#We Draw a Magic Circle

[tv-moments]

Beef

Season 1, “We Draw a Magic Circle”

Director: Jake Schreier

DoP: Larkin Seiple

[sesamenom]

quick 15min doodle, bc I'm working on (currently only hypothetically tho :c) Something based on that post about "would mae survive castle dracula"

inspired by this snippet of a conversation w @nelyoslegalteam

[thelovers-2001]

Hello Skrawl aka middle school me's crush (that I didn't know was a crush at that time). So nice to see you again in the year of 2024 ← ( I am developing feelings for him again )

[mars-ipan]

had an absurd amt of fun doodling cal last night so take the other dnd character i've been playing this semester (her campaign just ended </3). her name is pellet (full title sir pellet the rambunctious) she is a spores druid and she is Stinky (i love her dearly)

[obeymeluv]

Being Clever with the Fae (Malleus x Reader, Lilia x Reader, Sebek x Reader)

Pre-established relationship implied. You tell the Diasomnia boys that your world planned for ways to outsmart faes. You pull your trick but you're not sure who won.

Warning: Pepaw Bat's gets a little spicy so be careful.

I'm taking liberties with Sebek's part because he's a neutral for me and I don't know that much about him.

You and Malleus had talked about fae folklore more than once. He was delighted to know fae had something of a presence in your world but was wildly horrified at the misinformation. Out of everything you told him, only a handful were correct:

Don't give your name unless you trust that fae because names have power

Iron will hurt some fae but not all. Iron is more harmful to nocturnal fae than day fae.

Being rude to fae may be the end of you altogether

Partaking in fae food means you open yourself up for a wager

Yes, fae like to play tricks. Expect them and be wary.

Stepping into a fairy circle will summon the fairy who made it.

Just about everything else was wrong. That's why he and Lilia were teaching you what not to do if you came upon the various fae in Twisted Wonderland. Thus far you'd only managed to memorize what herbs kept smaller creatures at bay and how to curry the favor of the various faeries that helped out at NRC. Your current assignment from Lilia was filling out a map of different fae territories and classifying them as 'safe' for humans or 'unsafe'. Each territory had a tree they would love to craft from or loathed to be near and you were expected to know that, too.

Strange stuff but apparently it was important.

They liked to break up the bigger chunks of information with smaller, digestible things like etiquette so it felt more manageable. Malleus was currently instructing you on how to part from a fae in a formal setting as to not incur their wrath.

"Again, Child of Man," he's bowed down until eye level with you, one hand holding yours.

"Light shake, eye contact, nod, slide foot back, squeeze the hand, turn." he's parroting your motions until you turn away. He, instead, draws himself to his full height and observes as you pretend to walk away.

"Excellent," he nods. "But ensure you don't slouch while leaving. It will make some feel as if you don't hold them in high regard."

"That's so--" you roll your eyes. He simply lifts his brow as if to question your mild frustration. You puff your cheeks out and he laughs.

"We can be a bit particular." he agrees.

"To a fault." you smirk.

"Oh?" he's intrigued, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah," you smile. "In my world the fae were known for being literal with their word so you always had to keep something clever in reserve."

"Do tell," Malleus' grin goes from practiced and polite to genuine. A hint of fang shows.

"It's kind of specific though. Depends on that old joke about fae wanting to come for the first born."

"That's not really a joke," Malleus crossed his arms. You can't tell if he's offended or not. "We like the younglings. We're always looking to bring more around to the fae ways. In fact, fae make fantastic guardians because--"

He had a lot to say and you felt the beginnings of a lecture creep up. In some way you felt like you were in trouble. To save yourself, you said, "Just pretend. Then I can show you what we do."

Malleus pretended to make a deal with you. It looked a bit intimidating and official with the magic pulsing in the rickety floorboards of Ramshackle. They were groaning. Shadows danced along his face as pieces of his signature thorned briar wove around your joined hands. "In exchange for the repairs around Ramshackle, you will give your firstborn to me."

You pull him in, his green eyes searching curiously for any hint of what's to come. "Sure! How soon do you want to start working on that? Or do you want to wait a little while?"

All at once the floorboards fell quite. The hum of magic died with a rattle that broke the briar into tiny pieces. A few fell at your feet, the others shooting off into various directions.

Oh. Did he not understand? You thought it was clever! Maybe he was too sheltered to--

His laugh is kind of a snort at first but then you hear it honest and lilting. The hand holding yours slides up your arm and snakes around your waist. You're lifted until your hands find purchase on his shoulders and your legs wrap around whatever they reach. Your heart goes from your chest to your throat when his gloved hands slide down to your thighs as he walks you to your sad couch.

"Now is fine," he's careful to hold his weight above you, silky hair spilling around you and tickling your cheeks. His eyes are bright and boyish, a deadly compliment to his kissable lips.

Well, that technically backfired but if this were a real situation you'd make out just fine because he'd chosen to make out with you instead of curse you.

------ ----- ----- ----

Lilia wanted to focus on physical protection as much as written knowledge when it came to handling fae. You still couldn't wrap your head around the idea of him being a general but he had old photos, a weird mask, and a massive magearm to prove it. You'd picked up quite a few self-defense moves and practiced them regularly. He wanted them to be second nature to you. So here you are, in a designated training room within Diasomnia.

"You just want to cuddle me," you teased, in the familiar position of him being behind you with an arm around your neck. One elbow was planted in your shoulder, the other clasping it at the forearm to make a little prison for you. He gave a reprimanding squeeze, ever mindful of the pressure since you were fully human. Lilia gave a huffy laugh, trying to relax his smile into something more stern as he wove his fingers into your hair. You flinched at the tug and slapped his arm lightly.

"Focus," he couldn't deny himself the simple pleasure of whispering into your ear. If you asked him, it was to throw you off balance and distract you. "What could you do now?"

You thought about just leaning back into him, pressing against him, but you knew that wasn't what he meant. Capitalizing on this moment of closeness, the stillness, to huck him over your shoulder and into the floor crossed your mind but then you'd have to give him a back rub later.

Not that you minded that, either.

"We could make a deal," you leaned back to whisper in his ear even though it hurt your neck a little. You could tell by the way his bangs fluttered that he'd jerked in surprise. Was that a little pink on his cheeks? Before you could nip his pointed ear, Lilia leaned you forward and took his elbow off your shoulder, opting to hold you in a bearhug instead.

"Acceptable in this situation," he managed, clearing his throat when his voice cracked a little. "Although this exercise is supposed to be combat related."

"So make the terms. I can't negotiate a deal that doesn't exist." you try to break his hold, shimmying your shoulders and sliding your feet to see if you could slip away. He lifts you off the ground with an ease that doesn't seem possible with his short, lithe body. You hang there against him as he thinks.

"Your life for that of your firstborn."

A bit dark, wasn't it? Kind of rude, really, you thought. But, your train of thought continued to ramble, he did find Silver somewhere so it didn't seem too unusual that he'd want a kid. Either that, or he was messing with you because you told him that whisking away kids was something fae were known for in your world.

"You can't have a firstborn with your clothes on." you joke.

"That's not true because I found Silver with my--" Lilia drops you when he realizes what you've said. You weren't expecting him to drop you and didn't catch yourself, hissing as you land on your knees. Before you can start complaining or poke fun at him for being an old man he's locked the door. You're bowled over as he rushes over to you, pinning you on your back as he peppers kisses along your throat and collarbone.

He's several bites in and you’re halfway undressed when you think you hear a knock at the door. Lilia begrudgingly peels himself off of you, licking blood from the corner of his lips.

"Father? Are we not going to train today?"

"M'fraid not, my boy," Lilia turns his attention back to you, opening your legs to slip between them. "But you'll be getting a new sparring partner in about nine months."

His red eyes are glowing. They're absolutely beguiling.

"Do they come with therapy?” he hears Silver mumble as you look up at him through your lashes.

He pounces on you again. It was a brilliant, filthy tactic. He's not exactly mad about it. You've earned favor with one fae, at least, and he will protect you from the others.

----- ----- --- ---

Sebek is a hard worker. He's a product of his environment; he has Baur's straightforwardness, Lilia's dedicated regimens, and his mother's impressive teeth and jaw strength. Lilia thought the best way for you to learn some of the self-defense tactics was to fight someone your size.

Sort of. Sebek seemed to be the better choice since Silver was too sleepy to be a constant threat. And, in Lilia's mind, you should have an easier time fighting a half-fae versus a full fae.

You never noticed how muscular Sebek was until you were under him. He's got corded arms and you can see the muscles of his shoulders flexing under the Diasomnia shirt he chose for the exercise.

You've never seen him in casual clothes! He actually looks very nice. Not as buff as Jack but sturdy in his own way; his chest is broader than you imagined. A solid man.

More than capable of being Malleus' body guard.

You groan as he knocks the air out of you a little. He's on top of you, pressed into your back. He's got one foot braced against the floor, leaning his weight into you. Your arms are pinned at your side courtesy of the one he's snaked underneath you.

When did he flip you over? Asshole, you scrunch your nose in frustration as your cheeks begin to burn. He's an asshole that means well and won't go easy on you, though. He makes sure you learn. You try to inch out from beneath him but he angles his shoulder down and grabs his own wrist, dragging you back to him.

"You're supposed to do something in this situation!" he grumps, "You know how to break this hold!"

You do, but he's heavy and it probably wouldn't work. And he's had a literal lifetime of training versus your handful of months. You've tangled your legs together and used his half-lean to put him on his back. Your kicking like a tipped-over bug and almost free when you remember that his fae half is crocodilian and you might have triggered his death roll tendency.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Sebek's pupils change, the dark of his eye slitting and boring into you. His throat strains like he's growling but you don't hear anything. It trembles against the back of your neck and you're reminded in that moment of just how much bigger he is than you.

How he folds around you and encompasses you.

He opens his mouth, teeth glinting and sharp. "You've bested me," you admit, swallowing thickly as his teeth hover near your shoulder. "Make your deal."

You somehow turn yourself around in his unrelenting squeeze.

Sebek huffs as if he's insulted and you swear you see his teeth dull. His pupils begin to fill out. He's usually loathe to acknowledge his human side, as he'd much rather be full fae, but it serves him in this instance. "I'm not a true fae. Such a thing wouldn't work on me!"

"You have to pretend! Lilia's teaching me how to deal with the fae! You just won't hurt me as much. Maybe." you dare to flash that teasing grin at him and Sebek nearly tears into his own lip because he doesn't know what to do with that wiggly feeling you give him.

Him? Hurt you? Not on purpose. It would go against the core values his grandfather AND Lilia taught him! Any fae caught abusing their spouse would be drawn and quartered, made a public display of. Any human man who chose to do so was no man at all!

Sebek's face feels almost painfully warm. He can feel the heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears. "In an act of benevolence inspired by the great Prince Malleus, I shall spare your delicate human self in exchange for a child. Is that the cliche rubbish you desire?"

Some of his once slicked-back hair has fallen down on his forehead, between his eyes, as if it's disappointed in you too.

"You think our child would be cliche rubbish? Cliche Rubbish Zigvolt? That does NOT sound good! I'm naming the firstborn, you're just helping make it."

"Wha--but I--that's not!" Sebek doesn't know what to say and he hasn't been trained for this. He's careful not to shove you away but untangles himself like a thrown ragdoll. He rolls over sharply, totally fine with hiding his face in the floor. His green hair is in disarray and his arms are limp, stretched out to either side of him.

