#cs ask box

[chained-spirits]

Hey listen! Hey! Watch out! Hey listen! Look out! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey listen! Hey watch out! Hey!

-Inbox Navi

I have my fun

[kings-comic]

SHADOW SHADOW SHADOW SHDAOW SHADOW SHADOW SHADOW SHADOW SHADOW SHADOW HELLO HOW ARE YOU I LOVE YOU CAN I STEAL YOU FROM THE COLOURS PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS

i can steal Vio too if you wanna

They are slumber partying in frilly dresses- as they should (feat. @chained-spirits Shadow)

idk if they mean "slay" in the same way tho XDD

[cursedslimecicle]

Guys. For the first time in months, the inbox is finally empty. It’s all queued. Let’s take a moment to celebrate and also use this as a reminder to submit stuff!! I do not bite but I do in fact need images to fuel this account <3

Anyways. Slime on, or whatever it is y’all do when I’m not looking.

[audreyscribes]

If Hera were to have a child, all of Camp Half-Blood would realistically be turned on their heads, but with that said, how would Camp react if Artemis or Hestia were revealed to have a child (daughter in Artemis' case, as there is NO WAY that Artemis would ever have a son, if she did ever have a child)?

A/n: I’m going to preface that Artemis and Hestia are still virgin goddesses so you’re all going to get an unusual birth version, so we’re going with something similar to how Athena’s children are born. The child of Artemis will be referred with She/Her pronouns, but the child of Hestia will be referred with they/them because I don't think Hestia would aim for a specific gender.

No one knows how this is happening but when everyone learns of their existence as they step into Camp Half Blood, everyone thinks the world is going to end. Sure, everyone eventually learned how the children of Arthena were born and took some time to wrap their minds around it, but in the end they accepted it as natural. 

But when the other two virgin goddesses have their own demigods, you can imagine the chaos. It’s only tampered with the fact that Hestia has been known to be good towards children and Artemis being the goddess of Childbirth, it’s not that unexpected. 

No one knows for sure how the daughter of Artemis came to be, who confirms you were born from the wilderness and that Artemis is still very much a virgin goddess; any further questions were met with the threat of a silver tipped arrow. 

The child of Hestia comes forward and enlights everyone how they came to be. They gather everyone around the fire as they tell them how Hestia took the ashes from the Hearth, and mixed with the clay of which how humans came to be. She moulded the clay and ash with the worn hands that leaked ichor from small cuts of hardworking hands, and with the hands of a gentle caregivers, she sculpted the clay and ash into small shape of a babe. With that, sat by the fire of the hearth that warmed their skin with the fires of life that helped humanity, Hestia pressed her lips to the forehead bestowing the babe life. Everyone looks at the child of Hestia with awe and wonder, seeing the warmth you radiate and how much they seem like Hestia. Quite literally warming up to you as you make around camp with the virtues of Hestia. People get often confused between the child of Hestia and Hestia herself, as she often portrays herself around camp as a girl. 

The daughter of Artemis takes some time getting used to but it gets easier when they learn that the daughter of Artemis is only at Camp during the summer to learn alongside other demigods, before taking part in the hunts every other seasons with the huntress and her mother. 

The children of Apollo become the first campers to welcome the daughter of Artemis, not because they made the first move and they were their other opposite; it's because Apollo welcomed them and acted every bit as the annoying and affectionate uncle as he is towards his twin sister. When She shows up for the rounds at the medical ward with the children of Apollo, everyone gets used to her very quickly, getting over the fact she’s a daughter of Artemis, she’s just like them. After the Apollo cabin, the Demeter cabin, the Hecate cabin, and the Athena cabin are the ones who you are close to. Overtime, she opens up about herself bit by bit like the waning and waxing moons before she opens up like a full bright full moon, allowing everyone to see how she is, and think although faraway and maybe cold, she is pretty and she is nice. 

Overall, I think the campers will take some time to get used to the children of Hestia and Artemis. Some will come around to the thought of it and some might be disturbed by it, but with everything going on in their lives as demigods, this isn’t the worst or weirdest thing to happen. Putting aside the looming possibility of a quest or prophecy that might relate to them, but at this point, a world threatening prophecy is just another Tuesday. 

Eventually, the two will become another part of Camp.

[safyresky]

This is my new favorite thing lol OUTSOURCING my posts lol. Because I wanted to do a pride month thing with Mother and Daughter (Jacquie and Bianca with outstretched arms in the middle of a rainbow snowbank going like: GAY SNOW!!!" But I got as far as drawing Little B and went, huh. I haven't actually drawn THE REAL Donniline kids since they got their designs finalized lol. Let's do that instead, so I did lol. Had to drop this off before it got too late in the evening

Robyn definitely gives me the vibe of the kid who just has like LIVE WORMS and a handful of Cheetos stashed away in their pockets, so I gave them cargo shorts lol.

(And Joy has the slightest hint of snowflake diamonds and a sun pattern on her wings!)

BWHWAIHWWUAJWHWH I LOVE THEMMMMMM 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

DUDEEEE JOY'S WINGS LOOK SO GOOD!!! I LOVE THE WAY YOU DID THE PATTERNS &&& THE COLOURS!! She's a ball of SUNSHINE! 😍🤩☀️

You are SO RIGHT. Robyn has all sorts of shit in their pockets!!! It gets to the point that Uncle BMan gives him a heckin satchel that's just. BOTTOMLESS. Very big possibility they never take it off 🤭🤭🤭🤭 I love the fire in his eyes bc ALSO CORRECT! ROBYN HAS ONE THING AND ONE THING ONLY ON THEIR MIND: C H A O S. And food probably 🤔

AND LIL BIANCA SHE SO CUTE! Her HAIR is so FUN! I keep flip flopping on having it be bushy or just a literal snowball 🤣🤣. She experiments, I suppose!

Love this outsourcing thing you're doing, FULLY support it, LOVE ME SOME ANDIE ART AND CS ART AT THE SAME TIME!! 🤩

[cybilbennettgf]

love u lots 🫶🫶🫶💙💙💙

hi sierra i am obsessed w you

[floweryanarchy]

Astarion Rewritten Outlaws Au Lore Dump

(gonna give a little content warning before you start reading because this does go over some heavy topics. Basically Cazador coded abuse, heavy manipulation, canon-typical trauma, process of inflicting scarring, character death... If that’s not something you wanna read I’d stop here and scroll.)

HERE WE GO.

Backstory⬇️

Astarion has no papers—no birth certificate, no record of citizenship, nothing. That wasn’t always the case. But after Cazador pulled him out of prison with a forged pardon, he ensured every trace of Astarion’s true identity was erased. With his wealth and connections, it was easy for Cazador to bribe officials and have the original records destroyed. Astarion became a ghost in the system—a body without a name, as if he had never existed at all. Astarion having no proof of citizenship means he can’t appeal to the law. He’s not a person in the eyes of the state—he’s property of Cazadors.

Cazador saw potential in him right from the start, because Astarion was beautiful. Striking. The perfect doll for his high-end parlor house. All Astarion had to do was endure what came next. A test. Proof that he was worthy of serving Cazador, that he could properly atone for his supposed crimes. After all, Cazador had bailed him out, hadn’t he? Spent a small fortune, pulled strings, gone through great effort just to see him freed. He had saved Astarion from the miserable life he’d known before—given him a new purpose, a place, a reason to be wanted.

And so, Cazador marked him. A ritual of scarification, done with meticulous care and deliberate precision. His initials “CS” etched into the skin of Astarions back.

When it was over, Cazador tended to him with soft hands and quiet praise, barely heard over Astarions sobs.

In his eyes, Astarion had passed.

The Parlor House was a gilded cage, draped in silks and perfumed with expensive scents to mask the stench of sweat and desperation. A place where men and women of status indulged in pleasures with no consequence, where Cazador’s spawn were paraded before them like prized animals. The moment Astarion was brought upstairs, cleaned and dressed in whatever finery Cazador saw fit, his life was no longer his own.

