#good luck to anyone who tries this

[riverripplespeaks]

OKAY OKAY weve all seen the warrior cat color challenges… but the true challenge is black cats. tall shadow, nightcloud, hollyleaf, and reedwhisker.

[alliebirb]

cringe compilation 🐀

[finisnihil]

Analysis with Penacony spoilers ahead, read at your own behest

I love Acheron so so much and one of the main reasons is how human she tries to be. She‘s trying so hard to stay human, to be human.

She’s killed people the blood debt is a burden she carries. She only sees the world in black, white, and red, but she gets lost easily and guides strangers home and she thanks you for trusting her even though you don’t have to and she protects a little boy from the mafia and she mourns your friend with you even though she didn’t know her because she knows you’re hurting and she helps you calm down after you watched your friend die horribly and she stays with you and looks after you and tells you to stay level headed and she apologies for being held back from protecting those you love because she isn’t human anymore and then she does one of the most human thing of all and blesses the soul and mourns her with you, guides her home like she did with you. Acheron is gentle like a psychopomp, like Death. She cries blood but it’s still crying.

Onto the allusion, the name Acheron comes from the river Acheron, one of the five rivers of the Underworld in Greek mythology. The Acheron is the River of Woe/Pain/Lost Souls. The River Cocytus (River of Wailing/Lamentation) and River Phlegethon (River of Magma) both flow into the River Acheron and the River Styx (River of Oaths/Border to the Underworld/Makes one invulnerable if they bathe in it) stems from the Acheron. The final river is the River Lethe which causes forgetfulness when bathed in or drunk from and usually used by the souls of the dead to be reborn. These allusions fit Acheron well, as she cries blood which is fitting for one named after the River of Woe. Her difficulty to hold onto memories is also reminiscent of the Lethe, especially now that we know she’s an Emanator. She was technically “reborn” as when she became one.

Building off this, she fulfills the role of a psychopomp. In folklore and mythology psychopomp are entities that guide souls of the dead, such a Thanatos in Greek mythology who is the personification of peaceful death (Who Seele has allusions to but that’s another analysis). Aventurine associates Acheron with the Finality a few times and we see her act like a psychopomp when she does things like “take us home” when we first meet her and she mentions guiding again when she sends Firefly off. She gets lost in the waking world but never seems to in the Dreamscape.

Building even more off this allusion, in Greek mythology the twin brother of Thanatos is Hypnos, the personification of sleep. Sleep and death are often tied together even outside of Greek mythology, like the Epic of Gilgamesh where Gilgamesh is literally told he can’t think about conquering death when he can’t even conquer sleep.

This all leads me to a theory about why Acheron said she had no choice in whether to draw her blade. She wanted to but she had no choice in the matter. We’ve seen her draw her blade twice so far in the story and it was to wake the Trailblazer and to fight Sam. If Acheron is an agent of the Finality maybe her blade can’t be drawn because it can only be used against those dying or dead or not living? We know Firefly was dying and we know she has a weird connection with Sam. The weird “Death” monster also seemed to target Firefly. I think Acheron couldn’t draw her sword against the “Death” because she is also an agent of Death and cannot attack one of her own, but she can use it against Firefly because Firefly is dying and it would be seen as a final severing of the soul from life or as “harvesting” the soul. Of course I could be completely and utterly wrong I’m literally just making an analysis based on allusions and motifs but still I think it’s interesting. Plus Aventurine calls Acheron and Sam enemies and Sam uses fire, an element typically seen as representing life.

Pulling a little bit away, Acheron sees the world in black, white, and red. The red is fleeting according to her and it reappears when a choice is made. If Acheron is a psychopomp this makes sense, she would mostly see the world as the living and the dead and the red could be a tie to the idea of the red string of fate, as we know destiny is a major theme of HSR’s story. When we make choices that change the direction of fate, we interact with the red strings of fate. This could be another reason she’s at odds with the Stellaron Hunters, they adhere strongly to the idea of destiny but to death destiny would have a different meaning. Her sword has an eye and is adorned with red which is where the majority of the color in her design is centered, going back to my theory around her sword it could represent how it cuts strings of fate and the eye matches the one on the “Death” nightmare.

We also know she apparently hijacked the Ever-Flame Mansion party to come here, maybe because she sensed there would be a lot of death here and came to collect the souls?

Finally, I would like to reiterate I do not play HI3 this is just something I’ve noticed, so correct me if I’m wrong:

She seems to be a Raiden Mei Expy and I know nothing of that character but I did notice when she says “Do you remember me?” there’s the answer of no and yes, and she akins us to a dear friend she had. We, the protagonist, fulfill the same role in this game Kiana (I think that’s the HI3 protag) does in HI3 and I’m vaguely aware Raiden Mei and Kiana have some sort of relationship in HI3. This asking if we remember her could be two things to me: Either she’s asking if we remember her as we have faced death before or she’s asking if we the player remember her from HI3, which she may have an awareness of if she is a personification of death and that may link her to knowledge of the Imaginary Tree as trees seem to be associated with death in HSR when you remember Yaoshi is associated with trees as well and the fruit of their tree on the Xianzhou gives immortality, where if Luocha is an Emanator he would have that tree motif too and we know he has tree motifs because he’s an Expy of Otto who did interact with what I think was the Imaginary Tree and that carried over when Luocha was given the element of Imaginary (Of course I had to talk about Luocha who do you think I am)

Anyways there’s so so much more but this post is already really really long and probably incomprehensible so if I think of any more I’ll make like a part II post anyways thanks for reading this far if you did and feel free to add discussion, mwah!

[binah-beloved]

Good luck with your Walpurgis pulls!

i'm not pulling, but good luck to anyone that is. may your treasures be reaped and your duplicates be few

[dykesagainstgojo]

i think its probably irrelevant to where the narrative is going, but ever since i listened to the coda ep (a few days ago) i cant take off my head what means to lose your memories to a being like john and i gotta put this thoughts somewhere so lets go

when you lose your memory as a human theres so much stuff that helps you continue to be you. theres your appearance, theres people who remember you, if youre lucky theres documents and pictures and other kinds of registers of your life, and theres things like behavior that you are able to keep from your old self without even noticing

but johns case is different

i could go on about how theres almost no one but arthur who really knows about him, about his existence and who he was, but that would be fruitless since its not like someones existence needs to be remembered by a minimum number of people to be accepted

what is really bothering me is the concept of his existence as an independent being. john is the fragment of an entity's soul, he became his own being with his own ideals and wishes through the very specific experiences he had with arthur. when he loses his memory, he obviously becomes once again a fragment of the king. we see that even not knowing who he is, the king's nature stays with him (like how he jumps straight into the manipulation route both times), so if he were to go back to his old self, wouldnt that be the king? even if he went through a new set of experiences with arthur and went back to yearning to be a human and refusing to go back to the king, would that be considered john? or would it be a completely new being who was shaped into something john-like?

is kayne bringing his memory back the only way for john to exist again? does losing his memory in this case mean getting his existence erased?

[bafflement]

Deaged Oz AU - Finding Oz

Felt like that very first scene needed expanding, so here it is.

Qrow flew… literally… through the devastation that Cinder had wrought on Beacon, heading for the vault. He wasn’t too late, he couldn’t be… he couldn’t lose Oz. Not like this, not when everybody had already lost so much. Yang was injured, Pyrrha Nikos was dead, and yet he’d only just be informed that Oz was… missing.

