knew that, you’d never spoken of such things to him, it never felt right, to tell the man you were interested in about the other suitors you’d turned down. Your heart was breaking for him as he spoke, voice sure and analytical, as though he wasn’t talking tragically about himself. “I didn’t want any of them, Tom.”

Your whisper sat heavy in the air between you both, and his throat bobbed. When you slid your hands up to cup his cold cheeks, he sucked in a sharp breath, his shoulders stiffening. 

“I like you just fine. I think you’re smart and witty and funny, and I love your ambitions. You’re going to be Minister someday, or you’ll solve magical maladies in a lab, or rediscover forgotten ruins. I just know it. You have so much to offer the world, Tom. The people here are just too short-sighted to see it. But I see it, I see you. I happen to love your company, but I’m glad nobody else does because it means I get you to myself. Don’t you know I’ve been flirting with you for months now?”

“You have?” He asked, an uncertain waver to his voice that made you grin. It’s not often you got to teach him something, to specialise or know more than he did, but romance was where you’d be taking the lead from now on. “How?”

Your giggle made his hands jump to sit on your hips, shifting a fraction closer on his next breath as his hands flexed on your waist. Rubbing your thumb over his cheek, you smirked coyly. “Well, I hate studying, but there I was with you three times a week and Saturday afternoons, far more than our mandated once-a-week sessions. In my short skirts and my best perfumes and my leaning over with little touches. Asking you for things from high shelves I couldn't reach, batting my lashes at you, all the usual tricks.”

Tom cleared his throat, his hands twitching like he had the urge to scratch his neck or hide his face, but resisted pulling his touch from you. “I noticed all of those things,” He confessed quietly, “I just didn’t think they’d be for my benefit.”

You slid your hands down his neck, to sit on his chest, as you closed a little more of the gap between you both. “Trust me,” You murmured, feeling the beat of his heart, thudding rapidly under your palm, “It wasn’t for anyone else.”

Your words brushed over his lips in a hushed breath, and he didn’t respond, his lids sliding closed slowly. 

“Tom, do you like me?” You spoke the words so quietly into the air he’d have missed them if you weren’t so close, the gap shrinking between you until your nose was brushing his. “Because I like you. So, either stop me, or I’m going to kiss you.”

You gave him a pause, time to react or pull away, but only a shaky breath left his parted lips, before your mouth brushed over his. Once, twice, and then you were sealing a kiss to his lips that made his hands clench and his heart skip a beat under your hand. His hands curled into fists in the side of your coat, gripping you tightly and pulling you closer as he stumbled his way unsurely through the kiss. 

Tipping your head to the side, he copied your action in the opposite direction, allowing you to kiss him deeper as your lips parted. Licking lightly at his lower lip, he groaned gently, a sound you swallowed down as you licked your tongue out, teasingly against his one, before retreating. He didn’t dare to copy that, only sliding his arms further around your waist as deep kisses were shared, mingled between giggling pecks and needy collisions of lips, bumps of noses and playful gasps for breath. 

He was a quick and skilled learner, and you were just as flushed and dazed as he was when you finally parted, resting your forehead on his as you both panted quietly for breath. “You taste like raspberries.” 

“I know,” You beamed at his confession, “I picked this lipgloss out specifically because you said they were your favourite.”

He leaned in again, kissing your bottom lip and sucking on it lightly until a shudder ran along your body, and a raspy chuckle left him at your response. Damn him, for being such a quick study. 

As the two of you parted a little more, his arms still around you but looser, a comfortable silence washed over. You smoothed down the fistfuls of his sweater you’d taken at some point, the fabric pulling as he glanced over his shoulder at the activities of the night. An unsatisfied noise left his mouth, and he tugged out his wand as he turned back to you. 

With a few muttered words, Tom summoned some flowers from the tip of his wand. Or, he attempted to, but the abandoned magic of his previous activities was clearly still present in the ancient wood, as a smattering of sparks popped out noisily, followed by a bouquet of burned stems and petals, and smoke that smelled of burning greenery.  