You laugh, climbing onto his back and raking your nails down it gently. He makes the noise. You're not sure what it is but you've heard it before. It's deep and somehow soothing. He relaxes underneath you as you continue to scratch his back, throwing in a squeeze to his muscles every now and then.

It's not until you're in what would be the small of his back (if he wasn't build so solid and thick) that he raises his head, folds his arms up, and rests his chin on his hands. "You're safe." he can't bear to turn his head and look at you right now. If he did, you'd see how...how...weak and mushy he looked. Sebek snorts through his nose, arching his back in surprise as your hands slide all the way up until you flop on his back and your arms hang off his shoulders.

"Thank you, o' kind Zigvolt!" you hug his neck. "This delicate human appreciates it!"

"And I...appreciate...you." he mumbled slowly, the words a little foreign to him. More scary than foreign, honestly. That heartwarming shyness evaporated in an instant when he pinned you and began a stern lecture about how you should NOT offer to conceive a child with ANY OTHER FAE and what YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE INSTEAD.

You weren't surprised by this. Sebek lectured Silver all the time and Lilia said he was a very informed pupil. You, too, would be informed as it didn't seem like he was letting you go anytime soon.

[deadsetobsessions]

Of all the places he could have been summoned to, Danny Phantom had never considered a private school’s bathroom to be one of them.

With glowing green skin, a shock of flickering flames for hair, and a suit made out of the spaces between collapsing stars, Danny stared down at the stupefied faces of Gotham Academy’s finest students. One of them had their face in their hands, having caught sight of him and undergoing all the stages of grief in but a moment.

They sat around a circle that he was appropriately impressed with considering the limited space they had to work with. Danny could see the empty stalls, some of which were adorned with drawings and writings that were left by the, no-doubt, extremely busy caretaker.

“Seriously, a bathroom?” Danny wrinkled his nose.

“Holy shit, that actually worked?” One of the kids blurted out, then slammed their hands on top of their mouth.

“Did you expect it not to?” Danny squinted at them, frowning. It’s Friday, so it’s not like he had much to do, but Danny would prefer it if his time wasn’t wasted.

“No- no, your… uh, highness?”

“All of that schooling and you’re still uneducated,” one of the other ones hissed at the red headed kid who spoke. It’s “Your Majesty.” He’s a king, idiot!”

That was a pretty solid burn but, “It’s actually just Phantom. Did you guys want something? I’m busy.”

He’s not busy, but who cares?

“Uh…” the kids exchanged glances. The one in the back sighed and spoke up. He adjusted his glasses.

“We’re sorry for bothering you, Phantom. You wouldn’t happen to have a solution for dimensional separation, would you?”

“Huh.” Danny tilted his head, face souring. “I hate dimensional issues. They’re the worst. Who’s causing them?”

“His name’s Klarion!” The one who slapped a hand across his mouth earlier piped up.

“Oh! The lords of chaos or whatever. Yeah, I can help, for a price.”

Danny is against unpaid labor. Extremely against it, considering his side gig is being a half-dead vigilante. Then again, are you really a vigilante if you’re not half dead on a regular basis?

“What do you want?” Despite the reluctance from earlier, it’s clear the one with the glasses made the big decisions in this weird friend group.

“… A hundred dollars.”

“That’s it? No stipulations?” When Danny nodded, the kid had a calculating expression. “Deal.” The teen said immediately. He pulled out cash and wow, Danny’s definitely in a place with a different tax bracket.

He snatched it. Nasty burger money!

“Deal’s a deal. Also, don’t ever summon me again, but if you do, don’t ever do it in a bathroom again. You kids are so weird.” Danny floated out of the circle, grinning sharply. He formed a small bird- he doesn’t know why, but it felt right- of ice and handed it to the kid with glasses. “There. Proof of the deal.”

With that, Danny disappeared. Private school kids were so fucking weird, but… Dash and his goons were probably worse. What’s a little ritualistic summoning in the face of teenagers?

——

“I leave you guys alone for ten minutes and you summon the king of the dead?” Robin narrowed his eyes at his teammates, traitors who had the good graces to look sheepish. “How could you?! I wanted to try, too!”

Kid Flash patted him on the shoulder, a granola bar appearing in his mouth now that the possible world ending terror disappeared. “Sorry, Rob. Maybe next time! Magic still isn’t real though.”

“I’m not doing this shit in a bathroom again,” Artemis rolled back to her feet. “He sounded like he was going to rip our bones out if we ever summoned him in a bathroom again.”

“Ugh…”

[rawrfrferrari]

Charles leclerc x girlfriend reader at Lorenzo and Charlotte's wedding smau

Best Man, Better Boyfriend | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x girlfriend!Reader

Genre: SMAU, Fluff, angst

[Request and Taglist] [Masterlist]

yourusername

Liked by charlotte2304, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername My best girl is getting married to her best boy 💍 Lolo, my sunshine soul, you deserve every ounce of the magic coming your way. Enzo, thank you for loving her like we all dreamed someone would.

tagged : charlotte2304, lorenzotl

view all comments

charlotte2304 I love you so so much, y/nn ❤️

→ yourusername ❤️ u Lolo.

lorenzotl I’m the lucky one 💛 Thank you for this post and for always being by her side.

→ yourusername Enzo 🥺🫶🏽

pascale_leclerc Welcome to the family, ma douce Lottie and Y/n, you're as much family as Charlotte is 🤍✨

→ yourusername Love you, Mama Leclerc 🫶🏽

julia.tolotta So happy to finally have a sister @/charlotte2304. Love you too y/n❤️

→ yourusername ❤️

jasminsprengel My heart is so full! Congrats @/charlotte2304, @/lorenzotl, so happy for you both 🥰

charles_leclerc Most memorable day ❤️

→ yourusername Can I keep Leo?

→ charles_leclerc you can keep anything you want.

yoursisterusername SO HAPPY FOR THEM 😭💍

arthur_leclerc Finally! I was starting to lose hope in Enzo's planning skills 😂

→ yourusername Surprised that you kept the plans a secret. Couldn't be more proud of you 🥺

username1 Now let’s talk bridesmaid dresses 😌

→ yourusername Hell yeah!!

CHARLES'S POV

BOUTIQUE IN MONACO

The small boutique smelled like cedarwood as Y/n walked in with Charles and rest of the wedding party to select from the outfits the bride and groom has chosen fitting the theme.

Y/N stepped out of the fitting room, smoothing down the soft satin of her bridesmaid dress. She chose a blush pink dress that complimented her the best.

Charles looked up from his seat, gaze flickering up and freezing mid-motion. All the other groomsmen were trying out their tux but he wanted to wait for Y/n to choose her dress and match his tie with her.

“You’re staring,” she said, folding her arms, but her voice held no real edge.

Charles blinked like he’d just been smacked out of a trance. “I’m not staring. I'm observing...”

“Right,” Y/N said, drawing out the word. “Because you’re a fashion expert now?”

He stood up then, walking over and making a point to circle her slowly like he was analyzing F1 telemetry. “No. But I know when something fits right.” His voice dropped just slightly, fingers ghosting near her waist, never quite touching. “And that dress fits you right.”

Y/N’s breath caught. Just for a second. “You’ve never said that to anyone else in the wedding party,” she said carefully.

“I’ve never meant it about anyone else in the wedding party.”

She looked at him trying hard to control not to blush. “What about you?” she asked, stepping back. “Got your tux picked?” She awkwardly diverted the topic.

He held up a swatch book, grinning. “My tux fits right. the only thing left to select is my tie.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, flipping through the swatches like she hadn’t already decided an hour ago. “You should match with Arthur.”

“Since we'll be walking down together I think I should match my tie with you,” Charles said, amused.

“You love doing this don't you”

“Yeah,” he said, too soft. Too quick. “I do.”

They both froze. Y/N swallowed. “I meant making the wedding look perfect.”

“Yeah,” Charles echoed, gaze unreadable. “Me too.” She turned away first, pretending to thoughtfully advise other bridesmaids hairstyles on their dresses.

Y/N'S POV

yourusername

CHARLES' HOME, MONACO

The paper bag crinkled loudly as Y/N set it down on Charles’s coffee table, the aroma of green curry and fried rice filling the room like a hug in spice form.

Leo was already circling her ankles, like she'd give him food as well. "You already ate,” Y/N picked him up, laughing as she scratched behind his ears. “You menace.”

“Wonder where he gets that from,” Charles said, appearing from the kitchen with two wine glasses in hand.

“I’m ignoring that,” she said, accepting the bottle anyway.

They sat cross-legged on the couch, digging into the food with quiet satisfaction. It was their fourth date.

Leo eventually settled between them, head on Y/N’s thigh like he’d picked a side. She absentmindedly stroked his fur while stealing the last spring roll.

“You like him more than me,” Charles sighed.

“He doesn’t overthink where to place his elbows when we eat,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, but his smile lingered. And then, his arm brushed against hers on the cushion. He didn’t pull away this time.

“So,” he started, too casually. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, chewing slowly. “About?”

Charles shifted a little, clearly trying to act cooler than he felt. “The Monaco Grand Prix. It’s in a couple of weeks.”

“I know,” she said, watching him. “I've never missed the home races.”

He laughed, then shook his head, suddenly serious in that open, vulnerable way that always caught her off guard. “ I want you to come as my girlfriend.”

Y/N blinked. Her heart flipped. “You sure?” she asked, voice lower now. “That’s… public.”

Charles nodded. “I’m sure. My whole family is supposed to be there, that includes you.”

She looked at him, then down at Leo, then back at him. “Can I wear red?”

“You’d better.” She leaned back against the couch, smiling into her wine.

Charles smiled wide, boyish, unmistakably relieved. Leo barked once like a stamp of approval before promptly crawling into Y/N’s lap, who kept her wine away and kissed his head.

leclercsupremacy

liked by gridgossip11, wagsofficialtea and others

leclercsupremacy The Leclercs, Charlotte, and Y/N attended Monaco GP race day. Did Charles and Y/N just made it official with the post race kiss?

view all comments

f1editsdaily I stalked her, She's already in the family since Lorenzo started dating Charlotte, Pascale and Arthur's comments in her posts are wholesome

lecfosi16 lowkey bold of her to debut at Monaco of all places

itslecrec the way Arthur was carrying her bag???

username1 she’s literally just another influencer 🥱 nextttt

→ leclercsupremacy She's a software engineer and is currently regional development head for Monaco in Google. So, no, not another influencer...

sharles16stan My Roman Empire is Charles looking at her like she’s his whole world.

leclercsangel not y’all mad because he likes a woman with a personality 😭

username2 girl… he held her face when he kissed her. that’s not casual.

wifeofcl Kissing after a P2? Chill. It’s not even a win.

formulababygirl Not the Monaco prince getting his princess moment 😭

f1noir_1 We get it. She’s dating Charles. Can we get back to the actual racing now?

CHARLES' HOME, MONACO

The apartment was too quiet when Charles and Y/n went in after the celebratory dinner. Charles had been dull the whole dinner.

Y/N watched Charles dropping on the couch from the doorway for a moment before she stepped in, gently taking Leo off leash. He sprinted in the room to his toys, as Y/N nudged.

His hands were clenched so tight his knuckles had gone pale. She didn’t speak but moved to sit beside him.

“I had it,” he said after a long time, voice so soft it barely existed. “We had it. And they—”

His jaw clenched. “fucked everything up!”

Y/N swallowed. “P2 is still—”

“It’s not enough.” His voice cracked then. “Not for this. Not for everything I’ve put into this. Not for him.”