But Cazador’s empire was built on more than just flesh. His influence spread far beyond the parlors walls, weaving into the underbelly of the city. Hidden among the pleasures the spawn were forced to provide was another service: ensuring Cazador’s clients got hooked on more than just their bodies. The spawn were tasked with discreetly dealing with his supply, slipping small doses of a potent, addictive substance onto eager tongues, ensuring that patrons return.

Every time Astarion tries to imagine a life outside the parlor, he remembers: no name, no coin, and nowhere to go. And worse—if he runs, there’s a bounty waiting to be reinstated, and a dozen corrupt lawmen ready to drag him back… or bury him in the desert. But then again, prison treated him better than here. Alas even if he wanted to, there were always guards posted at the doors, watching.

Sebastian—young, kind, and foolish—had offered to help. He was a regular at the parlor house, one of the few who saw past the makeup and charm to the hollow ache beneath. He promised Astarion money, a train ticket, a way out. Safety. And asked for nothing in return.

Cazador found out.

Sebastian disappeared not long after, and no one asked questions. But Astarion knew. He knew because Cazador put the gun in his hand, pressed a finger over his own, and pulled the trigger.

“You belong to me, boy.”

Astarion wished that was the end of it. But it wasn’t. That same night, Astarion was dragged from his room and taken to the outskirts of the city. Cazador didn’t scream. He didn’t strike. He just watched as his men forced Astarion into a narrow wooden box and shut the lid. They buried him 6 feet, leaving only a narrow pipe for air.

He stayed underground for two full days.

By the time they dug him up, Astarion was barely conscious—starving, dehydrated, broken. From that day forward, he never dared speak of escape again.

Cazador made sure of it.

He had Astarion’s entire back redone, claiming the scars had healed too cleanly, too neatly. Adding additional lines to his artwork, a punishment for Astarions misbehavior. This time, he packed the fresh wounds with ash, ensuring the marks would stay—sharp, raised lines etched into his skin, permanent. And, as always, he was tender afterward, sitting beside him with a damp cloth and that infuriatingly soft voice.

“If only you’d stop acting out,” he murmured, gently dabbing at the angry red flesh. “We could be so happy. A real family. Don’t you want that, my boy? To be treated well? You’re the one making this so difficult. You bring these punishments on yourself. I only ever do what’s necessary.”

The scars stayed, just like he wanted—crisp, deliberate lines that pulled taut when Astarion moved or stretched.

Years later.

Business had been slow at the parlor, which meant the favored spawn were allowed outside for a bit-to lure in the rich types passing by. Of course, they were never alone. There was always an assigned escort hanging back, watching from the shadows, making sure no one tried anything stupid like running.

Astarion had been playing by the rules for a while, his back nearly healed from Cazadors last punishment. So he’d been rewarded with a little taste of freedom more or less. He was out there, mid-conversation with some pompous noble- laying on the charm, smiling enough to draw them in- when suddenly all hell broke loose. Screaming, people running, complete chaos.

And Astarion? He didn’t think twice. He bolted. Took his shot in the midst of everything, if he got out of the escorts line of sight and vanish in the crowd, he could finally be free-

One moment, he’s sprinting for his life- the next, everything went black.

(I will be nice to Astarion from now on.)

^^^

(Me when I lie)

[prettyg1irlstears]

i js saw ur pillow princess reader x rafe blurb n its amazing !!

but how would rafe x gf!reader be when rafes friends have been bringing up about how it feels good when ‘the girl takes charge’ but she gets upset n self conscious cs she literally cant, shes js a pillow princess at heart !! she wld constantly ask rafe if shes good enough in bed, if its fine she cant ride him like his friends have been showing off :(((

first of all thank you!!<33 second of all i’m so sorry if i’m answering late, but i hope you’ll like it<3

softbf!rafe x sub!reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you’re in the large living room of tannyhill, a pretty sundress on while sitting of your boyfriend’s lap, listening to the conversation between him and his mates.

you were telling rafe that you’ll come tomorrow, that it’s fine if he wants to have a ‘all bro evening’, but rafe insisted on you staying, so you did, because you’re his good girl.

so here you are, playing with rafe’s fingers as the boys don’t bother to acknowledge or respect your presence and talk about their girls.

“bro, my girl’s wildin’ when she takes charge,” kelce boasted, smirking as he took a swing of his beer. “doin’ all the work, feels so good.”

your chest tugs anxiously, slightly squeezing rafe’s fingers as you listen.

“yea i feel ya, man,” topper adds, grinning as he high-fives kelce. “wish you could see the way sarah moves on me ‘cause like goddamn..”

you feel yourself getting uncomfortable, partly because they’re talking about their girlfriends like they were a piece of meat, but mostly because you know you’ll forever be a pillow princess.

“yo, top,” rafe feels jow uncomfortable you are, stroking your silky hair lovingly, thinking it’s just because the conversation’s too much for you. “it’s my sister, man, don’t be gross,”

“sorry bro, not my fault she’s freaky,” topper sneers, kelce chuckling along with him.

you withdrawn a little bit, nuzzling into rafe’s chest as your mind runs a marathon. you were never able to take charge, especially in bed. you and rafe tried it a few times, but you always get all shy and embarrassed, just simply not finding it in yourself to be dominant. but now, after you heard the boys’ conversation, you feel even worse than ever.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“you okay, baby?” rafe asks you softly. the boys have already left, you’re now helping rafe clean the beer cans and pizza boxes. he has noticed something’s off — he always does.

“mm good ray, just tired.” you fake a yawn and give him a small smile.

that seems to make rafe calmer, maybe he just doesn’t want to press you. he comes over to you, placing his hands on your waist. “can we still do sum’ or are you like really tired?”

you chuckle and look up at him. “no we can still do something.” because even though you still feel bad, you can still feel a little wet spot making itself in your panties just from that one simple sentence.

rafe smiles and kisses you, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your butt. “alright let’s get to bed, hm?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you thought it would make your mind go elsewhere, like always, but even when you’re a moaning mess under the muscular body of your boyfriend, you’re still thinking about it.

“what’s the matter, bunny?” rafe grunts into your neck as he kisses it, giving you long and deep thrusts.

“n-no, no!” you let out in a whimper, squeezing his shoulders. “please don’t stop.”

rafe smirks, slowing his pace even more as he bites on a soft spot of your neck. “then what is it?”

you whimper at that, but you can’t keep your worries inside anymore. “am i good enough for you?” as soon as these words leave your mouth, rafe stops, stilling inside of you, making you let out a small whimper of disapproval.

“baby.. baby look at me, will ya?” he gently takes your chin in his hand, making you look up into his eyes.

you look, his hand caressing your cheek as you look up at him with those puppy eyes of yours.

“why would you ask that?” he asks, his voice soft as he has no idea where this is coming from. “of course you are, you always were and always will, baby.”

“because i can’t ride you.. can’t make you feel good..” you say quietly, tears welling up in your eyes. “mm sorry rafe, i just can’t..”

“hey, hey, look at me, baby..” he makes you look at him again, his hands running through your hair and caressing your cheek. “that’s perfectly fine, bunny. you’re perfect, i swear to god,”

you’re looking into his eyes, nervously playing with his curtain bangs. “are you sure? ‘cause i felt really bad earlier..”

rafe chuckles a little, kissing your forehead. “baby, don’t listen to those two pricks. can’t appreciate their girls like i can apprexiate mine.”

he kisses your lips softly, slowly starting to move inside you again. “i love you being my little pillow princess.” he grunts at the movements, earning a tiny moan from you. “wouldn’t change for anything, baby.”

“you mean it..?” you ask, leaving out tiny whimpers as he moves slowly yet deeply, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“absolutely,” he whispers, kissing your lips while leaving out small moans. “don’t have any idea what you do to me like this.”