“Crap.” He muttered, shaking the incinerated plants off, and trying again. When the same result occurred, drawing a low growl from him, you tucked your face into his chest to hide your laugh. Placing a hand on his wrist, you lowered his wand before he could butcher any more innocent flowers. He sighed in agitation, “I’ll make that up to you.”

“Don’t worry. They were perfectly you.” You teased, rising on your toes to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. 

He returned it in kind, arms tightening around you once again, “I’ll get you the biggest bouquet I can find, tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“I’ll take you on a proper date somewhere.” He said, speaking between your kisses and interrupting the affections you were trying to give him.

“It’s fine, Tom.” You nipped at his lip, in hopes of shutting him up. 

“And I’ll—”

“Tommy.” You cut him off with a huff of his name. “I don’t want you to do any of that, I like you just the way you are, don’t go doing things that aren’t you. Just… next time you bring me out to the woods for a night of watching you master runes and ancient curses, bring a blanket, and some roses. Maybe some snacks.”

“A midnight picnic would be enough for you?” He asked with disbelief in his voice.

“You’re enough for me.” You promised, hearing his underlying words, and emotion seemed to clog in his throat as he failed to respond, but instead gave a slow, delayed nod in acknowledgement. Brushing one hand over his forehead to sweep a stray curl from his face, you caught his gaze for the words you were about to say, “You’re enough, Tom. You’ve always been enough. You’re all I want, just as you are.”

His jaw tightened, lips pressed together into a thin line, and something in his gaze melted. “I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, doll, but I never expected you’d return those feelings, or even look my way.”

“You got me now.” You smiled, 

“And I won’t make the mistake of losing you. I can promise you that.”

[mintghostko]

Magic Mike!

There’s no way Mikey would miss a chance to wear matching glittery outfits with all of his brothers ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

more winx club teetlez :)

Don Tron | Raphie | Leon | Magic Mike

[littleredwolf]

Home for Christmas

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: It's Christmas Eve at the Avengers Compound and you and Wanda are busy making festive cookies for the team to enjoy upon their return from a mission.

Warnings: none. This is pure fluff/cosy Christmas content.

Words: 982

A/N: I wanted to have a go at something fluffy and festive, so I hope this ticks all the right boxes! Merry Christmas!

--

The snow fell in gentle cascades, blanketing the compound in a glittery shimmer that added a touch of magic to the view. Inside, the compound had been transformed into a festive haven, every corner adorned with twinkling lights and tinsel, while Christmas music played softly over the sound system, mingling with the rich scents of sugar, vanilla, and freshly baked gingerbread. It was like a scene straight out of a Christmas movie, so cosy and picturesque. 

“I think we may have overdone it,” Wanda mused as the two of you stood at the counter to admire your afternoon's work. 

The kitchen sides were covered with trays filled with cookies of all shapes and sizes. There were snowflakes, gingerbread men, Christmas trees, candy canes, Santa, stockings, and even some questionable looking reindeer. To anybody else, maybe it was a little too much, but with a team full of superheroes to feed, you wondered if maybe it wasn't enough.

“I don't think that's possible,” you replied, straightening one of the cookies on the tray closest to you. “The super soldiers alone will get through most of these between them.” 

“I'm surprised you haven't made Bucky his own personal batch,” she said with a teasing smile.

At the mere mention of his name, your cheeks flushed and your chest tightened. 

It had been nearly three weeks since you'd last seen Bucky, he and a few other members of the team had been away on a mission, and while he'd sent a few texts and the occasional picture (one particularly adorable shot of him and Sam looking begrudgingly festive in Santa hats), you missed him more than you’d like to admit. 

The compound had felt strangely empty since he'd been gone, you'd missed his dry humour, his quiet strength, and the way he always managed to put you at ease simply by being there. Your bed had felt too big without him in it each night, and the absence of his arms around you and gentle kisses to soothe you to sleep had thrown your sleeping pattern completely off balance. 