For Charles it was not just about the race. It was about his father.

Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. “I’m doing everything I can. I train like a machine. I say the right things. I show up. I fight. And it never feels like it’s enough. I’m not winning. I’m not—” He broke off, shaking his head like the words betrayed him. “I’m not making him proud.”

Y/N reached for his hand, unfolding his fingers one by one until his palm was open in hers.

“Cha,” she whispered, her voice tight, “he’s already proud of you.”

He didn’t look up. “He saw the boy who raced in karting with fire in his eyes and dreams too big for his chest. He saw the boy who got up every time it hurt, who never lost that fight. He saw all of it and he was proud then. Imagine what he’d feel now. Not just of the driver you’ve become, but the man.”

His breath hitched. Y/N kept going, voice steady despite the lump forming in her throat. “Your father isn’t proud of trophies. He’s proud of his boy.”

Charles turned to her slowly, eyes glassy and aching. “Your whole family is very proud of you, mon amor. We love you so much. Even on days like this when you don’t believe in yourself, we believe enough for all of us. You don’t have to earn our pride, Charles. You already have it.”

Tears slipped down his cheek silently, and she caught them with her fingers like they were something sacred.

“I’m tired,” he whispered. “I just… I wanted it so badly. For him. For me.”

“I know, baby” she said, pulling him into her arms, letting him fold into her chest like something crumpling under the weight. “And you will get it. I don’t know when. But I do know that you haven’t failed him. You’ve made him proud a thousand times over. And no fuck-ups can ever take that away.”

They sat like that for a long time. And in the quiet, just above the sound of his breathing against her shoulder, she whispered into his hair “Your dream isn’t over, Cha. And he’s still with you. All of us are."

Maybe that didn’t fix everything. But it was enough for tonight.

yourusername & charlotte2304

liked by charles_leclerc, jasminsprengel and others

yourusername Woman of the hour 🤍✨ @/charlotte2304

view all comments

lorenzotl Mon amour 🤍

→ charlotte2304 ma chérie

lorenzotl Thank you for making her feel so loved, Y/N.

→ yourusername 🤍

username1 Team bride !💖

pascale_leclerc so elegant and full of love 💐 truly beautiful, just like you both 🤍

→ yourusername thank you for raising the sweetest fam ❤️

→ charlotte2304 love you, maman 🥹

charlotte2304 still not over this day. not even a little bit. thank you for making everything feel like me. you are the best human I know, Y/nn.

→ yourusername You deserve the best, Lolo 🥺🤍

charles_leclerc Leclerc's best girls ❤️

→ yourusername baby ❤️

julia.tolotta she’s glowinggggg 🕊️💍

username2 The most prettiest bride to be 🤍

username3 The perfect weekend 😍🙌

arthur_leclerc belles-sœurs 🥺🤍

→ yourusername arty 🫶🏽

jasminsprengel 💕💕💕💕💕💕

HOTEL HERMITAGE, MONTE-CARLO

Y/N and the other bridesmaids arrived with Charlotte and took their places next to the groomsmen.

Charles offered Y/N his arm, already waiting just behind the florals framing the start of the aisle. He looked unfairly good in the fitted tux and a soft pink tie that matched her dress exactly. She hadn’t known he’d pick it. But of course he had.

“Ready?” he asked softly, eyes flicking down to hers.

The wedding planner motioned them forward, but for one second, it felt like the world held still.

He held out his arm again, a little more formally this time, and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

And then they walked down the white petal-strewn aisle, through golden sunlight and hushed gasps, through camera shutters and the scent of blooming jasmine.

Her dress shimmered with every step. His presence was steady beside her, the warmth of his skin brushing hers at the elbow, grounding her.

When they reached the end of the aisle and split to their respective places beside the altar, Charles lingered a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to let her go.

Charlotte stepped into view at the top of the aisle, everything else blurred. Y/N’s breath caught.

She tried to hold it together. She really did. But as Charlotte’s eyes met hers something inside Y/N cracked wide open.

Tears slipped down her cheeks silently. From the overwhelming wave of love and pride and that strange kind of ache that only comes when you realise someone you adore is stepping into the most beautiful phase of their life.

yourusername

liked by charlotte2304, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername The most magical ‘I do’ I’ve ever witnessed 🕊️💍

view all comments

charlotte2304 My maid of honor, my soulmate in glitter and crisis.

→ yourusername Amour 🤍

charles_leclerc We walked the aisle too, no? 😉

→ yourusername Shush 🤭

lorenzotl You’re family, always. Thank you for everything, truly. Couldn’t imagine the day without you.

→ yourusername Beau-frère 🤍

yoursisterusername So wholesome 🥺

username2 Still recovering from the speech. Truly beautiful ❤️

→ yourusername Thank you ☺️

jasminsprengel YOU WERE STUNNING!

username3 MoH of the century award goes to you.

arthur_leclerc Speech game: strong. Cry game: stronger.

→ yourusername 💪🏼

username4 Now we need yours and Charles' wedding ❤️

username5 Oh my god these pictures are sooo pretty🥺

TWO YEARS LATER

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername La Familia ❤️

view all comments

charles_leclerc Mon Cherie❤️

→ yourusername mon amour ❤️

charlotte2304 Best Auntie

→ yourusername Best niece 💕

username1 🧿

arthur_leclerc pic credit???

→ yourusername @/charles_leclerc

→ arthur_leclerc 😭

username2 That golden hour glow is criminal

pascale_leclerc My sweet girl 🌸

→ yourusername Mama Bear, ILY 💗

yoursisterusername Baby content, dog content, couple content… overachiever.

→ yourusername Go study for our finals 🙂

username3 Gorgeous ✨️

[flowersforthemachines]

this was made just for me

maybe writing 3 people in an undefined type of relationship getting drunk together again could be the next thing that keeps me together

[thevoidstaredback]

I love the idea that the JL need to summon Phantom for one reason or another (dealer's choice) but hear me out. Instead of Constantine or Zatanna or Raven or someone pulling out chalk and drawing a summoning circle, what if it's:

JL Member: We can't do this alone. We need help. Any ideas?

Magic user: Well, there is one being I can think of to help, but I don't know if I should.

JL Member: What do you mean you don't know? We're out of options. Who is it?

Magic User, mumbling: Well, he probably just got out of school for the day and has homework...

JL Member: Just summon whoever it is. We'll be sure to pay them back for any inconvenience to them for their help.

Magic User, know that was a terrible thing to say and that this is probably a bad idea: Alright, gimme a sec.

Magic User then pulls out a phone none of the others recognize and press the only contact in the list. After two rings, whoever is on the other side picks up.

Danny, pissed off and tired: This better be good, [Magic User] because I just got done with mid terms and you are encroaching on my nap. I haven't slept in two days, so the world better be ending.

Magic User, visibly distressed: I'm sorry, Phantom, but you'd be correct? My world is going to end soon, so we kind of need your help.

Danny: *long, drawn out, frustrated sigh* I'll be there in a moment. *hangs up*

JL Member: What the hell?

[astrologydray]

Ruler of the 11th through the houses

ruler of the 11th house through the houses — aka the placement that shows how you manifest your dreams, attract allies, influence your community, and leave your mark on the future. Where the ruler of your 11th house lands shows how your soul finds its tribe, builds connections, and channels collective energy into your personal goals.

11th House Ruler in the 1st House

You are the vision.

You’re the face of the movement, the one others gravitate toward. Friends and followers may project their ideals onto you. You’re a walking brand for your beliefs. Social power: You attract community by being you. Dreams come true through: Authenticity + self-leadership. “I am the change I want to see.”

11th House Ruler in the 2nd House

You build your dreams brick by brick.

You attract supportive people through your values, loyalty, and resourcefulness. You may earn money from communities or tech, or build wealth through your network. Social power: Grounded presence, steady loyalty. Dreams come true through: Monetizing your values + talents. “I invest in people who invest in me.”

11th House Ruler in the 3rd House

You speak your vision into existence.

You’re a social butterfly or a word magician. Your community forms through communication, writing, social media, or local circles. You inspire through your ideas. Social power: Your voice, message, and connections. Dreams come true through: Networking + sharing your mind. “My words spark movements.”

11th House Ruler in the 4th House

You build soul family, not just friends.

You attract community that feels like home. Your vision involves nurturing others, creating safe spaces, or honoring your roots. You’re the heart of the group. Social power: Emotional safety, vulnerability, inner knowing. Dreams come true through: Ancestral healing + intimate bonds. “My community is my chosen family.”

11th House Ruler in the 5th House

Your joy inspires the crowd.

You attract people through your art, charisma, and playful spirit. You’re the “main character” friend and a natural performer. You create collective change through beauty, love, and creativity. Social power: Confidence, originality, big Leo energy. Dreams come true through: Self-expression + fun. “I light up the room, and others follow the glow.”

11th House Ruler in the 6th House

You serve the collective.

You build community through service, healing, and dedication. You might meet your people at work or through wellness spaces. You’re the quiet power behind a bigger movement. Social power: Reliability, healing presence, humble service. Dreams come true through: Discipline + being of use. “I make my vision real, one step at a time.”

11th House Ruler in the 7th House

You build dreams in partnership.

You attract people through charm, collaboration, and diplomacy. Your community may include romantic partners, clients, or teammates. Balance is your gift. Social power: Relationship-building, 1-on-1 magic. Dreams come true through: Collaboration + alignment. “Together, we can do anything.”

11th House Ruler in the 8th House

You alchemize collective power.

You draw in intense, transformative connections. Your social circle might include healers, mystics, or powerful allies. You help others (and yourself) transform through shared purpose. Social power: Depth, secrets, magnetism. Dreams come true through: Shadow work, merging resources. “I change the world by facing what others fear.”

11th House Ruler in the 9th House

Your vision has wings.

You find community through travel, higher education, spirituality, or big-picture thinking. You may go global — teaching, preaching, or expanding minds. Social power: Wisdom, faith, worldview. Dreams come true through: Expansion, learning, spiritual alignment. “My tribe is worldwide.”

11th House Ruler in the 10th House

You’re known for your network.

Your legacy is tied to community impact. You may be a public figure, influencer, or leader who channels collective goals into something concrete. People watch you rise. Social power: Visibility, influence, credibility. Dreams come true through: Strategy + aligned authority. “My influence is my impact.”

11th House Ruler in the 11th House

You’re the community architect.

You were made to lead groups, organize movements, and spark future-forward shifts. You’re an innovator, a visionary, and a magnet for rebels + change agents. Social power: Authenticity, innovation, group synergy. Dreams come true through: Staying true to your weird genius. “I’m here to build the future.”

11th House Ruler in the 12th House

You dream in silence.

Your social power is spiritual, intuitive, or hidden. You may attract secret supporters, karmic friends, or spiritual allies. Solitude fuels your creativity + vision. Social power: Healing energy, dream wisdom, divine downloads. Dreams come true through: Rest, surrender, unseen support. “I connect through spirit first, then people.”

[tv-moments]

Beef

Season 1, “We Draw a Magic Circle”

Director: Jake Schreier

DoP: Larkin Seiple

[ssahotchnerr]

girl!dad aaron reading to his daughter over the phone while on a case! 🥹 just like that one episode of jj and henry 😭🥰

nightmares

i will sob. 🥺 i'm also setting this in ellie's bad dreams era :( cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, slight angst, fluff <3

"It looks like this is his comfort zone." Using a red marker, Spencer circled an area on the map. "If we pinpoint-"

As he was continuing his thought, Aaron's phone rang. He fully expected to see Penelope's name, anticipating her call as she was working her magic to narrow down a pool of potential unsubs. However, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw it was from you instead.