Missing, dammit. Not dead, he wasn’t allowed to be dead. The man he loved was meant to be bomb proof, indestructible. The thought that he’d fall so easily to someone like Cinder, of all people? One of Salem’s pawns?

And yet… and yet that would be exactly the damn fool decision Oz would make, wouldn’t it? His life for his students, he’d always told Qrow that was the way he wanted to go out. Protecting the youth, protecting the future. Yes, he’d come back… but it wouldn’t be Oz anymore, would it? He’d be filtered through whoever the next version was. There’d be no more quiet nights spent in Oz’s ridiculous sitting room, sipping whiskey and watching Oz consume those sugary beverages he adored so much. No more evenings spent under the stars while his lover told him all the names they’d had however many thousands of years ago Ozma had lived… or during the vast  gulf between then and now. One taloned foot clenched at the thought of just how lonely Oz must have been, however long this stupid war had consumed him already. The talons bit into his leg slightly, but Qrow was far too panicked to feel it. If he’d died, alone… if Qrow hadn’t been there to save him, to help? How could he claim that he loved him, if he hadn’t even been there for him as he died. From the scorched walls he was flying past, the rubble… it would have been many things, but never an easy death.

He wasn’t going to think about that. Not yet, not while there was still a chance that Oz was still alive. Magic could do a lot, after all. Maybe there really was time for one last miracle? For Oz, of course… not for Qrow. He hated his semblance, had tried to keep away as much as possible but what if it hadn’t been enough? What if his mere background presence had… had… no. No, Qrow had NOT killed Oz. That wasn’t the way things worked. If he was dead at all. Oz was a competent Huntsman, one of the very best, after all. This was hardly his first fight, he would be okay.

But then… Huntsmen fought Grimm, not each other. Human targets were rare enough to need entirely separate fighting styles. Oz was very old, or a part of him was, he had to have killed before. But. But Cinder Fall had been masquerading as a student and if his ridiculously perfect lover had one major flaw, it was his protective streak. She had been a student, had posed as a student… could Oz have bought himself to fight her at his full strength? He would have seen her as a child, she’d fought in the Vytal festival, for the Brother’s sake. Oz… could he hurt a child, or would he just have let her kill him?

The vault, by the time he made it there was a mess. The air stunk of burned hair and blood and some of the walls were collapsing into heaps of masonry. He glanced at the ceiling and swore as it bowed. Whatever… whoever… was down here might not have much time.

He started the search, hoping against every fibre of himself that he’d find Oz. Every instinct in him was screaming that it was hopeless, that this was a tomb, but he had to try at least. If nothing else, the next version of… him… would need his cane. Finally he spotted it, the scrollwork seemingly untouched by the devastation around it. He scooped it up, eyes still scanning and froze. There was a figure, curled up in a heap and surrounded by rubble, but as he watched, astounded, their chest moved with a breath. Then a second, could Oz somehow still be alive? He felt his heart race for an instant before it sank like a misaimed stone skipping on a river. Whoever this was, they were far too small to be Oz. His lover was six foot six and big with it, this figure was, well… tiny. Diminutive and child like, and… what was a child doing here, how could they have found their way into a situation like this? Oz would never have let… but no, there was no time to wonder.

Qrow snatched the child up, cradling them protectively in arms that were shaking from adrenaline. Most of the smell seemed to be coming from the kid, but he’d know more once they were both out in the light and he could take a good look at them. If Oz was still here… he’d run out of time to find the body. At least he had the cane, and this unexpected burden… blessing? From such a tragedy. As Oz would have implored him, ‘save the child.’ He just hoped that, somehow, the lift was still functional, there was no way he could carry the kid out of here as a bird.

Miracle on miracle, the lift seemed untouched. As it made its slow rise towards the surface, he glanced down at the child. The kid hadn’t stirred, a dead weight in his arms. At least they were breathing, which was something, but… were their arms meant to be that skinny? He wasn’t at all certain how old the kid was, but surely Yang and Ruby had had more muscles at however old this poor brat was? If so, if they were truly a civilian… had Salem bought them there, had that been why Oz had let her kill him. And he really would have had to have let her kill him, there was no other way she should ever have got the drop on him. But threatening a child, one she’d bought there for that very purpose? That seemed very Cinder like, from the little he’d seen of her. He clenched his teeth, gripping the kid harder as he did so. They still didn’t stir, whatever had been done to them seemed to have knocked them out pretty good. That was worrying, for more reasons than one. Hopefully someone could help once they got to the surface?

Dammit Oz, how long was this lift going to take? There was making an entrance, then there was overkill. This lift fell in the latter category at this point. He concentrated on the kid. Boy, girl? He wasn’t sure at this point, just glad that they were still breathing. As long as he was concentrating on that, he wouldn’t break down. He couldn’t, he couldn’t afford to. Not yet, not with what was looking like a child’s life on the line. They were so young though, far too young for Beacon. Where were their parents, had Cinder or… worse… Salem killed them when they snatched the poor kid up? It would certainly track, but…

One tiny hand seemed to shift slightly, reaching for something. With a pang, Qrow realised that they seemed to be reaching for the cane, but… surely he was imagining things? Oz had told him about the reincarnation process, what was likely to happen when he died. This wasn’t it, not in the least. Yet the child smelled of ashes and blood and he had found him very close to that cane. He’d been the only sign of life Qrow had spied down there, though his eyesight wasn’t as good in the dark. Was it possible? He spent a second, daring to hope, before dismissing the thought.

Qrow could never, ever hope to be that lucky. After all, it wasn’t in the cards for someone like him.

He squinted at the sudden glare as that damn lift finally came to a halt. At least they were out of the vault, the probably-a-tomb. Wherever Oz was, whoever he was now, he’d find him again. At least the child was safe.

He glanced down at the kid, only to blink in shock. They seemed to be dressed in clothing that was far too large for them, torn, bloodstained and badly burned. But what little was visible under the burn marks was a worryingly familiar shade of emerald. The child’s skin and hair were dirty and soot smeared, but just as pale as Oz’s were now he could see them in the light of day. Too pale, actually, though at least they were still breathing. If this was Oz, if they hadn’t just snatched a kid that looked similar and decided to torment the adult Ozpin with this kid who could have easily been their child, then what had happened? What could have gone so badly wrong that this could occur? What would happen, now, anyway? As it was, the boy was far too young to return any feelings that Qrow still felt for him. Oh, he loved Oz, he always would. But this child? No, he needed his protection but… what if they woke and their mind was as young as their body? What if he truly had lost Oz? Forever… what if his initial thought down in the vault was right and this wasn’t Oz at all. He scanned the surroundings, but although there was frantic activity in the distance, nobody seemed to have noticed him or his burden just yet. Could he risk handing maybe-Oz over to the medics, though? There didn’t seem to be anything too wrong with him that he could see, and as the surge of adrenaline left him, he could feel the kid’s aura tickling against his own.

It was strong, too strong to be coincidence. Familiar, too, though it was a painful thing to realise. This had to be Oz, it couldn’t be anyone else. But he hadn’t stirred, hadn’t woken. Was entirely vulnerable. Qrow ached to go and see to his nieces, but Oz needed him right now. He couldn’t leave the boy alone, if Salem found out that he was trapped like this… there was no telling what she’d do with the unconscious, too thin child Oz currently was.