The excitement of his imminent return had been bubbling all morning, making you so impatient and restless that Wanda had insisted you do something to keep yourself busy, hence the cookies.  

Now you were finished, however, the nervous excitement was returning, and you couldn't resist the frequent glances out the window to see if you could spot the quinjet through the snow. 

“You really love him, don't you?” Wanda smiled as she began to tidy everything away, sending the dirty utensils to the dishwasher with a wave of her hand. 

You hesitated for a moment, contemplating her words, then slowly nodded. Although neither of you had used the ‘L’ word yet, there was no denying how you felt. 

“Yeah, I do. It's different with him, Wanda - I can be myself around him without feeling like I have to dilute any part of my personality. I never thought I'd find someone who just accepts me as I am - even the messy, broken bits! He’s just, so damn perfect, you know? I feel like pinching myself sometimes because it feels too good to be true!” Your tone was light, but there was no hiding your insecurities from Wanda Maximoff - she knew you better than you knew yourself most days. 

She reached over the counter to squeeze your hand, smiling softly. “He feels the same way, you know. Anyone can see it.” 

Before you could respond, the compound’s security system chimed, announcing an incoming quinjet. Your heart leapt -  they were home! 

“They’re here!” you exclaimed, abandoning your work and rushing to the window. Through the snow, you could just make out the sleek shape of the jet landing on the pad outside. 

Wanda laughed as she trailed after you.“I think you’re more excited about this than Christmas itself,” she teased.

You turned to her with a thoughtful expression. “I'd say it's a draw,” you smirked, and she shook her head with a laugh. You turned to the window again, but the snow was so thick now that you could barely see a thing. 

“What are you waiting for? Go and greet your man!” Wanda urged, giving you a gentle nudge. 

You didn’t need to be told twice - you slipped on your shoes and dashed outside, forgetting to even put on a coat in your rush. The icy wind bit at your cheeks, but you hardly noticed as the quinjet’s hatch opened and the team began descending the ramp. Sam was the first to emerge, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Merry Christmas!” he called, waving as he approached and pulling you into a bear hug. “Now, where are the cookies?”

“It’s good to see you too!” You laughed, giving him a playful shove as you sent him on his way, your attention snapping to the next figure emerging from the jet. 

Bucky stepped out into the snowy evening, his eyes scanning the landing pad until they found you. His face softened instantly, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he hastily made his way down the ramp. 

You didn’t wait for him to reach you. You ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck as he caught you, pulling you close. The familiar scent of him - leather and something faintly metallic - wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

“You’re freezing,” he gasped, brushing his gloved hand over your cheek. 

“I don’t care,” you replied, smiling up at him. “You’re home.”

“Yeah,” he said, his grin mirroring yours as he cupped your face. “I’m home.” 

He pressed his lips to yours, filling you with so much warmth that it instantly melted away the agony of the last three weeks. 

Out of all the gifts you could have received for Christmas, being back in Bucky's arms was by far the best one.

[iratempestatis]

did someone ask for... XIAO REQUESTS??

*manifests in a purple glowy glittery cloud from a magic circle on the floor*

I have been summoned.

What about a scenario where Xiao is trying to get a gift for his s/o? have him not only maybe trying to craft something, maybe he wants the gift to be so perfect he goes around Liyue and the harbor to find the best wrappings, the best ribbons and the best snacks to go along with his gift?

Xiao SOOOO needs more fics these days 😩

"For You."

Xiao x gn!reader, 4k words.

Just a bunch of fluff, Xiao might be a liiiitle bit ooc but I tried my best <3. I had way too much writing this lmao, it's vv self indulgent. It did diverge a teensy bit from how exactly you wanted, anon, but I hope you still like it <3 Feel free to send more Xiao asks!

Xiao remembers the first time he got you a present.

It was nothing, really. You mentioned needing violetgrass to finish a commission one day. It'd made Xiao wonder why exactly an adventurer would need a medicinal herb in such large quantities, but he hadn't known you for long, so he didn't bother to figure out why.