"Excuse me." He spoke lowly yet urgently, keeping his eyes on his screen and hurrying away with no hesitation, missing the team's concerned glances.

"Hey," he answered, closing the door to the empty conference room behind him. There was knowing feeling deep in his chest - and a grim one at that. "Everything alright?"

"Kinda... no." You switched up quickly with a sigh, slight distress in your voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy. But can you spare a minute or two?"

"Another nightmare?" Aaron's eyes shot to the clock perched on the wall. While it was somewhat early for him, it was getting late back home, timezones to thank. And doing the math quickly, bedtime for the kids had been about two hours ago. So sadly this - right on schedule.

You hummed in confirmation, beginning with the positive first. "She fell asleep in her bed tonight, actually. Went down easy, not much protest. But then woke up crying, and was nearly inconsolable for a while. She's with me now." Your eyes shifted down to your frightened daughter besides you, who was inching closer and closer to seemingly making herself smaller. "And keeps asking for you."

Aaron glanced out; the team was still preoccupied, discussing the geographical profile amongst themselves, and could definitely manage without him for a while longer. "Yeah, I have some time."

There was a quick rustle as you set your phone down, placing it on speaker. Your voice was farther now, not by much, but it felt treacherously distant, as if more miles had been added. "It's Daddy, honey."

"Hey Ellie Bellie." Aaron's tone quieted, his face softening as he spoke. "What's the matter?"

A light sniffle came from the other end. "I had a scary dream."

"A scary dream, huh?" He repeated, an achy pang producing in his chest. Ellie's nightmares have been occurring for a while now, and indubitably becoming a problem. You both expected the dreams to run their course, eventually pass, and things would return to normal. But as time moved forward, it was becoming clear it was well beyond that as they worsened. "It's okay, you're safe with Mom now, right?"

Ellie nodded, unknowingly to him. Her small voice cracked, laced with tears. "I want you."

"I know, and I'll be home when work lets me, I promise. You can even use my pillow tonight too, if you want." He bit down onto his lip as Ellie mumbled a small 'okay' in response. Hard. "Or how about a story? Would that help you feel better?"

Her head rose up and down again, prompting you to speak up as Aaron was met with only her silence.

"We have a few right here." You reached across her, grabbing the few storybooks that frequented Aaron's nightstand and settling back against your own pillow.

"Your pick sweetheart." Aaron pulled a chair from the table, sitting down and making himself comfortable momentarily.

"Goodnight Moon?"

Goodnight Moon, also one of Jack's favorites when he was younger. Between him and Ellie, Aaron's read it so many times, he had the entirety of the book memorized. In addition, Ellie's other, more lengthy favorites - he had gone through and cleverly taken a picture of each page, all stored safely in his camera roll for instances such as tonight. No matter where he happened to be, he could read the text, while also drawing attention to and discussing the images with her.

"Sure. Get all comfy and cozy up to Mom, yeah?"

Ellie nestled herself more into your side, her head resting on your arm as she death-gripped onto her plush bunny. You adjusted the duvet to adequately cover the two of you, scooting down and propping the book up for the two of you to see.

"We're ready when you are." You told Aaron, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Ellie's face.

As your brief sentence concluded, a harsh pinch formed behind Aaron's eyes, the guilt creeping in as he pictured the two of you laid together, where he also should've been. His little girl was beside herself in fear, wanted him, and yet here he was. Far away on the other side of the country. He felt as if he were failing her; letting her down.

Aaron swallowed to even out his voice, to sound as cheery as he possibly could, and to refrain any agony from being heard. He took a deep, yet small guttural breath.

"In the great green room..."

[tbgblr2]

Home Videos

As its mothers day in the UK, I couldn't let the day go without a story of someone becoming a mother. So here's one I saved up from a while ago from a roleplay I did with @allkindsofpreg. Hope you enjoy it.

---

Some people would call it… unconventional, but it’s just the way we are. My phone is streaming birth videos to the tv, one after another. You give a little grunt. I look over and you give me a weary smile. We started our video marathon four hours ago after the third hour of contractions, both of us confident that this was the real deal. We had watched countless babies being born and right at this moment you were sitting on a towel, your trousers and underwear discarded, your fingers rubbing tight little circles on your clit as we watched the mother pull her legs back. You pull your top up and expose your belly, the fabric scrunching up under your breasts. I lean over and wrap my arm over your shoulder, my other hand reaching down to follow the route of your fingers. Your head lolls back as you sigh, the contraction finally passing.

“They make it look so quick,” you grumble, leaning heavily against the headboard as another head crowns and pops free on the tv.

I chuckle and move my hand to cup your firm stomach. “Movie magic, love,” I assure you. “We can edit ours to look that way too if you want.” The idea of going back later and rewatching the birth of our child together sends a shiver of excitement through us both. “Could maybe speed things up though.” My hand moves up to brush your nipple and you arch into my touch.

With some assistance, you get your legs folded underneath your ass and get to your knees. I follow. Your belly presses into mine and you loop your arms around my neck. Our lips find each other and my other hand reaches between your legs, the long, lazy strokes causing you to pant and moan along with the woman on the screen.

You don’t pull away as your core begins to tighten, just move to rest your head on my shoulder. Your hips sway in time with my movements until you're practically riding my fingers. I can feel when you stiffen, and gently nudge you back into rhythm. “Keep it loose. Just relax and let the baby move down on its own.”

“So heavy,” you mumble against my skin, and my grip moves to lift your belly. The relief is instant, gravity no longer pulling constantly at the small of your back, and you pull tighter against me. “Thank you.” you hum in acknowledgement, but it’s soon drowned out by your string of curses as the contraction crests.

“Fuck, shit, ow, ow ow ow.” You sink lower and lean forward, hips widening and belly lowering to rest on the bed. From here it’s easy to see how much I'm enjoying this, and you almost laugh when my hard cock twitches in response to your panted breaths.

“Done?” I ask, eyes questioning as you straighten up with a smile.

“It’s only just beginning my love.” A particularly wild scream draws our attention back to the playlist and your hand instinctively searches your own opening as the woman struggles against a massive bulge. “Check me,” you plead, desperate for some sense of fullness as you wait to be where she is. My palm cups your pussy, and all you want to do in that moment is fill it with the head of our child.

I move to get behind you, as you shuffle your elbows forward and hitch up your ass to give me better access. “I’d better remember this position for next time, seems like a perfect height for my hips…”

You turn your head, blowing out a breath in turn as you grunt “don’t think about next time… right now I’m thinking this time”

“I know baby you’re doing really well” I say automatically in response, all the while my fingers were cupping your opening. You grunt an acknowledgement and prompt me with “you were checking” as I giggle “yes dear!”

You suck in your breath as you feel my fingers slip in and probe deeper, feeling around. “You’re… you’re doing very well baby.” My obvious skirting around the number and tone has you picking up on it. “How much?” You gasp, puffing out the breath you were holding.

I try and sound cheerful “you’re at 6, almost there” I say. We both know you were at 5cm 2 hours ago and hadn’t really progressed.

You grunted a ‘damn’ as you elbow walked back and with my help got you back upright.

I glanced over to the four cameras we had placed over the room to record things, all were still blinking their lights showing they were still recording.

“Do you need to do anything with those?” You ask, pushing your top back above your bump and rubbing circles against the skin.

“No, not yet, they can do 6 hours each on the cards. If needs be and we get to 5 hours I’ll make sure I swap them over before anything spicy happens”

We started recording when we set the movie marathon away 3 hours ago.

“So speaking of spicy” you say coyly… “it sounds like we need to get things moving.”

I smile and run my hands down the length of your thighs. “You just want me for my sperm,” I tease. We’d read that it could help soften the cervix, and you’re desperate for anything that might speed things up.

“Mm,” You hum unapologetically and crane your neck back to look at me. “Kind of how I got into this mess in the first place, yeah?”

I lean forward and capture your lips in a kiss, then gently lower you down so you’re lying down on the bed facing away from me. Grabbing a bunch of pillows to nest and wedge around your awkward aching body, we manage to get your belly supported and knee propped forward and up enough to give me adequate access from behind. I wrap my body around yours, kissing down your neck and shoulder as my hand caresses down your curves, inching lower and lower until it finds your clit. I start torturously slow, effectively distracting you through several more contractions.

“I’m close,” You warn, and I nip playfully at your skin to keep you from tumbling over the edge just yet even as my fingers move rougher, faster. You whine in protest when I stop, but the stimulation quickly reappears at your opening. I drag my stiff cock up and down between your folds and you're already so wet it doesn’t take much before I’m prodding, pushing, thrusting.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan as I bury myself deep inside you. Your ability to move is limited, so you’re at my mercy as I slide in and out, in and out, adjusting the angle slightly each time until I find the one that makes you gasp and shiver and beg, “Please. Please.”

“Please what?”

You can only whimper as your own fingers find your clit. Another contraction is building and you know I can feel it too as I struggle to hold back from release as your internal muscles clench and spasm around me. My pace quickens and my arm wraps around your belly, giving me a bit of leverage to hit just a little bit deeper and sending us both over the edge.

The pleasurable muscular contractions from the orgasm mingle with the painful ones from labour, heightening both sensations and causing you to cry out. You intertwine your fingers with the ones I have moulded to the curve of your stomach and pant harshly until the vice loosens. There’s a new persistent twinge in your back and your other arm is beginning to go numb.

“Maybe you should stand for a bit - help the baby move down some?” you manage, panting from the exertion all the while.

I give you help to get up, your “oooh” of appreciation towards letting you straighten your back echoing in my ears. We position ourselves face to face, your arms wrapped around my shoulders loosely and my hands holding either side of your bump as we begin to sway with each other, the next contraction building. We rest forehead to forehead as I whisper to you “keep it going you’re doing great”. You don’t respond straight away, focusing on the pain until it finally releases, and you blow out a breath. Then, with a grin, you tilt your head back and look me in the eye as you say “you’re running down my inner thigh.”

We both burst into giggles as I rub my knee up and down your inner leg, moving it side to side to separate your knees, sure enough I feel the wet sloppiness against my skin.

“Will just have to break your waters and wash it all away” I reply.

“Don’t you dare, this baby comes when this baby comes” you groan as the next contraction picks up. Just before you go inward and focus on the contraction you whisper “though I think it might come pretty soon.”

We dance around in circles for the duration of the contraction, my eyes checking back on the tv screen. The lady on there is squatting down pushing hard, not making a sound other than occasional grunts as she pushes. “Staying upright seems to work for her, perhaps we should give it a go.”

It’s harder than you expect to stay on your feet, the full weight of gravity adding to the strain and pressure in your back, hips and legs. But I'm always there to support you and the freedom to pace and sway and bend and squat is easily worth the effort.

You lean forward, pressing your palms into the edge of the dresser as another contraction begins to build. I come up behind and trace my fingers up your sides to cup your breasts. I give them a gentle massage and the pain ratchets up a few notches in response. It takes your breath away in a high pitched moan and your legs widen out of instinct, though it does little to alleviate the mounting pressure.

“It feels like I’m about to pop,” you manage to make out with a little bounce and sway, as if that might have any effect on your waters. “Come on, baby, I know you must be ready to come out.” The only response was a sharpening of pain that had you doubled completely over.

“Hey, remember the woman on the tv,” I whisper, a gentle suggestion.