Well, there was. He knew exactly what she’d do if she got her hands on the little boy. She’d torture him, make an example of him. Swallowing back sudden bile, he gripped the kid harder. Just hard enough for the clothing to shift slightly, revealing a half melted pin in the vague shape of a cross. Qrow let out a sob at the state of it, at the state Oz was in. How could they keep going, like this? What if he never woke up? What if he died, would Qrow be forced to watch as his heart shattered even further than it was already? What if this was actually a ten year old Oz, devoid of any memories, no longer the wizard? If he died, it might be possible after all. There was too much he didn’t know and for all the warnings, Oz had never mentioned anything even remotely similar to this.

Blinking down at the weakly twitching fingers, the only sign of life beyond the rise and fall of Oz’s chest, he placed the cane in the outstretched hand. Oz gripped it tightly enough that his knuckles went white, but some of the tension seemed to drain out of him. As his face relaxed, Qrow readjusted his guess as to age downwards. If he was eight, that might explain the size a bit better. But then, Oz had always been small until he suddenly wasn’t. There were very good reasons it was referred to as the growth spurt from hell, after all. He shook his head, glancing over at the medics again. They still hadn’t noticed, or if they had then they were choosing not to get too close to him. But then Qrow had rather a reputation, they had to know that even if he was injured he was unlikely to go to them willingly. Besides, they had far more important people to treat.

He couldn’t see Glynda, or any of the others from Beacon. That was good, to an extent. It meant that he’d have a chance to get Oz to safety, somewhere he could heal from whatever had happened down in the vault. Time to think of a plan of sorts, to get things sorted… to learn what had happened, if Oz even knew that, either. To prepare, if the worst should happen and he really was just a little boy now. Although, had he been, Qrow rather doubted the cane would have calmed him as much as he did. Where was the easiest safe house, though? Who could he trust to have Oz’s best interests in mind when he could not be there, and he would have to check in with Tai and the girls soon enough. Oh. Oh, yes, she was rather the obvious choice, wasn’t she? Besides, Mistral was the closest kingdom anyway, Salem’s probable next target. Hopefully she’d think Oz was dead, he was pretty certain Cinder would have thought that or she wouldn’t have left the body long enough for whatever had happened to happen. She would have just killed him again, or worse, presented him as an offering to Salem. Qrow shivered at that, Oz’s still form shifting slightly but not waking, not stirring.

Rise and fall, rise and fall. Watching him breathe seemed to take up most of Qrow’s attention at the moment, but he needed to get moving. He could wrap Oz in a blanket once they were far enough away from Beacon so as they wouldn’t be stopped. Hopefully anyone that saw him would assume Oz was an actual kid and Qrow his caregiver. In a twisted way, he was right now. And to think, the day had started off so well.

He managed to make it away from the aftermath of the fall of Beacon without being stopped of questioned. That was odd, considering the lack of luck that Qrow always carried with him like a miasma, but maybe something somewhere knew just how important this was? They might not be looking out for Qrow, but maybe they were looking out for Oz?

He glanced down at the kid again, taking in the familiar features in rather unfamiliar sizes. Maybe his first guess was right and he really was nearer ten, but either way he wasn’t anywhere near old enough to fight yet. He would still be at least three years too young for even one of the primary Huntsman’s academies, after all. Maybe they could stop him from fighting if and when it came to it? Probably a bad bet though, knowing Oz, but it was an amusing one none the less. Oz had always been the protector, but now? It was rather likely that he’d be the one being protected. Qrow couldn’t help the snort at the image that bought up, but as he lay him down to wrap him in a blanket, his eyes were very sad. What would happen, really, if Oz never woke up? He was breathing, true, but there was no telling what sort of damage could have been caused by whatever it was that had turned him into a kid. It was probably magic, [Qrow was one of the few people who had been privy to Oz’s semblance and this certainly wasn’t it] but that just raised more questions. If it was magic, was it even something that they could reverse? Should they? From the state of Oz’s suit, it was more than likely that he’d be gravely injured as an adult if not… worse than injured. Ah well, it was only a decade and Qrow could wait. He just hoped Oz would still love him, when the time came. If it was Oz, and, well, that remained to be seen.

At least the person he was counting on knew he was coming. If it turned out Oz really was just a kid now, then that would be as safe a place as any for him to be raised, it wasn’t that likely Salem would really go looking as long as she thought he was dead after all. Qrow felt like the weight of Remnant was crushing him at the thought, though. If they’d lost the wizard, if Oz woke as a child and nothing more and the wizard never reincarnated… then they’d lost. Salem would run unchecked with nobody to counter her. So few people even knew about her to start with, how would they ever get them to believe that she was real? And without Oz, they’d have to. Without Oz, it was hopeless. They weren’t even certain where all the maidens were, and one of them was Cinder of all people… and Cinder was on Salem’s side.

Maybe their powers would vanish if the wizard died? Qrow was trying not to think about it, but the worst possible situations usually happened around him. After all, what was his semblance if not a curse to himself and those around him? Dooming Remnant, though? That would be a new low, even for him. Maybe Oz really should never have trusted him, never kept him around. If the worst happened, then the Tribe was right.

He swiped away the tears, angrily, watching Oz as he slept. It was getting dark, Qrow really needed rest himself, but Oz was too vulnerable to leave. Oh, Qrow could deal with any Grimm that popped up, he could really do with something to hit right now, but that wasn’t the point. Oz was never still when he slept, not really. That this sleep was too deep even for his normal nightmares… was that a good thing, or a bad thing? Could anything about this particular situation be viewed as anything bar a disaster? But no, Oz was still alive, even if he was a kid right now. He’d wake up, he’d be Oz, everything would be as okay as they could make it. Or at least as okay as anything really could be under the circumstances, weird though they very much were.

Qrow pulled a face, even as he got out his bedroll, positioning it so as to be between Oz and anything that might want to attack, trusting the fire to act as a sufficient barrier on the other side. He did need to rest, even though he knew he wouldn’t actually sleep.

They still had a long way to go to reach Mistral and safety, after all.

[yeonban]

I could play the 'spot the differences' game for 7-11 y.o Tobias and 17-21 y.o Tobias and frankly the only things that'd stand out are his build (taller & more masculine as he grows older) and the fact that kid him never smiled whereas if adult him doesn't smile... you've fucked up beyond reparation and are going to find yourself at the gallows the next time you wake up

[wisterioak]

humbly requesting that someone do my touch starved self a solid aka push me around a little, get comfy and cuddle, gimme some kisses even

[blissfulanguish]

the baby's currently asleep swaddled in shrike's arms. it's a miracle she didn't wake up when he took her from the crib (or the conversation that came before that). "you can hold her," shrike murmurs, stroking his thumb over the blue peach-fuzz crowning her head before handing her over. "watch her head." said more out of habit than a lack of trust.

and that's when ramiel wakes up; a squirm and stretch of limbs. deep brown eyes blinking open. she stares up at legato in silence, owlish expression growing more and more confused.

... then she starts crying. / @butchersbird (WOAH . BABY BE UPON YE)

If someone had told him he'd sire a child in the past, he would have killed them on principle. Why ruin another life by bringing them up in this hellish, chaotic wasteland?