You didn't talk to him much back then- only really knowing him because you were forced (yes, you!) to cohabitate with him while you found a residence in the harbor.

You were impetuous- not of faith and certainly not respectful, and it irked you massively when he'd step away whenever you greeted him, or silently turn his back on you and vanish. He didn't quite know how to articulate why without venting his frustrations to a stranger, so he never did.

He remembers you being violently sick during the colder months and still stubbornly trying to yank your bags out of a friend's arms, furiously sniffing and telling them you needed to do this.

Xiao knew for a fact you were diligent with your commissions- you liked Mora and you liked being comfortable. It couldn't be rent. He couldn't help but puzzle about it for hours, tucked away in the soft, cool damp trees on Wuwang hill until your shriek broke him out of his reverie.

After abruptly appearing before you (and scaring you more than half to death), as well as many hours of hunting the elusive herb made even more elusive by the chill, you had a nice basketful by evening.

“I wanted two,” he remembers you saying ruefully. He can't remember what you wore or even what you'd sounded like. Or if that was even what you'd said. But he remembers knowing you needed two basketfuls somehow, and you only had one, and your eyelids weighed down by disappointment, and the press of your lips.

He remembers putting a second basket in your balcony by dawn, and he remembers feeling a sudden rush of fondness when he found out you did it unexpectedly for a sick Baizhu, without his knowledge, expecting no fee. He remembers talking to you more when you lunged out of the shadows at Wangshu inn, to grab his arm and beam and thank him. He remembers the first time he touched you on his own- fingers gingerly reaching forward to pluck a piece of thread off your face. He remembers you disappearing for months on a long mission, only to return home and run straight into his arms, your newest glider fluttering on your back. Right there in his arms. He doesn't remember breathing. He remembers the way your fingers felt when they brushed against his in that moment, for the very first time. He remembers you asking if you could hug him, “just for a moment please,” and he remembers scoffing in surprise, then quickly saying yes.

But for the love of- god? Which god? He was a god and he didn't love himself too much. Morax? For the love of Morax, then, why couldn't he remember the things you liked?

He remembers everything you like and nothing all at once. Books? You have them. Brushes? Clothes? Would you even wear what he bought you? What if it wasn't your style? What if- maybe a bag? No, you never used bags you didn't buy. Something about the quality of the fabric. A handbag? Would you use it often? Probably not. Another glider? A glider made of his feathers, perhaps? Dear god no, that would be. Alarming. Snacks? You'd eat them. They're an addition, not the present itself. Furniture? A body pillow? You mentioned wanting a Ningguang body pillow. What the fuck is a body pillow?

He bites back the urge to throw his almond tofu at the wall. A gift for someone so precious must be one of equal value– but really, what could compare to your smiles, or the way you veered into him on walks, or the way you’d stumble to the bathroom in the middle of the night? Or your adorably frustrated expression when your cooking turned out not quite right? Every minute spent with you was spent carefully watching, memorising. He couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting even the smallest details.

He remembers his first gift to you- a silver hairpin, laden with heavy flowers of jade and quartz that chinked against one another at the slightest movement. He remembers the the way your eyes widened when you unwrapped it.

It frustrated him.

You were pleased with all his presents- you never seemed to prefer one over the other. The amulet he brought to protect you? With you in a pouch on every commission. The hairpin? You wore it on special occasions. The crystalflies he caught you on a whim were kept in a pretty glass container on your bedside table. You kept the flowers he brought you for months until even their potpourri turned to dust. What did you like better?

He swears by the skies he’s never been more frustrated- or desperate.

Your birthday draws closer by the minute and he’s determined to be the first to give you a present, even if it means… talking to people.

✦—————————————✦

He wishes Verr Goldet would stop looking so… Astonished. He knows he should be working! He’ll get to it right after he acquires your present… which would be?

“Perhaps- perhaps perfume?” she suggests, finally regaining composure. “They mentioned being fond of perfumes, although they usually don’t quite use it. Also…” She hesitates, then shakes her head with a smile. “It is good to see you home.”