“alright..” you feel a shy smile growing on your lips, tugging on his hair as his tip hits that one spot inside you. “r-rafe.. please.. faster..”

“faster, yeah?” rafe smirks, increasing his pace, holding the side of your neck, earning sweet little moans from you that make his cock twitch inside of you.

“don’t need ya to take charge, baby..” he lets out a pretty moan into your ear. “js’ fucking you like this is enough for me to go absolutely crazy.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — sub!riki & dom!reader, both of them are idols, reader’s older than rik’s by a year, noona kink, oral (m. rec), edging/overstimulation, degradation/praise, bondage, blindfolds, creampie, pet names + reader calls him baby boy, pictures/sextape, aftercare.

WORDCOUNT — 2.4K

NOTE — i mixed like three reqs into this one cs i got lazy zzz im just gonna drop this and leave (,, ‸ ‸ ,, ) rik’s just wants to be a good boy. . lmk if i missed smth in the warnings.

You had just finished a photoshoot with one of the brands you're an ambassador for. Finally getting home, you unlocked the door to the private space you shared with Riki—a place meant just for the two of you to escape and enjoy some “quality time”. You figured it was still early enough to take a nap together, especially since you remembered he only had one comeback shoot scheduled for the day.

Walking in, you heard faint squelching noises echoing through the halls. Curiosity piqued, you followed the sounds, your steps growing quieter as you approached. The soft, high-pitched whines bouncing off the walls grew louder until they led you to your shared bedroom.

Peeking inside, you were greeted by the sight of Riki, completely lost in his own pleasure. He sat on the edge of the bed, desperately jerking himself off, his stage makeup still intact, though he'd changed into one of his hoodies and a pair of sweats. His hand worked furiously, his cock slick with precum, but no matter how hard he tried, he seemed unable to finish.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

Riki froze, his head snapping toward you, eyes wide in shock. His cheeks turned a vivid pink as realization dawned—he hadn’t noticed you’d come home. His cock twitched in his hand, dripping with precum, as he scrambled to process the situation.

“My, I never thought you’d have the guts, baby,” you teased, stepping into the room and locking the door behind you. “Couldn’t even wait for me?” you pouted, now standing directly in front of him.

Riki’s head dropped, his gaze fixed on the floor, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. His hands gripped the bed sheets beneath him, his cock pressing heavily against his pants, flushed and needy.

“Look at me when I speak to you,” you demanded, gripping his chin and forcing his face to meet your gaze. His breath hitched, a soft yelp escaping his lips as you lightly slapped his cock, watching it twitch in response.

“Didn’t even ask for permission,” you continued, your tone sharp but laced with teasing amusement. “Such big hands, and yet you can’t even make yourself cum without my help, hmm?”

“N-no, noona,” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His face burned with humiliation and arousal, his breath coming in short gasps.

“You know what happens to naughty boys, don’t you?” you asked, tilting your head. “Undress. Sit on that chair.”

You stepped back, giving him space, and watched as he obeyed, his hands trembling slightly as he began to strip. His flushed skin glistened under the soft light, his eyes flicking nervously between you and the floor.

You walked to the dresser, retrieving a small box as Riki obediently stripped himself bare. His skin prickled with exposure and vulnerability as he stood completely naked before you, while you remained fully dressed. His eyes wandered over you, unable to resist admiring every detail—the way your perfectly styled hair frames your face, the sharp intensity of your gaze, and the bold, glossy red of your lips that seemed to command his submission without a word.

He twitched at the sight, unable to hide how much just looking at you affected him. Settling into the cushioned chair, he watched you anxiously, anticipation bubbling in his chest as he tried to guess what you had planned.

“Sit still for me, okay, baby?” you mused, your tone light and teasing as you walked toward him with a small box in hand. Placing it on the table beside him, you opened it deliberately, keeping its contents hidden from his view.

Before he could ask or peek, darkness overtook his vision as you slipped a blindfold over his eyes. Deprived of sight, his remaining senses sharpened. The warmth of your breath against his neck sent shivers down his spine as your lips placed a feather-light kiss on the mole there.

“Sensitive?” you teased, your voice like silk as your hands wandered up and down his torso. Your fingertips grazed his nipples, teasing them lightly, and he twitched under your touch.

“Ngh… noona…” he whined, his voice laced with need. His cock, flushed red and angry, throbbed as he unconsciously bucked his hips into the air, desperately seeking relief that wasn’t coming.

“Ah. I almost forgot,” you said, your tone playful as you reached into the box. Pulling out a length of crimson rope, you let it trail through your fingers. “Lean forward a little for me, and put your arms behind your back, baby boy,” you asked sweetly, your words soft yet commanding.

Though hesitant, Riki obeyed, leaning forward and presenting his arms. You worked with practiced precision, winding the rope securely around his biceps and forearms, binding them to the back of the chair. The knot you tied was firm yet intricate, finished with a delicate, decorative bow.

Satisfied with your handiwork, you stepped back to admire your masterpiece. Riki trembled with desire, his body taut with tension. The way his arousal dripped onto the floor below only added to his delicious vulnerability.

You bit your lip, grabbing your phone to snap a picture of him. ‘Pretty,’ you thought, moving to tug on his hair and pulling him into a kiss that he whined into.

“N-noona… p-please,” he whimpered, his voice shaky as his hips bucked into the air, searching for any kind of friction.

You started a small recording, capturing his tied-up, blindfolded form. Blowing lightly over his flushed, throbbing length, you watched as a shiver ran through him, his gasp breaking the quiet, desperate for the warmth of your touch.

“Say hi to the camera,” you cooed, filming his entire body, wanting to preserve this moment forever.

“H-hi...” he managed, his voice a soft, shaky whimper.

“Are you okay with me recording, baby?” you asked softly.

“Hmm, it’s okay…” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled and leaned in, leaving a soft peck on his lips. “Good boy,” you murmured, watching his cheeks tint with warmth.

You set the camera on the table, perfectly positioned to capture the two of you. “What were you saying again? Please what, sweetheart?” you asked, your voice a sultry purr as you leaned in closer.

“P-please... touch me,” he begged, his voice cracking with desperation. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise! ‘M sorry for touching myself without your permission—ah!”

His apology dissolved into a moan of relief as your hand finally wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly, almost lazily. Each deliberate movement of your hand was a taunt, drawing out his pleasure while you watched him unravel. His arousal slicked your palm as his chest heaved with shallow breaths.

“So needy...” you cooed, your lips brushing over the mole on his abs before trailing upward, kissing his neck. You left a trail of red lipstick marks as a reminder of your claim. His moans grew heavier, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“N-noona, please, need m-more!” he begged, his body straining against the crimson ropes, the bindings leaving flushed marks on his skin.

Helpless and utterly at your mercy, he could do nothing but take what you chose to give, his desperation spilling from every gasp and whimper.

Lowering yourself to your knees, you began with delicate kitten licks on his swollen tip, savoring the way he twitched under your tongue. Your lips wrapped around him lightly, sucking just enough to make him shudder, while your hand stroked the rest of his length in slow, deliberate movements.

A soft gasp escaped him as his hips lifted slightly, thrusting into your mouth instinctively. You allowed it, letting him chase just a little relief, all while keeping your pace teasingly unhurried. His body tensed as he teetered on the edge of release, his cock twitching in your grasp. But just as he was about to spill over, you stopped. His frustrated whine filled the air.

“Noona…” he whimpered, his voice shaky and desperate.

“Remember, darling,” you said with a teasing smirk, your hand brushing over his throbbing length, “only good boys get to cum.” You resumed stroking him slowly, watching his hips twitch as you built him back up.

You teased him relentlessly, stroking and sucking him just enough to push him to the edge, only to stop each time he neared his peak. It left him breathless, his whimpers growing more pathetic with every denial.

