#my first time watching it is now a core memory

[7x0]

any characters of your choice reacting to tongue and nipple piercings :p I look forward to your writings

♯┆ TEAM TONGUE PIERCING OR TEAM NIPPLE PIERCINGS .ᐣ.ᐟ ★

★ 𓂃 CHARACTERS: rafayel, sylus, zayne, xavier ★ 𓂃 A/N: 18+, mdni. FIRST REQUEST ON THIS BLOG FULFILLED LFG!! been itching to write for the lads boys so i'm hoping you like them fjshgglgjs thank you for the request! i defaulted to a gender neutral reader since you didn't specify. also, caleb isn't included because i just got introduced to him in the story, and i also apologize if characterization might be off; i am also relatively new to writing the lads boys and to the game ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ RAFAYEL

he’s batting for team nipple piercings! as an artist, he has a fine eye and aesthete’s appreciation for human anatomy, especially yours. he not only loves your mind and personality, but your body as well. no matter your size or whether you have cellulite or stretch marks, he will remind you time and time again that he still loves every inch and curve of yours regardless. he would love to watch the way the metal of your piercings would catch just right in the light as he pounds into you. if you have tits, he’s definitely grabbing at them and admiring the way your piercings accentuate them. planting kisses all around them, maybe even cooing to them just to fluster you. “you complement them so beautifully, don’t you?”

rafayel is staring so hard at your chest, you think he’s committing the shape of it to memory. there is a blank expression etched onto his features. “so uh… do you like them?” you ask cautiously, starting to raise your hands to self-consciously cover your now pierced chest. “don’t.” he stops you, grabbing your hands and pulling them away, gaze still glued to your pierced nipples. finally, after about what felt like an eternity, his eyes flicker up to meet yours halfway and he nods approvingly. “the human figure is already a marvel as it is, but this? you’ve somehow managed to make it a sight to behold.” . . . “rafayel…” “mm?” “stop talking to my nipple piercings as if they’re re— ahh!” at that precise moment, your cheeky boyfriend decides to ram right into your core, feigning obliviousness. “what was that, love? couldn’t quite hear you over how pretty your nipple piercings are.” “that doesn’t even make sense!”

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ SYLUS

this man is going right for the nips, baby. he already knew you were going to get them, as he does most things. it seemed like a very you thing to get—so naturally, he figured you would. absolutely goes feral over how they look on you, by the way. terribly down bad, even. he can’t resist licking his lips whenever he catches them protrude through your shirt, or when you’re riding him. definitely one of his favorite piercings on you, he thinks it suits you well. sylus would also playfully tug at them when you’ve been a bit too mouthy with him, and would even lick at them. he wouldn’t mind the metallic taste so much; blood was no different, anyway.

“oh? what’s this, kitten?” sylus asks, groomed brow arched as a smirk begins to curl upon his lips. “surprise!” you exclaim as you proudly show off your newly pierced nipples, beaming ever so cutely up at your boyfriend. “it was only a matter of time,” sylus’ deep chuckle spurns confusion onto your face. “what do you mean?” “i knew you were thinking of getting them.” a pout forms on your mien as you cross your arms across your chest. “no fair. it was supposed to be a surprise…” . . . your sweet, sweet moans were always a symphony sylus could never tire of hearing. they were all the more sweeter now that your nipples were no longer bare. he was immensely pleased that you would wear the jewelry he’d custom order and buy for you, and it would be a treat for him to get to watch them as you bounce up and down on his leaking cock. “so gorgeous, my beautiful baby,” his voice would drip with lascivious desire. looking at the little dual charms with his initials engraved upon them jerk around as you lose yourself on his lap would never fail to be one of his favorite pastimes.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ ZAYNE

tongue piercing enjoyer, though was neutral about it at first. didn’t quite understand why you would undergo the process to have metal pierced through your tongue—but being the considerate doctor he was, he’d ensure that the healing process went smoothly for you. his tune would soon change once he sees the way you’d lewdly gaze up at him as you slobber all over his cock, pierced tongue on full display. merely thinking about it would even get him hard, so he was secretly grateful it was in a less conspicuous place than other piercings.

“babe, look!” you singsong as you run over to your lover’s desk as he was finishing up his paperwork before going on break. “yes, lo—” he’d start saying as he takes a moment to organize the papers, cutting himself off when his stare finally shifts to your face. you were lolling your tongue out with half-lidded eyes, even wiggling it a little for emphasis on the stud now perfectly nestled within the center of the muscle. zayne was speechless for a moment before a frown and furrow in his brows appear on his visage. you falter a bit. “what’s wrong?” “you know you can’t perform oral intercourse or do any kissing for at least three weeks, right?” a look of horror dawns on your face. “what?!” . . . the three weeks were definitely worth the wait, zayne thinks to himself while you had a mouthful of his cock underneath his desk. he groans, deft fingers carding themselves through your hair. he wasn’t expecting that the added cool sensation of the metal would heighten his arousal, and yet here he was, head thrown back against the back of his office chair with his eyes shut in bliss. “just like that…” perhaps the three week abstinence period you also instated just so the experience of the piercing during a blowjob had helped. either way, zayne would take a liking to your new look; it grew on him the more and more you’d swirl your tongue around the base of his cock.

୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ XAVIER

wouldn’t have much of an outward reaction to your newest body modification, if his prolonged silence over your messages were to say anything. it disappointed you, but little did you know internally, xavier’s brain was actually steaming from how sexy he found you with it. he just wasn’t sure how to articulate this to you due to his awkwardness—but his sudden increase in requesting for blowjobs would tell you everything you needed to know. (his breath had also hitched in his throat when he initially saw it, but you wouldn’t have known.)

xavier looked at his phone, blinking a few times. you had sent him a rather risqué selfie with a wink and your tongue stuck out just enough for your new piercing to be caught on camera. you mistake his silence for disinterest, as he wouldn’t respond for fifteen long minutes later. first, he had to refrain his hardest from relieving his newfound problem in his trousers as he had an important UNICORNS meeting to attend in the next few minutes. but, the poor boy couldn’t wait till the meeting was over; he’d excuse himself for a restroom break where he’d lock himself in the nearest janitorial closet and hastily pull his pants down to fist his cock in his hand. images of you on your knees before him would flash through his mind. he made sure to send you a more than risqué selfie back without a single word. . . . thrilled your boyfriend eventually had assuaged your fears of him being turned off by your new tongue piercing, you were quick to greet him excitedly once he got home. xavier would curtly greet you back, before demanding you lay on your back so he could hurriedly slot himself in between your legs and piston relentlessly into you. he’d make sure you had your tongue hanging out too; with his phone in hand, he’d take a few photos to commemorate the day. to this day, they’re some of his favorite nudes of yours to date.

© 7x0 — do not repost, translate, feed AI, or plagiarize any of my content. please refrain from sharing or recommending my work on other platforms outside of tumblr such as tiktok.

[loonstar256]

I love Shadowbringers. I think it is some top storytelling. I love the characters, the story, and I truly believe it to be one of the best video games I've ever played. I've watched many of the cutscenes over and over. To the Edge is my top played song on Spotify. I only started playing FFXIV because I watched my friend play large parts of Shadowbringers and I wanted to experience the story for myself.

So why is it that I keep gravitating to Endwalker? Why is it that Endwalker has such a hold on me that I get extremely emotional when I hear Close in the Distance (any version. Including when I'm just listening to it while I'm driving) or think about the scene post Endsinger fight? What is it about that expansion that means so much to me? There are flaws in the story, the pacing is extremely strange (I love you Loporrits, but twice you grind the narrative to a stop), and frankly I hate how Venat/Hydaelyn's actions were basically justified with a short monologue from Y'shtola. And yet, I have so many memories of playing through it, good and bad, that I wouldn't change for the world. Endwalker has some spectacular highs and instances of characterization I truly love (the gazebo scene with Krile, G'raha and Alisaie, truly one of my favs, and getting brunch drunk with the older scions), and In From the Cold has caused me to still get chills at that specific facial expression. I was in awe (and still am!) of how amazingly they translated Yoshitaka Amano's art of Hydaelyn into 3D. The soundscape changes in Ultima Thule as your progress the story were incredible. Endwalker isn't perfect, but clearly, I love it, flaws and all.

I have so many things I could say about FFXIV (check out my post on Metieon and the Endsinger as an example), maybe one day I'll get them all written down... For now I'll leave you with one of my favorite lyrics from Close in the Distance:

"Tales of loss and fire and faith Every word on our hearts engraved In the dark, you will not stray Forge ahead till the end, we pray"

[sonarspace]

❝ BABY COME OVER HERE AND RIDE IT OUT ! ❞

꒰ synopsis. love isn’t the only thing they’re giving you tonight.

featuring. nanami. gojo. choso. geto. sukuna. toji. (separate)

warnings. mdni. nsfw. oral (f. receiving). fingering. teasing. kinda rough sex. unprotected sex. kinda overstimulation. size kink. food play (toji's)

an. made this kinda long since i haven't been posting much so i hope you guys enjoy !

❦ KENTO NANAMI

nanami asks you every year, like clockwork. it doesn’t matter that you wear his ring, that you wake up tangled with him every morning, his legs hooked around yours beneath the sheets, or that his touch is already written into your skin like a vow. he still does it. like it’s the first time.

"be my valentine."

his voice is low, rasping, the first thing you hear before you even open your eyes. the morning light spills through the curtains, catching the sharp angles of his face, his blond hair glowing in the soft haze. he’s already dressed, standing beside the bed with one knee pressed into the mattress, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. not something rushed, not a last-minute grab. he chooses them carefully, every year, arranging them with the precision he applies to everything in his life—especially you.

your fingers ghost over the petals before curling around his wrist, tugging him closer. his lips part just slightly, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick between your face and your grip on him.

"always."

the word barely leaves your lips before he’s leaning down, pressing his mouth to the inside of your wrist, then your temple, then your lips—lingering, savoring, like he’s etching the moment into his memory.

dinner is familiar, comfortable in its ritual. candlelight flickers against polished silverware, the low hum of conversation surrounding you, the occasional clink of glass. nanami sits across from you, his presence sharp even in his silence. he’s composed, refined, but his attention is heavy, a weight you feel pressing into your skin.

his hand remains firm on your thigh beneath the table, fingers kneading the fabric of your dress, thumb drawing absentminded circles against your skin. he watches you sip your wine, his golden eyes tracking the movement, darkening as your lips part around the rim of the glass, your tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop of red.

"you're quiet," you muse, setting your glass down.

his gaze lifts, sharp and unreadable. "just watching."

the rasp in his voice makes your stomach tighten, heat blooming low in your belly. his fingers flex against your thigh, pressing just a little harder. he doesn’t say anything else, but you can feel the storm gathering behind his composure.

you don’t even make it five steps past the front door before he’s on you.

"you have no idea," he growls against your throat, his breath hot, his body pressing you back against the door. his hands grip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, and you let out a gasp as your legs wrap around his waist. he holds you up like you weigh nothing, like you belong there.

"how fucking hard it was to sit through dinner."

his lips trail along your jaw, down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin without a care. he doesn’t want you to hide them.

"kento—"

"shh."

his hips roll into you, slow, deliberate, the thick weight of his cock pressing against your core through his slacks. the pressure makes you shiver, your fingers fisting into his shirt.

"you were testing me."

his voice is lower now, a growl buried deep in his chest. his hands tighten where they grip you.

"sat there all night, acting innocent, knowing you weren’t wearing anything under that dress."

his hand slides between your bodies, fingers pressing against your slit, cupping your heat through the thin material. his jaw clenches, breath hitching as he feels the wetness seeping through.

"fuck."

he presses harder, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your clit.

"this all for me?"

you nod, whimpering, nails digging into his broad shoulders. his belt clinks, his slacks fall, and then he’s pressing the flushed head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it through your slick, teasing, torturing.

"gonna take me like a good girl?"

your body trembles, and he smirks.

"course you are."

then he sinks in.

your eyes go wide, your back arching, nails scraping down his back as he stretches you open, inch by inch.

"oh, fuck."

nanami shudders, stilling for a moment, his head falling to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.

"so fucking tight."

he pulls back just enough before thrusting forward, burying himself to the hilt.

your head snaps back, mouth falling open, a breathless sound caught in your throat.

"mine," he growls, his pace deep, steady, brutal. calculated, like he’s making up for lost time, like he needs you to feel him in your bones.

his hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, holding you still, keeping you pinned against the door as he drives into you. you’re gasping, whimpering, clutching at him, and he laughs, dark and low in your ear.

"such a needy little thing."

he grinds into you, so deep you feel him in your stomach, his forehead pressing against yours, golden eyes locked onto you, watching you break apart on his cock.

"gonna cum for me?" his thumb slides down, pressing against your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. "gonna make a mess all over me?"

your body tenses, pleasure slamming into you, your orgasm ripping through you like a live wire, leaving you shaking in his arms.

"fuck—fuck, kento—!"

"oh, fuck," he pants, his hips stuttering, losing rhythm, and then he’s spilling inside you, grinding in deep, making you take all of it.

his grip softens, hands moving to smooth over your skin, his mouth pressing slow, lingering kisses against your shoulder, your collarbone, the corner of your lips.

"every damn year," he whispers again, softer this time, like a promise.

like next year, he’ll ask again.

and next year, you’ll say yes.

❦ SATORU GOJO

when you wake up, there’s a handwritten note on your pillow. messy scrawl, a little smudged, but the message is clear.

'be mine?'

when you step into the kitchen, he’s already there, leaning against the counter, sipping from a coffee cup, watching you with that familiar smirk. his hair is still tousled from sleep, white strands sticking up in every direction, and his robe is hanging loosely off his shoulders, like he didn’t bother to tie it properly.

“so?” he tilts his head, expectant. “what’s your answer?”

you roll your eyes, setting the note down beside your mug. “who else would i say yes to?”

he hums, stepping closer, fingers grazing your waist, warm and easy, like he has all the time in the world. “smart girl.” his lips brush over your temple, soft, but there’s something heavier behind it—the way his hands slide lower, gripping at your hips like he’s already thinking about something else.

“y’know,” he murmurs, voice dropping, “i’ve been craving something sweet all morning.”

you barely have time to react before he grips the back of your thighs and lifts you onto the counter, stepping between your legs.

“satoru—”

“shh, lemme have my breakfast first.”

he kneels between your thighs, pushing them apart, sliding your panties down your legs with agonizing patience.he keeps his eyes on you, watching, waiting, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers trace up the inside of your thighs, slow and deliberate.

“fuck,” he breathes, fingertips pressing into your skin as he stares at your slick folds like he’s starving.

he parts you with his thumbs, his tongue flicking out, teasing at your clit before pulling back just to see the way you react. you shudder, hands gripping at the counter, thighs threatening to close, but he stops you with a firm grip.

“nah, sweetheart, lemme see all of you,” he mutters, holding you open, licking another slow, deliberate stripe up your cunt. your head falls back, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as he starts to eat you like he’s savoring something decadent.

he hums against you, like he’s enjoying himself just as much as you are. his tongue circles your clit before sucking it into his mouth, groaning at the way your body reacts. his fingers slide up, spreading you wider as he licks into you, wet and filthy, taking his time.

your fingers tangle into his soft hair, pulling, and he just groans into you, sending vibrations through your core.

he eats like he’s starving, sucking and licking, dragging it out, making sure to taste every inch of you. when he slips his tongue inside, fucking into you with slow, deep strokes, you let out a choked gasp, legs trembling around his shoulders.

his grip tightens, holding you still, keeping you open as he flicks his tongue over your clit again, faster now, relentless.

“satoru, i—”

“mmm, c’mon, baby,” he groans, pressing his face deeper, tongue pressing against your clit, sucking hard. “gimme what i want.”

your body tenses, thighs squeezing around his head as pleasure slams into you all at once, breaking you open. you cry out, grinding against his mouth, and he groans, licking you through it, dragging it out, refusing to stop until you’re trembling against him.

when he finally pulls away, he licks his lips, smirking, eyes blown wide as he stares up at you.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes, dragging his thumb through your slick, bringing it to his mouth just for one last taste. “you really are the sweetest treat.”

you whimper at his words, body still shaking, but he’s already standing, already pressing against you again.

his hands slide up your waist, fingers curling into your hair, tugging your head back just enough for him to whisper against your skin.

“think you can handle more?”

his cock presses against your thigh, heavy and hard, and you realize he’s not even close to being done with you.

his lips brush your jaw, as he nudges your legs wider, pressing the thick head of his cock against your entrance.

❦ CHOSO KAMO

choso wasn’t sure what possessed him to do this. he’d spent weeks overthinking every detail, from what to cook to what music to play in the background. he wasn’t good at things like this—planning dates, making moves, figuring out if someone actually liked him the way he liked them. but when valentine’s day came around, he swallowed his nerves and asked if you’d come over for dinner.

and now you’re standing in his doorway, smiling at him like he’s not completely losing his mind.

“happy valentine’s,” he says, awkwardly holding out the flowers he bought earlier that day. they’re slightly crumpled from how tightly he’s been gripping them, but the colors are nice, and he hopes you won’t notice.

you take them gently, fingers brushing his as you bring them up to your nose. “you got me flowers?”

“uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “thought you might like them.”

“i love them,” you say, and his heart does something weird in his chest.

he steps aside so you can come in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to keep them from fidgeting. the apartment smells warm, something rich and savory simmering on the stove. it’s cozy, a little cluttered, but in a way that feels lived in.

“you really went all out,” you tease, setting the flowers down on the counter, eyes sweeping over the neatly set table. “candles, music, a home-cooked meal? you trying to impress me, choso?”

he swallows hard, avoiding your gaze. “maybe.”

dinner is nice, easier than he expected. he listens more than he talks, letting you carry the conversation, letting himself soak in the sound of your voice. you’re so comfortable, so at ease, while he’s been tense all night, too aware of how much he wants this to go well.

at some point, you must notice, because you set your fork down and tilt your head at him. “you’re really nervous, huh?”

he lets out a breath, staring down at his plate. “yeah. i—” he hesitates, then sighs. “you just seem so... calm. like this is nothing for you.”

you blink at him, then shake your head with a small laugh. “choso, i’m just as nervous as you are.”

his head lifts, brows furrowing like he doesn’t quite believe it. “you don’t look it.”