He’s startled- he can’t help being so, not when she’s giving him such a sincere smile (that he unknowingly softly returns.) Strange mortal. Thanking her, he leaps off the balcony rails, unfurling wings of teal and gold. Perfume. Not the most inspired gift, but perhaps he’d come across something at the harbour?

✦—————————————✦

He does, unfortunately, come across something at the harbour. It’s an annoying little something (endearing on the days he feels more patient), slightly tall, vaguely maniacal. In a fun way.

Hu Tao has dragged him across every stupid stall on the northern side of the harbour. They’ve seen all sorts of absurd fish (even ones he thought were long extinct, good for them- or perhaps not, since they were soon to be a meal), clothes, china, children’s toys (he’s pretty sure you’d like the fat finch carving actually, so he gets it) and… perfume?

Hu Tao beams as she gestures to the man lounging in a corner of the harbour, asleep with an arm thrown over his wares. The wares happen to be several exquisite (regrettably empty) bottles.

He blinks. “Where is the perfume?”

“Huh? You want me to get you that, too?” A fly lands on her face and she swats it away. “I don’t really know where to get one you’d like. What sort of smells do you like? Can you even smell? I thought birds couldn’t smell?”

He sighs at the cascade of questions. “Some can’t, some ca- you digress.”

“Fine, but listen- aren’t the bottles so pretty?” She reaches for one and he’s forced to admit they are. The one in her hand is fashioned to mimic a gently sloped, round rock, with qingxin flowers acting as the lid. A bit unorthodox, but charming. “You can put whatever you want inside! Plus you told me you wanted a bottle of perfume, not a bottle with perfume-“

Well.

✦—————————————✦

That’s two gifts and neither is as he wants, nor perhaps as you’d want. He thinks back to the gifts you’ve given him- so intricate, so thoughtful. The best gift is still you, though, and the time he spends with you is enough to wash away years of anguish. When you fall asleep in his arms, the tension within him comes undone. This world has never treated him well, but its one benefaction was the vision hanging at your hip. He can’t help but trace it gently with his fingers, running his hands up and down your waist, so, so lightly. He’s grateful.

He wishes he could gift you even a fraction of the joy you bring him.

A whistle snaps him out of his thoughts. Yelan lowers herself to sit next to him on the cool stone steps going down to the harbour. Where did she come from? Was that blood-

“Soup. Tomato soup.” She pops the ‘p’ as she speaks. He can smell the blood. “No worries.” He does worry. She laughs when she sees his face. “It’s not mine, relax. What brings our hermit adeptus to the harbour?”

She reaches for the bag of purchases in his hands as he explains. “I’m here to get (Name) a present.” She turns the finch around in her hands, amused, and he continues. “I’m yet to come across anything significant. Do you have any… recommendations?”

Yelan tsks and stares at the hubbub below, deliberating. Xiao glances at the luxurious fur on her jacket rustle gently in the breeze and wonders how they ever became friends. His advent into the Chasm… well, he truly did think he would die, but he instead returned with closure and absurd company.

More or less anyway- Yelan is too busy to come visit frequently, but she’ll sometimes call him for no reason. To sample some dessert she bought, or to tell him a mundane story. He suspects it’s so she can keep an eye on his health. Sometimes, in his nightmares, he sees her stricken face when he teleported her out the Chasm, when she thought he’d never return.

“What are you thinking?” She raises an eyebrow. “It had better be something productive, not daydreams of (Name).”

“Those are productive,” he counters. “But forget it… suggestions?”

“Maybe jewellery?” She stands up and dusts herself off. “It’s a little cliché, but never a fail. And probably some perfume to put into that bottle… which I will go get, because… no. Actually, you should come too.” She grins.

✦—————————————✦

He’s never talking to Yelan again. The shop she suggested had some lovely ear cuffs, shaped like wings and flowers, clouds and daggers. Pretty. He got you a few pairs, which the shopkeeper seemed delighted about. Were they expensive, by mortal standards?