Finally, his trembling body betrayed him. He came suddenly, thick ropes of release spilling onto your hand and his stomach. Relief flickered across his face, but it was fleeting as your touch never faltered.

“F-fuck… Noona!” he yelped, his voice breaking as your hand began moving faster, not giving him a moment to recover. His oversensitive body writhed against the crimson binds, and within moments, another wave crashed over him, spilling more of his release.

“You’re so tense, baby.” you teased, coaxing every last drop out of him.

“Noona~!” he cried out, his third climax ripping through him, his release pooling on his toned abs alongside the red marks of your kisses.

His flushed face, sweat glistening on his skin, and tear-streaked cheeks made him utterly irresistible. His swollen, red lips practically begged to be kissed, and you obliged, silencing his whines as your mouth claimed his, your hand finally slowing.

‘Fuck, he’s so pretty,’ you thought, finally taking a moment to admire him fully.

Slowly, you undressed, leaving only your top, before positioning yourself atop him. Aligning his still-hard cock with your slick entrance, you slid down his length. He let out a choked sob at the overwhelming sensation, his sensitivity making every movement more intense.

“Such a big cock, filling me up so good, yeah?” you praised, moving up and down on him, your hands gripping his shoulders for support.

“T-thank you, Noona… feels so g-good!” he babbled, his head falling back in ecstasy.

You tugged his head forward by his hair, pulling off the soaked blindfold, and his glassy, tear-filled eyes met yours. Silencing his desperate noises with a deep kiss, you muffled his cries as you rode him harder.

“F-feels... ssoo guhd, nnnmh... f-fuck plees, noona... p-pleasee...” he mewled against your lips, his muffled voice trembling, but you understood him perfectly.

“You’ve got one more in you, baby?” you murmured, your forehead resting against his. “You’ve been such a good boy—just one more, hmm?” Your thumb softly caressed his damp cheek as you held his gaze.

He nodded weakly, his voice lost to the pleasure consuming him. Your movements became frantic as you chased your release, your hand dipping down to stroke your clit.

“N-Noona… c-close…” he mumbled between broken moans, his body trembling beneath you.

“Hmm, cum inside me, baby,” you purred, your hips meeting his thrusts as you felt the tightening coil in your belly snap.

Both of you reached your peak in unison, his warmth spilling into you as your walls clenched around him, soaking his cock in your release. You sighed in relief, easing off him as his cum spilled out, dripping down his length and pooling beneath you.

“D-did I do good, noona? Was I a good boy?” he asked, his voice soft as he looked up at you with those pretty, pleading eyes.

“Yes, you were, baby. Such a good boy for me,” you praised, gently caressing his flushed cheeks.

Reaching for your phone, you ended the recording with a satisfied hum. But before setting it down, you couldn’t resist snapping one final picture of Riki—trembling and spent, his body adorned with your red kiss marks, glistening with sweat and streaked with cum.

“Smile, baby,” you cooed, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you admired your masterpiece, saving the photo as a private keepsake for your eyes only.

Putting your phone down, you turned your full attention back to him, your eyes raking over his trembling form.

“You okay Ki?” You asked gently, patting his head.

“Hmm, ‘m okay,” he mumbled, gazing up at you with adoring eyes. You couldn’t help but think, cute, as you gently squished his cheeks.

“Wanna kiss.” he pouts, “let me take off the ropes first baby.” you mused, removing them slowly.

Fuck. You can’t help but feel a sense of pride looking at the marks on his skin, ‘All mine’ you thought possessively.

“Let’s take a bath, okay baby?” you said, holding onto him as you walked him to the bathroom.

You guided Riki to sit on the toilet while you prepared the bath, testing the water until it was just right. Once the tub was ready, you helped him ease in, his muscles visibly relaxing as the warmth enveloped him. After slipping off the rest of your clothing, you joined him, settling in front of him.

With gentle hands, you washed him, massaging shampoo into his hair and carefully cleaning his body. Between each motion, you left small kisses on his skin, earning soft hums of contentment from him.

Afterward, the two of you dried off, his tired hands fumbling to hand you one of his hoodies. You chuckled at his persistence and slipped it on, indulging his request.

Finally, you both climbed into bed, Riki instantly wrapping himself around you, his lips pressing light kisses against your neck.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, his voice quiet.

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to be sorry,” you reassured him, your fingers gently threading through his damp hair. “Plus, you looked so pretty f’ me.” You teased, unlocking your phone and showing him the lewd pictures and video you had taken. His eyes widened as his cheeks flushed pink all over again.

“Hmph, I just wanted noona so bad, was thinking about you the whole time I was recording the comeback stage. Couldn’t help myself,” he huffed, burying his face against your skin. “Hyungs were annoying too, kept teasing me for missing you,” he added with a pout, looking up at you with those wide, puppy-dog eyes.

“I’ll talk to them later,” you replied, smiling softly. “Let’s take a nap, yeah? You must be tired.” Your hand moved to stroke his hair, lulling him further into relaxation.

“Kiss?”

“Okay, you big baby,” you giggled, leaning down to press a long, soft kiss to his lips. “Sleep well, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too, noona,” he murmured, his voice filled with warmth as his eyes fluttered shut, completely at ease in your arms.

[takumiraine]

So I’ve fallen into the DPxDC thing. Not sure how, and I only have fandom characterizations and wiki knowledge but. I have a thing.

<next>

Once upon a time there was a boy, no older than fourteen, with hair darker than night and eyes bluer than the summer sky. Once upon a time, there was a budding scientist with a caring sister and two lovably scattered scientist parents. Once upon a time, there was a terrible accident. Once upon a time there was a boy, no older than fourteen, with hair whiter than snow, skin paler than death, eyes greener than toxic waste. Once upon a time, the boy needed help as more and more potentially world ending events descended on his town. Once upon a time, nobody but the government came. Once upon a time, the boy, his sister, and his friends escaped.

This is what happened next.

When they split up, Danny had drawn Gotham. Gotham with its so called “vigilante family”. Gotham whose so called “protectors” had been asked multiple times through the so called “Justice League” for help. But just like true justice, they were blind to his requests. His pleas. Both he and Amity Park were left to rot. It had been five years now but Danny was still mad. When he and his friends escaped the three of them each went to a different League infested city. They weren’t strong enough to do more than gather intel but…. Intel would lead to openings.

It took a bit of Tucker’s help in re-establishing his identity and giving him a realistic transcript for what his trajectory would have been if he wasn’t constantly fighting ghosts (mid to high Cs with a couple Bs instead of mid to low Ds with a couple Cs). But he managed a halfway decent scholarship to Gotham U. It covered tuition, books, and just enough for some food.

Sure Danny was technically homeless, but he’s lived through worse. Besides, the shitty parts of town had plenty of empty apartments. Careful use of his ghost powers made acquisition of an apartment a breeze. By the time the semester started, Danny had found himself a place. Tucker had slipped into the network and made sure the landlord wouldn’t be renting it - a coincidental shift of the management had been really helpful, Danny wouldn’t lie - as it looked as if it had been permanently bought. Danny did some within-wall plumbing to get himself water access, then rewired the electrical box outside to grant him access to the grid. Though it was all illegal and would crumble if people talked to each other about it, he counted his blessings for the moment. Illegal meant fewer ways to be tracked after all.

Ridiculous that a nineteen year old had to think about avoiding being tracked, but here he was. Every time he saw the bat signal in the distance his core writhed, and the nearby ghosts scattered. Crime Alley had its own masked vigilante, who didn’t seem to be always on good terms with the Bats, which was fine by him. The less chance of running into them the less chance he had of blowing his “Normal Human Dan Nightingale” life to pieces. Danny hadn’t seen this Red Hood person face to face yet, but he had heard stories.