“i hide it better than you do,” you admit, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “but trust me, i’ve been overthinking this just as much as you.”

his fingers twitch beneath yours, his whole body going still as he processes what you just said. then his shoulders drop a little, the tension easing just enough for him to exhale.

somehow, after dinner, you both end up on the couch, sitting close, legs barely brushing. you’re talking about something, but choso’s focus keeps slipping, keeps drifting to the way you’re sitting so comfortably in his space, like you belong there.

and then you’re looking at him, your voice softer now. “can i kiss you?”

his breath catches, fingers tightening where they rest on his lap. “yeah.”

you lean in, and he barely has time to process it before your lips press against his. it’s soft at first, slow, like you’re giving him a chance to pull away if he wants to. but he doesn’t. his hand comes up, fingers slipping into your hair as he kisses you back, tentative but growing bolder the longer he gets lost in the feeling.

somewhere along the way, you move into his lap, straddling him, your weight pressing down against him in a way that makes his head spin. his hands settle on your hips, gripping tightly, like he’s afraid to move too much and break whatever spell this is.

then you roll your hips, slow, teasing, and choso chokes on a gasp, hands flying to your waist to hold you still.

“fuck,” he breathes, forehead dropping against your shoulder. “you—fuck.”

you do it again, and his fingers dig into your skin, his breath coming faster, harder.

“this okay?” you whisper, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

he nods, swallowing hard. “yeah. yeah, just—” he exhales sharply when you grind down again. “god, that feels good.”

his hands slide up, dragging along your sides, gripping at you like he’s still trying to process that this is happening. his hips move on instinct, pushing up to meet yours, the friction making him shudder.

he’s so warm beneath you, so solid, so desperate, making the tiniest, neediest sounds every time you move against him. his head falls back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched.

“you’re shaking,” you murmur, fingers threading through his hair.

he lets out a breathless laugh. “you’re really gonna act like you’re not?”

you smile, kissing him again, deeper this time, slower. his hands slide under your shirt, warm palms pressing against bare skin, not pushing, just holding, just wanting to feel.

his hips stutter beneath you, his grip tightening as he exhales sharply. “gonna—fuck, gonna cum if you keep—”

you press down harder, grinding in slow, lazy circles, and he moans, low and broken, his whole body trembling beneath you. his fingers grip tight, his breath stuttering as he falls apart, hips jerking up against you, voice catching in his throat.

you kiss him through it, soft and slow, dragging your fingers down his back as he shudders beneath you. he’s panting when he finally collapses against the couch, flushed and dazed, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at you.

you lean in, lips brushing his ear as you whisper, “best valentine’s day ever.”

he groans softly, chest still rising and falling against yours. “yeah.”

then, before you can process it, he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing you into the cushions, settling between your legs.

“what are you—”

“returning the favor,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw, down your throat, his hands sliding beneath your thighs.

his breath is warm against your skin, his voice barely more than a whisper. “let me taste you.”

his hands tighten on your waist as he sinks lower, lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, parting your legs, settling between them like he belongs there.

when his lips finally close around your clit, when his tongue presses against you, slow and wet and filthy, he groans like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever had.

and when you moan his name, fingers twisting in his hair, hips rolling up to meet his mouth, he's determined to make this valentine’s day one you’ll never forget.

❦ SUGURU GETO

you don’t expect him to show up at your door.

it’s late, the night air cool against your skin when you open it to find suguru standing there, leaning against the frame like he belongs there, like he’s been here a hundred times before.

his black hair is tied up, a few loose strands falling over his forehead, and his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his coat. he looks effortless, like always, like this is just another night for him, like he didn’t just show up on your doorstep without calling first.

"you busy?" he asks, voice smooth, lazy, like he already knows the answer.

"if i was?" you challenge, tilting your head.

he hums, stepping closer, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips. "then i'd say i’ll wait."

you roll your eyes but step back to let him in, because this is suguru, because you’re used to him showing up unannounced, because part of you had been waiting for this, hoping for it, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

he shrugs out of his coat, draping it over the back of your couch before stretching, muscles shifting beneath his sweater, his movements so slow, so casual, like he has all the time in the world.

"so?" you prompt, watching as he surveys your apartment like he hasn’t been here a hundred times before.

he turns to you, dark eyes flicking over your face, taking in the way you cross your arms over your chest, trying to act like his presence doesn’t make your stomach tighten.

"figured i should at least stop by," he says. "it is valentine’s day, after all."

you snort. "since when do you care about that?"

"i don’t," he says, stepping closer, slow and deliberate, until he’s standing in front of you, close enough that you have to tip your head back slightly to meet his gaze. "but you do."

your heart stutters in your chest, your pulse quickening, because this is different. suguru has always been laid back, has always flirted with you in a way that was easy to brush off as friendly. but right now, he’s looking at you like he’s waiting for something, like he’s testing you, like he’s finally giving you the chance to close the distance.

you swallow, feeling your fingers twitch at your sides. “and what exactly are you offering?”

his lips twitch, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. "whatever you'll let me."

there’s a pause, heavy, stretching between you, neither of you moving, neither of you looking away.

and then, finally, you reach for him, your fingers curling into the front of his sweater as you pull him in.

he follows easily, his body pressing against yours, his breath warm against your lips. he lets you set the pace, lets you tug him down, lets you kiss him first.

but the second your lips press against his, he takes over.

his hands slide up your sides, fingers curling around your waist, pulling you in, pressing you against him like he’s been waiting for this. he kisses you slow, deep, lazy in a way that makes your head spin, like he has nowhere else to be, like he has all night to take his time with you.

you sigh against him, your hands moving up to tangle in his hair, tugging at the tie keeping it in place.

he groans softly when you pull it free, his hair falling around his shoulders, and you swear you feel him smile against your lips.

"finally," he murmurs, his voice lower now, rougher.

"shut up," you breathe, pulling him back in, kissing him deeper, harder, pressing your body against his.

he lets you, lets you set the pace for a moment, lets you take what you want. but then his hands slide lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, walking you back until your back hits the couch.

you gasp as he lowers you onto it, pressing himself between your legs, his weight warm, solid, grounding.

his lips trail down your throat, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin, his breath warm against your collarbone.

"suguru," you whisper, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer.

he groans, hands tightening on your hips, his body rolling against yours, slow, teasing, letting you feel him.

you whimper, arching into him, rocking your hips up to meet his, the friction sending a shiver down your spine.

his breath stutters, his grip tightening, his body pressing down against you, like he’s trying to hold himself back.

"been thinking about this for a while," he admits, his voice rough against your skin.

you smile, tilting your head to capture his lips again, rolling your hips against him, feeling the way his breath catches.

"then stop thinking," you murmur.

he groans, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare skin, his lips dragging over your throat, your jaw, back to your mouth.

he kisses you like he’s memorizing the feeling, like he wants to make up for all the time he wasted pretending he didn’t want this.

his hips move in slow, deliberate rolls, pressing against you, making your breath hitch, making heat coil low in your stomach.

you can feel how hard he is, can feel how much he’s holding back, his fingers gripping your waist like he’s trying to keep himself steady.

"suguru," you whisper, dragging your nails down his back.

he exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath warm, unsteady.

"tell me you want this," he says, his voice low, strained.

you smile against his lips, pressing your hips up against his again, feeling the way he shudders.

"i do."

his resolve snaps.

his hands grip your thighs, his lips crashing into yours, his body pressing you deeper into the couch, grinding against you in slow, deep rolls, his breath ragged, his hands trembling.

"fuck," he groans, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his hips moving harder, faster, almost desperate now.

you moan, clinging to him, arching up to meet every movement, the friction building, overwhelming.

"sugu—"

"i want this every day," he breathes, his voice breaking, his body tensing as he loses himself in you. "i want you every day."

his hips stutter, his fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he moans against your throat, coming undone with you, his body shaking with it.

you hold him through it, dragging your hands up his back, whispering his name, pressing soft kisses against his jaw as he shudders in your arms.

when he finally catches his breath, he leans up just enough to look at you, his eyes hazy and dark, but softer than you’ve ever seen them.

he smiles, breathless, pressing his lips to your forehead. "yeah," he murmurs. "definitely want this every day."

❦ SUKUNA RYOMEN

you don’t expect anything from sukuna.

it’s not that you think he’s forgotten—he doesn’t forget things, least of all when people expect something from him. it’s that he doesn’t care.

valentine’s day is meaningless to him, just some cheap human tradition, an excuse for people to drape themselves in red and pink and beg for attention. and he’s never been the type to do something just because everyone else is doing it.

so you don’t ask, don’t even bring it up. you go about your day as usual, pretending it doesn’t sting just a little that he doesn’t even acknowledge it.

but when you walk into the room, something shifts.

he’s lounging on the couch, legs spread wide, arm slung over the backrest, posture completely at ease. the flickering light from the television casts sharp shadows along his face, accentuating the angles of his jaw, the high cut of his cheekbones. the pink strands of his hair catch the glow, almost soft if not for the way his deep red eyes flick over to you.

at first, he doesn’t react. doesn’t say anything. just stares, unblinking, scanning you from head to toe.

then, finally, his head tilts, his mouth curling into something that isn’t quite a smirk but isn’t neutral either.

"what the hell are you wearing?"

you blink, brows lifting. "a dress?"

he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, studying you with unreadable intent.

"for me?"

"not everything is about you, sukuna," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest.

he scoffs, but his gaze never leaves you, dragging over the shape of your legs, the dip of your waist, the way the fabric clings to you in all the right places.

"you sure about that?" his voice dips lower, not quite rough, but there’s something deliberate in the way he speaks, a certain weight behind his words. "because you’re standing there, looking like that, and now i’ve got a problem."

you roll your eyes, turning toward the kitchen. "if you’re just gonna be annoying, i’ll go find someone else to spend valentine’s with."

you barely make it two steps before his hand catches your wrist, yanking you back with zero effort, making you stumble right into his chest.

"you think anyone else could handle you?" he murmurs, voice lower now, a little rougher, edged with something smug.

his other hand moves, trailing up your thigh, just enough to make you exhale a little too sharply.

you sigh, feigning boredom, your lips twitching. "big words from someone who looks like a walking valentine’s day decoration."

his brows lift, amused. "what?"

you smirk, tilting your head, your fingers lifting to brush over the pink strands of his hair. "pink hair, red eyes? loverboy, you are valentine’s day personified."

"yeah?" he muses, voice low, slow, eyes dragging over you like he’s figuring out exactly how he wants to ruin you. his hands trail up your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

"then get on my lap," he murmurs, smirking as his hands slide lower. "if you're gonna dress like a present, i might as well unwrap you."

before you can protest, he’s already pulling you down, making you straddle his thighs.

you huff, shifting in his grip, feeling the heat of his body beneath you. "if you don’t care about today, then what the hell is this?"

his smirk never fades, his fingers dragging up your back, his voice a low drawl.

"who said i cared?" he murmurs, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "maybe i just wanna remind you who you fucking belong to."

his hands move over your waist, his touch heavier now, his palms pressing firmly as he grinds up against you, letting you feel how hard he already is beneath you.

he groans softly, head tilting back just slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips as he rolls his hips up to meet yours.

"fuck," he exhales, voice lower now, thick with something that makes your stomach coil tight. "go on, then. take what you want."

his hands drop lower, gripping the curve of your ass, urging you to move against him, to drag this out, to tease him.

"shit," you breathe, nails sinking into his shoulders, feeling every inch of him beneath you.

he chuckles, his chest rising and falling steadily, his eyes gleaming with something smug.

"what?" his voice is laced with amusement, his lips barely twitching into a grin. "can’t even handle it?"

you glare at him, breath unsteady. "if you’d just let me—"

his fingers flex, his hips snap up, cutting you off as a groan rumbles in his throat.

"quit whining and ride me properly," he growls.

you inhale sharply, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, rolling your hips in slow, deep motions that you know will shut him up.

his hands fly back to your waist, grip tightening, breath growing uneven as his head tips back against the couch, his jaw clenching.

"fuck—" his voice catches, his body stiffening slightly beneath you.

his usual smirk is gone now, replaced by something hazier, his brows furrowing as his body tenses.

"god, you—" his fingers tremble against your waist, his rhythm faltering as you keep pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

his control crumbles, his breathing turning shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves as his forehead drops against your shoulder.

"shit—fuck, slow down," he mutters, but he makes no real effort to stop you.

his hands grasp at your skin, his movements growing sloppier, needier, a soft, broken sound slipping past his lips when you roll your hips just right.

"you said to ride you," you murmur against his ear, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck, feeling the way his breath hitches.

he groans, deep and almost desperate, his hips jerking up instinctively, chasing the feeling.

"fuck," he breathes, voice barely above a whisper, his body trembling beneath you, struggling to keep up.

you lean in, lips brushing his jaw. "then let go."

his entire body shudders, his grip on you bruising as his hips stutter beneath you, a wrecked sound breaking free from his throat as he comes apart, gasping into your neck.

his fingers twitch against your waist, his muscles tensing before finally going lax, his breath warm against your skin, his chest still heaving.

for a long moment, he just stays there, dazed, his head tilted back against the couch, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet yours.

his smirk is weak, unfocused, but still there.

"you're still gonna fucking pay for that," he mutters, voice ragged.

you grin, dragging your fingers down his chest. "happy valentine’s, loverboy."

he groans, hands still on you, already shifting beneath you, already ready to flip you over.

"shut up," he breathes, lips curving into something sharper. "you’re not done yet."

❦ TOJI FUSHIGURO

toji doesn’t believe in holidays.

at least, not ones that require effort. gifts, fancy dinners, long romantic speeches—all a waste of time, in his opinion. but that doesn’t stop you from raising a brow when you walk into the apartment and find him exactly where you expect, sprawled out on the couch, legs spread, looking like he hasn’t moved in hours.

"you’re pathetic," you say, dropping your bag onto the table.

he grunts, barely glancing at you, one arm propped behind his head. "and you’re late."

"late for what?" you scoff, kicking off your shoes. "don’t tell me you actually planned something."

he snorts, finally looking at you, eyes trailing down your legs, up your body before landing on your face.

"yeah," he mutters, stretching, shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of muscle, the deep v-line dipping into his sweats. "planned to be balls-deep by now, but here you are, runnin’ your mouth instead."

you roll your eyes, turning toward the kitchen until something on the counter catches your attention.

a small, neatly packed box of chocolate-covered strawberries sits there, next to a crumpled receipt. no ribbons, no gift bag—just the box, like he cared enough to pick them out but didn’t see the point in dressing it up.

your lips twitch. "so you did get me something."

toji groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up. "tch. they were sittin’ by the register. thought, ‘hey, maybe this’ll shut her up.’"

you pick one up, rolling it between your fingers before bringing it to your lips, taking a slow bite. the chocolate melts over your tongue, the juice spilling slightly at the corners of your mouth.

you hum, swallowing before flashing him a smirk. "you want one?"

toji watches you for a moment, his green eyes dark, tracking the way your tongue flicks out to catch the mess before it drips down your chin.

"nah," he mutters, pushing off the couch and closing the distance between you in a few lazy strides.

before you can react, his fingers wrap around your wrist, plucking the strawberry from your grip, pressing the juicy tip against your lips.

"bite," he murmurs.

your breath hitches, but you do, sinking your teeth into the fruit at the same time as he does. your mouths are barely an inch apart when sweet juice spills from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin.

toji grins against the mess, teeth flashing, eyes gleaming before he licks the trail from the edge of your mouth, slow and deliberate.

"fuckin’ sweet," he mutters. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth just enough to make your knees feel weak.

before you can say anything, his hand grips your waist, his other swiping the box of chocolates off the counter.

"toji—?"

he doesn’t answer. instead, he tucks the box under his arm and bends low, gripping the backs of your thighs before lifting you up effortlessly.

"toji, put me down—"

"well no," he says, smirking as he adjusts his hold, carrying you and the chocolates back toward the bedroom like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

you barely have time to process it before you feel the cool air of your shared room against your skin, and then he’s dropping you onto the bed.

before you can even sit up, he’s already pulling at your clothes.

"off," he mutters, voice rough, hands yanking your top over your head, pushing your bottoms down so fast it leaves you breathless.

your pulse jumps as he strips you bare in seconds, moving too fast for you to keep up, his own shirt already on the floor before you realize he even pulled it off.

his sweats hit the floor next, leaving him just as bare, the heat of his body pressing against yours again before you can even get a word out.

he smirks at you, running his palm over your thigh, like he knows you’re still catching up.

"dizzy?" he teases, voice dipping lower.

you glare at him, chest rising and falling, fingers curling into the sheets. "you—"

he doesn’t let you finish. his hand slides up, gripping your jaw, kissing you deep, messy, full of heat.

"shh," he murmurs against your lips, pressing you further into the mattress, his other hand reaching for the box of chocolates.

he plucks out another strawberry, dragging it over your chest, your stomach, watching as melted chocolate smears across your skin.

he keeps the strawberry on your mound, eyes flicking up to meet yours, watching the way your breath shudders when you realize what he’s about to do.

his mouth follows the trail, tongue dragging along the warm, sticky path, making sure to clean up every last drop.

and when he finally reaches the strawberry, he bites into it right where it rests, juices spilling, mixing with your own, and his mouth is on you in an instant, licking it all away.

you gasp, back arching, thighs twitching as his tongue moves slow, deep, thorough.

"fuck," he mutters against you, voice rough. "tastes better than chocolate."

his thick fingers slip inside you easily, curling deep. his tongue swirls against your clit, his pace ruthless, not giving you a second to process.

a mix of his mouth and fingers builds you up too fast, your body tightening, already spiraling toward the edge before you can stop it.

"toji—fuck—"

"mhm," he hums, sending vibrations straight through you, his fingers pressing deep, hitting the perfect spot over and over.

the orgasm rips through you before you even realize, sudden, overwhelming, your body trembling as he keeps licking, keeps working you through it until you’re pushing at his head, gasping for air.

he finally pulls away, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

but something’s different.

he looks down at you. his expression unreadable and jaw set tight.

"what’s wrong?" you ask, still breathless, voice hazy.

toji exhales through his nose, fingers tapping idly against your thigh. his jaw flexes, like he’s debating saying something but hesitating.

"forget it," he mutters, shaking his head.

"no," you say immediately, grabbing his wrist. "tell me."

he doesn’t look at you right away. his lips press together, like he’s chewing on the words, debating if he should even say them.

finally, he exhales. "i just—" he stops, brows furrowing. "sometimes i feel like… i don’t do enough. for you."

your chest aches at the way he says it, like he’s expecting you to agree. like part of him is waiting for you to confirm that he’s not enough.