He peeks into the bag and watches them glitter through the glass case. Probably.

The thought of you wearing them makes him feel a bit lightheaded. You’re always at the very zenith of loveliness, so it always astounds him to see you turn more and more beautiful by the day. The ear cuffs would accentuate your charm wonderfully. He grins at the thought, then painedly coughs, recalling Ying’er. By Morax, she made him profoundly uncomfortable, then compounded that discomfort with every passing minute. Yelan found it hilarious and he admits, only to himself, he’d find it equally amusing if it was someone else in his place.

In any case, he now has a rather large bag of presents. A fat finch, jewellery, a pretty bottle containing gentle perfume extracted from the flowers of your hometown (he’s so proud of expertly dodging Ying’er’s questions on how he got them) and-? A coffin keychain?

He sighs and keeps it.

While he has all these offerings present for the god that reigns supreme in his heart… there is no centrepiece, no special present. When he asks Yanfei and Ping, they glance at one another and gleefully suggest a wedding ring, to which he gives a forceful no. He’d never want to make you celebrate two things in one day- after all, that’s one less day of merrymaking.

✦—————————————✦

Liyue Harbour looks so pretty in the night.

You remember a friend of yours telling you something once. Liyue Harbour makes you feel melancholy on the bad days, and warm on the good. She was right.

Sometimes, you have trouble deciphering what exactly it is that you’re feeling. And sometimes, you have trouble facing your feelings altogether.

As you trod through the gates facing Mt. Tianheng, you feel a pit softly open through in your chest. Inside of you, something stays deathly still, trying to ignore it, even as soft, powdery tendrils attempt to coax you inside.

It’s two in the morning, and it is also your birthday.

The shops and stalls are nearly all closed, with only some taverns open late into the night. They’ll close soon enough too, though. If you crane your neck enough, you know you’ll catch a view of the Pearl Galley, radiant and luxurious, a warm spot on the cool waves.

Sometimes Xiao walks you home after a long day. He’ll pause on the road while you receive your commission Mora from Katheryne, and you go take a walk along the harbour, buying groceries for dinner, him sighing as you find and inhale the unhealthiest snacks you can contrive, and scoffing when you offer them to him- even though there’s no force behind it.

And sometimes you sit on the edge of the port, watching the Pearl Galley take gentle laps around the port. Amusedly trying (and failing) to take a peek inside, wondering which socialite paid the lovely maidens aboard a visit.

But there’s no Xiao here today. He hasn’t visited in a while, and it’s your birthday.

You blink rapidly, eyes stinging. It’s okay. Birthdays happen every year and you’re not a child, you’re just tired after a long day.

“And besides.” You pat a stray dog as you walk past it to your home. “It’s so late. He’ll hopefully remember and wish me tomorrow?”

She answers with a whine and a wag of her tail. You chuckle.

“Stay right here. I’ll get you something.” You blow it a kiss, your temper buoyant once more. It’s so late, you can’t expect Xiao to-

“I already fed her.”

You nearly stumble (curse those mountains, your muscles are so goddamn sore) with how fast you whirl to face him. He’s right there, in soft, loose clothes. The lights inside the house come on as he gives your baffled face the smallest, softest of smiles. “Happy birthday, (Name).”

You bark a laugh as you rush into his arms.

✦—————————————✦

You’re not sure what exactly you did for this world to give you Xiao, the most beautiful of creatures, kindest of people, gentlest of hearts. You used to think his distance and clipped sentences were an armour worn to protect his jaded heart from the world. You were heartbroken yet skeptical when Wang Ping’an told you of it being the opposite- that he cares deeply for his people and is devoted to his duty. That he has much love to give, but never could on account of his karmic debt.

You don’t know what you’d do if not for your vision.