Gotham had enough ambient ecto to sustain him without his ghost form and trips to the Realms, which was good because the more he used his powers, the more likely he was to get picked up by the Government’s sensors. The GIW had been sent by The League after all. They were trouble enough on their own. He didn’t want them to have backup while his own was spread across the country. He missed flying and seeing the stars, but Danny had to admit that he was a huge fan of the not getting hunted for sport thing.

It made times like these difficult though. Currently Danny was being mugged. Or… the guy was attempting to mug him. “For the fifth time dude, I live in this part of town. I don’t have any money.” Danny was trying to explain to the guy holding a knife to his midsection.

In another life he would have kicked the guy’s ass. Instead he had his hands up as he was pressed back to the crumbling brick and boarded up window of what used to be a shop front.

“Don’t play games with me kid! You’re going to college. You have money.” The guy pressed the knife point harder into his stomach, the knife tip barely a pound of pressure away from puncturing his skin. As it was he’d have to mend his shirt.

“Yeah, on a shitty scholarship. I can’t even afford dinner every night.” Thank god for ambient ecto. “Here I’m going to reach into my pocket and get my wallet.” Slowly Danny lowered one of his hands and slid two fingers into his pocket, coming back out with a thin, worn leather wallet. He raised it back up and unfolded it “no credit cards.” He slid his fingers into where he kept the two dollars he had left this month and turned them invisible. Then he tilted it so the would be mugger could see. “See? Nothing. Can I go home now? I’ve got the rest of an essay to write before the library opens tomorrow. I don’t even have a computer to type it on myself.”

“You’re lying! You’ve gotta have something!” The guy was getting more and more frantic. Probably jonesing for a fix of whatever drug flooded this place.

“If I had it I would have given it to you.” Danny explained patiently, “I have more sense than to get stabbed over some cash. But I don’t have it.”

“Liar!” The man yelled, jabbing the knife into him. Danny grunted in pain, not a shout, pain didn’t make him shout anymore, as the heavy thud of boots hit the ground. The guy was suddenly removed from in front of him. Danny swore loudly, careful to press his hands around the knife as his core demanded he do something. Instead all he did was breathe. When he got enough of a handle on the pain-fight response to know his eyes weren’t changing, Danny looked up.

The first thing he noticed was a red bat logo on the man’s chest. “Oh no not you.” He groaned half to himself.

The man slammed his mugger into the wall with a sick crack, and let him slump to the ground beside where Danny was bent over. “Excuse me?” The man asked, voice modulator seeming to glitch slightly, coming out more robotic. That was probably Danny’s fault. He needed a tighter control of his aura. But he didn’t have it right now.

“I don’t need your help.” He ground out through grit teeth.

“You’ve been stabbed.” The man explained, as if Danny was someone in shock. Which, fair. He might be.

“You’re one of those Bat fucks. I don’t need help from a Bat.” He grit out in reply, voice barely held together under his growl.

“I am not with the Bats.” Danny snorted, then groaned as that was the absolute wrong choice. Instead he just reached up with one bloody hand, which he couldn’t keep the slight tremor out of, and swiped his blood across the red bat symbol on his “hero’s” chest. “Oh. That. We…. Had a falling out.”

“Right. Well. I’ll leave you to it. Next time, let me get mugged.” Danny took another fortifying breath, trying to settle his core. It screamed pain-revenge-fight at him, but now was not the time. He needed to get back to his apartment and get this knife out of him. Then check in with Sam and Tucker. Maybe Jazz. Though she was at one of the Ivy League schools and he really should leave her be. Let someone have a future.

The man with the red bat logo said something after him as Danny shouldered past and shuffled down the street, but Danny ignored it.

Fucking Bats. Fucking Gotham. Just…. Fuck.

[ovrour]

𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─── matthew b. sturniolo.

# 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . matthew b. sturniolo x gf!reader

# 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . . matt is so inlove with you.

# 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 . . . fluff!! (a little surprise at the end hehee)

# 𝐖𝐂 . . . 0.4k

# 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 . . . angel baby by Rosie and The originals

He was so mesmerized by your beauty.

“Baby, how do I look?” You asked Matt, walked out of the dressing room. He was speechless, Matt thought you looked out of this world.

“Baby?” You repeated. He hummed finally hearing what you said. “I-i think you look amazing baby.” He replied, clearing his throat. “Are you sure? I feel like I look fat.” You responded looking in the mirror. “Honey, you don’t look fat at all, baby.” Matt stood, walking towards you. Matt wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your cheeks.

“Okay okay fine.” You sighed, a small giggle slipping from your lips. You turned around to face him, “alright sweet boy, I got a couple more dresses to try on and we can go okay?” Matt just smiled, going back to his spot. Matt liked all of the dresses you tried on, but his favorite was the blue one.

He loved the way it was strapless, the way it hugged all your curves, but most of all, he liked the way you smiled when you looked at yourself in the mirror. “Baby, you HAVE to get this one. I think you look like a goddess.” He meant every word he said. He didn’t say it just because you're his girlfriend, or because you’re going to be his future wife. But, because it was all true. Every word Matt said was true, and he knew it.

“Are you sure? Do you like it?” You asked, a smile plastered on your face.

“I love it, sweet girl.”

“Okay, yes to the dress then.” You replied, with a small giggle. You noticed Matt didn’t say anything to you, he just stood there, head on your shoulder, and he was just zoned out.

“Baby, is everything okay?” You asked, worried he was rethinking his answer. “Sweet boy?” He took a deep breath, and smiled.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah pretty, why?”

“I said I would get the dress.” You repeated. “Wait, really?” Matt smiled like a little boy. “Yes baby, of course.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “God” He sighed. You giggled.

“What baby?”

“You’re so beautiful. I’m so lucky to have you baby.”

“And I’m even luckier.”

In that moment, Matt pressed his lips to yours, it was sweet, and delicate. After you pulled apart, Matt quickly pulled out a small box, getting on one knee. There was no way this was actually happening. Was it a fever dream?

“Y/n L/n, you’ve been my best friend for years. Throughout these years you’ve always been there for me. Even when I wasn’t around much for you. I promise to cherish, and love you forever and more. Will you Marry me?” Matt spoke, tears starting to swell. “Yes, I will!” You laughed, watching as he put the ring on your finger. He quickly got up, kissing you over and over again. For all he knew,

you were his god given solace.

A/N: I feel like this is super shitty cs I’ve never written anything like this before omg

©️ ovrour

taglist!! @flouvela @missmimii @sturniolosarethebest @stvrnmc (comment if you would like to be added!!!)

[chained-spirits]

Hey, feather, kokiri...

Are you afraid of the hand in the toilets ? 👀

Both games have a hand in the toilet, both have completely different personalities

Idk man, mm toilet hand is just a chill guy

[r3starttt]

I KNOW BETTER

PAIRING: Abby x reader

SUMMARY: Abby taking care of you when you're sick

A/N: yes your favorite tumblr writer is sick... yes... during pride month... yes... after finals... during pride month. Anyway, enjoy and give this love cs when I cum fr (haha get it? laugh) and I write my massive fics I better get more than ten likes and tumblr better undo the shadowban (I deserve it, I was practically quitting until some beautiful moot tagged me to come back into writing) Also pls laugh at my joke on the fic... it's literally highlighted in orange cs I thought it was SO funny...

TAGLIST: @greysontheidiot @sapphic-ovaries @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @1-800-fantasy @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @abbys-muscles @usuck @thalchmy @lovelyy-moonlight

You hadn’t even asked her to come.

Just a blurry picture with your thumb half-raised in a tired "I'm alive" gesture, timestamped in the early afternoon and sent after a call. You meant to say more, really. Something like don’t worry or it’s not that bad, maybe even miss you. But between the sneezing fits, the nausea curling in your gut, and the damp sweat clinging to your favorite pajama shirt, you didn't.

She had only called because she missed you. That’s what she said when you answered, voice thick and scratchy, and let out a pitiful, “Hey.”

That was all it took.