You turn your head and again am faced with the mother in a deep squat struggling hard against her child’s large head. You nod, and I help lower you so that your ass is almost to the floor. Your knees flare out to the side, your hard stomach rounding out between them like a huge bowling ball. You ride out the rest of the contraction this way before returning your eyes to the screen.

“Pretty soon there will be a head between these legs,” you say, your hand reaching back to search for mine.

I find it and kiss your cheek. “Very soon, my love,” I assure you as I help you back to your feet.

You turn to look into my eyes - they are a mixture of excitement and adoration and lust. You take one of my hands and position it between your legs. “Here is where the head of the child we made together will be. My legs wide open for you, just like they were on the night of conception, skin bulging into a tight dome, hole burning and stretching, being born right into our own hands.” This is our idea of dirty talk and it mixes with the desperate whines of the birth video and my fingers once again dance and stroke between your folds.

You don’t want to move as the next contraction picks up, so you grab onto my shoulders as ripples of sensation flow through your body. I know you so well that I somehow bring you to the precipice once again and your body clenches at the same time the contraction peaks and there is such a massive release that your knees buckle and you would have certainly fallen to the ground if I didn’t catch you.

When you come down from the high after a few breaths, you notice that it’s not just my hand that’s wet, but your legs and the floor as well. “Either that was one hell of a squirt, or my water just broke.”

The splash you just released was audibly loud, but lost on you as you gasped at the same time. My ankles and feet were soaked, caught in the splash back but to my inexperienced eyes it certainly looked like your waters had broken. The next contraction came fast - much sooner than any previous ones leading up to it, and based on the howl you made, was certainly more noticeable. Your fingers clamped down on my arms, my biceps feeling like you were trying to rip them out of place. I grimaced as you continued to yell at the unexpected intensity. My hands found a way to either side of the small of your back and you fell into the embrace, your forehead burying into my chest as you screamed into it. Finally after the longest 30 seconds of your life you managed a sniffling gasp, the contraction over.

“That one was hard?” I enquired. You just nodded, eyes filled with tears. Finally you gave a shuddering sob and said that the waters being gone meant you felt the full weight of the baby, with no cushioning… and with gravity adding to it… it hurt, bad.

We agreed we would get you down onto your hands and knees on the bed and see how the next one felt. It took a few moments of clambering to get you repositioned but eventually you settled as you gave a warning “it’s starting again.”

Thankfully this contraction wasn’t as painful - not sure if it was simply because of the fact you knew what to expect or indeed not being upright did help, but you vocalised with loud moans and groans whilst rubbing your belly, your weight supported on one hand and your knees. I pulled your hair back and tied it into a ponytail as I kneeled next to you, one hand wrapped over your shoulder, the other on top of your hand rubbing the belly, and my lips kissing the side of your neck.

Shortly after the moans and groans subsided as the contraction let go. “That sounds like it helped?” I asked.

You nodded, still certainly feeling more and more pain compared to before your water broke. “I feel the head behind my pubic bone” you say, your voice shaky. “It’s moving down.”

“Ahh” I say, racking my brain to think of something we had watched in a preparing for birth video. “I saw something about putting your knees together and lowering your ass to the ground, that opens the pelvis.”

You nodded as you rested whilst you could. I looked at the clock in the room, muttering under my breath.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“Cameras need to be played with.” I said. “Can you believe we’ve been at this for 5 hours now?”

Your head turns toward me “Yes!” you yell, mentally recounting the aches, pains and orgasms you’ve experienced so far.

“Don’t go anywhere” I say as I scramble up to swap the cards and check on batteries for the cameras. The ones in three corners of the room were straightforward, but the one we mounted above the TV unit - intended to give a nice wide angle shot of the room and hopefully catch you pushing - needed to grab the steps from the corridor. As I set them up you ploughed your head into the pillows and groaned, yelling at me to hurry back, the next contraction building.

I fiddled and fumbled with the camera, pulling out one of the SD cards and dropping it in my haste to put the other one in and start recording again. I glance down and couldn’t see it, mentally noting that I’d have to look for it when everything was over.

Jumping down off the steps I rush back over to you and catch a glimpse of your pussy exposed on the bed. Where it had been smooth before it was now noticeably bulging - your gasping cry announcing “I felt a pop I think the head got past my pelvic bone.”

The contractions are relentless—long, intense waves that crash over you one right on top of the other. You couldn’t move from this position if you wanted to, and I support you the best I can but your whining moans are constant.

“Too fast. It’s too fast.” You keep repeating it over and over, as if your labouring body would pay any heed to your concerns. But an invisible force has hold of you, and it seems to be reaching up inside, clenching and squeezing a battering ram slowly but forcefully against a hole far too small for it to pass through.

“What can I do?”

You don’t have the mental strength to turn your head to look at me, but you can hear my concern in my voice. You give my hand a little squeeze to let me know you’re okay. “Hot compress, please.”

I check the bowl of water we had prepared earlier for just this situation.  The water wasn’t quite as hot as it had been, but squeezing out the facecloth inside it still felt warm to my fingers.  The cloth was warm and comforting on your aching pussy and you press back further into my palm. Perhaps it slowed the descent to a more bearable pace, or perhaps it was enough to give you some illusion of control over the primal roiling in your body; either way, you were able to come back to yourself and focus on your breathing, on my touch, on the incredible, if terribly painful, sensation of our child’s head moving through your hips.

It takes a good half hour for the contractions to begin to slow again, and once there’s actually enough space between them for you to rest, you sigh deeply and slump over onto your side.

Your face is red and damp and lined from being buried in the pillows for so long, but I'm there with a cool washcloth this time, placing it on your forehead and giving you an adoring smile.

“Well that was intense,” you say with a chuckle, reaching out to brush your fingers against my jaw.

I take your hand, twisting it to kiss your palm. “You’re doing amazing, mama.”

The word sends a thrill through you, and you reach around your belly to the space between your legs. You’re surprised at how different it feels, the soft mound of your lips domed out by a harder object trapped behind them. You try to slip a finger inside to see if you can touch the head, but the angle and your current physical limitations make that difficult.

“Can you feel it?” You ask, finally giving up your own efforts.

I give you a quick peck on the lips before sliding my fingers into the spaces you couldn’t reach and stop just shy of the base. “Oh, baby. Hi, baby,” I coo, and your eyes well up.

“You’re touching our baby right now?”  I nod in response.

The next contraction begins to build and the force of it alone pushes my fingers a little further out. “Won’t be long before you do too. Feeling the urge to push yet?”

You were going to say no, but your body answers for you as it curls in on itself and you let out a strangled, surprised yelp and bear down into your first real push.

“I can’t help it” you gasp as you come up for air after the involuntary push. “My body just won’t refuse… I can’t NOT push.”

I scramble around to sit next to you and rub your back as you gasp and once more bend forward, gritting your teeth, scrunching up your face and putting in the effort. In between contractions I dash out to the bathroom and bring a dish with a washcloth, ring it out and lay it on your head.

I lean back and grab the tv remote, turning off out little movie marathon… looks like it’s time to make our own.

Another two pushes like that and you’re panting. Finally though it seem to have released you from its grip, giving you some respite.

You collapse back, breathing deeply, my eyes drawn to your heaving breasts, moving up and down with your laboured breathing.

“That hurts more than I could have imagined” you say to me, in between your breaths. “I need something to take my mind off it… something top drawer.”

I know exactly what you mean and jump up off the bed, scuttling around to your side. I slide open the bedside drawers and pull out your pink vibrator - your favourite.

I flick it on - the buzzing sound coming on announces that the batteries are charged - and get back into my position.

“Hurry, hurry… I’m pushing… I’m pushing!” You trail off the last syllable lost to an anguished moan. I turn the vibe to low and rest it on your clit. The effect is immediate. You jump at the added sensation and let out a howl. Thinking I have hurt you in some way I pull it away rapidly and you practically hiss at me “don’t you fucking dare take that away until I say so.”

I gently lower it back onto your bud and press lightly, your howl turning into a moan of pleasure. “Faster, the contraction is ramping” you say as you hold your breath and push, my finger rubbing the control button with an audible increase in the vibrations.

Your hand darts out to the side and grabs me, the other gripping the sheets. Your vice-like grip clamps down at the first part of me you grab, wrapped firmly around my cock which had been hardening since watching the show.

I gasp in surprise—and maybe a tiny bit of pain—and you force your hand to loosen, to stroke, to tease. The contraction still has you in its grip, but there’s an undertone of familiarity in this mutual pleasuring. It gives your mind something else to focus on even while your body moans and tenses and struggles and heaves.

When the pain begins to recede, you take over the operation of the vibrator and I scoot to the end of the bed. I hastily prop you up with a mound of pillows and position myself between your knees. Your ass is practically hanging off the bed as you wrap your legs around my hips, pulling me closer. I press my palms into the bed on either side of you and lean forward over your belly to give you a deep kiss before pressing my cock against your pussy.

There is no longer enough space in there for both me and the baby, but you're wet with arousal and birthing fluids and the vibrations from your toy send shocks of sensation through us both. I begin to slide slowly through the rift between your folds, coating the length of me. As the lubrication increases, so does my speed and intensity, desperate to maintain that delicious friction.

Another contraction begins and I pause, eyes a bit glazed and breathing heavily but nonetheless more concerned with your pain than my pleasure. You uncross your ankles to let your knees fall open and pull back on your thighs, tossing the vibrator to the side for the moment. You throw your head back and push hard, biting back a guttural groan at the intense pressure that comes with it.

While all your focus is on pushing, I can’t help but be mesmerized by the feel of the baby’s head bowing out your skin as you push. My hips are still flush with yours and it presses against my dick. After several more pushes the contraction dwindles and I pick up where I left off with renewed fervour. I'm practically on top of you when you jam the vibe back to its intended location, hips pumping and jerking furiously and releasing increasingly enthusiastic grunts.

I finish first, but immediately click up the vibration intensity up to the max as my mouth goes to your breast, licking and sucking and nipping until you come tumbling over the edge after me.

The nipple play brought on another contraction quicker than expected and you wail in surprise as your loosened muscles allow the head to surge forward quickly with the next push.

“Uhhhnghhh,” you moan, helpless against your body’s instincts. “Oh, oh, ngh!” You try to catch your breath, but your abdominal muscles won’t release. “Fuck, babe. Fuck. Fuck!” You’re almost panicked now, your knees reflexively trying to snap shut.

My firm but tender hands keep them in place as I remind you, “Slow, love. Gentle pushes now. Your body knows what it’s doing.”

If it did know, it wasn’t sharing that information with your brain, but you nod anyway. You let out an almost meditative hum, and the controlled release allows you to draw in a long deep breath.

“That’s my girl,” I say approvingly, giving your leg a little squeeze.

When it’s finally over, your eyes find mine and there’s a hint of excitement in them. “What is it?”

“I saw the head on that last push,” I reveal with a grin. Your hand automatically reaches out to feel but I shake my head. “It’s gone back in now, but it means you’re so close, babe.”

You pout and flop back into your nest of pillows. “I want to see too,” you whine, somewhat petulantly, and it gets a chuckle out of me.

“I thought you might feel that way, and I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you that I think might help.” I get up and rummage around in one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a small camera and flicking the tv on as I walk back to the bed. I position the lens right in front of your pussy and then flip the switch to turn it on. The tv suddenly lights up with a big screen projection of your bulging, gaping hole. “Now you can stand or squat or sit or be on hands and knees and you’ll still be able to see exactly what’s going on down there.”