After everything, all of the personal details he'd actually shared about his background, why would Shrike endanger himself and their child like this. It was a difficult exchange to sit through, he mostly said nothing. He tried to listen, to be patient.

It hadn't been fair, but he'd said a few unkind things. If the baby in question looked anything like he did... it probably would have been a mercy to simply kill her. Out of all the things that Shrike could have done, just up and leaving without any form of protection or plan was just-

"watch her head."

Legato doesn't have to look twice and his heart drops out of his chest, beneath his feet, and sinks somewhere into the core of the planet. If only Ramiel had taken more after his partner, she could have had a fighting chance. His despair is unquantified. He moves almost robotically, fearful golden eyes haunted by his own appearance staring back at him as he gently cradles the infant in the crook of his arm and against his chest.

The first few sleepy grunts begin to turn to cries and he nearly shoves the child back into Shrike's arms, looking both confused and terrified. Instead he repositions the swaddled blanket surrounding the child, making sure to support the back of her tiny neck and begins to murmur softly- just reassurances and sweet promises that everything was going to be alright.

But would it? How could it be?

Someone would come and take her- They always did.

After everything, the constant unending humiliation and dehumanization, the only thing that had kept him from just biting his own tongue off and bleeding to death had been his anger. His spite. The hope that one day, he might be able to enact revenge, then he'd be free of this rotten excuse for a life.

He couldn't- Would NOT let her go through what he did, ever. He would kill everyone before letting them take her.

"Did you even stop to think about what this could mean, for her? Just running away isn't good enough. They'll hunt her down, they'll-"

He stops himself, biting down against his lower lip until blood blooms against his tongue.

"She's innocent. Light, pure, and free of all the filth and sin. They'll do anything, pay anything... You don't understand how valuable she is to those disgusting pigs, you don't understand-"

His voice breaks, feels a crack splitting open in an otherwise obdurate foundation of faith and loyalty. He's quiet, hot tears spilling down the harsh angles of his cheekbones as a vehement fire rages to life within the cage of his ribs.

"Right now, today, tomorrow- She takes priority. She's our responsibility. Everything else doesn't matter."

He stares down at Ramiel- watching in fascination as her tiny, perfect fingers try to grasp at his hair.

"None of it matters, just... her."

[strwbrymlkshake]

literalyl insane if my dumb feelings don't go away I'll have to start a normal normal rant tag for him I think –_–

[sylkshe-a]

🫂how do they feel about friends with benefits?

i'm not sure that she could . . sustain friends with benefits. aniela has , essentially , zero control over her emotions & i sincerely doubt that she'd be able to keep it up for too long without becoming attached or even falling in love. she's so easily swayed by the idea of romance , sooo , yes she could do friends with benefits , but definitely not for very long.

✧˚ ˖ @vulpesse —- 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 !

[irndad]

won't you be my sunshine-a.h.

a/n: runner!hotch x sunshine!reader !! sooooo fluffy, first hotch fic of mine so be gentle with me! lots of pining and happy end <3 happy to continue with these two in an au!

Aaron Hotchner is not a particularly emotive man. 

This is a skill he has honed, a cherished quality that was not born of luck or of natural ability, but a skill that he has honed down to a fine tip point. He needs to be, in this job. It’s cost him things, of course, but for the most part, Aaron is happy with his choices. He takes a firm line with people he works with, and does not always let up in his personal life.

The only time this sometimes causes a hitch, is in his romantic life.

Which isn’t to say that he has one. 

There is a woman who reads in the park every morning. Aaron affectionately thinks of this bench as her bench, as it is marked by wisterias and hyacinths on either end of it. It’s something of a ritual, after his runs, that they talk. 

It’s fun. He doesn’t have a lot of space for fun. He’d collapsed on the bench one day after siphoning his anger at a particular case into a difficult run. He’d crashed onto the bench, sweaty and exhausted and hadn’t even seen her there. Which is a bit impressive, as she’s hard to miss the sight of. It is also in equal measure embarrassing. It’s not every day you collapse in front of a gorgeous woman, disturbing her from what is likely a lovely afternoon in the park.

That’s how it started, anyway. She doesn’t run, so each break is punctuated by her company. He’s actually not sure if they’re flirting. He’s not very good at that- the last time he has to he was 17 and so full of unearned confidence, he lucked into a partnership. 

Now, he’s a bit older and a lot more scarred. She’s younger than him, not by much. She laughs with her whole chest at his dry, glib humor- and this is something Aaron had forgotten. The joy of a beautiful, wonderful woman’s company beside you. 

He feels a little out of place next to her. Romance is not something he does. Ever thought he’d do again, really. That’s not to say that this is romance. Their romance is almost entirely hypothetical. He thinks of her at work, which is a monumental development in and of itself. 

“So, how was the paperwork? I know you’ve been taking a little more on since your colleague had a baby. It’s so kind of you to do it.” She asks him on a beautiful August morning. 

He fights off a blush that she remembers what he’s done for JJ. He’s not big on mentioning his own good deeds. Aaron believes that this would cancel it out. Still, her praise is a warm balm to the exhaustion that plagues him. It’s hedonistic, the way he wants her to say more about him. He wonders absentmindedly if she knew everything about him that’s hard to love, she’d still paint him with such a light and warm glance. She’s bright enough, he’s tempted to tell her everything about him just because she asks. 

“It was…alright. My team is excellent. I’m lucky to work with people like them, it makes the process better. I couldn’t ask for more.”

She giggles a little at this, and there’s that roar of affection. 

He feels a sense of ease around her, one that is suspicious for him. He tries not to romanticize, but this connection is hard not to. She’s beautiful- this is obvious to anyone who meets her, a simple truth of her. But Aaron is trained to notice things little factors that show the truth of someone. 

He likes to watch her- it’s a pleasant thing, getting to be in her presence. It’s a little addicting, the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like all of the things he knows to be true of himself- his relative failures, the closed-off nature of his demeanor- are things that not only can be overlooked, but don’t seem to be in her line of sight at all. It’s an honor, to have her doe eyes rake over the sight of him, to meet him with gentle conversation. 

He tries not to notice that she is gorgeous. Aaron has been around beautiful women, of course- this is not something that should surprise him. But there’s something effervescent about her, something that his him wondering if it’s possible that she might feel the same way about him. He knows that he used to be a more attractive man, but now. Well, he’s a bit bruised, both metaphorically and physically. 

It feels odd to even think of this happening. She’s just got a warm, sweet tone and he replays what it’s like when she greets him. She smiles her brilliant grin and sometimes hugs him. It’s embarrassing how much he likes the feeling of it- soft curves against hard muscle and scarred skin. She always smells wonderful, and he wonders how nice it would be to have more of this. 

“I like your new shirt, by the way.” She smiles at him, and his heart jumps. It feels juvenile, but- she’s wearing a new lipstick, it seems. Her beautiful pout looks awfully tempting. 

“I like the lip color,” he tries to compliment back amenably, but that doesn’t stick. Instead, it comes out too earnest. He’s hyper aware of the fact that she’s right by him. She flushes, and Aaron feels a surge of pride. 