"what, you think i need some grand romantic gesture?" you tease, running a hand through his messy hair. "toji, if i wanted candlelit dinners and corny love letters, i would’ve picked someone else."

you pull him down, kissing him slow, deep, like you need him to understand.

"you do more than enough," you murmur against his lips. "i have you. that's all i need."

he stares at you for a second, like he’s trying to believe it.

then he smirks, some of the tension melting from his shoulders.

"good," he breathes, fingers tightening on your waist. "’cause i already booked us a flight for tomorrow."

you freeze, eyes blinking up at him. "you—what?"

he chuckles, brushing his thumb over your mouth before sinking lower, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw.

"figured you deserved a vacation’," he murmurs against your neck. "so we’re gettin’ the hell outta here for a few days."

your breath catches, excitement flickering through you, replacing the heat already settling in your stomach.

"where?"

he nips at your collarbone, dragging his tongue over the mark he leaves behind.

"you’ll find out when we get there."

you gasp, half-annoyed, half-turned on. "you’re such a bastard."

he grins, pressing another chocolate-stained kiss to your chest.

"yeah?" his breath fans against your skin, his voice dipping lower. "say that again when i’m making you cum for the third time tonight."

an. HAPPY LATE V-DAY LOVERS <3!

[chronicdelusionistsart]

So I have been watching Danny Phantom for the first time ever with my friends and I'd kind of previously known about its reputation as a show whose fanbase dives a lot more into the lore than the show is willing to. And I guess I hadn't really understood why until now (I just finished Season 2!). Here's my sort of rambling thoughts on it.

Danny Phantom isn't a show about the horror of ghosts and the dead coexisting in the human realm. It's a show about dropping the most out of pocket lore implications you can imagine on people who in turn say things that would kill a therapist dead equally out of pocket, and then neither are addressed but the watcher has to live with the ghost of the plot that is right behind them but they can't turn around.

DP is a little hit and miss in places, but the very thing that drives people nuts about it is actually I think maybe its greatest strength: it really pulls off show, don't tell effectively. How much of that is intentional is up for debate, but the best episodes kinda leave you wondering, or sputtering like "UH, HEY, BACK UP - HEY BACK UP AND UNPACK THAT -" Is Danny's human body technically alive somehow, or is he a walking corpse? Does Danny have a door in the Ghost Zone? Were Vlad's clones feeling and sentient as they melted into ectoplasm, despite Danny's guess that they weren't? What does it say about Danny that he still erased his parents' memories after finding out they'd accept him as he is?

I think the genius of not answering these questions directly is that it's both funnier AND scarier not to. We can laugh about how fucked up it is and kinda hold our heads like "bro.... did they really just imply that, holy shiiiiiit", and that's really consistent with the emotional core of the show as this knife's-edge dance between teen comedy and horror superhero. Fully explaining the lore or being more direct about how the information is conveyed by and to the characters tips that balance and changes the show into something else, for better or for worse. And I really earnestly like it as it is, even if it's very of its time (sexism.......)! It's a really fun show with some depth to it.

Anyway, I can't wait to watch season 3! I sure hope all these wonderful qualities I like about it hold up!

[parfaitblogs]

state of grace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your cat has taken liking to your friend with benefits, and you begin to battle with the consequential feelings. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: established friends with benefits. reader has a cat. your cat likes him more than you :(  avoidant!reader for like a teensie second. it's okay happy ending. the happiest possible ending actually. fade to black. word count: 1.9k a/n: sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things. like a cat. :) im a dog person. idk why i wrote this.

Seventeen times.

That is how many times Spencer Reid had found residence at your apartment in the past month alone, taking up the space on the other side of your bed. Thirteen of those times he had stayed the night. Six of those times, he had come for sex. The other eleven? He had come because you needed a friend. 

Or, rather, your cat did. 

You had discovered you weren't any more complex than your average man, at the end of the day. Human beings are at their core created to love and be loved, and by extension, to want and be wanted. You wanted Spencer, and you were wanted by Spencer. For both your friendship, and the intimacy your relationship provided. 

But you did not love him, and he did not love you. 

Cat's are anything but fickle creatures. A lot of your best friendships were centred around whether or not your cat developed a liking to the person or not. Oftentimes, your fleeting relationships came down to the odd sixth sense the animal had for disliking the worst people. That, and your one night stands were never a crowd favourite within the walls of your apartment. And yet; Spencer Reid. 

He was nothing short of charming. In a sort of dorky way, yes. But whatever socially romantic skills he lacked, he most certainly made up for by giving you the best of just about everything in bed. A small part of you wants to claim it's human instinct to know how to worship the person meant for you, but the logical reason is probably his eidetic memory knowing exactly what he's doing after a singular trial run. Entertaining the thought of being his soulmate was not a wise choice.

He most certainly was your cat's, though. The Ragdoll always jumping down to greet him the second he stepped foot in your apartment, usually resulting in the break of a kiss and a five minute intermission before the two of you could do anything. 

At first, it was an inconvenience. Your cat had never taken such a liking to a person you'd brought home before, and it was jarring to watch a man you were partially trying to undress, stop everything to pet your cat. Now, it is simply endearing. You've stopped trying to steal Spencer's attention before the cat does, and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer's priority list will always be the feline, then you. 

Today was, seemingly, no different. Despite the dull ache between your legs and the fact that this visit had started as something as obscene as Spencer calling from his work bathroom to ask if he could come over after for he was, and you quote, in dire need to touch you (among many other things), whatever those needs were, were put on hold. 

You smile regardless, leaning against the edge of your couch as he crouches down to meet Po — yes, like the panda — his hand immediately reaching out for the cat to run his head along. 

Spencer's head lifts to look at you. "Morgan thinks Po isn't a real cat, and we've just got a name for your—um—" his brain catches up to his mouth mid sentence, and he's stammering his way to silence. 

"Please tell me you defended my cat's honour," you retort.

"I did! I even showed him the photo I took of him while you were in the shower last week. He thinks it's a different person's cat."

You shake your head in disapproval. "Unbelievable. Your coworker thinks we've named my pussy."

"That's just Morgan."

"I wish Po could speak English. Then he could hear this nonsense, and stop loving you more than me," you grumble, and Spencer's lips twitch up into a smile, as he situates himself on the floor, the cat climbing into his lap.

"Actually, he technically can. Cat's can understand up to thirty-five words in whatever language you train them in. Also, when they meow, they begin trying to mimic the sound of certain human words. It's their vocal tract that prevents them from literally speaking English," he explains.

But, you're too invested in the way his long fingers are delicately running through the cat's hair, to both respond, and really pay any attention at all.

You had had fleeting thoughts about real feelings for Spencer two months ago. Brushing them off as loneliness and your need to satiate the hopeless romantic within you, you'd forgotten about it up until this recent week.

He'd been over every single day, sometimes for sex, oftentimes for a movie and dinner (which was usually a bowl of pasta you had overestimated while cooking). And every single time, you'd developed an overwhelming anxious pit in your stomach when watching him interact with Po, your heart fluttering the entire time, mind running rampant on domestic thoughts you should be squashing. 

Should be, but weren't. 

You'd tried to put it down to the motherly instinct you had over the animal. Seeing somebody else treat him with as much love and care as you did was endearing — it wasn't a Spencer Reid specific trait. Yet, here you were. 

"I feel like the benefits of this relationship have changed," you say, seating yourself in front of Spencer on the floor, Po lifting his head to look at the person behind the sudden movement, before he let it rest back on Spencer's thigh. 

"To what?"

"My cat," you huff, and Spencer laughs.

"He is my favourite benefit thus far," he muses. 

"The feeling is definitely mutual," you nod your head to Po, whose eyes were now shut, seemingly quite comfortable disregarding all your personal plans and taking Spencer's attention.

"Animals don't usually like me," he comments. "I don't know why Po is different."

Oh, you had a few ideas why.

"Maybe he's exercising the keep your enemies closer life motto," you offer, and Spencer's eyebrows shoot up in faux offence. 

"This is unadulterated love," he protests. "He does not think of me as an enemy."

"That's what he wants you to believe," you hum, pushing yourself up on your legs. "Well, since plans have been rudely interrupted, do you want some dinner?" 

"Sure," he answers, though his attention is back on Po. Clearly so, for he says, "I'll get to our original plans after we eat, don't worry," almost absentmindedly.

It's the kind of thing that makes you forget you're in the room with the dictionary definition of a nerd. You know it's only because sometimes he says what he is thinking without thinking. It doesn't do anything to help the ongoing internal battle about your feelings for him. 

Or maybe he does know exactly what he's doing.

"You should get a cat," you say, heading into your kitchen to find something for the two of you to eat. "You seem to like them enough."

"Why? I have yours."

"I'm not going to be around forever," you reply, unthinking. "I mean, one day we're gonna have to end this because the other has found someone they want to be with. Properly. It wouldn't be fair to keep a friendship."

He falls silent, and when you lift your head, you see he's staring at you with an almost confused frown on his face, which triggers your own confusion to appear. His scratching of Po's head has been interrupted, and you're starting to question what was wrong about what you had said. 

Sure, you're pretty sure you have feelings for him, but as far as you knew, they were one sided. Right?

"I didn't—I thought—" he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, then continues. "I thought that had changed this past month."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—I've been here for things other than sex a lot. I thought you knew I liked you, and you were subtly trying to tell me you liked me too. I'm starting to sense I misread that."

For a profiler, he was incredibly awful at reading you. 

"Yeah..." You slowly nod your head, but it's the deepening of his frown that has you rushing to add, "I mean, I—I do. Like you. I'm kind of embarrassed that was obvious. But I didn't think you liked me outside of having sex with me. I wasn't trying to communicate my feelings. I was trying to hide them."

"Oh," he falls silent again. "So the times I’ve been here in the past month weren’t makeshift dates?"

"They weren't intended that way..." you trail off. "Did you see them as dates?"

"Kind of, I guess," he's back to running his fingers through Po's fur, just to keep his anxious hands busy. "They don't have to be, if you don't want them to. I just thought this feeling was mutual and we were... I guess, dating."

"The feeling is mutual," you quickly correct him. "I know that now. I didn't think we were dating because I didn't think you liked me back. Changing our relationship kind of needs to be a conversation."

"Right," he breathes out, an awkward smile painting his lips. "Is this the conversation, then?"

"I guess?"

"So now��we're dating."

"If that's what you want," you nod, head feeling a little fuzzy.

"Is it what you want?" he presses. Always the gentleman.

"Maybe," you muse, leaning forwards against the kitchen countertop. 

He's watching you, and for a second you let the silence fall over you, fearful that you've just discouraged him enough to ruin things between you. He carefully takes Po off his lap, the cat running into your room the second his paws hit the hardwood floor, and he's standing up to move over to you. 

"I don't like maybe," he frowns. "Yes or no?"

You blink, realising he was evidently too anxious of your genuine response to have any recognition to your poor attempt of a joke. 

"Yes, Spencer. That's what I want," you're breathless as you speak, and you're thankful for the relieved smile that stretches across his lips.

"That's what I want too," he answers. 

"Yeah, I figured." Your second attempt at a tease lands, and he huffs a small laugh, which warms your heart. "Do you still want dinner?"

He had somehow gotten closer to you throughout the awkward enough conversation, and he was sliding his arms around your waist. Something he had done many times before, yes, and yet this time it was feeling much more intimate, and your heart was thrumming against your chest a little harder than usual. 

"Maybe it can wait?" he offers, ducking his head down, lips ghosting over your own. "I don't have a bothersome cat keeping me preoccupied from you, now."

Despite yourself, you poke a finger into his chest and say, "Don't insult Po."

"I'm not. Just merely stating an obvious fact."

"I'll call him back in here to preoccupy me."

"He has selective hearing. And he likes me more than you."

Your lips drop into a frown, lower lip jutting out, and Spencer is quick to try and kiss it off within seconds of noticing it. 

"I'm sorry. That was mean. I promise he doesn't like me more than you," he says, though his voice is too amused to be entirely sincere. 

"That was mean," you agree with a firm nod. "You're very mean to me, Spencer Reid."

"I know, I'm awful. Can I make it up to you, sweet girl?"

Well, when he asks you like that.

"Mm..." you hesitate, but he's already guiding you around, walking you backwards, through your apartment and towards your bedroom. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hands that were around your waist hike your shirt up, his lips still kissing against your skin despite the intense multitasking he was forcing upon the two of you.

"Thank you."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[ghostedgwen]

but I knew you | j.potter [part three]

note : Thank you all so much for the love and support on the two previous parts! I am still trying to get back into writing and getting my old style back but it is still a work in progress. Really happy you lots enjoyed them and are asking to even be tagged in the next parts!

warning : more angst but some cute moment as well, Remus is an mvp on this one I love him, mentions of blood and injury, violence, there's a nasty fist fight, a brief moment of a man being a man and some misogyny.

James gets into an accident during a Quidditch game and develop amnesia - he doesn't remember the past 2 and a half years, and he currently has the mentality of fourth-year James. This doesn't bode well for you that your boyfriend of 2 years now currently thinks he's still  in love with Lily.

└——————— - [ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 - 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚗 ]. +

It's been weird. Actually, that's an understatement. It has been absolute hell ever since that Quidditch accident, no one knew how to act around either you and James.

By now, the whole school knew and with how the school is quick to absorb gossip like greedy sponges, it was quick to be the topic of every conversation.

Girls would throw pitiful looks your way, and it grated your nerves to receive them. You didn't need their pity, not even one bit.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," you groan into your hands, pressed into your closed eyes. "This fucking sucks."

Remus gives you a tight-lipped smile that might as well be empty. "How about retracing your steps?"

You frown, taking your palms off your face and turning to Remus who began putting his book down.

"I'll talk to him, I'll convince him to practise with you."

"Practise what?"

"Remembering. You should know the core memories you two have made throughout your relationship, just recreate those moments with him," Remus shrugged. "Might work."

"It might not." You shake your head, giving up hope before it could even exist.

Remus makes a face at you. "This is so not you, you're not a quitter, ____."

A pregnant pause.

You heave a sigh. "Okay," you give in. "Bloody hell."

.

You watch as James casually approach you. Same mannerisms and all that but he feels unbelievably strange, you almost didn't recognize him with how he regarded you so casually. Curtly nodding and crossing his arms.

"Moony convinced me to humor this," he huffs. "Where are we off to?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to go through with this despite not wanting to do this. This was the only solution that made somewhat sense, and it was ultimately better than waiting it out while you try to act like the problem did not exist.

You click your tongue. "Where you first fell for me," you answered. "In your own words, of course. A bit cheesy for me, in all honesty."

He chuckles at that and you gesture him to follow you which he did. He walks beside you, not too far but also not close enough. You have to constantly remind yourself that it's not his fault. If he had met your James, he would've been pissed at himself right this very moment.

You didn't mind the distance much and continued your strides to the spot. You both pause, he looks around the empty hall with a frown.

"Sirius said he'd make sure the hall was clear for us." You tell him.

How he made it happen doesn't matter to you, but you had a few guesses. No time to dwell on that when he turned to look at you expectantly. You scan him, before speaking again.

"What do you feel when you look at me?"

"Honestly?" he licks his bottom lip with hesitation. "Nothing."

Wow, ouch. Okay.

You were about to speak again when he continued - "At first, because I really don't know you. . .but the more I look, the longer I stare at you - I have this urge to hold you."

That brought a small smile out of you. "Seems my James is still in there somewhere."

He didn't react to that, pretending he didn't feel a clutch in his heart at that. You shake your head, forcing the smile away and turned to the very spot you two stood on that day. 

"Muggles science did say that love is in the head, not exactly the heart," you tell him with a bitter chuckle. "I guess you don't abide by that law. You still feel for me, despite not knowing me. I just badly need you back."

You can only imagine how much harder this is on him. While it absolutely hurt to be forgotten by your lover, you can empathize with his situation. How confused he must be to be a 14-year-old in the body of a 16-year-old James.

"How does it feel?" You ask him.

"Weird," he answered truthfully. "I feel weird. Like every inch of my body is on fire but it doesn't hurt. Uncomfortably warm."

You cannot even begin to image what that feels like. "I'm sorry, by the way. I have been too focused on the fact you forgot about me to even realize you lost a whole lot more than that."

He blinks. Your voice was comforting, and your words were kind. He still does not know how he pulled away from Lily, but he can see the appeal of why he fell for you. Your words, how you carried yourself and that confidence that oozed out of your every action without trying hard.

"I'm sorry too." was all he said.

You cleared your throat. "This is where I slapped you, by the way." You laugh humourlessly at your own words. "You had the absolute audacity to imply that you'd buy me, what a right git you were."

You look at him and see him blink in confusion, "What's your last memory before waking up in the infirmary?"

He gives you a huff, dropping his shoulder and walking to the wall with a wide open window. He sat there, leaning against the stone wall with his head hanging low. "I remember just returning to Hogwarts, I had asked Li- Evans out again during the welcome dinner, got rejected again - and I went to bed after arm wrestling with Pads."

You followed him, sitting across him while listening attentively. "Then I woke up, and here I am."

A moment of silence passed, you just watched him. You can see the gears turning in his head, a faraway look in his eyes as he gets lost in his thoughts. "It must be extremely hard for you too."

James nod. "It is, because I can see that I'm hurting you - and the lads, but I can't force it out of me. I feel a bit unwanted."

You scoot closer, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's not true, we're all just struggling as well. You don't know it yet, but Sirius - he could never unwant you, you two are basically soulmates and I am the thirdwheel."

"Does something happen? To him?"

You nod when he lifts his head to look at you. "Yes, but that's not until you both are 15."

"When do you come in?"

You smile bitterly. "Today. The second day during our fourth year, I enter the story."

James' jaw dropped. "I remember everything - until exactly the day I meet you?"

You laugh humourlessly, nodding to his words. "What a cruel joke."

.

"How's it been?" Remus asked, settling beside you on the couch. You had a book propped on your lap and was getting lost in the words when he pulled you out and grounded you back to reality. "You've been at it for a week. What timeline are you in now?"

"Just about finishing up fifth year," you answer him casually. "He's compliant, and behaved. Would you believe that? He's behaved, around me."

Remus laughs. "That's good at least, he's willing to try."