“You’re… you’re recording this feed too, right?” You ask, transfixed as you open your legs wider and use your fingers to tug at the stretched skin to see if you can see anything in there.

I prop up a ring light and flip it on, adjusting it until it illuminated the area perfectly. “Of course.”

“Good,” You gasp, setting your eyes on the large screen,” because the next contraction is starting.”

You grunt as the contraction rapidly picks up, trying your hardest to focus on the screen and not close your eyes. In front of you is a crystal clear, 42 inch high definition image of your lower half, and you are suddenly in awe.

The picture is so clear, you see the rivulets of my previous load dripping down between your legs. I grab the washcloth and wipe the mess up, as you grunt and moan a hurried “get out the way” in between contractions.

As I whip away the cloth, we’re both taken aback by the large scale image of your slightly parting lips, and the white mass in between… you squeal, the revelation magical to you, and watch as the head slips back as the contraction fades away once more.

“That… that was something” you pant, trying to recover your breath. “But I need you to help me.”

I nod, giving you a kiss as I move to kneel down between your legs, as you rush to stop me.

“No!” You squeal when you realise I’m blocking the camera. In my haste I hadn’t realised.

“Get behind me… I need to…” and once more you pulled your legs back and held your breath, this time eyes closed in concentration.

I climb up onto the bed and squeeze in close behind you, scattering your pillow nest around the room as I get into place. I get onto my knees, and rock back onto my haunches as you flop back against me at the end of the push, your breathing ragged as you gasp for air.

My hands wrap around under your arms and rest cupping your breasts, where once more I start to massage the pronounced nubs, resulting in wet fingers as your milk starts to flow around them.

As the contraction rapidly builds, I look over your shoulder and stare at the screen, my eyes wide at the image. “Look, look baby… you’re doing it, you’re doing it.” I’m full of enthusiasm as I see more and more of the head peeking out, and finally your lips going from flesh coloured to puffy and red as they stretch to accommodate the mass behind them.

Your hands rush to instinctively cover your opening as you whine about the burning as you push but as you lower your fingers once more we see the results of your work - the teardrop shape of the head in place - the previous white skin back to a more satisfying pink colour visible between your lips as the pressure is finally released on the head and you get a moment of respite.

You use the precious time between contractions to catch your breath and massage your opening. It’s strange, exploring this intimate part of yourself that’s so familiar and yet, at the moment, entirely unrecognizable. It’s round and heavy and stinging, and there’s a patch of skin right at the centre that’s not your own.

“There’s our baby,” You sigh, resting your head back against my shoulder and stroking the small patch of exposed head with the pad of your finger. “Can’t wait to finally meet you.”

Your hand moves higher as another contraction starts, pressing into your clit as the skin beneath presses painfully outward. You push and the dome distends out impossibly far, but the crown remains stubbornly small. You don’t want to force anything before your body is ready (or, frankly, obstruct the view), so you stay this way, relaxed and removed from the pain, and let the reflexive force of your muscles do most of the work for the next few contractions. I help by keeping your knees pulled out and back as you groan and tense and hiss and shake, helping with the stretching in the quiet moments between.

There’s a much more circular, but still quite small, opening that our child is trying to force its way through when some primal desperation kicks in. Why is this taking so long? Why are you not opening up enough? What if the baby won’t fit? It already hurts so much, what if you can’t handle the rest of the birth?

You are anything but calm when the next contraction comes and your sudden panic - strangled whines and restless thrashing - takes me by surprise.

My eyes immediately go to the tv screen, but all seems just as it was to me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You can’t put it into words. You just grip my thighs in an iron fist and throw everything into a wild push. The head surges forward and you scream as your hole stretches violently wider in one quick motion.

“Whoa, easy, easy!” I scramble for a warm wet cloth and leaning over your shoulder, press firmly against the modest crown. You try to squirm away from the counterpressure - at that moment you want nothing more than for this to be over with as quickly as possible - but of course I'm pressed up against you from behind as well; there’s nowhere for you to go. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and you’ve got this.”

You shake your head and attempt another monumental push, but this time I’m ready. In fact, I have to press so hard against your efforts than when the contraction is over and you finally stop pushing, the head goes most of the way back in and when I pull my hand away, you're back at a teardrop.

“No, no, NO!” You yell, taking me by surprise. I stroke your hair, telling you it will be ok but you just shake your head.

“It’s so hard… I just want to push it out but my lips won’t let it.” You’re frustrated, in pain, tired and getting a little too grumpy for your own peace of mind, so sigh, shaking your head and taking a deep breath, trying to get your focus back.

“You’re doing so well baby… just pant when it gets tight if you feel your pushes aren’t doing anything - let your body do some of the work.”

You nod, taking another glance at the tv as the contraction builds. Your eyes close and you mutter under your breath “come to mummy” as your lips bulge and your fingers trace circles around the tiny peak of skin between your legs.

I watch as the head bulges out again, your red, flared lips hugging it tightly. Once more you reach a peak of pain and start to yell as I remind you “pant, pant.”

You gasp, realising how much on autopilot you were acting and do just that, huffing giant gulps of air. The head stops retreating when you let go of the push.

“Baby’s on its way!” I cry out, you can’t help but have a giant grin on your face as the contraction finally releases you.

You’re fascinated by the way your pussy looks like this. There is still pain there—of course there is, with the amount of bulge there is right now—but there’s also hope, excitement, awe, maybe even a bit of arousal. You remember the promises I made when we were trying to conceive, promises to fill you up with a big baby and then watch as you struggle to push it out. And now you’re doing just that.

Another contraction starts and you begin to pant along with my coaching. The head pushes out further, but your hole doesn’t get any bigger. You hold your breath in an experimental push, but it just has you crying out and I suggest you go back to breathing and moaning and letting your body do the pushing.

You can’t disagree, but it’s so much more agonizingly slow this way. It’s probably another twenty minutes before there’s a noticeable size difference, and by then the pressure is unbearable.

“I have to push. I have to- I have to push!” You yell as the next contraction begins to build. It’s not a decision so much as a warning and your body trembles with tension and anticipation.

“Just wait until you absolutely can’t keep from pushing for another second.” Your breathing picks up to an unsustainable pace and your vocalizations reach new heights and your feet are off the bed, knees pulling back of their own accord in preparation. “Go for it babe,” I urge.

And you do. You give a mighty roar, but you're doing it. You swallow your fear of the pain and the chaos and you train your eyes on the taut round ‘O’ on the screen. At the slightly downward angle of the camera, you can see just how distended and round the head is behind your opening. With another push, it’s like you can see the whole outline of it and once again it doesn’t seem possible, but it is. I tell you over and over again that not only is it possible, but it’s happening.

It takes another few contractions of full on pushing when the animalistic part nearly takes over again. The slowly building fire is suddenly a full-on inferno between your legs and you slam back into me as if trying to retreat away from your own body, head thrown back in a silent scream and a few tears of pain falling down your cheeks as the fading contraction does nothing to douse the flames still raging on between your lips.

“It’s crowning now,” I tell you, since your eyes are closed.

“Mmhm,” You manage weakly, though when you look at the screen you find that it’s still not quite to a full crown. “Maybe… maybe I need a new position.”

“Do you want to squat, let gravity do a bit?” I ask, and you nod your head without uttering a word. Knowing that time is very much against us in between contractions, I lift you up under your shoulders, a difficult task as you’re unable to help pull yourself up from your position, but with a strong tug, and your legs scrabbling under you in their wide-open gait, we manage to get you upright.

The weight between your legs is immediately noticeable with the added effects of gravity causing you to yell as the next contraction picks up. Your hands grab onto my arms, the only thing keeping you upright right now, as your head pushes back into my shoulder, your roar loud and free of any inhibition.

I can no longer see any sign of the head glancing down between your breasts and belly so look frantically at the screen - your back arches back toward me as you push, trying desperately to move things along, but perhaps more importantly, that results in your crotch poking forward, still on display on the screen.

Your pussy is stretched tight, the head bulging out, the baby’s forehead starting to appear.

I think back to the videos, most of them showed the head shooting out soon after it crowned, but for you, it was moving with an agonising slowness, but it was moving. I’m sure with the next contraction it’ll get past the nose and ears, and surely that would mean there are no other protrusions keeping the head in place.

You scream in frustration as yet another contraction passes, you sag your weight against me. You’re panting heavily, exhausted at the effort.

“You’re doing great baby, almost there, maybe on the next push” is all I can offer by way of encouragement.

Nothing can compare to the fullness you feel. There is so much weight still pressing at your back, in your hips, and of course behind your opening. You can see it on the screen, the way your skin is drawn out taut and tight and so thin that you can see the ridges of the baby’s features just below the surface. The pressure built up behind is almost unbearable, and you’re panting desperately just to keep from pushing before it’s time, before your body is ready.

You moan when another contraction begins to take hold and I tighten my grip on you as your knees bend and you sink into a deeper squat.

“Mm, please come out, baby,” you beg, waiting for the urgency to build. “Hmmm. Oooooh. Ngh!”

The pressure peaks and you bear down hard with it. The dome bulges out comically far as your abdominal muscles war with your tight pussy. It retreats a bit when you release your breath, then pushes out again when you do.

“Do you want me to help ease the skin back?” I offer after another fruitless contraction.

You shake your head, determined to deliver the head without intervention. You stay in a deep squat this time, not risking losing any progress, and I settle onto my knees behind you—I’m more steady, plus the camera angle is better for both of us this way.

I nuzzle into your hair and kiss your neck. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

“I’m tired and it hurts,” You pout.  I hum in sympathy, but my eyes never leave the screen and you can feel that I'm hard again. “At least you’re enjoying this part.”

I kiss you again. “You know what those sounds you’re making do to me. How hard you’re working and how beautifully you’re opening up. All for our baby. Can’t help it if I’m excited.”

You know you will be too, watching this back. But right now, another contraction slams into you and you tug your knees back as far as they’ll go. You're shaking with exertion, but finally there’s movement and you howl as your skin stretches over the nose. The movement stops when you release your push and I urge you to keep going.

“Baby’s almost here, you can do it! Pushpushpush!”

With considerable effort, you suck some air into your lungs and hold it there, putting your chin to your chest and heaving another massive push. A desperate high-pitched squeal escapes you as you cross the mouth and chin, but you manage to hold onto the push until finally…

“Head’s out! Oh my god, the head’s out. You did it, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Fluids leak out around the head as I check for a cord. The baby turns in my hands just before another contraction picks up—now you just have to get through the shoulders.

You’re stunned, the feeling of the “pop” resonating around your entire being as you felt the head come free. You’re panting, waiting for the immediate urge to push to finish all the hard work and effort you had put in today, but your body wouldn’t let you.

You relax, waiting for the contraction to build. Taking a moment you reach down, whilst simultaneously looking at the view of the head resting between your legs. It looks so… calm, considering the effort leading up to it.

Your hand strokes the baby and you mutter under your breath “I can’t believe it”

You can’t keep your elation in check. All of the last few moments passed in only a heartbeat in real time but for you the moment lingered for what seems like minutes. You snap out of it when I land a kiss on your forehead and join your hands holding the baby.

Suddenly the peace is shattered as the next contraction builds. You push, effort renewed, you go deeply inward wanting things to be over, but the hoped for release doesn’t happen. You expected the shoulders to slip out.

Another push, once again no movement. You start to fret a little, you yell with the next push “come out!”