She must’ve heard it in the way your syllables sagged or how you could barely breathe without sneezing. And though Abby was a busy woman these days, her silence on the phone had said more than words ever could. There was no barrage of questions, no immediate flurry of when? or how? or who got you sick? Just a hum. A pause. She knew better than to ask so you could play it off.

And then, “I’ll be there soon, okay?”

You didn’t protest. You just let the phone fall from your hand and turned on the show you’d been meaning to watch for months, hoping it would distract you.

By the time the door opened, you barely reacted. Just a heavy stillness under the weight of your covers.

“Baby?” came her voice, gentle and low from the hallway. “It’s me.”

As if anyone else had the key.

You must’ve made a sound—something pathetic—because suddenly her footsteps quickened.

She appeared in the doorway with her hair into a messy braid she probably did on her way here. Loosen clothes and a frown.

Abby held two bags. One brimming with medicine, tissues, vitamins she always insisted you keep in the cabinet. The other cradled snacks you loved, a box of electrolyte drinks you hated (but she always made you drink), and that exact brand of lemony throat lozenges you always forgot the name but always asked her to get whenever you gor sick.

“You didn’t even tell me you were sick,” she muttered with a little scoff, almost offended—but the warmth in her eyes and touch betrayed her. No frustration, only familiar concern.

You tried to respond, to explain yourself, to apologize, maybe—but what came out was more wheeze than word.

She dropped everything without hesitation, crossing the room in seconds to kneel beside the bed. Her large and warm hand cupped your forehead, and her brows furrowed more.

“You’re sweating,” she said quietly, follower by an order. “Blankets off. Now.”

You gave her a weak attempt at defiance. “I’m fine,” you rasped, even as your voice cracked and your vision blurred at the edges. “You didn’t have to—”

“Shhh.” She pressed her lips to your knuckles. “Don’t argue with me. I know better.”

And of course she did. Of course Abby—who had grown up listening to her father recite medical terminology over Sunday pancakes, who knew more about your body than you—would know exactly how to handle you in this state.

You tried to smile. It came out crooked and faint, but still, she beamed back at you like you'd just offered her the whole entire world.

Then she moved into action.

Like shehas done this before, she fluffed your pillows, swapped your too-warm blanket for a thinner one, and tucked it under your chin just like you like it. She placed a cold compress gently across your forehead, smoothing your hair back before disappearing briefly to crack the window open and let some air in.

From the kitchen came soft clinks, then the whistle of the kettle. Soup. Of course. She believed in the science—sure—but her love for healing through food, through warmth and nourishment, was a sacred ritual she’d inherited from both experience and instinct.

Her dad cooked for you once. The first vacation you spent all three together, you were lucky enough to get sick. They both spoiled you like no one else had, and all through the most delicious food you've ever had.

When she returned, she had a small bowl in hand. Steam curled upward, carrying the scent of herbs. She sat beside you, her knee brushing yours.

“Open,” she said softly, blowing on the spoon before lifting it to your lips.

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics but leaned forward, slurping the soup from the spoon. “I can feed myself, you know.”

She grinned, handing over the bowl. “Didn’t seem like it fifteen minutes ago.”

You let the warmth spread down your throat, cradled the bowl between your knees, and looked over at her with blurry, grateful eyes. “Thank you.”

Abby leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Mhm,” she hummed.

A few minutes passed in silence—the quiet, slurping kind of silence only illness can bring. Then Abby glanced at the clock, something clicking in her brain.

“Oh—okay. Ibuprofen now,” she said, standing to retrieve it from the bag. “And this syrup in four hours. Not before. Promise?”

You blinked up at her through glassy eyes. “How do you just... know all this?”

She shrugged, crouching down again, brushing a hand along your cheek. “My dad used to do med talks to himself while cooking. I picked it up. And also—” she leaned in, kissing just beside your temple “—I love you. That helps me remember.”

Your lips curved into a slow, sheepish smile. You placed the bowl aside and reached for her.

“Come here,” you whispered. Your voice nearly broke.

Abby had a particular way to make you want to cry and smile all the time. She loved you with a tenderness and genuine sweetness every single time. And you always let yourself be weak beneath her warmth.

She didn't hesitate.

Abby climbed carefully onto the bed, kicking off her shoes and settling beside you on the tangled sheets. You melted into her side, into the steady rhythm of her breath, her arms wrapping around you like muscle memory. She held you without gripping. Kissed you like a habit.

“Don’t cry,” she murmured. “If you cry, I’ll cry too.”

You didn’t cry.

You finished your soup. You queued the show back up, and when the opening credits started to play, you gestured toward the screen with a tired smile. “Watch it with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, pressing another kiss to your temple.

At some point, you fell asleep on her chest, the rise and fall of her breathing lulling you deeper into rest. Your fever still lingered, but so did she.

“I love you,” she murmured into your hair as she turned off the TV and pulled the blanket up over you both.

And even unconscious, something in you knew.

That no matter how busy life got, Abby would never be too busy for you.

[wholoveseggs]

A Tale of Tinsel and Turmoil

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}{Five Days of Fluffmas}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} When Kol brings home a Christmas tree too grand for the Mikaelson courtyard, the family’s decorating antics spiral into chaos...

♡♡Merry Christmas♡♡

1.5 words - Warnings: flufffff, holiday decorating gone wrong, mischievous Kol, Christmas tree theme debates, Hope's word is law && lots of love and laughter...

@starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @eternalnoble @darth-laeka

It had been a while since the entire Mikaelson family had been under the same roof, but when Kol came through the door carrying a massive Christmas tree, he was quickly met by an excited Hope, who had been waiting impatiently for him to come home.

"Uncle Kol!" the little girl cried, rushing into his arms and hugging him tightly. "You brought the tree!"

"Well, of course I did, little darling," he said, returning the hug just as eagerly.

Elijah cast a skeptical glance at the towering tree as Kol began setting it up in the courtyard. It stretched nearly to the third-floor balcony, its branches sprawling like a small forest.

"Was a tree of this size really necessary?" Elijah asked, his tone dry but patient.

Kol shrugged, carefully securing the base. "Why not? The holidays are all about extravagance," he replied, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

"Daddy! Mommy! Come see the tree!" Hope cried out, racing off to find her parents.

You leaned against the second-floor railing, watching the commotion below. Kol stood proudly by the massive tree, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, while Klaus approached, already scowling.

"Where did you get this?" Klaus asked, arms crossed. "They certainly aren’t selling these at the tree lot."

"I found it," Kol answered vaguely, his mischievous grin widening under Rebekah’s pointed glare. "Perhaps with a bit of magical assistance,"

"Kol..." Elijah warned, his calm tone carrying a note of exasperation.

Before Kol could reply, a small voice interrupted. "Uncle Elijah," Hope said, tugging on his sleeve. Her big, hopeful eyes were enough to melt even Elijah’s stoic demeanor. "Will you help me decorate the tree?"

Elijah smiled warmly, lifting her into his arms. "Of course, sweetheart."

Your heart melted at the sight. Elijah had always had a way with Hope, his tenderness shining through in moments like these.

"I can help too, uncle Kol can't keep me from it," Rebekah said with a smirk.

Klaus was quick to jump in, "oh please, Bekah, I think we all know I'm the better decorator."

"Go get the decorations, and then we'll see about that," Rebekah told her brother, crossing her arms.

Elijah handed Hope off to Hayley and went to the storage room where the ornaments were kept. As he walked, he caught your gaze, and gave you a soft smile, his eyes twinkling. You found yourself following him into the storage room.

"Do you want me to carry that?" you asked, taking in the large cardboard box Elijah had pulled from the shelf.

"Thank you, but I'm perfectly capable of carrying a box," he told you with a chuckle.

"Well, it looks heavy," you replied, giving him a smirk.

He raised his eyebrow, "are you saying I'm not strong enough to lift a box? My dear I can lift you without even breaking a sweat."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," he told you, stepping closer.