"He said he felt unwanted by us," you tell him, watching his jaw drop. "We got too busy minding the fact he forgot."

"Merlin - " Remus runs a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell."

"He's 14, right now and he must feel so scared to be in this familiar - yet strange environment he has ended up in. I didn't wanna tell you, he confided in me but I can see how he's been struggling throughout the week. He needs his brothers too, not just me."

Remus slowly nod along your words. "You're right. We thought to give you some space. Pads is still in shock and Peter is just depressed at this point."

You heave a sigh. "We'll get him back, no worries."

.

"____!" You turn to the voice that called you, you spy a familiar boy clad in black and yellow uniform run up to you. He had on a bright grin as he greeted you, a bookbag hanging off his shoulder. "Glad I finally caught up to you."

You frown at him. "You've been looking for me, McLaggen?" 

"Yes," he nods and gestures to you. "But you've been with Potter this whole week."

You blink in confusion. "Of course I will, he's my boyfriend." You answer him bluntly, but he only shrugged at that with a tilt of his head.

"Whole castle knows by now that he's forgotten 'bout you, I thought you two had broken up."

You felt an eye twitch at that. "Nevermind that, why were you looking for me."

"Was hoping I could ask you to be my study partner, for the upcoming Ancient Runes quiz. You are pretty much a genius at it, wouldn't hurt to be tutored by you."

You cross your arm. He's never once had the courage to approach you before ever since James took an interest in you. He introduced himself so confidently when you transferred and even offered to show you around the castle - that was until James entered the picture and everyone steered clear.

No one wants to mess with the Marauders.

"Why would I do that for you?" You ask, having nothing to gain from his proposal whatsoever. He's demanding you help him study in a subject you excel in without even offering anything in return. 

McLaggen flashes you a bright grin. "I'll treat you on a date on the next Hogsmeade trip."

You scoff at his words. "A date? You think I'd accept tutoring you for a bloody date? I'm taken, in case you forgot."

He laughs. "Your boyfriend doesn't even remember you, babe. I'm your next best bet, he's technically just a little boy right now, yeah? What age is he mentally? 12?"

"He lost two years, he's 14, you dumbass." You corrected him.

He shrugged. "Don't matter now, does it? He's just a little boy right now, you'll do well with a man."

You hold back a laugh at his words. "You think you're a man then?" You step back, providing more space between you and not once did his height intimidate you throughout the exchange as he address you while looking down. "You are a pig. Take your offer elsewhere, you disgust me."

"____-" he grabs your arm as you turn to leave but another voice also called out your name.

"____!" You turn to find James fast approaching, the rest of his gang trailing after him. "What's going on here?"

You tug at your arm and he finally released it. You fix your posture and glare at McLaggen, "We were just talking." you tell him and can see the anger bubbling in him with the expression on his face.

You turn to meet Sirius' eyes and gesture to James, he acted fast, grabbing him by the arm. "Calm down, mate. She said they were just talking."

"Didn't look like talking to me." James spat.

McLaggen stepped back, raising both hands in surrender. "My bad, mate. You don't even remember ____ anymore, the least you could do is let someone else have her."

You felt your jaw drop at his words, talking about you like you were an item to posses and freely give awya - like you had no say in the matter and you couldn't even process a reaction to his vile words when James swung for his face.

His fist colliding with McLaggen's face and he drops to the ground on the impact. He would have jumped on him as well if Sirius didn't pull him back with Remus who were desperately trying to calm him down.

"The fuck?" McLaggen hissed, clutchinng his now bruised cheek in disbelief. "Fuckin' hell!"

You turn to James, and it all happened so fast. The two boys lost grip on him and he slipped out - jumping on McLaggen to throw more punches but this time, the other boy got to react and returned the favor.

The two exchanged blows while the other three boys tried their best to pull them apart, you were only grateful that the halls are empty or this would be another spectacle for the whole castle.

You run to them, figuring that the three boys' attempts were not working - but it was too late. McLaggen pulled something out of the bookbag he carried - an ink bottle? And smacked James right across the head with it.

"Prongs?" Sirius called out to James who dropped after the hit, McLaggen appeared shocked at the result of his actions. He threw away the bottle and scrambled to get up. 

"James!" You called out and dropped to his side, Merlin - he's out. He's breathing but he is out. The hit must have gotten him good. You angrily turn to see McLaggen running away from the scene. You can deal with him later, you turned your focus to the passed out James. "Bloody fuck, not again."

to be continued . . .

part four | masterlist

[himasgod]

Where you are an artist

HOUSEWARDENS X READER

How would the housewards react if they realized that the person they love can't stop sketching and drawing about them…

leona, riddle, azul, kalim, vil, idia and malleus.

I lost the original request message, so I had to take a screenshot, sorry :(, I hope you like it!

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, when Riddle discovers your notebook full of his sketches, he doesn't know what to think. He's embarrassed to the core, but also… something warm ignites in his chest.

He's aware that he's the center of attention in Heartslabyul, but he never imagined that you, of all people, would focus on him so much.

When he looks through the drawings, he realizes you've captured moments no one else would: his calm expression when he reads, the way he elegantly holds his teacup, the sparkle in his eyes when he gives an order with conviction.

"Why do you draw me so much?"

He asks with a mixture of disbelief and shyness, unable to look at you directly.

If you tell him that you simply like to draw what you consider beautiful, Riddle falls completely silent.

His ears turn red, and he presses his lips together in a failed attempt to hide his emotion.

From that day on, he begins to notice you more.

He wonders if you're observing him at that moment, if you're storing his gestures in your memory to later capture them on paper.

And when, on a quiet afternoon, he works up the courage to ask you if you can take a formal portrait of him, you realize there's more to his gaze than simple curiosity.

There's a desire to be seen by you, always.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona quickly notices your habit of drawing him.

At first, he pretends not to care, but in reality, every time he notices he's your recurring model, his ego inflates a little more.

When he finally glances at your sketches, his expression is unreadable. It's not just that you draw him a lot, it's the way you draw him.

His features look relaxed, even serene in some illustrations. Is that how you see him?

"Tch. Why do you keep staring at me so much?"

He asks with a crooked smile, eyeing you with interest.

If you dare tell him you like the way he looks, or that you enjoy capturing his essence, Leona leans dangerously close to you.

"If you love drawing me so much, you should do it in person." "You could sit next to me while I sleep. It saves me the trouble of you spying on me."

It's his way of telling you that he doesn't mind you watching him, that somehow, he enjoys being the center of your attention.

Since then, every time he sees you drawing, he throws out comments like

"Make sure you capture my best angle." "If you do a portrait of me, I want it in my room"

He doesn't say it outright, but he loves the fact that you only have eyes for him.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is a businessman. He knows that his image is crucial, that people look at him with admiration or distrust.

But when he sees your drawings, he's speechless. It's not the calculated image he always projects; it's him, at his most natural.

In your sketches, you captured him smiling contentedly after a successful deal, losing himself in thought while reading, taking off his glasses with a tired sigh.

"This… is quite unexpected"

If you confess that you simply enjoy drawing him because you like the way he looks, Azul covers his mouth with his hand to hide the trembling of his lips.

"Ah… I see. How interesting."

But he can't stop thinking about it. You look at him in a way no one else has.

One day, without warning, he approaches you and places a cup of tea beside you.

"If you're going to draw me… do it now. I want to see how you do it."

It's not a demand. It's his way of asking you to keep looking at him, to keep your gaze on him.

Kalim Al-Asim

When Kalim discovers you've been filling pages with his drawings, he nearly collapses with excitement.

He doesn't understand why you would want to hide it; to him, this is wonderful.

"Wait, wait! Does that mean you look at me a lot? That's adorable!"

Unlike the other housewardens, he doesn't try to hide his happiness. On the contrary, he shows it with all his might.

"This makes me so happy! Can I keep one of your drawings? I'll frame it in my room!"

When you explain that you didn't mean for him to know, Kalim just laughs and waves his hand.

"Why not?! If you like me enough to draw me like that, then you should know that I really love you too!"

It's the most natural and sincere confession in the world.

From that day on, every time he sees you with your notebook, he approaches you with a big smile.

"Are you going to draw me today too? Let me pose for you!"

For Kalim, the fact that you portray him so lovingly means only one thing: your feelings for him are as great as his feelings for you.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil immediately realizes that you've been drawing him. He's an expert at noticing glances, at reading subtle gestures… and your gaze on him is something that hasn't gone unnoticed.

One day, when he happens to look through your notebook, he stops. He didn't expect to find entire pages filled with his sketches.

Each stroke is rendered with stunning delicacy, as if each line seeks to precisely capture his essence.

"My, my… So you've been watching me with such devotion"

He says with a satisfied smile, but his eyes sparkle.

When he confronts you about it, he looks you straight in the eye.

"Tell me, darling, why are you so obsessed with me?"

If you tell him you admire him because he's beautiful, Vil smiles, pleased.

But if you tell him you draw him because you want to capture his true essence, beyond the perfect image he shows the world, his expression changes.

"Hmph… So that's what you see in me"

He whispers, touching his lips with his fingers.

For the first time in a long time, someone has looked beyond the public image of Vil Schoenheit.

Since that day, every time you draw, Vil approaches you naturally.

"If you want to portray my beauty, at least let me pose for you properly,"

He says elegantly, but deep down, he wants you to continue seeing only him.

Until one day, he leans into your ear and whispers,

"If you've already fallen so deeply for me, why don't you admit it? Show me that your obsession with me goes beyond the limits of your notebook…"

Idia Shroud

Idia never thought anyone would find him worthy of being drawn, much less someone like you.

When he accidentally discovers your notebook full of his sketches, he panics completely.

"T-THIS IS A SYSTEM ERROR, THIS CAN'T BE REAL!"

He flips through it with trembling hands and realizes you've drawn things he never thought anyone would notice.

His hair illuminated by the screen in the dark.

The way his fingers move precisely on the keyboard.

His calm expression when he's focused on a game.

"What is this? Why did you do it? Is this some cruel joke from Fate's RNG?"

If you tell him you just enjoy drawing him because you like him, his hair turns completely pink in a second.

"S-Stop saying things like that, my emotional HP is at 1!"

From that day on, every time he sees you drawing, he gets nervous, but also happy :>

Until one day, between mumbles, he whispers to you

"Hum, if you like watching me so much… then… does that mean you like me…?"

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is used to people looking at him with fear or respect… but never with the warmth reflected in your drawings.

When he finds your notebook by chance and sees so many of his sketches, he falls silent for a moment.

The shadows of the night envelop him, but you have captured him with light.

His serene expression when he gazes at the stars.

The melancholy in his eyes when he walks alone through campus.

The gentleness with which he touches a gargoyle.

"That's how you see me…"

He murmurs, a strange feeling of warmth in his chest.

When he mentions it to you, it's not with mockery or embarrassment, but with genuine curiosity.

"Tell me, little artist… why do you watch me so much?"

If you tell him you simply enjoy drawing him because you find him fascinating, Malleus smiles gently.

"So… if you enjoy watching me, would you like to spend more nights with me?"

From that day on, Malleus becomes your personal model, letting you draw him while he tells you stories of ancient times in Briar Valley.

And when, one day, on a stormy night, he asks you in a low voice:

"Is this the destiny you have chosen? To look only at me, in all my facets?"

You will know that Malleus Draconia has already fallen head over heels for you.

[tiramissyoucake]

Papa Viltrumite Mark pls? 🙇

Oooohh.... rubs my hands together mischievously. This is canon in the viltrumite Mark story but like further down the story after having a first son♡ high key fluff!!

"And what's the blue part?" Your son pointed to the vibrant blue of the illustration, the book would have told you that but humans know it as common knowledge, survivors of earth knew at least. "That's the ocean, sweetheart."

"Oshun?" Your son mimicked, looking at you with curious dark eyes. "It's pronounced 'O-shin', okay? It's a big body of water with all kinds of creatures and plants."

"Like a big lake?" Not quite, but he remembered the previous time you read to him, you smiled. "In a way, yes."

As your son peered over the worn book in your lap, his black head of hair blocking any clear sight of whatever parts of earth he was looking at, he pointed to an illustration of the earth's layers. "Is that earth's organs?"

You let out a small laugh, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Close, that's the earth's core."

"... mom? Can we go see earth?" He looked at you with so much hope, and it killed you to have to shoot it down. You didn't expect a child to remember that earth was nothing but a distant memory now.

You paused hearing the door open, a familiar exaggerative cape flowing in. "Dad!" You thanked God for children's low attention span as he kicked off the bed and sprinted to his father, Mark grinning and picking him up. "There's my boy."

You shut the book, setting it aside as you got up from your place. "You're back early..."

He hummed in response as he came close to you, kissing your cheek as your son gagged. "I couldn't stay away, I suppose."

"Dad, can we go to flying practice now?" The two of you perked up as your son excitedly held up a flying pose. "I think I'm getting the hang of it! I wanna do a loop-da-loop!" That brought out a laugh from the two of you, genuine from Mark, nervous from you.

"You'll be doing 'loop-da-loops' in your sleep soon enough but let's finish the basics before anything, okay?" Mark glanced at you, an expectant glint in his eye. "You'll come watch this time, won't you?"

"Oh- I don't wanna get in the way..." Your hesitance brought a pouty look to their faces, it was terrifying how similar they looked, Mark let your son down and before he could try to convince you, the boy was already on it.

"Mom, pleeeaaase? It's a lot of fun!! Dad can help you fly too!" He clung to your robes with the cutest puppy dog eyes, the dark hue reflected light so perfectly and made him look like an actual puppy. Your husband chuckled, setting a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm not opposed to that, I used to fly carrying your mother when she was pregnant with you, y'know?" Mark remembered the times he worried for you and resorted to carrying you for even the simplest tasks. "Did not need to know about the pregnant part!" Your son rolled his eyes, already inheriting his father's sass.

"Come on," Mark ushered. "It's like seeing him walk for the first time, you'll love it." Your son pouted, already floating out the door.

"No it's not! I'm a cool flyer! You'll see— ow!" You and your husband winced as your son bumped into the door too quickly in his flight, belting out an "I'm OK!" As he prepared for departure.

"... 9 months in my womb," you started, exasperated. "And he's nothing like me." You glared at Mark as he turned to you with a smile. "That's not true, he's got your resilience and curiosity." You rolled your eyes, he cupped your cheek to kiss you fondly.

"Maybe later, when he's all tuckered out... we can catch up?" His voice sounded too eager for it to be an innocent offer, his hands wrapping around you and pulling you closely. "I'll give you a preview during flying practice and—"

"Flying range isn't gonna wait forever, y'know?!" Your son interjected from somewhere in the hallway, causing Mark to sigh and part from you as you tried to calm down your flushed face. "He's got the ego of a Viltrumite Prince, that's for sure."

[verridaiya]

—Dream Blooms

"I've seen you there, before."

This fic was born from watching Sylus's Abyssal Blossom card and watching my heart break into a million pieces. It hurt, but then I realized you know who hasn't been hurt by it? Sylus.

Based on the prevailing theory/my headcannons that the Abyssal Blossom card was just a dream, brought on by MC's yearning for a normal, quiet life after the events of Beyond Cloudfall chapter 7.

Synopsis: Sylus invites himself over to take care of you while you're sick. You tell him about a pleasant dream of yours and proceed to break his heart. (Or, you dream of something you've dreamt before, and Sylus hears about it for the first time.)

Contains: Spoilers for Sylus's Beyond Cloudfall myth and the Abyssal Blossom card, Sylus x MC/reader, gender neutral MC/reader, angst/hurt (the comfort will come later), current timeline Sylus & MC

Word Count: 1.7k

start | Part 2 >

“I had a strange dream again.”

“Another one, sweetheart?”

Sylus’s voice is a soft murmur above you. You open your blurry eyes to a darkened room and a pleasantly warm body under you, wrapped around you. Your head feels as hazy as the moonlight filtering in from the cloudy night sky through the window. Half-awake and half asleep, you can still feel the sensations of your dream like phantom memories. You hum an affirmation, shaking off the vestiges of a medicine-induced sleepiness.

You’re not quite sure how you found yourself in this position: sprawled out on your couch, nestled between a warm blanket and an even warmer Sylus, breathing in the scent of him through your admittedly stuffy nose. The last thing you remember was you laying collapsed on your bed, trying to convince yourself that you’re not sick, you’re just tired from a long week at the Hunter’s Association, and to muster up the energy to find something to eat. And then, suddenly, there was Sylus, filling your doorway as he had filled every part of your life, your thoughts, and now your dreams.

You’ve been having more of those recently, ever since you absorbed the power of another Aether Core almost a year ago. Reality intertwining with illusions, the people in your life woven intricately into a tapestry of dreams. Fragments of memories, glimpses of things that could never be, or never was. Flashing scales underneath glistening waves. Zayne, in a flowing robe you’ve never seen on him before, but looked so right on him. A silent forest, illuminated by starlight. You would wake up yearning for something just out of reach, hands outstretched to capture the essence of something that slips, incorporeal, through your fingers.

This dream was gentle, though. And this time, your hands didn’t need to reach far to grasp the heart of your dreams.

“You were in it this time, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he says, sounding intrigued. “Do tell, kitten.”

You hear him place something on the coffee table—his phone, probably—his attention shifting solely to you. He carefully moves to his side, extricating himself from under you, a large hand propping his head up so he can fully face you.

The soft moonlight illuminates on his face, throwing it into relief. Silvery hair threaded with shadow, a pale complexion half shrouded in darkness, eyes like banked hearths warming you with its glow. Through the haze of your fever, you can almost envision what you saw in your dream. You lift a hand pat his soft hair, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, before trailing your fingers down the side of his face.

“You had something on your head.” No, not exactly on his head. You can’t quite remember. The you in the dream was certain that the something was more a part of him than anything else. You frown slightly. The more you strain to remember the details of it, the more awake you became, and the more it danced out of your grasp. “Something sharp and twisting. Rough. It was beautiful, though. You were beautiful.”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes you couldn’t decipher in your current state. There’s a spark of something foreign in his eyes.

“And?” he urges on, his deep voice uncharacteristically eager to your ears. He reaches to grab the hand that was holding his face, pressing it gently to him. His thumb rubs against the back of it in small soothing motions. “Can you tell me more about this dream of yours, kitten?”