I’m started at the exclamation as I look down between your legs and we see the baby’s hand poking out from under its chin. The next word summarises the moment perfectly… “fuck!”

You give a mighty heave, and panic slightly when progress halts and the pain ratchets up unbearably. You scream, partially in frustration but also very much in agony, and I immediately drop to my knees for better access to what’s happening between your legs.

“Wait, stop, stop pushing!”

The urgency in my tone is the only thing that could give you pause in that moment, and you look down to see a small trickle of red down your leg and absorbing into the pad beneath your feet. You try panting to keep from pushing and squeeze my shoulder. “Did I- shit, did I tear?”

I’m quiet for a moment, my hands gently supporting your skin and holding the baby firmly in place. “No, no I don’t think so,” I finally say, giving you a bit of a nervous smile. “But you’ve gotta go really slow now to stretch around the arm and the shoulders.”

“Right. Slow.” You glance down at my awkward crouched position, and yours is not much better. “Maybe I should try lying down again.” That had certainly slowed down progress before.

Bracing yourself with one hand on the mattress, you lean down onto your hip, then fully onto your side, keeping your other knee flared out and open as I adjust to accommodate the baby’s head. You grab a pillow to support your belly. You shift restlessly when another contraction starts and pull your leg back towards you.

“Easy, controlled pushes now,” I remind you, giving the inside of your thigh an affectionate stroke. “You’ve got this.”

You nod, more to yourself than to me, and slowly contract your abdominal muscles. Your breath leaves in a low hum with the effort as your stomach squeezes and compresses. You can feel the pressure build up behind your opening, but much like before, nothing progresses further into the world.

Several more contractions later and you’re starting to get tired and discouraged. “I don’t care about tearing anymore, I just want this baby out,” you whine, close to tears.

I run my free hand up and down your shin comfortingly. “You don’t mean that. And besides, you’re doing great.” When I see you grab your knee and curl forward again, I say, “Alright, this is the one, I can feel it.” you have your eyes squeezed shut, but I lean forward to brush your cheek and point your chin toward the TV. “Just look at how beautiful you are, how amazing your body is.” You’re stretched so impossibly wide and the head is so big, it really is a miracle the delivery has gone as well as it has so far. “You were made for this; now just let it happen.”

With your eyes on the screen, you join your hand with mine under the baby’s head, and push.

Your grunt starts low in your chest and builds and builds as you apply more and more pressure between your legs. I lean to the side so the overhead camera gets a good view - as the hand and shoulder slide out from between your legs. You’re obviously aware of it as you let out a joyful whoop of success.

“Keep going baby” I offer as you once more grunt and heave. I adjust my arms to support the weight of the baby as its second shoulder slides out, then suddenly without warning, once all the things blocking it leaving were removed, the baby’s torso and legs shot out, taking both of us by surprise.

Your eyes shot wide open. “It’s over?” You gasped.

“We have our baby… a daughter” I smile as I lift the - surprisingly large - baby up between your legs and lay it on your chest. Tears are flowing freely from your eyes now, the sense of success and relief washing away all of the last few hours.

I take a glance around the room, all camera lights were still blinking. I give a thumbs up gesture to be captured for posterity as I get up and move to your shoulders to coo over the baby who is now crying up a storm.

“Can’t wait to see how the video comes out.” I grin.

[teddybeartoji]

彡 MAKESHIFT BOYFRIEND

☆. contains: 18+ MDNI; roommate!satoru gojo x fem!reader; actually gn overall but he does call the reader "girlfriend" once, idiots to idiots, dry humping, some neck kissing and hickeys mwah mwah mwah, a mention of satoru and the reader being pervs but yk what else is new wc: 2.5k

you've been ranting his ears off about this annoying guy at work, who keeps trying to hit on you, for hours now. you're not into the guy. at all. you've already mentioned that you have a (fake) boyfriend but he just won't quit. even ignoring him isn't affecting the guy, he probably thinks you're playing hard to get or something.

"anyway, i don't know, he's just so fucking weird and he creeps me out." you throw your head back onto the soft plush pillows on the couch and sigh loudly, closing your eyes, trying to escape the thoughts of the man.

satoru is sitting on the other end of the couch, gently massaging your sore and tired feet. his nimble fingers are doing something magical and you've physically had to restrain a moan twice now. he's nodding along to what you're saying, biting back the teasing remarks, knowing that you've had a rough day. he's the one who offered the foot massage anyway– to which your first impression was to throw a pillow at him, thinking that he's just messing with you or he's trying to be a freak but no, he really meant that he wants to give you a good old foot massage. to make you feel better. to relieve your stress.

this is nice. he's listening and only throwing in a couple of mhmm's and that sucks' every once in a while. you can feel the weight slip from your shoulders as you continue sinking deeper and deeper into the couch.

"like what the fuck else am i supposed to say to him? how am i going to make him understand that i don't fucking want him? that i have a..." a big sigh leaves your lips. "boyfriend."

having your eyes closed, you miss the way satoru's shine as an idea pops into his head. he zones out on the long-forgotten tv screen as he thinks it over for an exactly one second before deciding that it's a genius thought. he pinches your calf to pull you from your head.

"you know what we could do?"

you hum, letting him know you're listening and he continues.

"i could always mark you up... you know, play your little boyfriend and let him really know that you're taken. that oughta make him understand, hm?"

...

your eyes shoot open but your gaze stays on the ceiling above you, not daring to look at him just yet. that would probably get the point across, right? but are you really considering this? are you gonna let him do that? mark you up?

you slowly lower your eyes and look at him. the light glow from the tv in the background is making his eyes glint, something daring in them. he's wearing his usual sheepish grin, showing off the perfect rows of pearly whites. his lips look so pink and pretty. and glossy? and soft? and now you're really thinking about letting him do it, cover you in hickeys as long as you get to feel him against your skin. let his sharp canines sink into your neck and let him play your boyfriend.

satoru lets you stare at him, reveling in the quiet attention as he watches your eyes trail over his features; from his eyes down his nose, to his lips. he makes an extra move of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh and he knows he's got you; he just wants you to say it now. he needs you to ask for it.

"you're thinking about it."

the tone of his voice is teasing but still as sweet as honey, designed to trap you and it's fucking working. you rub your feet together in his lap, his hands still resting on your calves. his thumb keeps drawing lazy circles into your skin and it's making you feel warm.

"and what if i am?" raising a brow at him, you try to keep your composure, to seem unaffected by his very tempting offer.

his long fingers slither around one of your ankles and he can't hold back his teasing anymore. he reckons he's been quiet enough for one day.

"aww..." he coos, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "do you want me to be your boyfriend, pretty?" his free hand grabs onto your other ankle, raising them off of his lap and back down onto the couch. he stands and takes a step toward you, dragging his finger from your ankles up your legs and thighs.

"a fake boyfriend." you correct him as a wave of chills runs all over your body. the only sound that slips from his lips is a smug little tch! and then he's already situating himself onto your lap, his strong thighs closing around your hips. you're skin to skin; well, material to material but you're close. there's no room to wriggle, nowhere to run and your little surprised expression is only feeding his already big ego – he's loving it.

you don't know where to put your hands, finally letting them rest on his thighs as you try your best to avoid his gaze, suddenly feeling a bit flustered at the proximity.

"so you do want me to do it." his fingers grab your chin and tilt it up, forcing you to look at him; doe eyes meeting his excited ones. "want me to mark you up, to let him know you're taken, right?"

his fingers move up to your cheeks and he gives them a faint squeeze, making your lips pucker at the action. he lets his eyes fall from yours to your mouth for a second before speaking up. "i can do that."

your fingers dig into the material of his sweats and his heart does a little flip inside his chest. you hate when he gets the upper hand, you hate when he makes you nervous like this but you just can't control your body around him. heart beating so fast, you're sure you're nearing an untimely death and it's all his fault.

are you letting him do this? are you seriously letting your annoyingly cocky roommate with his stupid pretty blue eyes and his even stupider smile do this?

he's staring down at you with said smile and your thighs press together on their own. the corner of his lips twitch but he doesn't say anything. his hand travels from your cheeks to push away a few stray hairs, letting his eyes take in your current state. he pushes his knee into the side of the couch in order to make a bit more room for himself, lowering his hips against yours and you hold back a noise.

are you gonna let him do this?

yes.

definitely yes.

getting impatient, satoru leans down and brushes his nose against yours. his rich cologne fills your nostrils and your eyes threaten to roll back inside your head. he's now putting almost all of his weight onto you and it just feels right. your fingers curl deeper into his sweats, quietly asking for something but you won't get it that easily.

"you need to say it, though." he whispers while nosing at your flushed cheeks. his one head rests beside your head, holding him above you as the other traces down your jaw. he's so fucking close and you feel like you can't breathe properly. you're blaming your long day for being so worked up, for being so sensitive.

"c'mon, i want you to say that you want me to mark you up. can't possibly do it without your permission now can i." you don't need to see his face to know that he's smiling, you can feel it against your skin.

nodding your head, you just hope it's enough for him because you don't trust your voice. don't trust yourself to be sure that you won't let an embarrassing sound escape your lips.

but it's not enough. satoru can be so greedy; he wants to be greedy with you. he shakes his head, his breath tickling the sensitive spot right under your jaw.

"nuh-uh." satoru coos. "i wanna hear it. please, i wanna hear it, baby. tell me that you want it." he's pretty much begging now and you don't know who wants this to happen more, him or you.

"i– fuck, i want it." you mumble out. the air around you is so thick and it's hard to swallow the lump in your throat. "want you to mark me up, satoru..." removing your hands from his thighs, you let them fall to his soft hair, combing through the locks as you try to keep your head clear. it's not helping though because next thing you know, satoru is pressing his crotch against yours, almost grinding down.

"see, that wasn't so hard."

before you can whine about his teasing, his lips latch onto your skin.

feeling your hips buck up under him, he hums into you. his mouth is so warm against you, his wet tongue marking the spot before he gets to work on the hickey itself. your lips part and a tiny whimper manages to slip out, making your body temperature double in number. you feel him grin, most certainly letting you know that the sound didn't go unnoticed.

he holds your head to the side so he's presented with more skin, his new canvas, and he wastes no time in sinking his teeth into you. he is a man on a mission and nothing will stop him now. you give his roots a strong tug at a particularly sharp bite and now it's his turn to buck his hips; he's completely flush against you and the slight grinding is making him feel hazy. he can only imagine what's happening underneath your clothes and his dick twitches at the thought.

of course he would like to have sex with you. hell, he would love to fuck your brains out right here on the living room couch and have you chant his and his name only but this is not the moment. you're not there yet; he wants to take it slow. is this being slow, though?

he unlatches from your neck and licks over the fresh blooming mark. this is not the time to be pondering over the status of your relationship either – he has you right here under him, mewling and whining; he has more important things than that. he'll bare the consequences tomorrow. he's just being a good friend right now.

fuck... he wishes he could record the shy little sounds you're making though. he knows they're unintentional – he can feel how warm you are. how warm you are everywhere. he wishes he could record you, so he wouldn't have to only use his imagination every night when he jerks off to the thought of you. you're just roomies; just friends.

"you taste so fucking good, i might jus' eat you alive." he mutters before wetting his lips and starting on another mark. he grinds his hips down against you again and groans when you push his head closer to yourself.

"you– ah... my fake boyfriend really seems to, hmpff– enjoy this." you mewl out as your free hand finds its way under his shirt, fingers tracing over his side. he shudders against you and a little lust-blown smile takes over your lips. you slide your fingers upward, letting them glide over the strong muscles of his back. your hips are now moving in tandem, not too slow nor too fast – just enough to drive the both of you insane.

