#and if it doesn’t that isn’t a problem because whatever he decides/wants is fine

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[moonstruckme]

this is such a specific request and i’m back and forth about making it because it feels silly but i’m so in love with the way you write james i had to take a chance. i had a bad experience going down on a guy once and i just can’t enjoy it since, but guys often aren’t very understanding about it. i was wondering if you’d write something with james and reader where she doesn’t enjoy it (and it doesn’t have to be for the reason i stated, any reason is fine!), and he’s being such a sweetheart about it. no worries if this request is too much!

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: smut mdni

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 634 words

When James’ head disappears beneath the covers for a second time, your guilt catches up with you. 

You lift up the sheets. You can’t lie to yourself, it’s an alluring sight—James looking up from where he’d been kissing under your navel, long lashes fluttering in happy surprise and one big hand already wrapped securely around your thigh. His lips stay half an inch from your skin.

You decide to drop the sheets rather than tire your arms holding them up. They bubble you in there with him, the morning light filtering through and casting you both half in shadow. 

“Hey,” you say awkwardly.

James’ smile splits his face. “Hi, there.” He finishes what he started, kissing the skin below your navel tenderly. “Nice of you to join me down here.” 

“Thought I should see what you seemed so interested in,” you joke. 

He squeezes your thigh roughly. “It’s quite the view, as you can see.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh half-heartedly. “Sure.” 

Something on your face must give you away. James’ hand smooths out on your thigh. He presses a kiss to the inside, gentle but enough to make your nerves jump. “Something wrong?”

“I don’t think you should do this,” you blurt. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, and, um, we should probably go back to doing other things.” 

James makes no move other than to distance his lips from your leg. “Okay,” he says simply. “If you don’t feel like it anymore, that’s fine. Do you not want me to touch you?” 

“No, it’s—it’s not you.” You give him a little smile, aiming for reassuring. “You’re fine. I just don’t think we should do oral.” 

He blinks. “You don’t think we should or you don’t want to?” 

“I don’t think we should.” Because trust me, I want to. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let you do it the first time. I can’t—or not can’t, I just don’t want to reciprocate.” The confession tumbles out of you like yarn unspooled. “Sorry. I really don’t like blowjobs.” 

“Oh.” It appears to take James a few seconds to process this. When he does, his expression isn’t what you anticipated. He smiles crookedly, eyebrows scrunching like he’s caught between bemusement and humor. “Sweetheart, you could have just said that. That’s alright.” 

You give him a weak smile. “Thanks for being cool about it. I know I should’ve told you earlier, it just…I got caught up, and it felt really good.” You feel your face heating and drop your gaze. “Anyway, it was selfish. Sorry to lead you on.” 

“What? Angel.” James gives your thigh a little shake. “I mean I don’t mind. Really, I’ll eat you out either way. It’s not just so you’ll give me something in return.” 

Now it’s your turn to blink. “What do you mean?” 

He gives you a half-lidded look, both knowing at teasing. “I mean that I like doing this. And even if I didn’t, you hardly forced me. You didn’t promise me anything. You’re allowed to do—or not do—whatever you like.” 

“You’re serious?” You glean from James’ expression that you must look as shocked as you feel. “You really don’t care? You’d tell me if you did, right?” 

He grins, kissing again the sensitive skin inside your thigh. “Yeah, honey. I promise I’d tell you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” 

He laughs. “No problem. So do you mind if I keep going now? If you want me to stop, that’s okay too.” 

“Um.” You rub your lips together, looking down at him. James waits patiently, but his palm starts moving up and down your thigh, a soothing touch that leaves a trail of heat in its wake. “Sure. If you don’t mind.” 

He holds eye contact with you as he lowers his head. His breath is hot on your cunt. “Not at all.”

[lanareadsbooks]

I’m confused about us?

Inspired by this mood board I made 🩷

This is basically just ooc Billy and literally doesn’t fit into the show’s storyline at all but I love me a good cowboy so I had to write about him.

Tags: Dom!Billy Sub!Reader punishments are given, spanking, smut, oral (m) lemme know if I missed any!

It’s 18 something (?? I have no clue when the show is set in) and you’re 19 when your parents decide drop you off with a man you barely know. William H Booney. They said “he’s a the son of some good friends of ours and they said he’ll straighten you right out” I don’t need straightening. You think. Geez you steel one truck and a bottle of liquor and suddenly everyone thinks your a problem. When you were first introduced you thought “hey maybe this won’t be so bad” You. Were. Wrong. Within the first 30 minutes your parents had left you, you couldn’t stand him. He came and sat down in front of your spot on his couch, Ok listen here little girl. He said, You frowned. Little girl? You thought. These are my rules. Follow them and you and me will be just fine. He smiled. No.1 please don’t steal no trucks or anything I have enough trouble with the neighbors around here I don’t need you making that worse for me. 2 Dont back talk me. There is nothing I hate more than an undisciplined girl. Your frown deeper. Though.. I guess that’s why your here isn’t it? He laughed like it was funny. You scoffed. No I’m here because my parents expect me to stay home and clean or embroider. You laugh, And that’s not something I can do every day. Oh? Speaking of that. You’re not gonna be goin out for the first two weeks. WHAT?! You said shocked. Yes mam I think it’s exactly what you need. He said patting your thigh. I need to not go outside? You asked rudely. No you need to realize you only get what given to you. Now I want you to understand if you break any of my rules you gon be goin over my knee that minute young lady. You understand? He asked. You turned red, w-what? You said hoping you misheard him. Yes mam I don’t know about y’all city people but right here when you misbehave you don’t like what happens to ya. N-no you don’t understand, my parents would never let a strange man do that to me. S-so call my daddy and he’ll tell you you’re not allowed to do that to me. You said almost confidently. Sorry sweetheart your folks were real clear I should do whatever need be to make you behave. Tears came to your eyes, but as long as you’re good you’ll be fine. You can do that right? You said to yourself.