You grasp at the cotton inside your head, stuffy from sleep and sickness. It takes so much effort, to tease apart the strands and find the wisps of fading dreams. It doesn’t help that you were also fighting off the drowsiness. You try, though, to give him what he’s asking for, as he always does for you.

“We were standing in a lovely field of flowers. They were breathtaking, Sylus. Such a vivid, dazzling red. There was a black spire in the distance, I think.” The spire had stood tucked away in the backdrop of rolling hills, but it was a small detail your mind was stuck on for some reason.

Thinking about that spire again, your mind can almost conjure a clear image of your dream. A lingering feeling of déjà vu washes over you, settling heavy on your chest. You’ve dreamt this before; you feel this with every bone in your body as an unshakeable fact. You’ve seen this obsidian spire before, this sprawling flower field. You know with startling certainty that you’ve had this exact dream before. But when you try to recall when, the feeling dissipates and leaves behind only a phantom sensation and an absence in your memory you cannot comprehend.

Sylus watches as you shake away the remnants of déjà vu. Your brow furrows. You’ve come to be accustomed to his intense stares through the months you’ve known him, but this one was… strange. It was as if he was trying to look deep into the fabric of your soul, even without the use of the Aether Core in his eye. His face remains a blank and indecipherable mask, leaving you with no indication of what he’s thinking of. You wanted to know what was going on in that unfathomable mind of his.

Longing. Trepidation. Yearning, a yearning that aches and makes you want to answer its call. You become distantly aware of emotions trickling into you that weren’t your own. You didn’t realize you were resonating with Sylus until he severed it, the hand holding yours shifting to catch your wrist instead. He leans down to brush his soft lips against it before letting your hand rest gently on your stomach.

“How about you recover from your fever first before you use your evol, sweetie.” He laughs softly, the red-gold brilliance of your evols intertwined fading from your hands.

“Oh, sorry.”

His presence in your mind and by your side was so natural that you weren’t even aware of when you began resonating with him. It seemed like your body responded to your desires even while your mind lagged behind. That brief glimpse into him enabled you to decipher that emotion in his eyes, though you struggle to make sense of it.

It was hope.

“Never apologize to me. What else do you remember?” he asks quietly, before you can puzzle over it further.

You close your eyes, willing the memories of the fleeing dream forward. The golden light of a setting sun. The crisp cold of mountainous air. The feeling of being the only two creatures in the world. And, inexplicably, the feeling of home.

“We were up in the air flying, somehow, before we landed in that blossoming valley. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I felt like I was in a whole other world. When I turned around to look at you, I saw you sitting there amongst the flowers. Red, like shining rubies. Red like-” you pause, the words at the tip of your tongue. A silhouette appears in your mind’s eye, before it sinks back into the void.

“Red, like rich wine,” you finish, though you know that’s not what you had wanted to say.

When he said nothing, you continued on. “I decorated you with those flowers. We were so carefree, unworried and relaxed. It was just us, no one else, in the valley that was our playground. I think I was teasing you, or maybe you were teasing me. You said something about seeing the other side of things, something taunting. We ended up play-fighting, rolling around and sending petals up in the air.”

You smile, the warmth of the dream enveloping you.

“It felt so real.” You wanted it to be real, this lovely lush field and this gorgeous, monstrous Sylus.

Monstrous?

Startled out of your reverie, you blink open your eyes. No, there is nothing monstrous about Sylus. Not anymore, not since those first few nights that you’ve met him so long ago. Shaking your head slightly to dispel the thought, you turn your head to glance at him, realizing he hasn’t spoken in a while.

His eyes are closed, brows furrowed and drawn tightly together. You’ve seen this expression on his face before, briefly, when he struggles to heal a particularly nasty wound. His body is so tense when you reach out to him, muscles taut and rigid beneath your fingers. You’re not quite sure he’s even breathing.

“Sylus?”

At your prompting, Sylus sucks in a breath through his teeth and exhales. He opens his eyes and your breath catches. Rich garnet eyes glow in the darkness, twin wine-dark seas drowning in sorrow, regret. Agony.

It is so at odds to the sweetness of your recounted dream that alarm shot through you, temporarily driving away the sleepiness. Seeing the pain in his eyes unsettled you; it didn’t belong on his face at all. Your sluggish brain tries to make sense of what you could have said to have garnered this reaction. Did you say something wrong? Your chest tightens at the thought of hurting him with your words, somehow. You begin to prop yourself up.

Sylus stops you with one gentle hand, pushing you to lay back down. He silently regards you, the silence between you stretching into something delicate.

There are so many things you want to say, to ask and to comfort. Sylus was never one to let his emotions show as openly as they are right now. You want to ask what was wrong, take back your silly little story if all it gave him was pain, even if you didn’t understand why.

But through the jumble of your fever, all that came out of your tired mouth was, “It was just a dream, Sylus.”

He quietly watches you for a few breaths longer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to gently caresses your cheek, holding you as if you were something as fragile as a memory. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against your forehead, soft as a butterfly’s wings, as the petals of a phantom flower.

“You’re right,” he says, with a grief you cannot fathom.

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It can be nothing more than a dream.”

[astrolynnworld]

cramps

pairing: matt x reader

summary: you’re on your period and matt does anything and everything to soothe the pain away

warnings: fluff! period cramps, romance, care, reassurance, wholesome, pet names (sweet/pretty girl)

word count: 717

i toss and turn as i feel my pre period cramps start to form

my period is not suppose to come for another 5 days but my cramps always come first, as a warning

i check raise my head to check the clock and see what time it is

“4:15 am” i see on the tv’s cable box

i lay my head back down and continue to shuffle around the bed to find a comfortable position for my cramps to relax in

“baby what’s wrong?” matt asks me with his raspy morning voice

“my period is coming soon, i feel the cramps start to overTAKE me” i say in soft annoyed tone

“is there anything i could do to help baby?” he concerns

“can you actually go get me my heating pad please?” i ask nicely

he hops out the bed and uses the flashlight off his phone to roam around the room and look for my heating pad

once he pulls it in comes back to bed, i hear him gasp

“what?” i jump in shock at his gasp

“your period.. came”

i sit up to see what he’s talking about and see a whole bloody mess stained into our bedsheets

“oh my god” i put my head in my hands out of annoyance and embarrassment

“it’s okay baby. i just need you to stand up for me okay?”

i get off the bed and start to feel the water works fall out

“don’t cry baby” matt says as he comes over to me and wraps his arms around me

“hey it’s not your fault baby” he tries to reassure

“you can’t help it.. you didn’t know, it’s completely fine. you don’t have to cry, sweet girl” he continues as he starts to play with my hair in the hug

i pull back and start to wipe my eyes as i start to sense that im being dramatic

“here baby, i need you to go wash up while i clean the bed”

i nod my head and make my way to the bathroom

“and hand me your clothes before you go in the shower please”

i do as i’m told then i head to the shower

i continue to wash up as i hear matt enter the bathroom

“hey pretty girl, everything still okay?” he asks

“yeah, i’m just finishing up” i sluggishly say

“okay baby. i changed our sheets and im washing the other ones now” he reassures

i stay silent out of acknowledgment but he doesn’t leave

“is there anything else you want princess?” he asks

“no thank you” i say while shaking my head as if he could see me

“alright..” he says before closing the door

i could tell he feels bad but i just really can’t be bothered rn. my stomach hurts, i embarrassed myself, im so annoyed, and i feel bad that he feels bad.. there’s just too much going on

i finish up my shower and put my towel on before heading back to the bedroom

when i get back i see matt had turned on the led lights, switched the tv to netflix, and had my tylenol bottle set up next to some water

“matt what is this?”

“nothing much. just me trying to distract you from your period” he giggles

“that’s not how it works sadly” i pout as i pop the tylenol in my mouth and swallow some water

“well, im gonna try” he comes in for a kiss

i start to get dressed, not forgetting the pad, as matt searches for a good movie to watch.

“do you want some to eat pretty?”

“is anything even open right now?” i genuinely ask

“only mcdonald’s..” he replies

“then yes please” i smile at him

“your usual?”

“yeah” i reply as i get in bed to snuggle next to him

“it’ll be here in 30 minutes” he says

“if we’re still up” i chuckle

“don’t worry. i’ll grab it for you so you can enjoy it when you wake up and not kill me for letting you fall asleep” he chuckles back

“thank you baby. i appreciate you so much, definitely a core memory” i turn over to face him

he smiles and places a kiss on my forehead, “i love you, sweet girl. don’t forget it”

——————————————————————-

taglist: @cutiepatootie36273 @secret-sturniolo @sturns-blog @sturniolo-2003 @mayaaatok @sturnswrites @mattsleftnipple03 @mattybswife @tropicasturn @princessbetsy123-blog <333

[bluejeanstrash]

shower thoughts.

tags: pussy drunk! seungcheol x reader, established relationship, oral (f receiving), face sitting, pet names (baby, princess) | wc: 1.3k

it had started as a fleeting memory in the shower — memories of an afternoon where seungcheol had eaten you out over and over until you were all out of orgasms to give him. somehow, he could taste you on his tongue now, and if he shut his eyes, he could feel you quiver in his palms.

as he grabs the shampoo, massaging the fragrant liquid into his scalp, his mind wanders to the noises you’d made when you came, and how you gushed with sticky arousal all over his mouth. he feels his cock twitch for attention, looking down to see he’s fully erect. and by the time seungcheol’s grabbing his towel, he’s a man possessed. he steps out of the bathroom to see you right where he’d left you — sitting on the bed, a laptop warming your lap. in quick, hurried strokes, he dries his hair, tossing the towel aside before walking over.

‘hey’ he speaks softly, grazing your cheek with the back of his fingers.

‘hey’ you smile, pulling out an earphone ‘how was your shower?’

‘good. what are you doing?’

‘nothing, just watching something’ he takes a peek, his gaze falling on how your t-shirt (his t-shirt) is riding up to reveal a hint of your panties. it’s your comfy pair.

‘give me a kiss’ he bends to take one, and you know from the moment your lips meet that this isn’t a goodnight kiss. it’s deep, borderline desperate, and it makes you wonder what’s gotten into him.

seungcheol grabs your laptop, shutting it gently, and keeps it aside before getting on top. at no point does he break the kiss, instead sliding his tongue into your mouth to deepen it.

it’s your neck that he tastes next, his pillowy lips latching onto the skin to suck softly. the scent of his shampoo lingers in the air as he makes his way down — to your collarbone, to the curve of your breast, your firm nipples, but he just can’t concentrate.

seungcheol can smell your arousal now, so overwhelmed by it that he abandons his task halfway to make his way down, ripping off your panties and diving straight into your heat. before you even register what he’s doing, his tongue is already on you. his first lick is quick, rushed even, the second less so, his tongue flat and slowly sliding up your core, and on the third, he parts your protruding lips with the tip of his tongue, exploring inside you.

‘you. taste. so. fucking. good’ his voice is thick as he grabs your thighs, pushing them back and apart for better access. you watch as he licks his lips impatiently, snaking his long tongue out, and begins to run it up and down your folds, slurping up the juices that are starting to seep out of you.

he eats it like he’s starving. like it’s his last meal on earth. he’s made this joke before, once when you were discussing what your death row meal would be. it was just a joke then, but with how he’s devouring you now, it may as well have been the truth. he’s insatiable, disappearing between your legs for minutes at a time without so much as coming up for a breath of air. somewhere in the middle, he inserts a finger, his middle, into your hole, moving in and out of you in twisting motions. 

‘oh my fucking god’ you gasp, gripping the sheets under you and pulling, the fabric bunching in tight creases ‘t-that feels amazing. fuck cheol, fuck’ seungcheol lives for your praises — the ones you put into words ‘you’re so good at eating pussy' 'your tongue feels incredible’ and the ones he sees in your body — your curling toes, arched back, those breathy pauses in your pretty little moans. 

they only spur him on and he’s desperate to make you feel even better. so he takes two fingers, creating an inverted ‘v’ and places them on your pussy to spread your lips apart. ‘jesus’ he groans at the sight of your engorged clit — puffy and poking out from its hood. with a soft kiss, he cushions the nub in between his pillowy lips, and starts sucking. he pulls on it gently, like he’s sipping from a straw. seungcheol doesn’t want to overwhelm you with the sensation, he wants only pleasure for his princess. his pretty, pretty princess.

‘cheollie’ you whine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours ‘you feel so good on my clit’ he smiles, keeping his pace. 

‘so so good’ you tangle your fingers in his damp hair, tugging sharply when he switches to feathery little flicks on your nub all of a sudden. ‘fu-hck’ your thighs clamp shut around his face, and without even realising it, you start rocking your hips up and down, grinding onto him. seungcheol groans in approval, letting you know that’s exactly what he wants from you. ‘that’s it, princess. use me to make yourself feel good’ he takes a precious breath to let you know.

so you use him, his tongue matching the fervour of your hips ‘don’t stop, please’ you beg, your moans rising and falling, and then, silence — the one that sets in when you’re almost at the edge. no, no, no. he doesn’t want it like this; he needs to be buried under you when you go over.  

‘sit on my face’ he hurries to switch positions, laying down, and in his rush, the band of his underwear gets pulled to expose his cock. pink and swollen, it pokes out of his boxers, lying flat against his toned stomach. seungcheol props his head up on a pillow as you take your seat, holding onto the headboard to distribute your weight so as not to smother him with it.

‘no’ he locks his thick arms around your thighs, ‘sit on me. ride my face. suffocate me. do anything you want. i don’t care. just use me and please, please princess, cum on me’ and pushes you down on him.

is this euphoria? he wonders, inhaling your scent, basking in your warmth, coating his tongue with your taste. you slide across the ridges of his face — his sharp nose, pointed tongue, his jutting chin — each bringing its own kind of pleasure. he licks you next, dragging his tongue from your taint to your clit, before pushing the tip of his tongue inside your hole. ‘seungcheol, fuck. just keep doing that, don’t stop’ your grab onto his hair with the same intensity he grips the soft flesh of your tummy, squeezing, as you ride him. 

‘i’m going to cum. fuck cheol, i’m going to cum all over your pretty face’ you whine as he slaps your ass, making you ride him even faster. he knows you’re there, right at the edge again, so he grabs your hips, steadying you in his strong arms. you clench and relax your cunt till the pressure reaches its crescendo and then, release.

release that shoots through you like bolts of electricity, lighting up every nerve in your brain and body as you spasm with pleasure. release that causes watery ejaculate to gush out of you, and onto seungcheol’s face which he laps up like it’s his reward. you hear him groan at your messy orgasm, and then suddenly, he feels something warm on his stomach. he realises that he’s cum, just a tiny bit, too, and he’s reminded once again of the effect you have on him.

you catch your breath, lifting yourself off him, but he pulls you right back down, not done with his licks until you stop quivering in his palms. finally, a minute later, you climb off, leaving seungcheol laying there with every inch of his face drenched in your fluids, and his stomach wet with his own. seungcheol breathes heavy, his chest heaving as he looks over at you. he licks his lips one last time and laughs ‘i think- think i might need another shower’ he sounds floaty, free, and fucking delighted — like a man finally satiated.

[khywren]

I Wanna Love You (But I don't Know How)

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!reader ❛ word count: 5.7k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: smut, pwp, piv sex, oral sex, blood drinking, anxious reader, soft(ish) Astarion

▸ summary: “I knew you'd understand,” Astarion says, lowering his head to press his lips against yours in a kiss that sets your entire body alight with desire. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever thought you'd be lucky enough to kiss him, yet here he is, slotting his mouth against yours and running his tongue across the seam of your lips as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. And for you, it's anything but that. For a moment you forget to breathe as time stands still, and only once his other hand lays on your hip to pull you closer do you realize that you haven't died and that this is actually happening.

OR: A reinterpretation of your first night with Astarion with an anxious/slightly inexperienced reader.

AO3 ┊ masterlist ┊ dividers

It's well after sundown when you slip as quietly from your tent as you can to meet Astarion in the forest. One last glance over your shoulder at the edge of camp reassures you that no one has spotted you leaving, an embarrassment you would like to avoid at all costs.

Astarion has never kept his flirtatious behavior a secret from the others (in fact, you'd wager he does it publicly on purpose with the specific intent of watching you squirm), but it's one thing to let him tease you and another thing entirely to have anyone discover your little nighttime tryst.

You're already nervous enough about this as it is, thank you very much.

When he'd asked you to join him earlier in the evening, your initial reaction had been… less than ideal. You try not to think about it, which consequently means that it's the only thing you can think about. Reverse psychology at its finest.

“What's your idea of ‘a little fun?’”

“By the hells.” An exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, as if he can't believe how oblivious you are. “Sex, my dear. A night of passion.” He leans close, smiles that wicked smile of his. You catch a glimpse of his fangs and curse the heat in your cheeks. “With you,” he adds after a moment, just in case you still didn't get the hint.

Your face still burns at the memory of his voice and the thrill of pleasure it had sent directly to your core. You had almost reconsidered even coming out here, humiliated by your own naivete, but here you were, nonetheless. Not because you didn't want to disappoint him, but because somewhere along the way you had gotten it in your mind that maybe he liked you as much as you liked him.

Wishful thinking, but who could blame you?

After all, what wasn't there to like? His biting, sarcastic humor. The effortless way he moved in battle, daggers as sharp as his fangs as he felled his enemies in a graceful yet deadly flourish of steel. That silver tongue of his, always primed with a clever remark or a quick jab. And that was all without even mentioning how unfairly handsome he was. Most elves were naturally gorgeous, you knew, but Astarion was an anomaly even by those standards.

When you stop to think about it, this girlish crush of yours is perhaps the most embarrassing thing of all. But there's something about Astarion that makes you feel like an innocent, blushing maiden all over again, and you'd be lying to yourself if you hadn't secretly been a little excited by his offer. Even the idea of casually spending time alone with him would have been enticing enough.

So now, here you stand in the middle of the forest, breathing deeply and trying to steady your rebellious heartbeat as you wait for him to find you. It's late summer and the nights have grown significantly colder since your journey began, and when Astarion doesn't appear after several agonizing minutes you consider that perhaps he's had second thoughts after all.

More than a little disappointed, you turn to leave, only to see a figure emerge from the trees at the other side of the clearing. Your eyes immediately fall upon his broad, bare chest, openly gawking at him in the moonlight. Astarion is just as stunning in the dark as he is in the sun – because of course he is. He moves with an almost feline grace towards you, lips pulled back in that familiar smirk of his that you've grown so fond of. 