“Thank you,” she says, voice softer and flattered, and isn’t that a pretty sound? He’d love to do that for her, make her feel seen, make her feel like she’s as beautiful as she is, “I thought you might like it.”

It’s her directiveness that breaks the seal, he supposes looking back. Because she wore the lipstick for him. That’s just about the only thing it can mean, and he is struck with a particularly sensory fantasy of what it would be like to slot his mouth against hers- he gets the feeling it might be worth it even if he gets the color on his mouth. 

He’s a gentleman, though, he decides after a decidedly ungentlemanly amount of time spend staring at the gorgeous curve of her lips. 

“Would you want to get dinner with me?” He hears himself say it before he’s processed it, and then it’s out into the world. His heart is hammering and he’s blaming on the run, when god, it’s absolutely about how breathtaking she looks, the sunlight reflecting off her hair like a halo. When she beams back at him, she looks particularly angelic. 

It’s then, she leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

(Months later, when she is sitting on his kitchen counter and he is standing between her legs, gazing down at her with unabated fondness because he is entitled to that, he reflects on this moment and thinks god, how lucky am I, that I ran past that bench?) 

[dr3c0mix]

My Lovely Melody

Yandere!Rockstar x GN!Reader

CW: yandere is a playboy before he meets reader, suggestive (creepy) thoughts, minor obsessive behaviour

🎸 Axel's been in many relationships with both men and women alike, but all of his little flings felt nothing more than that, just flings.

🎸 And he was content with it, I mean being a famous rockstar meant lots of people wanting a chance with you and he indulged in that fact.

🎸 He could sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he wouldn't have to deal with the commitment that comes with dating or any of that messy stuff.

🎸 So why the hell can't stop thinking about you ?!?!?!!

🎸 He scratched his head trying to make sense of it, his messy hair getting even more ruffled as he tries to get the image of your smile out of his head.

🎸 You were in a miscellaneous store full of alt clothing, trinkets and various other stuff when he walked in with his bandmates.

🎸 It was fairly normal when he came in the store. It was dim with some random punk song playing faintly in the background. His friends started exploring, looking at the graphic t-shirts and mugs shaped like skulls and the like.

🎸 He got a bit bored and wandered to the other side of the store. It had posters, candles and..who's that?

🎸 There you were, staring longingly at a plush toy sitting on one of the shelves, just standing there.

🎸 He didn't think much of it, probably just some person baked out of their mind. "Hey buddy, you doin' good?"

🎸 You snap out of your gaze and look at the big hulking man in front of you. You stutter out an apology and explain your little misfortune.

🎸 "So you want this..toy...but you can't afford it..?" He raises a brow at you as you nod, making him chuckle.

🎸 He thought for a moment, looking at the stuffed creature, well it wouldn't hurt to buy it for you, he's pretty well off from all the gigs and concerts he's been in so...

🎸 "How 'bout I buy this thing for ya then? But you owe me~" He winks, thinking he could score some quick sex for being such a 'gentleman'

🎸 But no, instead of a blush or a knowing smirk, you just looked at him with the widest, most innocent eyes he's ever seen, you were practically shaking with joy as he said it.

🎸 You thanked him profusely before listing off things you could do in return, treating him to some food, buying something for him in return, plain paying him back..he was a bit surprised.

🎸 "O-oh...uhm that was a joke heheh, y-you don't have to do all that babe..." He blushes.

🎸 The two of you head to the cashier, his friends spying from behind the aisles as his gaze is locked on the little ball of cuteness beside him.

🎸 Seriously? Did you even know who he was? This has never happened before...most of the time, he would pay for someone's drink or something and they'd be on his dick in seconds, but you, you were so..different...it felt nice..

🎸 You didn't even get it in a bag, you immediately took the plush after it was paid and hugged it close.

🎸 so cute so cute so cute so cute so cute!!!

🎸 "Hey uh..so me and my buds are in a band and uhm..wanna maybe..watch our next gig?" He asks nervously, he's never been so shy towards anyone!!

🎸 You agree, thinking it's the least you could do for what he did for you.

🎸 You take out your phone, Axel can't help but grin at the case, it was cute, like you~..

🎸 "Here's my number if..you need it.." You smile at him, that smile..that damn cute smile...you had his heart wrapped around your finger at this point.

🎸 "Th-thanks sugar..I'll see you there.." He smiles back as you part ways, he heads back to his friends who were bombarding him with questions as he watches you skip out of the store with your new little soft friend.

🎸 That night, he was getting ready for the show when he got a message notification and sees that you sent a picture of the show from one of the seats with some text "Good luck out there!"

🎸 His face was on fire as he realized you were there, he peeks out in the crowd and there you were, your little plush toy in tow.

🎸 You look so out of place from the people in spiky jewelry and dark outfits, you were just in a hoodie and baggy pants, albeit the hoodie had a MCR design on it, but you can tell it was very soft compared to the rest of the audience.

🎸 Finally it was time for the show to begin and it was the most passionate he's been in a while, it seemed as if the words he was singing were dedicated to you and you alone.

🎸 The little glances at you made you giddy, like a friend seeing their bestie perform, you were cheering excitedly for him, not in a fangirly way, but one of genuine support and amazement.

🎸 After the performance, Axel tried finding you, but the crowd was too big and he assumed you must have left already.

🎸 Wait..why is he being so buddy buddy with you? You just met today! It's not like you two were best friends or anything!

🎸 He tried dismissing the thought of you, tried distracting himself by flirting with other people, but he could only think about you, and making you smile like that again..

🎸 no no no! get out of my head!

🎸 Maybe a little fling can ease his mind?

🎸 Even on his bed with some random girl after show, he can still think of you.

🎸 Would your skin be as soft? or maybe softer? How would your hair smell? He bets your moans would sound delicious..

🎸 shit FUCK!!

🎸 Even after his one night stand, he kept thinking of you

🎸 He stares at your messages, you sent a lot of pictures of your plush toy doing goofy things to him, so cute..so silly...he can't help but smile.

🎸 He decides to look you up on social media and..

🎸 Wait a minute...you make music too?

yep this was a bit short but idk man i love making you guys suffer <3 stay tuned for part 2 (i am actually out of ideas guys please request me please please ple-)

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 — squirting

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: shy!reader (not "innocent" or inexperienced, just a little more reserved). penetrative sex.

Chrissy didn't know what she was doing.

It was an innocent question — as innocent as the questions being raised could be, that night. The conversation had quickly descended into more risqué subjects after Steve had gotten a little too tipsy and started complaining about his lack of luck on his latest escapades.

Nothing out of the ordinary, really. You were all used to talking about sex in one way or another. Eddie was famously loud about it, always having a story to tell, his or otherwise. Stories that made you imagine yourself on the receiving end of, guiltily wanting your friend to do those same things he was describing to you.

You kept those fantasies to yourself, though. Not wanting to be teased by the girls, maybe even worse, have them try to set you up with him. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if Eddie ever rejected you, or dated you out of pity. There was no scenario where this would work in your mind, no "you and Eddie", just you and your thoughts of him, where he would never hurt you, where all he did was make you feel good, imagining it his hands on your body, roaming until they found that place between your legs, instead of your own.

That night, it was no different. After Steve started the conversation, there was no stopping it. You often listened more than talked — not due to lack of experience, you were just a little too shy to share too much, even among close friends — but when the talk switched to Robin commenting about making her girlfriend squirt, you slipped.