Xiao’s firm, calloused fingers softly massage your scalp. He offered to help you wash your hair when you mentioned being too tired and sore to do it on your own, so you’re now in your bathroom seated on a stool as he does it for you. One hand reaches down gently to prevent the foam from entering your eye as you ramble on about the day you’ve had. He frowns when you tell him you got nearly killed by a treasure hoarder, then looks almost impressed when he hears you befriended the schmuck.

“And he’s not a bad guy, really.” You boop his nose gently with a wet finger and it scrunches slightly. “He just didn’t have a choice, y’know? Anyway, I told him I’d help him get a job. He’s gonna stay over until he gets back on his feet, so be nice when you see him, okay?”

Xiao blinks rapidly. His eyelashes are so pretty. “Wait- are you certain you can trust him? Tilt your head back.”

You tip your head back and explain as he rinses your hair. “He’s just a kid, really. He’s new to this treasure hoarder schtick. And it should be fine, right? I’ll keep the valuables locked and let him have the guest room. Poor kid, do you think he’ll be able to wait on people? Maybe I could convince Chef Mao?

“He has his hands full with Shenhe.” Xiao snorts. “I don’t think he can take any more. Although if you want… I could take the child to Wangshu Inn with me. Perhaps he could assist Huai’an.”

You gasp in delight and beam at him. You swear you see his pupils dilate. “You’d do that for him?”

“For you.”

✦—————————————✦

Dinner was pleasant- all you could focus was inhaling anything and everything remotely edible present on the table. You were ravenous.

Even so, you couldn’t help but notice the anticipatory looks Xiao gave you, the little taps of his clawed fingers on the table. He didn’t say a word as you finished your meal. Just looked at you gently with those luminous golden eyes.

Stamping down your excitement was difficult despite your exhaustion. There was something Xiao was keeping under wraps, you could tell- he was just a bit unravelled, just the tiniest bit. Lips parted in slight anticipation, pupils dilated like a parakeets.

You look at one another across the table and he abruptly blinks and rises up, taking the dishes with him. Putting them in the sink, he turns to you slowly. You hear the dog bark at something outside, the clatter of her claws across the pavement but it feels as though she’s on land, with you underwater. When did Xiao get so close?

Your breath leaves you as his talon tipped fingers gently cradle your face, stroke your cheek. He laces his fingers with yours and brings them to his mouth for a kiss.

“Do you wish to rest?” He asks gently. As if he didn’t just rob you of your ability to form coherent sentences. “I had some presents prepared for you, but it’ll be morning soon. You ought to rest.”

Aha. So that was what he wanted to show you. He looks so shy at the mention of gifts- long eyelashes lowered, lips pressed together that you can’t resist beaming and landing a soft kiss on his cheek. He exhales.

“I want to see them now.”

He sighs, but he’s smiling, too. “Very well.”

He gestures for you to walk on ahead to your room and you do, sprinting across the hallway, invigorated at the prospect of- what.

Your bed is laden with presents.

It looks almost like an offering table- there are flowers interspersed among the gifts- an exquisite bottle of perfume is the first to catch your eye and you excitedly hold it to your nose. It smells like your favourite flowers. You turn to beam at him and he turns away, pink eared, and gestures to the rest.

There’s a coffin keychain (huh?), a fat finch carving the size of your face (you’ll cherish and protect that thing with your life), multiple small, velvety boxes with glass covers (you nearly scream. Is that the Mingxing jewellery crest? How expensive was this?) and something covered by a soft square of fabric, right in the centre.

It’s a feast for the eyes, you giddily think, taking everything in. You’ll definitely need to have a talk with Xiao about the expense- good lord, that ear cuff is embedded with three different jewels- but for now, you heart is so full you feel it’ll burst at the seems. And as you lift up the cloth to uncover what’s beneath, you’re very certain you’ll weep if you’re not too careful.

It's a box, made perhaps of wood, standing on elegant coral legs. With gems or resin or more coral, you can’t tell- there's a picture composed upon it, with you clinging to the side of a mountain before it, and Xiao right behind, holding out his fingers to receive what you hand to him. There’s the sunset too, behind both of you- a gorgeous mess of pink, white and scarlet, gold rays streaking across it, from the setting sun into the lavender dusk beyond.