“There you are,” he purrs. His words are husky, sensual, flowing like liquid silver inside every recess of your mind to banish any thoughts that aren't about him – what few there were even remaining. Your mouth is dry when you swallow around the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky exhale. Astarion is standing close enough now that you can catch his scent on the breeze, citrus and something earthy that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I’ve been waiting,” he says with an arch of his brow. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

You don't anticipate the fit of laughter that bubbles in your throat and spills out your lips, but it immediately breaks the tension that had settled between you.

“Oh, gods,” you manage, grinning despite the way Astarion glowers at you. He clicks his tongue in disapproval and folds his arms over his chest.

“Excuse me? What's so funny?”

The way he scrunches his nose makes him look like a disgruntled housecat, something you find both hilarious and endearing. But you keep that little fact to yourself because you value your life, and instead cock your head to the side in consideration.

“First of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “that's an awful line, even for you. And secondly –” you hold up another finger “– the first time we met, you held a dagger to my neck and threatened to slit my throat. Or was that part of the foreplay too?”

A turbulent wave of emotions flicker across Astarion's face before it settles on a petulant sort of pout.

“Yes, well, difficult as it may seem to believe, I made a mistake,” Astarion huffs, pointedly looking away as you've plainly caught him off guard. But he can feel you staring, and he quickly clears his throat and schools his expression with impressive ease. “A mistake that you will find I am here to rectify.”

The silence gives you time to think – time to poke more holes in his story. Before you have the opportunity, Astarion steps swiftly forward again, and you shiver as the ends of his long, slender fingers slide beneath your chin and tip your face towards his. That seductive look is back, no traces of his earlier irritation visible beneath the heated gaze he fixes you with.

“So, darling, what do you say?”

Your heart is in your throat, hammering wildly at just the barest touch of his skin. Despite his shameless flirting, Astarion rarely touches you, and each time he does sends a jolt of excitement through you. This time is no different, amplified tenfold by the circumstances of your present situation. You wonder how he does it, disarming you with nothing more than a simple touch.

Astarion continues to watch you, head tipped to the side as though he's a wolf sizing up a hare, deciding which part of you he'd like to sink his teeth into first.

Gods, yes. Of course. I've only been thinking about this for an embarrassingly long time.

“Okay,” you say instead. You try to match his stare, but his eyes leave you feeling as bare as the day you were born, and you can't help but cast your gaze elsewhere; worse still, you're certain that he can read every one of your most embarrassing thoughts, even without the aid of the tadpoles wriggling around in either of your brains.

“I knew you'd understand,” Astarion says, lowering his head to press his lips against yours in a kiss that sets your entire body alight with desire. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever thought you'd be lucky enough to kiss him, yet here he is, slotting his mouth against yours and running his tongue across the seam of your lips as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. And for you, it's anything but that. For a moment you forget to breathe as time stands still, and only once his other hand lays on your hip to pull you closer do you realize that you haven't died and that this is actually happening.

The feeling of his lips on yours is so much more intimate compared to the way they felt on your throat when you've let him feed on you. They're soft and pliant – far moreso than you would have guessed – especially when the rest of him is all hard muscle and sharp edges. When he's this close, his scent ensnares you completely, and you can detect the subtle notes of brandy beneath the bergamot and rosemary. 

You sag against his chest and let him do as he pleases, opening your mouth to let his tongue sweep inside and taste you. He groans softly when you bite down playfully on his tongue, eyes gleaming when he pulls away and smirks in approval. 

“Careful, darling,” he growls, close enough to your ear that you can feel the vibration of his voice. “I bite too, and I can guarantee I won't be nearly as gentle.”

It's no secret that Astarion knows how much you delight in letting him feed on you. He knew even before you clumsily admitted it to him the morning after the first time it happened, and by the third time you had invited him into your tent after dark there was an unspoken understanding that it was immensely pleasurable for both of you.

There's nothing quite like it, is there? The sharp sting of his fangs that melts away into the purest form of bliss as he nibbles your skin and sweeps his tongue greedily over the puncture marks between long, slow pulls of your blood. Or the way he murmurs little noises of approval against your throat – “that’s it, darling; so good for me…”

Even now, Astarion fully expects the effect his threat has on you: the way you tremble in his arms and how you press your mouth into a thin line to stifle a moan. He kisses you more insistently this time, one hand tangled in your hair as the hand on your hip guides you back until you're flush against a tree and pinned beneath him.

“Is that what you want, my sweet? Shall I drink your blood while I fuck you?” Astarion peppers a series of deceptively light kisses across your jaw, teasing you with the razor sharp points of his fangs as he seeks out your pulse point. You know he can feel it just beneath your skin, the blood surging through your veins with each erratic beat of your heart telling him what you lack the words to say. You envision his proposal in vivid detail and moan softly in response.

“Who knew you harbored such dirty little thoughts.”

Astarion's tongue traces an idle path over the bite marks on your neck and your breath catches in your throat as your hands scrabble for purchase on the rough bark behind you.

“I have so many thoughts about you, Astarion,” you confess. “That's the problem.”

You feel Astarion exhale across your skin, breath fanning out to tease the nape of your neck. His mouth splits into a wide, wolfish smile.

“Is that so? Why don't you tell me all about them, hmm?”

But where would you even begin? Nevermind that your mind is far too addled to form more than a single, barley-coherent thought.

“I could tell you, but I’d rather show you.”

“Oh?” This seems to pique his interest, though he never stops mouthing at your neck. He must be hungry, and you make a mental note to address that concern as soon as possible.

 “What did you have in mind, darling?”

In response, you fumble for his waist, earning a noise of surprise as you spin him around and sink to your knees in the grass. This, he clearly does not expect, if the way he raises his eyebrows is any indication.

You glance confidently up at him, at last feeling like you have the upper hand. You don't necessarily mind him being in control, but neither will you deny yourself the fun of surprising him.

“Isn't it obvious?” You allow yourself a small smirk of your own.

Your hands trace the edge of his waistband, making your intentions clear. For once he is silent, as if uncertain how to proceed. But that's fine – you're more than happy to take the lead for now.

“Most of the men I've been with expected me to do this,” you explain, waiting for his consent before you commit to undressing him further. “It's been a while, but I promise I know what I'm doing.” You huff a laugh and stick out your tongue. “Well. Mostly.”

You can only hope that your eagerness makes up for your lack of recent experience. And that's half the battle anyway, isn't it? Astarion looks at you for what feels like an eternity, and for a moment you see a flicker of hesitation in his expression before his eyes narrow and anchor on your face. 

“You don't have to,” he finally says, his hand lowering to brush an errant lock of your hair out of your eyes. He sounds almost sad, as though the only reason you had made the suggestion in the first place was out of obligation.

“Yeah, I know,” you say, smiling cheerfully up at him. “But I want to do this for you. And besides, wasn't it your idea for us to ‘indulge’ ?” you ask, poorly mimicking the teasing lilt of his voice. “That means you too.”

Astarion's expression softens as he smiles almost reluctantly back at you. A weight seems to lift from his shoulders and he visibly relaxes.

“All right, then. If you insist, darling.”

“Good, because I do.”

You shift slightly between his legs, steeling yourself for the task at hand. Your nerves flare yet again, the idea of disappointing him suddenly far more relevant than it had been before. Astarion's skin is cool and smooth beneath your fingers as you slip them beneath his waistband, tugging his pants down over the ample curve of his backside and down the length of his toned thighs. The only remaining barrier between you and the rest of him is his underwear, which is currently doing very little to obscure the very noticeable bulge beneath the fabric. With one last glance upwards, you suck in a breath and give them a swift tug, busying yourself with pulling his clothes down to his ankles so he can kick them aside.

The next time you lift your head, there's nothing left to the imagination. Astarion's cock greets you at eye level, half-hard and already glistening with a slick bead of precome. It's as pretty as the rest of him, the tip flushed a soft shade of petal pink that has you dying to know how much more enticing it would look after he's fed on you. You file that thought away for next time – provided there even is a next time. Best to not let yourself get distracted.

That, it turns out, is easier said than done. You reach out almost shyly and wrap your hand around his cock, impressed by the feel of him. He's smooth and heavy in your palm, and you give him a few experimental jerks, transfixed by the way you can feel his cock begin to swell in your hand. 

Astarion makes a quiet noise and your eyes follow the path of his body along his stomach and the hard lines of his chest, surprised to find his own half-lidded and a single fang digging into his bottom lip. You maintain eye contact as you continue pumping him, coaxing more soft sounds of pleasure from his throat.

“Ahh…” Your name slips from his lips, almost as an afterthought, and you instinctively squeeze your thighs together to give yourself some relief from the way his voice has your body begging for his touch. You've never heard him quite like this before, and the effect it has on you is nothing if not potent. His nostrils flare and you know instantly he is aware of your arousal.

Astarion leans back against the tree, one hand anchored in your hair as the other one digs into the bark, desperately trying to help him maintain his balance. The length of him is slick with his arousal, and you want nothing more than to taste him. Emboldened, you guide your free hand between his legs to cup his balls, lifting his cock so you can press the flat of your tongue against the underside at the base. The sensation makes his cock jump and his hips buck forward, eager for the feel of your mouth upon him. He tastes of clean linen and something distinctly Astarion, salty-sweet and decadent.

“Does it feel good?” you mumble against him, tracing your tongue along the vein that snakes around the length of his cock as you work your way towards the sensitive tip. When you wrap your lips around him and swirl your tongue over his slit, Astarion lets out a whine and tugs sharply on your hair, clearly fighting the urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.

“Y-es, love,” he says hoarsely, “that's – ohh… ”

You repeat the action, as eager to hear him again as he is to let you pleasure him.

“Don't stop.”

As if you had anything else in mind.

You tighten your lips around him and hollow your cheeks as you take his cock deeper into your mouth, hand twisting around the base of him in little corkscrew motions. Eyes locked on his face, you moan against his hard length, bobbing your head in time with the hand that strokes his shaft. You feel more than pride when Astarion's mouth falls open and he is unable to do anything but voice his pleasure, each moan and mewl he makes making your clit throb with need. 

Precome and saliva coat your chin as you take him deeper still, bracing your hand on his thigh to help you guide his cock to the back of your throat. The sensation is almost too much for you to handle, and you take a moment to breathe through your nose and remember to pace yourself. With his pupils blown, Astarion's eyes look more black than red, slamming shut as you swallow him to the base, press your nose against his stomach, and moan. He struggles to watch you work his cock with your lips and tongue, hips jerking every now and then and shoving his cock even further down your throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes, voice tight and raspy. “If you keep this up, darling, I'm going to –” Another groan as your tongue slides across his shaft in a way that makes his thighs tremble. His body is as taut as a bowstring, his release imminent.

Speaking now would only be an inconvenience. You take advantage of the tadpoles to reach into his mind, allowing him to feel the building pressure between your thighs as his cock hits the back of your throat again and your cunt clenches in response.

“It's okay,” you assure him. “I want it. I want you to come. It feels good for me too.”

Astarion needs no further encouragement. With both hands buried in your hair, his hips stutter and he bucks into your mouth, spilling himself down your throat with a groan that tapers into a satisfied whimper. He releases you and falls back against the tree, chest heaving. His cock twitches in the open air, dripping and still half-hard.

“See?” you pant, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I told you I knew what I was doing.”

“Cheeky little pup.” He speaks with that same sensual lilt in his voice that you're so familiar with, but this time it seems almost lighter, less restrained.

Astarion advances on only slightly unsteady feet, pushing you back onto your elbows as he takes his turn settling between your legs. Your eyes are wide as he hovers over your face, lips only inches from yours.

Kiss me. Kiss me, gods dammit.

A low chuckle rumbles in his throat, and you realize that you hadn't bothered to sever your tadpole connection before beaming your thoughts directly into his mind.

“Needy little thing, aren't you? Although I suppose it can't be helped.” Astarion kisses you again, nipping insistently at your bottom lip to encourage you to open your mouth. All the while, his hands slip beneath your sleep shirt, tracing a searing path across your body. But instead of grasping your breasts as you expect him to, he breaks the kiss to pull the garment over your head, one hand on your sternum as he presses you into the grass. The cool air isn't the only thing that makes you tremble.

Astarion mimics your actions from before, fingers dipping beneath your pants as a playful grin slides across his elegant features. “Has anyone ever done this for you, sweet girl?”

He licks his lips and you part your legs further. “N-no,” you admit with some reluctance.

Astarion clicks his tongue. “No? You poor thing. Allow me to fix that mistake as well.”

He doesn't need to ask you to lift your hips for him. Your body moves as if on instinct, letting him undress you with one swift motion. You lay shyly beneath him in the grass, gazing up at him with round, curious eyes as he looks at you in quiet contemplation.

“Do you want to know the reason I asked you to come all the way out here?” he asks, hands on your knees as his eyes rake down your body. Your skin burns beneath his lustful gaze, wetness pooling between your slick folds as he bares your center to him.

“Why?”

“Because this way,” Astarion purrs, sinking between your legs, “I don't have to hold back.” The last thing you see before your vision goes white are the rich, ruby reds of his eyes, narrowed to slits as he descends upon you. The first flick of his tongue against your clit is enough to make you cry out into the night, and when Astarion does it again and wraps his lips around the sensitive pearl and gently sucks you truly think that this might be the death of you.

His tongue glides between your folds to gather your arousal; the taste of it makes him groan, and you dig your fingers into the grass, trying not to thrash beneath him. Pleasure erupts like wildfire over every nerve ending as he works you with his tongue, wasting no time discovering the parts of you that make you whimper for him the most.

“Is it too much?”

It takes you a moment to realize he's asked the question, and you find the strength to peer down at him through hazy, unfocused eyes as he glances up at you.

“Yes… no… I don't…” You stop before you embarrass yourself any further and take another breath. “Maybe a little,” you admit, more coherently. “But it feels good. I want you to keep going.”

“My apologies.” He runs his tongue over his fangs and your poor heart skips a beat. “I'm finding it very difficult to resist devouring you whole. You, darling, are quite the delectable little treat.”

Another unexpected giggle bursts forth from your lips and you fall back against the soft ground as Astarion sits up and looks at you in confusion.

“You don't have to do that, you know,” you manage between laughs, finally propping yourself up on an elbow and tossing him an affectionate look.

“Do what?” he asks.

“Try to flatter me with those terrible pickup lines. I already like you; I wouldn't be out here if I didn't.”

Astarion's brows furrow and he seems to stare at you as if you are some unsolvable riddle, the expression on his face something you have no name for. It's as forlorn as it is relieved, amused as it is exasperated. 

He's still studying you when you sit up, and maybe it's just your imagination that tells you he leans into your touch when you cup his face and pull him in for a quick kiss, but that's all right with you. Astarion's eyes are curious and bright, an ocean of precious rubies shining beneath the light of the moon. The sight of it is enough to make your heart ache.

“All right,” he agrees, shrugging. “No more terrible pickup lines.

“Good,” you say. “I like you better that way. Just… just you.”

The grass is already wet with dew when you lay back again, letting your hands fall from Astarion's face. He almost seems to mourn the loss, but after a moment he slides gracefully down the length of your body and gently parts your legs once more.

This time he is far more mindful about what he's doing, tongue gently lapping at your center before dragging slowly across your opening. You moan and writhe beneath him as before, rolling your hips to press your clit against his nose. You don't expect how cold his fingers feel against your opening as he presses one gently inside you, waiting for you to encourage him for more before he coaxes you open.

“Astarion…”

He returns your whine with a groan, teasing your clit with his tongue as he guides a second finger inside you. Your arousal coats his fingers as they dip and curl inside your cunt, stoking the roaring fire inside your body. You're helpless to do anything but be swept up in the current, safe in the knowledge that Astarion will guide you exactly where you need to be.

Your orgasm doesn't slowly build as much as it roars to life, and you have only a moment to tell him before you're coming hard on his fingers and his tongue, trembling like a leaf in the wind as unrivaled ecstasy suffuses through you. Your throat constricts around the syllables of his name, the pace of his fingers and tongue gradually slowing as your euphoria finally fades.

The next time you open your eyes, Astarion is hovering over you, his face still coated in the evidence of your arousal. You pull him in for another kiss to taste yourself on his tongue, sighing contentedly into his mouth. His lips are no less insistent than before, but they lack the same urgency. But you certainly don't mind, letting him kiss you until you're left breathless and panting.

“Are you hungry, Astarion?” you ask, pressing his face against your neck. “You can feed on me, if you'd like.”

Astarion's fangs are an immediate presence against your skin before you even finish making your offer, his hands pinning your arms above your head just before he punctures your flesh. What little blood escapes his lips is quickly gathered on his tongue, and each long, steady pull of your blood is taken in time with the beating of your heart. His fangs dig deep, but you can feel his restraint behind the hands that pin your arms and his legs as they bracket your waist.

As he drinks, you gradually become aware of his cock against your thigh, heavy and full and so enticingly warm as your blood courses through his body. Astarion's hips shift as though he's seeking relief, and you oblige him by untangling one of your arms from his grasp and reaching for his cock, wrapping your fingers around his hardening length. He grunts in appreciation and snaps his hips forward at an increasingly desperate pace.

“Darling…”

Astarion's voice is slurred against your neck, made clumsy by his own arousal and the heady taste of your blood. 

“I think…” A pause, another few thrusts, another low groan. “I think I'd like to be inside you now.”

You instinctively squeeze his cock, nodding your ascent.

“I think I'd like that too.”

Crimson coats his lips when Astarion tears himself from your neck, a thin trail of your blood running down the side of his mouth. His tongue flicks out to gather it and he sighs heavily with satisfaction as he sits back on his calves. You feel the blunt head of his cock glide through your slick folds as he coats himself in your arousal, eyes trained reverently on your face. He notes each subtle change in your expression as he enters you, moving with more patience than either of you have to spare.

Your cunt pulses around his cock as Astarion thrusts himself deeper, the thin line between pleasure and pain blurring with every inch he buries inside you. When at last he bottoms out, you watch each other for a moment, listening to the sound of one another's panting breaths. 

Astarion's hands move to your legs, tucking beneath your knees as he lifts them up and presses them against your chest. 

“I'm going to move now, darling. Is that all right?”