"Good for her."

Your reply may have sounded a little more bitter than you'd anticipated, because, one by one, all of your friends looked at you. Maybe it was the scoff that has left your mouth, maybe it was the alcohol that had loosened your tongue. 

"What was that?" Nancy asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you.

"Yeah. What was that?" This time, it was Eddie who repeated her question. He sat on the opposite couch with his legs spread, tight black jeans stretching on his lean legs, making you wish you sat between them. You avoided his eyes.

"Nothing. I mean…", you signed, already regretting having said anything, "it's good! Good for her. Robin is good to her, that's a good thing."

You cringed even before you could finish all those convoluted sentences.

"Honey, have you ever… you know," Chrissy asked from her place on the floor, sitting as delicate as a fairy. "squirted?"

"No." You said, simply. Scared to run your mouth even more. "It's not a big deal. Doesn't happen to everybody."

"Have you tried?" Steve asked from behind his beer. He got a myriad of answers ranging from "that's not how It works, dingus!" from Robin, "it's not a matter of trying" from Nancy and "don't ask that, dude" from Eddie.

"I don't even know where to start, Steve. And before anyone asks, yes, I have cum from sex. Just not… like that."

You wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. It was even worse when you could feel Eddie's eyes on you, like he could see right through you. He tilted his head, and you weren't able to handle the kindness in his brown eyes. You looked away.

Your friends' opinions diverged again, making questions and trying to get you to speak, but you couldn't deal with their scrutiny anymore.

"C'mon, guys. It's fine! Can we change the subject, please?" You tried to swerve them. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. Maybe I'm just broken like that."

They shrugged. You shrugged. They moved on — but Eddie's eyes stayed on you for the rest of the night.

You're on Eddie's passenger seat, right in front of your apartment building, later that night when he brings the subject up again.

"I don't think you're broken."

The two of you had spent the entire ride silent, which was odd since Eddie was the chatterbox between the two of you, always filling the gaps with anything that would cross his mind. Neither that, nor his music filled the silence between you.

"What?" You looked at him, still not believing what you'd heard.

"You said that maybe you were broken like that. That's not true, you're… you're perfect."

That feeling of wanting to hide came back tenfold, making your eyes fill with tears. "Eddie, forget about it, please."

"Hey," he brought your gaze back to him with a finger to your chin, delicately turning your head. "I meant what I said. You're perfect, it's just that no one's taken the time to treat you right. It takes patience, from both sides."

"Yeah, and?"

"I was thinking that maybe I could change that. If you'd let me."

One thing you'd always admired about Eddie was his strength of conviction. He never said anything he didn't believe in, and backed it all up. His voice never faltered, he doesn't shy away from speaking his mind — and you hated that you were forcing yourself to disbelieve him.

"Eddie…"

"Look at me." He pleaded, and in spite of your concerns, you did as he told. His eyes bore into your with a sincerity that was so painfully him. "You can say no. I'll go home and we'll forget about everything I just said. But, sweetheart… I'm dying to prove you wrong."

Eventually, he did.

After you'd gotten up the stairs to your floor kissing and tugging at each other's clothes, letting Eddie's tongue taste yours over and over, stopping to let yourself be cornered against the wall by him. Getting lost in the feeling of his solid body against yours, the smell of him — a strong, masculine perfume, cigarettes and beer — making you dizzy, his lips on your neck making you even dizzier.

After he took your clothes off halfway down your living room, reverencing your body with his rough hands, kneeling between your feet in the middle of your halfway. He made you cum for the first time that night with his mouth, kissing your pussy the way he kissed your mouth, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your tongue. You came as you pulled his hair, his strong arms around your hips preventing you from falling.

After he guided you to your bed, still craving a taste of you. Hands not knowing where to sit still while he pulled another orgasm from you, his fingers deep within you, curling and stroking your walls, his mouth still not leaving your clit. Your ears buzzed with the force of your climax, not being able to hear Eddie's praise. "That's my girl," he said, head resting on the plush of your thigh, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, "doing such a good job, but I'm not done with you yet."

After he made your eyes blur with pleasure when you finally entered you, rubbing the head of his cock on your sensitive bundle of nerves, once, twice, three times before putting it in, slowly bottoming out. Leaving kisses all over your face, shining with sweat. You didn't think you could take it, curling your toes and hugging his narrow hips with your spread legs, feeling each thrust with a tenderness you never did before.

After he filled and stretched you to the brim, pulling out only to push it all in again. Uttering against your skin, broken whimpers, your name on his lips like a prayer. You were beyond the point of forming words, kissing him to stop yourself from screaming. You could feel yourself dripping down your pussy, and into the sheets, soaking Eddie's cock.

After he pulled your thigh higher up his waist, and stood on his knees, pounding into you with measured speed. He hit your spot over, and over, and over — you grabbed the sheets with both hands, repeating his name like a broken record, music to his ears.

"Yeah? That feels good, baby? Am I making you feel good?" Eddie looked like a god above you. Wild hair down to his shoulders, pale skin slick with sweat, eyes drilled on you. You made the mistake of looking down to where your bodies met, watching his thick cock drenched with your juices, going in and out of you. His pubic hair, also matted with your wetness, creating a delicious friction against your clit. "Tell me. Who's making you feel this good?"

"You, Eddie." You whimpered. "You, you, you. Always you."

"That's right, baby. That's" a hard thrust, "fucking," a a squeeze of your thigh, "right."

You felt your orgasm approach with a  deep pressure on your navel, building and building until you couldn't keep It down anymore. You let yourself go, the ringing in your ears louder and cleared, cumming with Eddie's name on your lips.

That's when you felt it. You were limp in your bed, with Eddie above you. You'd felt him cum too, dropping his weight above you, but still keeping himself steady by his elbows. but everything was distant, like it was happening in a dream. Slowly, you came back to yourself — to Eddie, gently coaxing you with sweet words, and to the warm wetness coating your thighs, your ass, and Eddie's lower half.

"Did I…?"

"Fuck yeah, you did." His boyish smile, so different from the confident smirk you saw not moments ago, made you smile too, weakly and still a little embarrassed, but too satisfied to care.

"Happy now?"

"Only when you do it again." 

[priniya]

🌌 TOO MANY NIGHTS

synopsis. theodore nott spent too many nights, smoking and hanging out with matt’s little sister to not make her his girlfriend.

notes. theodore nott x riddle!reader. reader is a hufflepuff! pls, let’s pretend you’re 12 when u get to hogwarts xoxo, just for the plot

theodore nott had always been fascinated by how many differences there were between his best friend mattheo and mattheo’s younger sister. while mattheo wanted to fight anyone, who just scrunched their nose at him, you would rather have your nose broken, so the other person wouldn’t have to go through that pain. while mattheo could be consider as the grumpy (their oldest sibling obviously being the grumpier), you held the tilte of the sunshine.

theo believed it suited you. ever since the three of you were kids, mattheo had his best friend grow protective of you in the same way he had, looking out for you even if you didn’t want it. however, whenever it was nott making your blood boil with some nonsense — you couldn’t get as mad at him as you’d get at your brother. it’s because he’s not my brother, he’s theo, you’d always tell yourself. the truth was that as much as you wanted, you could never be angry with him.

the same thing continued when you started hogwarts. although, you could feel the shifting of your friendship with theo. maybe it all started to happen, because you were growing up, or maybe it was meant to be like that. anyways — you found yourself dreaming of your childhood friend in situations… that made you blush profusely whenever you walked passed him. it was complicating things so much you tried to push it aside, nevertheless to no avail.