You bit your lip, trying to keep yourself from grinning. Elijah's eyes darted to your lips, a smirk forming on his face. He stepped even closer, his body almost brushing yours.

"So, are you going to prove it or not?" You asked, a challenging tone in your voice.

He smirked, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush the shell of your ear. His voice was low and raspy when he whispered, "I will be more than happy to show you later,"

Your breath hitched, and heat pooled in your lower stomach. You looked up at him, his face only inches from yours, and his gaze was hungry, but he wouldn't move any closer, not until you told him. The two of you had been dancing around each other for months now, neither one wanting to make the first move, but you were starting to think he might actually kiss you.

"Are you two love birds coming?" Rebekah's voice called out, effectively shattering the moment.

You stepped back, blushing furiously. Elijah gave you an apologetic smile before lifting the box and carrying it to the courtyard.

The ornaments were quickly passed around and the decorating began. Klaus, Kol, and Rebekah were trying to de-tangle the string lights, while Hope was helping Freya and Hayley pick out the prettiest ornaments. You and Elijah were sorting through the tinsel, contemplating which colors to use.

As the family began decorating, the bickering started almost immediately. Rebekah held up a string of red and gold ornaments. "We’re going traditional! Red, green, and gold. It’s classic."

Klaus scoffed. "Traditional? How dull. We should go for a winter wonderland theme. White, silver, and blue. Sophisticated."

"Traditional is timeless!" Rebekah snapped, hanging a gold bauble on the tree.

"And winter wonderland is elegant," Klaus retorted, tossing a strand of silver tinsel onto the tree.

Kol, watching from the sidelines, smirked. "Both of you have awful taste. Let’s make it fun! Bright colors everywhere. I bet this sturdy tree can hold all of our ornaments,"

The three of them turned toward each other, their voices growing louder. Freya sighed and crossed her arms. "Are we seriously doing this? Hope is right there. Can’t we go one holiday without arguing?"

"We’re not arguing," Klaus said, his tone anything but convincing.

"We’re discussing," Rebekah added with a sharp smile.

"Oh, really?" Freya asked, raising an eyebrow. "Then why do I hear so much shouting and so little decorating?"

Before anyone could respond, Hope, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "I want it all purple! Purple is my favorite!"

Everyone turned to look at her. Klaus, ever the doting father, immediately relented. "Purple it is, my little princess."

Elijah chuckled softly, already retrieving the purple tinsel. "It seems the debate has been settled."

"Smart choice," you teased, watching him as he carefully handed a strand of tinsel to Hope.

As the decorating continued, the tree began to take shape—a towering display of purple tinsel and a mix of ornaments, each with its own bit of family history. Despite the occasional bickering, the atmosphere was warm and filled with laughter.

Finally, Klaus stepped back, surveying the nearly finished tree. "Now, we just need the topper," he declared.

"I want to do it!" Hope said, bouncing on her toes.

Klaus’s eyes widened. "Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous. The tree is massive."

"But Daddy—" Hope started, her pout already forming.

"No, sweetheart," Klaus said firmly. "Uncle Kol chose the most ridiculous tree imaginable. You won't be able to reach the top."

Hope crossed her arms and let out a dramatic sigh, she was so much like her father sometimes. 

"Finnnnne," she groaned. "But someone needs to do it!"

"I got it," you offered, climbing the stairs to the second floor balcony.

Elijah followed you. "You should let me," he said, reaching the railing and offering his hand. "If you fall, you could really hurt yourself,"

"Are you going to catch me if I fall?" you asked, your eyes twinkling with mirth.

He grinned. "Of course, I will.”

In one smooth motion, Elijah placed his hands at your waist and lifted you effortlessly. You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he steadied you, holding you high enough to reach the top. Hope clapped her hands below, beaming with excitement.

"Easy now," Elijah murmured, his voice calm and steady. "You’ve got this."

You placed the star carefully, adjusting it until it sat perfectly centered. "Done!" you exclaimed, turning to beam at him.

But in your excitement, you shifted your weight too far. Elijah tried to steady you, but the combination of your movement and the tree’s precarious balance was too much. The massive tree wobbled, then toppled, sending all of the ornaments and purple tinsel scattering across the courtyard.

Chaos erupted immediately. Klaus shouted something about Kol ruining Christmas, Rebekah shrieked about broken ornaments, and Freya and Hayley tried to calm everyone down. Hope, however, clapped her hands, laughing as she declared it "the funniest Christmas ever."

Elijah, still holding you securely, slowly lowered you to the ground. His expression was a mix of exasperation and amusement. "I think we may have caused a bit of trouble," he said, his tone light.

You couldn’t help but laugh. "A bit?" you echoed, gesturing to the glittering mess.

His hands lingered at your waist, steady and warm as you met his gaze. For a moment, the chaos around you faded. Elijah’s dark eyes softened, and you felt a pull so strong you couldn’t resist. Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft and warm, a long-awaited moment that felt just as perfect as you’d imagined. When you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, and Elijah’s signature smirk was firmly in place.

"I suppose toppling the tree was worth it," he said, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Completely worth it," you replied, grinning.

Kol groaned loudly from below. "Oh, for the love of Christmas, can you two stop being disgustingly cute for one second? Come help us clean up,"

Elijah didn’t even glance at him. "Perhaps if you weren’t so careless with your magical trees, Kol, this wouldn’t have happened."

As the family bickered and laughed, you stayed where you were, Elijah still holding you close. In the middle of the glittering mess, surrounded by laughter, love, and a little chaos, you realized there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

[audreyscribes]

(Super long bc I kinda Info dumped sorry)

If you didn’t mind could you maybe talk about what demigods look like/cryptid demigod hcs

I’m probably wording this wrong but I saw a tiktok saying that kids of gods would have cryptid features for example children of hades or underworld gods in general having vampire features, children of sea gods having scales or webbed fingers, maybe children of Zeus or wind gods get feathers,children of Athena can do 360 head turns like owls, Hecate kids having a visible functioning third eye on their forehead that shows them spirits(and probably vampire features Hecate does do necromancy stuff), Hermes kids getting winged feet, children of Apollo having glowing eyes (I think this is somewhat canon) tbh the list goes on

It’s reasonable to think that demigods look somewhat uncanny they are literally half god and it would probably be covered by the mist to mortals anyways

Even if you don’t wanna do a full series on this I’m just curious to ur opinion on it and ideas you have for other gods

Alright, here’s my own take if we’re going off the Greek demigods having uncanny features:

Zeus: The children could have feathers but also considering them being like the air and clouds. Like their presence can be loud and forceful like high winds or practically invisible like the air around us, or how they seem to float as they walk, their feet never really touching the ground. However, when they get angry, their form shifts and they become this angry grey, stormy cloud, crackling lightning and thunder, their voice distorting like booming thunder as their presence whips around you and threatens to tear you apart. Their hands when they touch you spark and electrocute you, and you can smell and taste the ozone around them. They look down at you with eyes like an eagle.

Poseidon: I would wager they have a sleek appearance to them and everything seems okay. So maybe when they smile, you see some unnervingly sharp teeth like a shark. However, when they enter the water, your eyes can't tell if the water is distorting their shape, but you swear you see something else that makes you remember that we know more about space, then our own ocean; making you both amazed and afraid at what the abyss contain…or don't allow you to see because they won't let you resurface at all.

Hecate: While a third eye is cool, that’s more of an Asian mythological feature (I.e. Hindu, Buddhism, Taoism), however, I can see them having three faces that they can change according to that face’s personality, or true to Hecate’s mythos, where Hecate changes forms from a young girl to an oldy lady according to the time of day, their children faces/personality changes according to the time of day. In a moment of peak battle or power, all three faces appear all at once. The Vampiric features also work as well in this case, but you could also go with something ghoulish or ghostly. From the distance, their appearance to you is half invisible like a rolling mist. Another trait that a child of Hecate could have is serpentine qualities, relating them to Lamia, who has a connection with the goddess. So imagine a child of Hecate with skins with the scales of a snake, a forked tongue, and limbs that move too fluidly in a way that makes you think they don’t have normal human bones. 