"my fake girlfriend seems to be enjoying it even more." his tongue dances on your skin, the wet warm muscle making your breath hitch alongside the word.

girlfriend.

satoru calling you his in that sweet voice is something new. it's just a word though, it doesn't mean anything.

your body betrays you when you grab onto him stronger, push him against you stronger. satoru is almost completely flat against you and it feels great. your hips aren't stopping – you push up as he pushes down and it feels great. your eyes roll into your head when you feel him bite down on you again before sucking on your tender skin and you reward him by pressing your nails into his back. he groans and the vibrations from it echo through your whole body. back arching off the couch, you try to close whatever gap there might be left between you. satoru's hand stays firmly on your neck, not letting you run away anywhere (not that you'd fucking go anyway).

you're fairly sure that you can feel his hard-on but you don't question it; grinding up against it instead. he nips at your skin and pulls away, quietly admiring his sloppy little masterpiece and then he's lowering himself for a third one. another faint whimper slips from the depths of your throat and he opens his mouth to make you suffer further, to tease you about being so damn sensitive to his touch but three loud knocks against your apartment door shut him up.

your eyes widen as you stare up at satoru but he just stares back at you just as dumbfoundedly. he's ready to dive back in when a voice calls out.

"PIZZA DELIVERY!"

...

you let out a small fuck and satoru's head falls into the crook of your neck, hiding from the monster that is the pizza delivery man that he himself indeed called for. he leaves a couple of wet smooches down the expanse of your chest before smiling at you with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. he pushes himself off of you and swiftly fixes himself and heads for the door. he ruffles his hair and clears his throat before opening it, casting a nearly perfect smile at the delivery guy while you're left panting on the couch, neck wet with his drool and saliva and a terrible ache between your legs.

after satoru sends the man off with a big tip, he plops back down to the couch and places the pizza between you two like nothing had happened. he's not as slick as he thinks he is though because the flush on his cheeks and neck stays on for way too long and he can't sit still for the life of him. he keeps eyeing you, your neck, every time he grabs a new slice – the drying saliva reflecting in the light coming from the tv screen. after three slices he excuses himself to the bathroom, grinning at you stupidly as he insists that he's just gonna go for a piss. ususally you'd make fun of him, tease the living hell out of him but you just can't this time. you're not doing any better than he is. was the tv volume this quiet before or did you do that after you heard him lock himself into the bathroom?

you're not trying to listen in, are you?

[anantaru]

— comforting you on a bad day

including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader

genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort

— scaramouche

scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.

easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you— and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.

scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.

he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.

however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.

hopefully you do.

"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?

troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.

his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.

scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.

you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.

for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.

the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.

scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.

"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."

you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.

strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.

"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."

— wriothesley

you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.

you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.

as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.

as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.

in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.

yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.

"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.

wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.

"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.

— alhaitham

alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.

instead, he just listens to you.

you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.

he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.

"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.

although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.

his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood. 

"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"

shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.

— childe

childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.

it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.

naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.

you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.

for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.

the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.

he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.

it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.

"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.

your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.

childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"

"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.

it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.

ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[deadsetobsessions]

“Did you know that shrimps…”

Tim leaned in, poorly hidden eagerness splayed across his face. A clue that Danny and Phantom were dating?

“Are super delicious?” Danny mumbled, ducking his head to hide his impish grin. Tim exhaled, disappointed, and leaned back to observe. Danny currently had his arm elbow deep in Jason’s chest, the older man grimacing at the weird feeling of being phased through.

“You done?”

“Almost. This is a multiple session kind of thing though, since the corrupted ectoplasm's not only in your body, it's actively trying to fuse with your DNA. Like, a really fucked up virus with virtually no cure."

"No cure?!" Dick's panic was only barely suppressed. "But I thought you said you could help with that?"

"Yeah, I mean, how do you cure death? Everything has to end eventually." Danny said practically, before drawing a bit more tainted ectoplasm out. He stealthily replaced it with a cleaner source, a shot of ecto-dejecto he had absorbed as Phantom but didn't assimilate. "But don't worry, you're not dying again yet. You'll just become even more liminal."

"More?"

"Yeah. You were, by definition, a liminal. Now you'll just have more access to the traits- more in tune with your emotions, night vision, and a minor ability to manipulate ecto."

"I'm sorry, can we circle back on the fact that pit water is trying to fuse with my DNA?" Jason stressed. Danny took his hand out, treatment complete, and dusted them off.

"You don't have to worry about that either, since you've got a magic immune system in the form of... swords?" Danny’s brows furrowed, his senses making sense of the shape of magic.

"The All-Blades are cutting off pit water access." Jason sounded done. Exasperated at where he was in life... but really not all too surprised.

"...Sure?" Danny shrugged. The halfa has seen weirder shit than magic swords.

"Wait, you have magic?!" Dick reached over to grasp Jason's shoulder to shake him. Jason knocked his hands off, scowl becoming more prominent.

"Yeah, picked it up a while ago."

"And you didn't tell us?!"

In lieu of an answer, Jason summoned the All Blades and stabbed Dick, who yelped before realizing they just phased through him.

"Oh, you should use those more. They're purifying the ecto at a smaller quantity, but some is still better than none, right?" Danny said, pleasantly surprised. He ignored Dick’s outraged spluttering. “How interesting.”

Tim gathered his open jaw just to cheekily ask, "So, Jason's a magical girl? Usagi?"

Jason raised the one of the blades threateningly at Tim, who remained unfazed after watching them slide through Dick’s shoulder without leaving a trace of damage.

Danny laughed, "Hah! Nah, more like Madoka? If those are All-Blades, he’s supposed to kill evil with them…”

"Fuck off." Jason grumbled. Dick poked at the sword going through his shoulder in fascination. "Stop that."

"My baby brother is magical and he didn't tell meeeeeee!" Wailed Dick, flopping over Jason’s back like dead weight, hand clutched to his imaginary pearls as he swooned. Jason groaned, dismissing the blades to shove Dick off of him.

"Oh my god, this is why."

“Wait, have you tried stabbing Joker with them? If anyone’s pure evil, it’ll be that guy, right? No, but you’re a civilian… so you might get hurt,” Danny mumbled, huffing a grin as Jason gained a thoughtful look. Guess Danny knows what Red Hood’s gonna try next.

Tim ignored his dumbass brothers, finally done with the subtle tactics. Plus, he has to cut Danny off before he gives Jason any more bright ideas.

“You know, there’s been a rumor going around,” he started, only to get cut off by team Phantom’s impeccable timing. Danny’s open laptop rang with the blaring tones of a group call. The two idiots in the back stopped squabbling with each other, quieting down with interest.

“Oops, gimme a second.” Danny hurried to click the join call button, connecting to the video call. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe!” Tucker said brightly. In the background, Tucker could see Jason mouthing “babe?” to Tim, who shrugged. Dick’s face flashed into something intense before slipping back to its normal harmless facade.

“Sup, loverboy?” Sam chimed in, looking smug. “How’s my favorite boyfriend doing?”

Danny, leader of the gaslight gatekeep girlboss brainwave, naturally slipped into the banter. “Are you saying that ‘cause Tucker ate beef jerky in front of you?”

“Worse. He snuck a tourist t-shirt into my closet. My parents had a fit when they came to visit.”

“I said I was sorry, babe!” Tucker continued, looking actually regretful. Ah, this was something he actually did, as a prank.

“Whatever. Who’s the peanut gallery behind you, loverboy?” Sam buffed her nails, clearly in the middle of reapplying her signature nail polish.

Danny grinned. “Aweeee, is that the color shifting polish I got you? So you do love me!”

“We’re dating.”

If they hadn’t gotten the hint now, Danny would have to rescind their whole world’s best detectives titles.

“That’s our Sam, Danny. Prickly like a hedgehog but allll squishy on the inside.” Tucker snickered. “Seriously though, introduce us.”

Danny backed away from the camera. “This is Jason, Tim, and Dick. Guys, meet my wonderful boyfriend and girlfriend, Tucker and Sam.”

“Hi,” the three vigilantes chorused, looking awkward. Dick broke out of the atmosphere pretty quickly, used to controlling the mood.

“I’m Dick!”

“I’m sure,” drawled Sam. “Nice to meet you, even if we’ve met before.”

“You have?” Tucker and Danny asked.

“Yeah, at the galas. I doubt you’ll remember me.” Sam grimaced. “I was the miserable one in the pink frills.”

“Sam Mason?” Tim asked.

“Yep.”

The boys winced. “Rough.” Jason sympathized.

“Oh, yeah. Danny, how goes wooing Phantom?” Sam asked loudly, looking like she'd rather be discussing anything but the frilled monstrosity that haunted her nightmares.

“Oh, good! I think he’s warming up to me!”

“Ugh, babe, you fabulous fuck, why are you so charming? Why Phantom?” Tucker complained. Danny grinned.

“Come on, nerd, even you have to admit he’s hot.” Sam drawled, looking entertained.

“And majorly cool,” Danny chimed in, with a grin. Wow, Sam must really want Dr. Isley’s number. That, or she’s having a blast fucking with the peanut gallery. Their eyes were bouncing back and forth between Danny and the screen like they were at a tennis match. Or both. It's probably both.

“It’s so not cool to date one of my exes.” Tucker whined. “Plus, you know what he’s like.”

“What’s he like?” Dick asked, leaning in.

“Yeah, Danny won’t tell us anything,” Tim followed up seamlessly.

“Phantom? Hot. So. Hot. Super romantic too.”

"And an emotional mess. You'd never believe what-"

"Okay, seriously, it was one time!" He broke Tucker's system once, and he never let it go. Danny never got a break around here.

"Wait, if you liked him so much, why'd you break up with him?" Jason asked Sam. In Danny's peripherals, he could see Dick updating a group chat. It was going, as they say, swimmingly.

"Obviously I liked Danny more. But having all of them isn't too bad of an idea." Sam leaned back, looking as powerful as she normally does.

"But did it have to be Phantom?" Tucker sulked impressively. Then his eyes finally wandered to Tim. "Oh my god, Tim Drake. Danny, why don't you woo him?! Hey, Mr. Drake, are you interested in dating Danny? He brings terrible puns, smoking looks, and makes killer dinners. All you have to do in exchange is let me pick your brains."

Damn it, Danny knew Tucker was going to pull something like this.

"Uh-huh?" Tim flushed as his brothers cackled at his expense. "Sure..? Wait, what- I mean-"

"Sorry, Timsy. You're gonna have to fight Phantom for my hand. Considering you have no combat experience and Phantom's undead... rough, man."

"Danny, if you don't date him, I will," Tucker solemnly swore.

"Hey, get your grubby paws away from my little brother!" Dick tried to sternly warn them, effect broken by his own intermittent giggles.

"Yeah, you want to date him, you gotta go through the gauntlet." Jason said, muffling Tim's flustered protests with an arm.

"Challenge accepted." Danny paused. "Wait, did I just sign up to be Tim's boyfriend? Shit, Phantom's gonna kill me."

——

Danny texted a series of numbers to Sam. She left him on read.

Ah, maybe he shouldn't have introduced a budding ecoterrorist to a veteran one, but too late now!

——

If you notice any inconsistencies, no u don’t.

It’s been a while since I’ve written for this series though so… yk. Danny, verbally sealing himself into the trap while being chaotic. In character, me thinks.