“you like him.” a friend of yours joked, when you confessed your thoughts about theo, and… even if gabriela said it in a joking way, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.

turns out, she was.

it was all revealed, when another older friend of yours asked you out to the yule ball, and you had to watch theo having fun with daphne greengrass as well as their own group of friends that you weren’t a part of. did it sting? like hell. should’ve you expected it? absolutely. some would say — you should wait for the moment, when he asks you to the ball, but you knew you were just matt’s little sister in his eyes. a mere childhood friend he used to play with when he was younger, though all that ended the second he (and your brother) got his letter, from this moment on theodore nott was a serious, adult man.

few years later, when the slytherins were throwing a party in celebration of mattheo’s eighteen birthday, as his sister, you got an invitation. as much as you loved your brother, you definitely weren’t a big party person — you’d rather spend your time in the smaller group of people, chilling to the muggle music and maybe get high. nonetheless, it was your sibling’s birthday and you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you didn’t show up.

to be fair, matt’s celebration was one of the first slytherin parties you ever attended, and from all the rumors coating its mysterious aura, your expectations were pretty high.

gabriela, the friend of yours, whom you confided in having a small crush on theo, apparently never forgotten that conversation and decided to ‘spice your night a tad’, her exact words. she lent you a fitted, emerald, silky dress that ended slightly above your knee, she did your make up and gave a nose kiss for good luck.

for the first two and a half hour of the party, you couldn’t really catch a glimpse of the boy you were looking for, so your attention were turned towards plan b, which was getting wasted — and maybe meeting someone to get your brother’s best friend off your mind. so as i said, two and a half hour later, you were much more eccentric, bubbly, and definitely more ray of sunshine, caused by the loads of alcohol you put in yourself.

“teddy!” you exclaimed with a grin as you swiftly made your way towards where he was sitting in the corner of the room. a cigarette in his hand, few of his first buttons undone, a smirk lingering on his lips, although it was gone the second he saw you, being replaced with a genuine, but almost unnoticeable smile.

“riddle.” he replied. the corners of his lips went slightly upwards as your hands were wrapped around him, right after you plopped down on the couch next to him. “drunk?” theo asked, his head tilted to the side to get a better view of your flushed face.

“never.” a giggle slipped past your lips. you leaned more on him, serving him another one of your charming beams. “can i have a hypothetical question?”

“hypothetical?” he echoed your words, suppressing a laugh in attempt to not hurt your drunken feelings. “sure, riddle. go on.” nott added upon seing you nod your head.

“could you give me one of your cigarettes?” you grinned once again, putting all effort into a pleading puppy expression you thought you’ve mastered. his answers made you uncertain about your manipulation/daddy’s girl skills.

once again, theodore fought back a chuckle, putting on a teasing smirk. “no.”

“teddy!”

“what? wasn’t it hypothetical?” he snickered, watching you groan theatrically, lowering yourself on the green sofa. it took him a moment to ease your needs and pull out a package of muggle cigarettes that made you raise your eyebrow in curiosity at him. “they’re the best, believe me.” he mumbled with a cigarette in between his lips.

soon after, he tugged you closer after having looked around to see if mattheo was out of sight. as soon as his nerves were settled and your brother was nowhere to be found, theo’s fingers were wrapped around the lighter he bought in second year. the asshole he was, it felt like he was lighting it up for so long you were about to turn eighty. his gaze was instantly focused on your eyes. butterflies were slowly erupting in your stomach with each second he slacked off to light it.

somehow, you two parted your ways few minutes later, ending the sparkling moment between you two with a quick and rash kiss on nott’s cheek, a little too close to his lips for your brother’s liking, too far for yours.

although, the separation didn’t last too long. at least for him, because, when you met him again, you were drunk out of your mind, giggling at every single word someone said to you. good thing theo’s gut feeling told him to look after you.

you were stumbling over your own feet, stuttering at easiest words until you finally landed in paradise— or just his arms. accidentally, but you could cross it out from your checklist, not that you had one.

“hiya.” a soft smile made its way onto your face as he tightened the grip on your waist, not because you smiled so charmingly at him, but also because some older dudes that occupied his previous spot was busy undressing you with their eyes.

if you weren’t mattheo’s little sister, he’d probably try to get you to agree to have a quick round in his round, hell — maybe not even that quick, he could spend an entire night with a girl like you. unfortunately, the reality was different. he could never take an advantage of you, you were too… you and theodore nott liked that too much to just… ruin it.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, frowning as he picked you up and turned towards the staircase. “teddy– put me down, please.” the words left your lips in a slurred manner, but theodore didn’t budge, not even once.

the teenager obeyed your request the moment he walked through the door to his dormitory that was shared with mattheo. theodore sat you on his bed, his green eyes scanning your face intently, while you stiffled a laughter. as a result, you got a confused expression from him. “what?” he asked.

“you’re so pretty.” a soft mumble left your mouth. it had always been hard to catch theodore nott off guard, mostly because he was an intelligent and cunning person, who always noticed the bigger picture, predict the intentions before someone even opened their mouth, yet you did it. if your mind wasn’t so clouded with alcohol, you’d count it as a small win.

anyway, theo didn’t let your words get too much of a hold on him as he silently continued to undress you. as wrong as it sounds, he was doing you a simple favour — nott wanted to bring you comfort and safety, so he dragged you to his dorm and began unzipping your dress, leaving you in your underwear.

it took the boy all the possible strength he had in himself to control all the urges he just felt. it would be so wrong if he got hard just from the mere sight of the goddess sitting in front of him, with pouty lips and a baffled expression caused by his lack of response to her compliment.

“teddy?” you tried getting his attention once again, involuntarily scrapping off the polish of your nails as your eyes rested on his back, watching him shuffle through his closet to find you a comfortable pyjama.

to be fair, theo absolutely loathed the nickname. teddy reminded him of a child he used to be, a child with a loving mother, who would always call him that exact nickname. it wasn’t too much of a hassle, because no one called him that — until you did and it seemed like you couldn’t get rid of it from your vocabulary. somehow, it never bugged him when you did it. the way ‘teddy’ rolled off your tongue always gave him some sort of warm feeling in his stomach.

“mm?” your brother’s best friend muttered, his back still facing you. seconds later, he’s again in front of you, nudging you yet so slightly, so you put your hands above your head. “what is it, y/n/n?” he used the nickname you haven’t heard in a while, causing a literal war in your abdomen.