Hades: we already see references to it with Nico, but the ghostly, pale appearance would be made more true. Representing the domain of death, they would have cold skin, their eyes are dark like shadows, Or part of the Riches of his domain, you'll see how their eyes twinkle like jewels gold or their teeth, nails shimmer like diamonds. They seem alive to you but if you watch them carefully, you notice their skins shimmer as if their see-through or  made out of precious gems, but then you realise, you really haven't seen them breath. Not in the way of the living. Their chests don't move unconscious and almost seem forced, like they have to remember to move their chests up and down. In fact you've seen them stand way too still, with chests freezing yet they're still moving.

Athena: I think her kids not only can turn their necks pretty much around like an owl, but have you considered they really have good hearing, and moving practically invisible? There's a reason why owls are considered the silent hunters/death. Their grey eyes looking wide and bright at you, but as you move, you notice their eyes following you as if you're a mouse moving among a field. Their heads and neck tilting just so that makes your own neck feel severed.

Demeter: Ever heard the metaphor “Hair like corn”? Each child of demeter has qualities that reflect nature, crops, or anything to do with plant life. When they laugh, it either sounds like branches brushing against each other from the wind or the sound of wood creaking and cracking as the bark and flesh of the wood breaking. Or when you see a child of Demeter fight during the wars and you see their blood or flesh fly. When it lands on the ground, you watch as it sprouts into another version of themselves like fungi; you realise if the child of Demeter you've been talking to is the original or just another body of them with the same mind and soul?

Aphrodite: We know Aphrodite's appearance will reflect what the person's ideal version of beauty or who they love is reflected off her. Now imagine her kids having the same thing, their faces resembling everyone's love, preference, their ideal features (button nose, thin lips), but when you come to actually describing their entire face, you suddenly can't. You have an idea of their features but they're in fragments. You try to piece them together and form their face but you can't. You can't remember their faces at all. You start to think you don't know their face at all, you never have, and they're just a mirage in your mind. You don't remember their faces because you can't. You've never seen them, have you?

Ares: Out of them all, they seem the most human-like. War and violence is a part of human nature and it's reflected in them. They hold qualities that make you sweat and stiffen, the way they look at you makes you want to either fight or flight. A side of humanity you don't want to admit that is in our nature and life.   

Dionysus: There's a quality to them that seems a bit off to you, but you can't help getting drawn in. Their eyes are maniacal and don't stare in the eyes too long or you find your mind drifting off. Or how they move like a jaguar, their appearance alluring but very deadly as they stalk towards you. Nonetheless, your eyes will deceive you as you try to look at them, their forms not exactly what they seem to be and if you try to dissect what they look like, you’re not going to like what you see.

Hermes: Their feet may have wings that allow them to fly and go about speeds. However, much like the Aphrodite children, you see the faces of a traveller. They've been to places and seen things you haven't seen before, but when you try to think of their faces, you can't remember. They made an impression on you yes, but when you try to remember their features, you can't really remember and they are only a figment in your memory.  Yet you can’t forget them or their sweet, honey layered and silver tongued words, even if you know its a lie, you find yourself believing in them and take their words as the truth.

Hephaestus: The children of Hephaestus’ eyes burn and glow with hot coals, flaming hot. Their features are almost sculpted like marble statues, both soft yet rigid. Their veins underneath their skin have a thin glow of heat like the veins of a volcano as they bend the physical shape of something in something else. A limb of theirs moves rather rigidly, like it was a limp but as it moves, you are reminded of the joint of a machine, moving in a certain way that isn’t like a muscle. When their skin is reflecting the heat of the forge, you are reminded that their skin looks like stone or metal.

Apollo: We already know about the glowing eyes part, but I wanna say there’s a bit more to that. How light follows them, how they embody it. You can see them but you can’t stare directly at them for too long before your eyes start to burn like staring directly into a lightbulb. Their form seems to shimmer and bend with the light, before you realise you may not be able to touch them more than you can touch the sunlight. Then you also start to realise the shadows around them seem more darker, more of a void then you thought it could be, moving, swirling beneath their feet. As you take notice of the shadows behind them, how it seems to wrap around them like a second skin, the shadow then moves on its own, differently from it’s host, as it raises its finger over where the mouth should be, before you see it actually smile. You may not be able to touch the light and shadows, but it can certainly touch you, prying your darkest truths and secrets from your own shadow betraying you. You learn that the children of Apollo don’t naturally have shadows because they’re made out of light, so where is their darkness?

Going off a bit more of the whole concept though: It’s not the first time nor the last time someone who has those kinds of ideas as humans do. The only reason the Greek and Roman demigods have ‘human’ features is because of how the gods are perceived, where in Ancient Greek people believed the Gods looked like regular mortals, but were absolutely perfect in their appearance as they were above mortals and their features reflect peak perfection of our human appearance, and we cannot perceive their true form because it is outside of our mortal realm. I believe that’s why the gods turning into their true form is deadly to mortals for that reason. 

So the greek/roman demigods would have the godly qualities to them, that are still mortal but just a little bit different, a little out of this world. We actually see Rick Riodan reference these features in the book like Percy’s Sea Green eyes or Thalia and Jason’s Electric Blue eyes. Those weren’t metaphors or similes. They just lean more towards beyond human then cryptid realm. 

However, it wouldn’t be unusual to attach some non-human features to the gods as we constantly attach their symbols to them. Specifically the animal parts relating to the gods, it’s one of the reasons Egyptian gods are depicted with animal features; as the animal parts to represent their personalities or specific traits that were important to their purpose. For example, Anubis the God of Death is depicted with the head of a jackal as the animal was associated with death in ancient Egypt. So if these Egyptians gods had demigods, we can only assume they would have these features too. 

I believe in the Riordan verse, there are the Mayan gods and the Mayan demigods, Godborns, are the opposite of their Greek/Roman counterparts where the Godborns have a sort of physical handicap, disability, or some medical or mental issue. This is   because people believed the blood of humans and the supernaturals were never meant to be mixed.

So go have one with your ideas! Be wild! Test the realm between mortals and the supernatural.

[rafesteddy]

𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓜𝓘𝓛𝓕!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓢𝓸𝓷’𝓼𝓑𝓢𝓕𝓕𝓻𝓪𝓽!𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮 𝓐𝓤

You should’ve cut them loose months ago...

The boys of Sigma Chi were spoiled and reckless, coasting on their fathers’ money while they ran wild through your house. You’d looked the other way for Tommy’s sake because your late husband loved that fraternity and because, well. Boys will be boys—until they stopped being worth the trouble.

Now they owed you—a debt no trust fund could cover. You didn’t need their money. You had your name on half the Miami skyline and the kind of pull that decided who got through the velvet ropes on Saturday nights. So when you stepped into that house, white dress clinging to your thighs, red-bottom heels cutting sharp against old hardwood, you made damn sure they heard every step. Let them sweat. Let them stare.

And Rafe stared the hardest. Tommy’s best friend. That cocky one puffing his chest in the back, mouth begging to say something smart, eyes flashing with challenge. You caught him looking. Fingers pushing through his hair, his hat turned backward now, muscles stretching against that thin white cotton. You let your gaze linger a beat too long—just to watch him shift. He did. Poor boy had no idea what he’d just invited.

You laid out their punishment slow and smooth: no daddy’s money. Manual labor. Shifts at your businesses. Sweat for every dollar they owed. And you saw it then—that flicker in his eyes. Like maybe he wanted to pay you back personally. Let him try. You weren’t about to make it easy. If that pretty boy wanted a taste? He’d work for it. Brick by brick. Hour by hour.

On his knees. Where he belonged.

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ ask box open for this au 💋

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