It’s a bit roughly hewn, but it’s beautiful, and it’s yours.

It’s the day you really talked to one another for the first time, the start of something so precious to you that even the mere thought of losing it makes your heart physically ache.

You really are going to cry.

Turning to Xiao, you see the soft, anxious look in his eyes as he tries to gauge your reaction. He parts his lips to say something, but stops to let you go first. You shake your head and ask him to speak.

“I… am aware of it not being the best of presents.” (You wonder if he smacked his head into something today.) “It is… a box.” He coughs, glancing away, then faces you again and now you truly are in danger of bawling, with the way he’s looking at you. You bite your tongue and blink rapidly. Xiao gives you a rueful smile as he continues.

“I thought for a long time, but couldn’t fathom what you’d want most. I did not know what would constitute as a good present- but I remembered… when we first talked for length. Your unpaid commission. I’m grateful to Baizhu, for falling ill… I could never have dreamed myself capable of feeling such joy. Because of you.

“I just…” he trails off, eyes widening as the tears slip past your lashes, down your cheeks (traitors, they’re making such a fuss). He’s before you in an instant, cupping your face, drawing you closer, forehead pressed to yours. “I wanted to give you something to put your treasures in, where they could be safe. And I wanted to remind you… I will appear, no matter the circumstances, the moment you call for me.”

Your chest hurts.

“And,” he whispers, “if your burdens grow too heavy, simply turn around. Place them in my hands. I will carry them until you can once more. Just as you have done for me.”

And all you can do, really, is tell him you love him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping him in a giant embrace. He jumps, then laugh, large wings and slender arms wrapping around you.

It’s morning by the time you finally fall asleep, presents on one side of your bed and you on the other, after listening to Xiao recount his day at the harbour. You snicker at his conversation with the Boss, laugh when you hear of Hu Tao’s shenanigans, cackle hysterically when he shakes his head in embarrassment and tells you of his time spent with Ying’er and Yelan.

But when he tells you of his conversation with Ping and Yanfei, eyes softening, wings tightening around you- of the time he spent bringing the box into being, with their help and his very own hands- you can’t help but get teary eyed once more. Wrapping your fingers around his, you bring them to your mouth to kiss every fingertip, each kiss interspersed with a whispered “I love you,” that he returns with a quiet, fervent murmur of his own.

As you both begin to doze off in one another’s arms, you hear finches in the distance, awakening before even the dawn. You trace your fingers over his face, gently, gently and kiss his cheek.

You wish you could articulate what he means to you- and what his efforts meant to you.

His presents were nothing in the face of his company, and his company nothing in the face of his happiness.

More than anything, your heart is full at the thought of Xiao- free of his duties for even just a day, meeting with friends to contrive a present for you. That he spent time with them, amused himself with their shenanigans, fell prey to their mischief. That he had a mundane day at the harbour.

By Morax, you love him. Perhaps next week you’ll clear out your schedule, and ask him to take you with him on another.

[issysh3ll]

Daily Drabble | 17

Matt Sturniolo - {smut}

Holding your hips up over Matt's cock and slowly lowering yourself down you grin at the little surprise that's waiting for him. This position is not one that you do often, Matt always prefers the intimacy of the face-to-face positions and you do too. But when you prepared this surprise, you knew it would look better for him with your ass to him.

As your hips continue to move you feel your wetness beginning to leak down the side of his cock and you suck a breath in, waiting for him to notice...

"What— baby... is your cum glittery?" He questions, swiping a finger through the sparkling slickness leaking from your pussy and soaking him. You mutter a small "mhmm" in response and continue bouncing along his length eliciting a low groan from Matt as his hands grip at your ass eagerly.

"fuckkk— told you, you're magical"

Plz do not put glitter in your vagina! If you want this effect try to find lube with a body safe glitter or shimmer included!

more daily drabbles here If this idea inspires you, feel free to continue the story in a reblog ♡