“could you kiss me?” for barely a second, his brain stopped functioning. he stopped in his tracks, oversized t–shirt still in his hands, all that until he decided to spare your embarrassment the next day and acted like he didn’t just hear what he heard. he was foolish for thinking that a sight of you almost naked and not getting a hard–on was the worst part of his night. now, theodore’s brain was filled with images of you two making out, and… it’s tough.

wordlessly, he finally put the shirt on you, nudging you afterwards, worry was still vividly lingering on his face as he watched you getting comfortable. “i’ll be right here.” nott murmured, grabbing a pillow, laying down on the floor. theo on one side of his bed, the bucket he brought you in case throwing up on the other.

both of you knew that he could go back downstairs, maybe even hook–up with some girl and spend the night at her dorm, just like mattheo did. nevertheless, he stayed there right with you.

it was further in the night, when you woke up and noticed that he still occupied his spot on the floor next to the bed. a pang of guilt hit you (as well as the pounding in your head) as you stared at his peaceful state.

merlin, theodore faustus nott was today times’ adonis and you felt like you could just spend the rest of the night gawking at how insanely beautiful he was. you could barely resist the urge to run your hand through his dark curls.

“you know i can feel you’re staring, riddle?” theo chuckled with his eyes still closed. shit. at least it was dark enough, so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. “somethin’ bothering you?” he asked, giving you a concerned look.

“sleep on the bed, please?” you pleaded. he was about to refuse, when you continued. “i know you don’t want to kiss me, but it breaks my heart seeing you suffer there, when there’s enough room for two people here.” the words coming out of your mouth are quiet. the embarrassment and absurdity of this whole situation got to you — if you just didn’t ask him to kiss you, he’d probably sleep in the bed with you, but you obviously had to ruin it.

“y/n/n, i want to kiss you.” he said, his tone matching yours. “but i can’t, you know it. mattheo would kill me the second he knew.” theo knew he shouldn’t but the urge was too great to resist, so he placed his hands on your knees, reducing the distance between the two of you.

“matt doesn’t have to know.” a whispers left your lips as you leaned an inch closer, brushing the tip of your nose against theo’s. “teddy, please.” you pleaded, staring at him with urgency in your eyes.

it took theodore half a second to consider his options. he could’ve refused and regret it afterwards, but stay alive or he could’ve just kissed you and maybe get into a heated argument with mattheo. so… a voice in his head said fuck it and kissed you with all those feelings he’s had in him.

you could feel your entire world stop the second his lips fell on yours with urgency and passion. it was all you ever dreamed of, he was the guy who was your last thought before sleep and the first after waking up. a silly, childhood crush that developed over the years into… something you couldn’t describe. theodore nott had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing it — if he asked you to jump into a fire pit for a longing glance, you wouldn’t think about it twice and jump.

your fingers were tangled in his curls as he, without breaking the kiss, leaned more towards you, until your back hit the fabric of his sheets. to be completely honest, you felt like your stomach was about to be ripped apart just from the proximity between the two of you.

the kiss lasted way longer than you expected. it could’ve been hours, but you could never been sure. his lips were just inches apart, when he pulled away yet so slighty, letting out a groan as you nudged the tip of your nose again his.

“you don’t even know how much i wanted to do that.” his words were quiet. “matt will kill me, won’t he?” a low chuckle espaced his throat qs you let out a groan in response.

“could you stop mentioning my brother and just kiss me, nott?”

[hottestvirgin]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆.. | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

he might have just discovered another side of you and to be honest.. it turned him on

warnings(17+). smut, meandom!sunghoon, unprotected sex, name calling (bitch), creampie, backshots, dumbification

your best friend had just found your secret blog on tumblr where you wrote about all of the sexual desires you’ve had for him.

you had thought that you made the blog so discreetly, faking your own identity and who you were writing about. you had thought. nevertheless, sunghoon managed to find out that the blog belonged to you.

and it was unhinged; you wrote about how you would imagine him leaving wet kisses all over your aching body while he’s balls deep in you. or how you couldn’t even stare at him without thinking about fucking him.

how soaking wet your panties would be every time he would come over to chill. or how when you’d watch a movie with him, you would spend the whole time thinking of dirty scenarios: shower sex, angry sex, make up sex, floor sex, wall sex, pool sex, sex, sex, sex.

and you documented it all.. because why not? you wanted all your girlies who interacted with you to know how you felt about that man. you had no shame because of course he would never find the blog.

but damn, were you wrong.

it made your blood run cold when your “secret” username slipped past his lips. all the air in your lungs were stolen from that simple sentence.

“so that’s not you?” he cocked his head with that stupid know–it-all look on his face.

how.. when..?

“i read the stuff you wrote about me and it’s…” he paused, trying to find the right word, “wild.”

“it wasn’t even about you.” you argued, trying to act as nonchalant as fucking possible. it wasn’t working. sunghoon could see right through you.

“so the S guy you write about isn’t me?” he questioned.

well.. in your defense you were one-hundred percent sure that he or anyone else wouldn’t figure out it was about sunghoon just by the first letter of his name.

“you have a really big ego. what if i was talking about sunoo?” you interrogated, trying to flee from the scene but he took a step forward, firmly gripping your arm.

“d’you really think i’m dumb?” he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips as he spoke, “hm?”

“i-i said it wasn’t about you.” you said again. his grip on your arm had your stomach churning in arousal. your heart was racing, and you were certain that he could feel your pulse through your arm.

sunghoon tsked at your lie, “cool.”

maybe it was manifestation, or just pure luck. but that same arm was yanked behind you as sunghoon plunged his hips into you, splitting you open on his thick cock.

he cooed at your cute attempts at trying to squirm away from his staggering thrusts. “none of that— quit trying to run from it..” sunghoon grunted, voice trembling from how soft your walls were around his cock, “you was talking all that on your blog and can’t even take it? tsk.”

you hummed at his word, spit pooling in your mouth from being fucked so good that you couldn’t even remember to swallow anymore. “m’ s.. sorry, fffuck!” you squealed, but it didn’t stop his harsh thrusts.

he pushed your head into the mattress, treating your aching body like his personal fleshlight, “you’re such a dirty bitch. made to be fucked, huh?” sunghoon groaned at how wet you were and the sounds your cunt made. it was so filthy and only got him throbbing more and more inside of you.

he shoved two slender fingers into your mouth, sliding them down your throat as drool spilled down your chin, fingers digging into the mattress beneath you. you remembered writing about how much you’d love for this to happen. and it happened.

clenching hard around him, sunghoon pulled his fingers from your throat and wiped your own salvia across your face. “nasty girl.” he grunted, breathless.

you delivered a guttural scream when he smacked your ass, repeatedly. your thighs quivered as you tried to escape the pain, only to be forced still by his large hands. “c-can’t, i can’t! please..” you wined, screaming into the bedsheets.

“this is what you wanted, right?” sunghoon teased, referring back to your blog, “you greedy bitch, stay still and take this dick.”

you’re sooo full of dick that you can’t breathe properly. you were certain that you were taking all of him, but you can feel him sinking deeper and deeper into you as time passed. “i-i love your cock.. h-hoonie. s’ good, l-let me cum.” you whined.

“shiiit, go ahead.”

it took a long, hasty few seconds before you were convulsing around him and coming hard, harder than you’ve ever came in your life; everything cut to white noise and clear liquid spilled out of your cunt as his hips shuttered against you.

“that’s right.. keep squirting that filthy pussy for me.” sunghoon moaned. then he pulsed inside of you and shot his thick, sticky load into your cunt, painting your walls with his fluids.

it was like every muscle in your body had stopped working, body falling limp onto the bed. sunghoon stilled above you, pulling out to watch his cum flood and drip out of you.

“next time when you lend me your laptop, close your damn tabs Y/N.”