You nod, breathing a shaky “yes” as you will yourself to relax. The first thrust has you throwing back your head with a strangled sob, and Astarion must find it encouraging because he wastes no time rocking into you again shortly after, and then again with even more force. He sets a steady pace, slamming his hips into the backs of your thighs with each punishing thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in the grass as you turn your head to the side, letting the sensation of him on top of you and inside you flood your senses.

Astarion digs his nails into your skin and growls your name. It sounds almost possessive, sharpened to a razor thin point as it cuts through the fog inside your mind. With monumental effort you open your eyes and search for his face somewhere on your periphery, mouth falling slack as a series of undignified whimpers and moans tumble from your lips.

“Eyes on me,” he commands in a tone that leaves no room for rebuttal. Your gaze finally catches sight of him and Astarion leans close, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. “That's it. Let me see you, sweet girl…”

“Astarion…”

Your mind is empty of all other thoughts but those of him, as it should be. How could it be otherwise, when you are full of him in every sense of the word? The feel of him inside you, the touch of his skin on yours. The scent of him that addles your senses and the sound of his voice that mirrors your own pleasure? Beyond it – beyond him – nothing else matters.

“Again,” he says through gritted teeth, and you follow the path of his gaze towards the arch of your neck and the blood you feel trickling down over your shoulder. You slip your legs around his waist, inviting him closer.

“Astarion.”

His mouth is on you again, eager for another taste of you. You acquiesce gladly, craning your neck to allow him better access.

“Again.”

This time when you cry his name, his fangs pierce your neck again, and his thrusts grow even more frantic as he drives his cock inside your quivering cunt. You tighten your legs and cling to him as closely as you can, each snap of his hips intense enough to lift you off the ground. Your tadpoles link, and Astarion's thoughts pour into your mind as liberally as you share yours with him; for a few, blissful moments the sensations you feel are neither entirely your own nor entirely his. 

The pressure inside you builds to a roaring crescendo, crashing over you like waves breaking on the shore as you fall to pieces beneath him with a shout that leaves your throat raw. Astarion holds you down as he pistons into you, the tight, inviting warmth of your body pulling him over the edge when he finds his own release. 

The absence of his weight as he extracts himself from the tangle of your limbs is a loss you mourn with a whine of protest, and you roll over onto your stomach with an ache in your thighs you know you'll be feeling in the morning. After a moment, you hear the rustling of clothes behind you and find Astarion half dressed already, tugging his pants on with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“I guess it was a bit silly of me to think this could last forever,” you say with a sigh, offering him a sad smile. Astarion approaches you and extends his hand to help you to your feet, and you try not to feel too embarrassed as you wobble like a newborn fawn.

“Not if you and that feeble mortal constitution of yours don't want to catch cold,” he says flatly.

“Hey!” You scowl at him in mock offense. “Fair enough, I guess. Rude, but fair.”

Astarion waits for you to pull your clothes back on before turning back the way you came, and you follow him in silence as you make your way to camp. The moonlight filtering through the trees sometimes catches on his form and you note what appears to be a series of intricate marks carved into his back, a sight that leaves you both curious and filled with a sense of dread.

“Astarion?” you ask, “What's that on your back?”

A bitter laugh leaves him and he turns to offer you an equally humorless smile, his eyes distant in a way that makes your heart twist in your chest.

“A story for another time, darling,” he says, and there's a finality to his words that broker no more room for discussion. You nod in understanding, stepping over the threshold of the woods that circle the clearing where you and the others set up camp only a few hours prior.

Returning alone to your own tent is not something you're looking forward to, but as you turn to look at Astarion he's already pulled his tent flap aside, sparing you one final glance as if he's anticipated the question you no longer have the courage to ask. You feel your lips tug into a small smile, one that Astarion only mirrors after a moment of hesitation.

“Good night, Astarion. Um… thanks. For tonight. I enjoyed spending time with you.”

“It was my pleasure, darling. Sleep well.”

As you watch him slip inside his tent, you have the sudden feeling that whatever happened between the two of you tonight has only further complicated your already curious relationship with Astarion. But like so many other things about the man, it is only one more of the many mysteries surrounding him that you hope one day to unravel. You curl up in your bedroll, unable to keep your mind on anything else as you drift off, eager for whatever awaits you tomorrow.

[hoernypie]

Red Riding Hood

tags: non-con at the beginning (sorry for very big bad Wolf!), public, virgin y/n, hybrid wolf, creamp!e, naive y/n

Once upon a time, there was a charming girl who was loved by everyone. Many boys found themselves captivated by your beauty. Wherever you went, there was always a boy trying to talk to you. One evening, you asked your mother why boys looked at you in that way. Your mother explained that they often had inappropriate thoughts. The next day, mother gifted you a red velvet cloak to cover herself from the lustful gazes, and from that moment on, everyone in the village began to call you Red Riding Hood.

After some time, you asked your mother if you could go to visit your grandmother as it’s been ages since you’ve seen her last time. Your mother agreed, packing a bottle of wine and an apple pie into the basket for your sick grandma. Before going out you kissed her cheek and put on the cloak. 

“Remember, go starting to grandma’s house,” your mother shouted to you “Stay on the path and avoid strangers! The woods aren’t safe, especially now with that feisty Wolf Sukuna living there!” You stopped in your tracks, turning to her and waving with the most precious smile “Don’t worry mommy, I’ll be careful,” and with that, you started your little journey into the forest. Not long after getting into the woods, you’ve noticed a beautiful patch of flowers between trees. You picked a few, watching the petals for a while before walking further into the woods and noticing other flowers covering the ground cover. Excitedly you skipped towards them while humming a tune thinking about how your grandma will feel merry after seeing a bouquet. 

Suddenly, the Wolf appeared behind you, looking at how your dress rode up as you bent to pick the flowers, showing the white panties. “What are you doing here all alone, little girl?” the Wolf asked friendly. “I’m on my way to see my sick granny, she lives through the forest, near the river,” you said putting flowers into the basket. “And what are you hiding in the basket?” he asked leaning down, his big figure making you feel uneasy. “The wine and pie for granny, my mommy packed them for me,” you said quietly, slowly taking a step back. “Is the peach also for a granny?” he said with a devil smile, showing off his fangs while thinking about the thin fabric covering your core. You looked at him tilting your head and frowning, “No, what peach? For granny, there’s only a wine and a pie. Well… And now also flowers for a bouquet.” He chuckled, licking his lips feeling glad that his next victim was so naive, now he was sure that she needed to taste your sweetness but firstly he had to eat the grandma for dinner before he got his dessert. He walked with you for a while before showing you another patch of flowers in the distance, “See those pretty flowers? I bet you could gather them to make a huge bouquet for your sick granny, she would be delighted.” You thought for a while that you still had plenty of time and this wasn’t a bad idea. “Thank you mister, Wolf~,” you said smiling sweetly before starting to pick flowers, Sukuna watching you for a while feeling the tightness of his pants at the sight of your underwear and virgin pussy. And as you started picking one flower the more beautiful one was some steps away, seeing you getting further into the forest Sukuna decided to leave, rushing through the woods into your grandma’s house.

When the Wolf arrived at the grandma’s house he knocked lightly at the door. “Who’s there?” the old lady asked. “Oh, it’s me - Red Riding Hood, open granny! I have a wine and pie for you,” answered Wolf. “Oh! Welcome dear, come in, come in! I’m too sick to open the door so please come inside,” said grandma thinking that her granddaughter knocked on the door. The wolf pressed the handle and rushing inside, stopped seeing the old lady. At first, he wanted to swallow her whole but when he noticed her weak state, the memory of your pretty face talking about her haunted his mind. He grabbed the old lady and locked her in the basement, tying her down before finally tying her mouth. Then he put on her nightgown and cap, lay down in bed, and licked his lips in anticipation of the pleasures with the sweet girl, that awaited him.

Little Red Riding Hood gathered flowers and ran to her grandmother. The door was open, which surprised you. “Good morning, granny!” you called while entering inside. You went into the bedroom and slowly made your way to the bed. “Granny, why do you have such big ears?” you asked surprised. “Oooh, so I could hear you better, my dear,” answered Wolf. “But why are your eyes so big?” you asked stepping closer. “To better see your pretty face, my dear,” said Wolf. “But granny! What is it poking through the covers?” you asked leaning down. “The dick to fuck you with!” and the wolf, pushing aside the covers, jumped out of the bed, rushing at you.

You tried to run away, tripping and falling down, the bad Wolf grabbing your hips and ripping your pure white panties off you before pushing his face between your plushy thighs. With the growing pleasure from his lip and tongue devouring you, the tears stopped coming out of your eyes and cries turned into moans. You felt how his big hands gripped your thighs, making your legs spread further apart as he pushed his tongue inside, lapping the sweet juices that escaped your core. “Please, Mr. Wolf, don’t hurt me,” you mewled out when he pulled away, getting up from the floor and lifting you. You hit his back, screaming to let you go but all he did was a chuckle. A gasp left your mouth when he threw you onto the mattress in the bedroom, quickly getting on the bed and unbuckling his pants. You looked at his big muscular body with a shock mixed with arousal after having a taste of your first ‘adult’ experience. He smirked seeing your expression while your hands were on their own pulling up your skirt, your legs spreading as your mind got hazy, “M-Mr. Wolf…”, you said looking at him getting between your thighs, licking your leaking pussy. When the soft gasp left your mouth he felt his arousal pressing against the fabric of his pants. He wrapped hands around your thighs, pulling you close to his face before burying it between your folds, greedily lapping at your juices as your hands tugged his hair when you tried to pull him away feeling overwhelmed when he gently sucked and bit your clit, making your thighs shake.

After what felt like an eternity for you he pulled his mouth away with a “pop” sound as he finished abusing your clit. He hummed pleased seeing the drool in the corner of your mouth as you panted heavily, your eyes half closed. He slid down his pants and underwear revealing his weeping tip to you, you squeaked when he gripped your hips, pulling you down as he teased your entrance with it. “Such pretty lips,” he said squeezing your cheeks with his hand before leaving a bruising kiss on your lips, pushing his tongue between your lips, letting you taste yourself. You mewled, patting his shoulders before he pulled away, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. “Now, relax as much as you can, Sweetie,” he said looking into your eyes. Your heart hammered as you gripped his big upper arms, not knowing what he wanted to do before you felt pain as he pushed deep inside you, groaning at your tightness and pain when you dug your nails deep into his skin. The tears rolled off your cheeks as you sobbed loudly at the feeling. “A big girl and she cries like that?” he asked mockingly, reaching a hand to your clit, gently rubbing it as he waited for your body to adjust to his size. “See? It wasn’t that bad,” he said leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead before slowly moving his hips, you nodded while sniffing feeling the pain combined with pleasure.

“You’re a brave girl, huh?” he chuckled amused, grabbing your wrists and holding them tightly while quickening his pace and looking at the mess you’ve started to become. “Yes, Mr. Wolf,” you moaned out to his surprise, he looked at how you tried to move your hands to grab at least his finger. He released your wrists, intertwining his fingers with yours as he pinned your hands to the mattress, leaning down and kissing you less harshly. 

You looked at him before sloppily returning his kisses as you squeezed his hands as muscles in your body started tensing up, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as his moves started getting quicker, “Feels weird…” you mewled out. “God, Sunshine, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned out before pushing his hips for the last time before emptying himself in you, as your body squirmed under his, feeling your pussy squeeze him tightly, milking him out.

He fell onto you, crushing your body with his weight as you both breathed heavily. After a couple of minutes, you started dozing off, for some reason feeling weirdly safe and comfortable in his arms, but before you could completely fall asleep you noticed his ears getting perked before he got up to listen to the sounds outside. You sat up seeing how he quickly put on his pants and pulled you up, fixing your hair and clothes. “Uhm… What’s happening?” you asked when he wiped your thighs from his cum that slowly leaked out of you. He didn’t even bother looking at you before rushing to the basement, untying your grandma before getting back up, gently cupping your cheeks and kissing you goodbye, before rushing out. You wanted to go after him and ask what happened before you noticed the woodsman walking inside the house through the open door, hearing your grandmother's screams as you stood still shocked after the whole situation.

A couple of days later you walked through the woods to take care of your grandma, again bringing her food prepared by your mother. “Oh, no~” you said loudly as you got deep into the woods, “I hope there isn’t any bad Mr. Wolf who’d attack me.~”

You looked around and huffed disappointed, craving him from the moment he gave you a taste of being ‘adult’. As you walked further you looked at the patch of flowers, and you thought about how your granny loved them. You put the basket on the ground and got on all fours, making sure that your skirt rode high up showing the bare ass underneath as you waited, and started feeling impatient. You signed annoyed reaching for a flower before you noticed the big shadow on the ground, “I hope it’s a nice stranger,” you giggled before getting up and turning to face him. “Isn’t it the sweet girl that takes care of her sick granny?” he asked with a smirk as his eyes roamed at every inch of your body before returning to your face, “And what are you doing here, sweetie?” he asked, gently patting your head. “Collecting flowers for the granny,” you said while looking confused about how he sat under the tree, sliding how pants off, and freeing his dick. “Mr. Wolf-” you started before he stopped you, “Go ahead and collect them, I’ll just watch you.” You nodded before getting back to picking flowers, peeking at him when you heard weird slapping sounds. When you’ve noticed as he stroked himself the slick started wetting your thighs. After a while you threw the flowers onto the ground and walked over to him, looking at him and mumbling something under your nose. “I can’t hear you, speak louder,” he said amused, slowing down his moves. You looked down at the ground before asking quietly, “Could you make me feel good like the last time…?”, your whole body burning feeling ashamed asking him that. You looked at his tail wagging right and ears perking as you walked closer. “Come on my lap, you can do that, right?” You nodded getting onto him, taking a deep breath as you lowered your hips, gripping his shoulders as his tail quickly wagged. 

You bit your bottom lip feeling how he stretched you out, his arms wrapping around you as he helped you move before you got it. You hid your face in the crook of his neck while slowly going up and down, feeling how his pulsing vein grazed against your walls. “Feels good,” you moaned out before wetting his neck with your tears. As he embraced you, you began moving a bit faster, the sweet moans echoing through the glade.

With each bounce on his lap, you grew bolder in your movements, your hips rolling in a steady rhythm as you lost yourself in the pleasure. Sukuna’s strong arms supported you, his fingers gently digging into the soft flesh of your waist as he guided your pace. Your breath grew ragged, and your movements more urgent as the tension built, the sweet release looming closer with every bounce. The sound of his thick cock sliding in and out of you filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts and soft gasps. 

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he watched you take charge, your innocence and being inexperienced only made the experience more exciting for him. The sight of your breasts bouncing and the way your pussy clenched around his cock, was more than he could handle. With a groan, he grabbed your hips, pulling you down hard as he thrust upwards. Your eyes widened in surprise and delight, and you threw your head back, letting out a whine. The sensation of his cock filling you completely, his pubes tickling against your clit, pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm rushed through your veins, making your body convulse in his tight embrace. He continued to pound into you, his strokes becoming more feral and intense, as he chased his own climax. 

You held on tightly, your nails digging into his shoulders as your muscles milked him, eager for every drop of his hot pearly cum. The forest around you seemed to freeze, the only sounds being your muffled cries and the slapping of flesh against flesh. And then, with one final, powerful thrust, Sukuna came into you, his cock pulsing with the force of his release. You collapsed onto his chest, panting and trembling, your heart racing. His arms tightened around you, and for a brief moment, you felt truly cared for, as if he were your protector and lover all rolled into one. But as the aftershocks of pleasure subsided, reality began to seep back in, and you both knew that your secret meeting would have to remain hidden from the prying eyes of the village.

Sukuna planted a gentle kiss on the top of your head, his tail wrapping around you protectively. "You're such a good girl," he murmured into your ear, his voice thick with satisfaction. You couldn't help but feel your heart race at the praise, feeling a strange mix of happiness and guilt for enjoying something so forbidden. As you slid off his lap, he tucked himself back into his pants with a sigh. "You should get back to your grandma before she starts to worry," he reminded you, his tone slightly more serious. You nodded, quickly collecting the scattered flowers and placing them back into the basket. He watched you with a knowing smile, his eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to contradict the taboo nature of what had just occurred. "I'll be here waiting for you next time, little Sunshine," he whispered, patting your bottom as you straightened up. With a final lingering glance, you gathered your composure and made your way to the grandma's house, the scent of sex and the sticky warmth between your legs serving as a silent testament to your secret. As you approached the clearing, the sounds of the woods grew distant, and the reality of your life with your grandmother came back into focus. But deep down, you knew you would be back, unable to resist the allure of Mr. Wolf's embrace and the thrilling world of passion he had introduced you to.

[sgrplumditz]

You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)

A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.

Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.

His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.

The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.

"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.

As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.

He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.

"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.

There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.

So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.

But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.

The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.

She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.

She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.

Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.

She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.

With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.

He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.

“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.

[chiliconsharls]

So, I caved in and I did it in detail! A few days ago I posted a meme of the Charlos lore iceberg but then I had some people asking about some bits and I thought, oh, might as well make the whole masterpost. LOW AND BEHOLD, it is here; an extensive compilation of the rich Charlos lore

Below the cut because boy is this bitch long

DISCLAIMER: before we begin I must note a few things. First, this isn't a whole detailed timeline of Charles&Carlos' relationship and every single bit of their moments bc I would've genuinely gone insane, so, like with the iceberg meme, this is merely key details of their relationship that make ME particularly unwell. This is also almost 2K words long. Lastly, not all points are linked as some of them are rather quite simple to find with an easy Google search

They have the same name in different languages. (In fact, Carlos has explained that his ‘chilli’ nickname comes from the fact that a lot of his friends went from calling him ‘charlie’ to calling him ‘chilli’). Their name is of Germanic origin and it means “free man”. Charles is the French/English version of it, Carlos is the Spanish one.

Beginnings & Pre-Ferrari era (2017-2020)

“I knew you before you knew me” – Charles said he had heard about Carlos when he was coming up in racing while Carlos was competing in KF3 (2008-2009)

They were already hanging out by 2017, when Charles was still only a Ferrari academy driver – as told by a reddit user who works in the Yas Marina circuit and shared the story with a tiny Renault helmet signed by Carlos

“I said this guy’s not beating me, no fucking way” – Carlos in Drive to Survive S01E02 after his battle with Charles in the Azerbaijan GP. (Sidenote: The first episode of DTS dedicated to Charles –S01E08– also showcases a battle with Carlos briefly)

Marina Bay Sands pool story – in several instances now, they both have shared the story of their first meeting/first ‘real’ conversation back in 2018, during the race week of the Singapore GP. They both said they saw each other at the pool of Marina Bay Sands hotel (it’s still unclear whether they were inside the pool or just by), and they had dinner where they talked for a while.

Carlos’ said that that first conversation made him think Charles was a good guy but also that when he first talked to him, he seemed innocent

2018 Autosport Awards interview  – Charles is giving an interview about how his exciting new season is coming and Carlos pops in and tugs him by the ear, making as if to give him a little smooch

“Carlos! My future teammate!”

Ferrari era (paper & cotton years – 2021-2022)

Youngest Ferrari duo

Lord Perceval nickname is born – despite claims that Charles disliked the nickname Carlos gave him (as requested by Charles himself that Carlos ‘from now on, call me Lord Perceval”), Charles went on to have it as his personal tag on his cap –made for driver use only. He’s also used ‘Perceval’ as his aviator call sign when he did some training with the French Air Force.

Jenga challenge video

Fiorano music challenge – this is their core happy memory, as they have said a few times themselves

“I started to listen to some jazz in the mornings” “Jazz?”

Chess – chess is one core activity they do. They would play a lot, even online. Charles would even stop talking to Carlos when he lost sometimes, and Carlos has stated that he only plays it with Charles.

Charles’ said Carlos plays better at night, and he plays better in the morning to evening. “The flights together are probably the ones I enjoy the most (...) we will put our phones away and play chess. That’s where we have the most interesting and deep conversations and I have really, really good memories of that”

“You haven’t showered together?” “We’re not that close yet” // “I find you spontaneously funny” “Carlos doesn’t do anything but he makes me laugh” – Sky Sports game interview in 2021

Charles going to watch Carlos on the podium in Monaco – Carlos talked later in 2024 about how much it meant for him to see Charles there

“Mate! You are looking at me!”

Red porn couch debriefs videos – not much to say, tbh, Ferrari sat them in a sus red couch to shoot the debrief post-race videos. Some of them are quite something

“Come on, Charles, don’t do this!” – Carlos’ radio in Saudi Arabia ‘21

Jean Alesi calling them ‘la bella coppia’ (“the beautiful couple”) // also, Jean Alesi doing photoshop manips when Charlos fought in 2024

Carlos: “good looking couple” “we make a good couple” “most beautiful pair”

Carlos showing off his strength to Charles in that Ferrari party thing

Everything that was written in the GQ article (by Tom Lamont) as well as the photoshoot

Calling each other beautiful

Charles sharing a sandwich with Carlos

Them calling each other ‘sweetie’, ‘honey’, ‘baby’, ‘love’ // ‘like this or more, darling?’ // ‘thank you, my love’  

Bahrain 1-2

Carlos checking in on Charles before his post-race interview in Monza 22’ despite being told he had to go some other place

Ferrari era (leather & forced divorce – 2023-2024)

Football watching together (despite the fact that Charles’ said he doesn’t really follow football) // “Yes, Carlos will be really happy” – Charles after someone asked him if he watched El Clasico and Real Madrid had won that time

Paddle playing too

“Can I choose the position he needs to be in? Take off your clothes, Carlos!”

The gingerbread cookies video

“He loves me” – the whole shell challenges in Zandvoort actually

Talked about racing Le Mans

Charles being jealous of Lando

“Together or nothing. We come as a package”

Charles hiding in Carlos’ closet to surprise him for his birthday

Monza 23’ battle

The Curious Case of Charlos and Pierre Gasly’s PR accusations – During a fan forum in the Singapore GP ’23 weekend, Carlos joked that he would’ve picked Charles to be stuck with in a deserted island, saying: “You see, I would’ve picked Charles, Esteban, I like my teammate” (because Esteban had been asked the same question just before and upon being told he wasn’t allowed to pick his own teammate, Esteban jokingly went: “I wasn’t going to pick Pierre anyway”).

Pierre and Esteban Ocon had a rocky relationship as teammates in Alpine, on top of having an already complicated past together since they’ve known each other since they were kids. Nearing the end of 2023 season, after Pierre (and Esteban) had been criticized for their poor relationship, Pierre talked about friendships in the paddock in an interview and he name-dropped Carlos and Charles, claiming that people “shouldn’t think that they’re all friends”. Despite Pierre having also named Mercedes and Red Bull pairs, people seemed to only latch onto Charlos

It’s important to note that Pierre Gasly is the driver Charles is famously closest to in the whole grid (as they’ve been friends since childhood) but also, he was teammates with Carlos in Toro Rosso for two races in 2017, and is fairly one of the drivers that are close-ish to Carlos as well. In fact, Pierre sometimes hangs with both of them, too.

Puma couch picture we never got the context of

Fred: “are you still single?” Carlos: *looks at Charles* “anyway, changing subject…” – DTS S06E08 // (Sidenote: theres some joking that Charles’ current girlfriend, Alexandra Saint Mleux, and Carlos’ current girlfriend, Rebecca Donaldson, seem to have a slight resemblance to Carlos and Charles, respectively (and the girls also seem to get along quite well))

New York event

Charles timing Carlos’ laps

“I want to give this to you, so you remember me for the rest of your life. For our post teammate era” // “You’re going to leave it there” “No, I won’t" – Carlos gifting him a chili plushie.

“Tell Charles to come close to me and we celebrate this one together” – Australia 24’

China Sprint 24’ incident: “He’s fighting me harder than the rest” // “A kiss on the mouth, everything okay”

Spanish reporter calling them roommates

Insane sim racing videos (almost all of them have some degree of craziness but specially Saudi Arabia, Austria, Dutch, Monza, COTA, Brazil)

Both of them thinking about their morning wood live on camera… then Carlos knowing Charles’ a sleepy guy

Miami merch promo video being cut just right as Carlos seems to go for Charles’ face

“We go from hating each other to loving each other real quick” – actually, that whole motorsport interview for Miami was awesome

Spain 24' inchident - Charles: “He was trying to do something extraordinary because it’s his home race and important moment in his career” // Carlos: “It’s too many times he complains about something”

“Charles and I have one or two ding-dongs a year”

“We look at each other and we smiled like we’re used to” // “We look at each other in the eyes and we understand immediately”

Gladiator II premiere

“Complicate me. Complicate my life, like you always do”

Charles letting Carlos drive his Ferrari in Monaco and show Carlos Sr

“I wanna smash you”

Carlos grabbing Charles’ balls in Mexico 24’

“You should try the chilli crab … I am the chilli crab”

“Try in Spanish” – Charles post Vegas 24’

“Carlos is not my girlfriend, I’m not gonna miss him like crazy”

“I would listen to you for hours”

Abu Dhabi 24’ radio: “it hurts a lot… I really wish we could’ve won it also for the last season with Carlos”

Charles goodbye to Carlos: “Now, I can call him a friend outside of racing” // Charles calling him 'chilli' in IG post (Carlos' said his personal friends call him chilli)

“I wouldn’t be the driver I am today if he hadn’t been my teammate”

“I was happy with Charles. I would’ve continued with Leclerc for life”

“Amazing four years fighting for Ferrari” — Carlos on IG

Fred: “I have never in all my time of racing seen two teammates so intensely preoccupied with what the other one is doing”

Charles being in Fiorano for Carlos’ last farewell with his father driving a Formula 1

Timeless traditions/Uncategorized info

Starting almost all videos with: “Helloooo” “hola”

“Are you ready?” “I’m always ready, Carlos”

Zero concept of personal space

Charles often looks smaller than Carlos despite actually being taller

Hand size difference

Yapper & Yapper

Carlos’ love language is physical violence

Carlos –a self-proclaimed butt guy— often taps Charles’ butt

They had 9 podiums and three 1-2s

They had 90 races together and never crashed

They’re each other’s longest teammates as of date

[rabbitwitch2poems]

Story turned out a little different than I planned at the end but it all works out ^^ part 5 to the story based off a prompt by @ready-to-read7

        Danny was vibrating and he was pretty sure even the neighbors could hear the purr/hum coming from his core. Today was the day! He gets to meet all of moms cool hero friends! He only really learned the bare bones of this universe before choosing it, the heros, villains, side kicks, all those people fighting to help others; it's why Danny chose this universe in the first place! But he only really knew about five heros, there was the creepy hero of darkness Batman, (he was kinda worried about that man, but then again he had a fear of the dark before he became a halfa so that's probably why)

        

          He also knew about the zooming man called flash, the green lanterns, his momma, and last of all the one that is the most cause of his humming, the invincible superman! Danny always admired how someone from the stars grew up on earth and chose to be it's protector! Danny spent hours in his room at CWs haunt in the ghost realm watching the man in the red cape saving people, helping those who were suicidal, stopping disasters from harming others, stopping villains, and yet always having time for his family. Danny had to admit he was his second favorite after his mother that he admired the most. Also helps that superman was an alien from another planet, he had so many questions! 

          A gentle knock on his bedroom door followed by his mother entering with her classic smile, "you ready for breakfast my little one?" She asked chuckling at the child nodding quickly and zooming past her to get to the kitchen. Momma always made the best breakfast, she usually tried to keep him on a healthy diet with the occasional snack, but breakfasts were where she shined. Arranged in batches were small plates of fruit, yogurt, freshly baked bread, and glasses of milk and juice all encircling a plate with bread and some kind of food on top. 

       "That is called strapatsada, my own mother would make it for me in the mornings" she smiled after speaking as if remembering a good memory, "now eat up, once breakfast is finished we get prepared for our trip." 

     Young Danny loved the food, scarfing it down like someone who was lost out to sea for months before running to his bedroom to get dressed. By the time he exited his room his mother was also all dressed and ready. The drive didn't take long seeing as their home was just a couple blocks away from the main entrance, though Danny was confused as his mother drove into a small alleyway with a broken down looking telephone box (talk about ancient tech!) 

  "Okay my little warrior here is where we get to mommy's friends," his mother exclaimed causing Danny to be more confused. 

"Momma dats a wox," the child responded causing his mother to chuckle. 

"Oh my little one it's merely a disguise for the transporter that will take us up there," she said pointing at the sky.

It took Danny a second but once he realized what momma ment his eyes went wide as he started hopping in the car seat and trying to unlatch the buckles keeping him there causing his mother to laugh as she got out of the car and quickly moved to get Danny out of his seat.

     Upon a closer look the supposed transport was just a phone box... Almost completely glass with a metal frame and a phone with no receiver. Upon entering the small place momma entered a long string of numbers and a voice emanated from around them, "unknown person inhabiting transport pad, please leave and try again," his mother sighed deeply and looked down at Danny with a small smile then back up at the phone with a flat emotionless face.

"Wonder Woman 003 override, allow me and my child in immediately or I will turn you into a box of scrap," there was a small pause after his mother spoke, as if the voice was considering their options before responding, "authorized,  Wonder Woman 003, child alpha 9 001"

    A sudden white light engulfed them causing Danny to cling to his mom before suddenly they were walking through a large portal looking thing (a pang of fear echoed from deep in Danny's core though he can't remember why this object would cause such a feeling). Before him was a sight to behold, a large round table in the center of a giant room with glass walls showing the stars, moon, and earth (if Danny could die again he would have thought he died and went to the Elysian fields or his own personal haunt in the ghost zone). Technology of all kinds where everywhere and people were walking to and from places; most of them heros! 

     It seems that they interrupted a meeting in progress, Batman and Superman were standing up pointing at a large hologram floating from the center of the large table. Along the table sat The Flash, two green lanterns, two people dressed up to what Daniel thought looked like owls, a man who looked like he was wearing a fish with a trident and a long beard (the guy was buff and Danny wondered for a small second if wearing fish made you superhuman) and lastly a woman wearing a cool looking leather jacket. Of the group of superheroes only the flash wasn't currently gawking at Danny and his mother. This was rectified by the woman who looked like an owl grabbing Flash's head and forcefully turning it towards them. 

   "Ow.... Hey! I was asking bats a....why is wonder woman holding a baby!" Flash's jaw dropped to the table as superman flew up towards the unexpected visitors. 

   "Diana....uh... Care to explain?" Supes asked as Batman walked up behind him responding to Clark's question with one of his own, "you have not been gone long enough for that to happen naturally, so I assume you found the child?"

   Danny scrunched in on himself pushing his face into his mother's neck, he didn't like the man with pointy ears. His momma stood straight holding him close and gently parting his back as she glares at everyone. "I found him on the mission with Clark, he is my ward and my child, end of story" 

      Superman looked confused floating down to the floor and walking closer to the two, "..Diana... Are you saying that child was the orb you took?" Danny turned to look at the man in blue and red with awe waving slightly at him and giggled with joy when he smiled and waved back. His momma nodded as she watched the interaction, "yes the orb turned into Danny, he was most likely made by the gods and the fates deemed me worthy to be his mother" 

     You could hear a pin drop from the lack of noise that followed his mother saying those words, Superman looked worried, batman huffed, flash was too busy eating five granola bars at once to notice and the lady in the black leather jacket got up and walked over to them. Danny could feel the emotions this woman felt, fear, curiosity, worry, and one he couldn't place a word for. 

     "Are you shure that is a good idea wonder woman? A random baby appearing from a crystal could be something different than gods," the lady in the jacket said; his mother's grip tightened on Danny a little as she nodded, "gods or not he is my child now Canary, he has displayed gifts like many of us so I brought him here to introduce him to everyone." Canary, the one momma was talking to, nodded as Batman walked up closer and reached out for Danny causing the child to flinch.

    

      The reaction from his mother was almost instant, faster than most eyes could detect (except flash but he was currently coughing from food going down the wrong tube) Batman wrist was in his mother's hands and held far away from Danny. Everyone in the room was on their feet in an instant as his mother glared at the man in black, "you scare my child again Batman and I will break it," these words were followed by his mother flinging the man's arm away like a snake as Danny was carried over to the table and sat in his mothers lap. 

        It took a couple of minutes for everyone to calm back down, Batman's face was as still as a statue as Superman checked his wrists for any fractures as the woman dressed as a hawk and Canary asked his mother questions. Most were basics, how did she find him (he appeared from the crystal she found while taking stolen items from Lex,) how old is he, (his mother said from what she can tell he is now almost a year old), which Danny nodded smiling at the two across from them as they smiled back. 

      When Superman and Batman finally sat back down at the table the important questions were asked. 

      "What are these gifts you were speaking of Diana?" The man in blue and red asked giving a gentle smile to Danny (Danny could feel worry and kindness coming from the man which made him relax a little) 

      "So far he can fly a small amount and turn invisible but he says there are more that may appear," his mother responded to the question as everyone's eyes turned to Danny at her response

         "The little tyke can talk already?" The flash had finally finished eating and focused on danny who focused on him in turn. He almost got dizzy from the amount of emotions that were flying by from that man in all red. Danny didn't know how but something about the energy within those emotions felt...familiar, like a ghost he once met though he can't remember who. His mother looked down at him and patted his back, "like I said, he has many gifts from the gods, would you like to say hello little warrior?" 

       Danny was hesitant at first, everyone was staring at him, but like his momma has said before to him, a warrior never gives in to fear and works hard to fight it back, so with a deep breath Danny nodded and said, "h...hewwo... I am Danny, you all weer weird clofing like momma," this sentence to Danny's joy caused everyone around the table to start chuckling, even the scary Batman gave a small smile amusement circling his dark emotionless aura. 

       Superman smiled in return and nodded, "okay well we have a new topic of discusses which can be continued after the update, since you missed most of it wonder woman me and batman will start from the beginning." This caused a bunch of groans which made Danny giggle, adults and their need for time, Danny sat back against his mother settling in as the conversation switched to be about some bad men doing bad things, Danny was tired from all the emotional energy and events that slowly he drifted off to sleep, happy that he got to be in this world of heros, he couldn't wait till he was old enough to help momma fight bad guys. 

                                       *********************

       Danny yawned loudly as he stretched in his mother's lap his eyes slowly opening and adjusting to the bright light of the florescent lighting of the watchtower. Rubbing his eyes he looked around him, most of the heros were gone except for superman, batman, and the cool lady in the black jacket, Canary was what momma called her, must be a hero name the boy thought. 

       Superman was staring at him, batman seemed to be looking at his wrist for some reason, and Canary was smiling as she moved to a crouch besides him and momma. "Hi Danny, your mom updated us on everything, you sound like a smart kid from what Diana has told me, we all decided that since you came from a gem.." 

"Core" Danny interrupted her causing her to pause, "core?" She asked and Danny nodded, "issa core as far as the clockman told me." Confusion, from everyone, even momma, Danny scrunched in on himself, did he say too much? Are they going to take him away from momma? Danny sure hoped not or else he would cry. Momma seemed to sense this and kissed the top of his head, "no one will take you from me little one, you can tell us more when Constantine gets here." 

    Oh no... Danny recognized that name and not just from his time viewing this world through a screen. "What in the bloody hell did you do!" Danny sighed internally as he turned to meet the eyes of the British man who just arrived through the big round portals. Constantine stopped in his tracks staring back at Danny with wide eyes, terror/fear/ oh gods we are doomed/ and other splashes of emotions crossed Constantine's face before he coughed and pulled out a piece of paper drawing something on it. 

     "Constantine what are you..." Batman began his question but was quieted by a finger held up from the man in the trenchcoat who looked like he just came out of a sewer (Danny wouldn't be surprised and neither would Batman) after he finished drawing on the paper he walked briskly over to Danny and kneeld before holding the paper out to him, "I don't know what these fools did to get you here but seeing as I'm not a f....bloody fool,(Constantine substituted what he wanted to say after a glare from Danny's mother) here is a summoning sygil so your highness can contact me at any time," he stood up and pointed at Batman,

        "no blood tests till after he is a teenager," he said before looking at his momma, "best of luck princess, you got the whole world in your hands, mabey even the entire multiverse." With that he pulled out a lighter and carved a hole out of fire into the air before walking through. Danny looked around at everyone staring at him and sighed, he was hoping he wouldn't have to explain this so soon but now he had no real choice. He was about to say something when his mother's hand went over his mouth. 

       Pausing he looked up at his mother who, showing how cool she was, was calm even with this new information and was looking around at the three other heros, "we shall talk about this in a more private area, Bruce, how do you feel about showing my son your home?" Danny blinked up at momma, if she thought the scary man was the safer place he wouldn't say anything against it...just... Did this man live in a cave? Danny had a bad feeling he lived in a cave.