No. No you can not.

Less than 24 hours later you found yourself over his lap, it happened because you saw some boys going on a trail ride through the window, you saw one of them had a flask. You thought how bad do I need that, you had been up since 5am thinking about Billy, how blue his eyes were how commanding his voice was (how good he’d fuck you) but that he’d probably never want you. He apparently he saw you as a little girl. Ugh I don’t like older men anyway (wrongg) you thought. As you tried to quietly sneak down the stairs and out the front door. You saw it was locked with a padlock. Shit you thought. Your eyes darted to the window. You smirked, I don’t know what he was thinking I can fit out of these windows easy. As you were lifting the window up all you saw was two hands towing over you and pushing the window back down. Your heart almost stopped. He leaned down to your ear and said. Now what do you think you’re doing little girl? He asked darkly. Uhhhh. before you could come up with an answer. He had picked you up and put you over his shoulder. You squeaked Ah! You yelled. Put me down!- he did in fact put you down… just over his lap. No! You yelled. Oh hush. No need for a tantrum now. I’m not having a tantrum! I’m a grown woman and you can’t do this t- you were cut off by him putting his hand over your mouth. You tried to wiggle your way out but he easily lifted up your skirt. And you felt a warm hand on your bottom. His hand rose, and fell quickly, alternating cheeks. If there was anyone else in the house they would have definitely heard the loud smacks! Billy was giving you. And your muffled cursing. After about 4 minutes of him doing this you were about to cry. You tried to get away but to no avail. He easily pulled you back to position and gave you two extra hard slaps. And kept going. He finished soon after you started crying. Your bottom stung. Nobody had ever done this to you before. It didn’t hurt that bad but the humiliation hurt He brought you back up and sat you on his lap, you quickly adverted your eyes down as to not make eye contact. But he harshly grabbed your face smooshing your cheeks together, listen, he said dominantly like he was scolding a child. This or worse is gon happen every time you disobey me , you let out a light sob just thinking about it. So I’ll let you decide whether or not you want this kind of stuff to keep happening.

No I really do not you thought.

It was two days later when you ended up in this position again. Billy had jokingly bought you an embroidery kit. And you had not so jokingly told him to fuck off. So he threatened to wash your mouth out with soap… what ? You said. I said you better watch your tongue or I’m gon have to wash your mouth out. He said dominantly. You suddenly felt very wet.. and figured what’s the worst that could happen? There are other things of yours I’d like in my mouth more sir. You said in a lustful tone, while looking up at him from your spot on the bed. Literally two seconds later he was unzipping his pants, he used your mouth roughly holding your hair in a ponytail. After he had came in your mouth and regained himself. You stood up and grabbed his shoulders, pressing yourself against him your body asking him for more- huh? You thought as he quickly sat and pulled you down and back over his knee. W-wait Billy- you tried to protest as he cut he off. Hush. Was all you heard before your skirt was lifted and smacks rained down on your poor bottom. “Luckily” for you it was a lighter one than your first but you were still confused. He was spanking you like a disobedient child. Not like a woman that had just sucked him off. “I’m confused about us” you thought.

This is it for today I’m totally planning on making this a series so request anything that would make sense in the story line once I get a few I’ll write part two so the more yall request the faster I’ll write. Also if you guys want to make any mood boards more this id love it! Also my request have been a bit wonky lately so if it doesn’t seem to be working just dm me please! Thanks for reading!

[gallierhouse]

Do you have any thoughts on Madeleine as a foil for Armand? Personally I think that’s why he had her killed.

I do. I think he hates her because she reminds him of his weakness, but he also respects her, and maybe sees how she’s like him at the same time. They’re the same animal. Survivors surviving. The key difference between them isn’t really that Madeleine doesn’t suffer the conflict that plagues Armand, or that she finds vampirism easy in all the ways he finds difficult, but more that Madeleine is capable of real sacrifice when Armand is only ever capable of self-serving sacrifice. In the end, after all she’s done to survive (she survived the war, slept with a Nazi soldier so she wouldn’t starve — this is implied when she talks about how she finds her neighbor’s corpse, the shearing and the assault after the war, reacting calmly to Claudia murdering and eating all those people in her shop, agreeing to be turned, etc.) she decides to die with Claudia, for love. Even though she didn’t have to, even though Claudia told her to pick herself and survive. In the end she picked love.

Armand never picks love. In the end he’ll pick survival. Armand is a great romantic, and he always puts the needs of his partner above his own, but ultimately, when the chips are down, he’ll choose to save himself. There isn’t anyone in this world he’d sacrifice his life for. He’ll sacrifice everything else, mind you, but he won’t sacrifice that. He will happily carve out parts of himself for someone he loves, play whatever part they want them to, let them do anything they want to him, but that’s the one thing he will not do. In the end he won’t ever pick someone above himself. And that’s fine, it’s not a moral victory or loss. Armand’s comfortable with sacrifice as service, cutting off parts of yourself for the promise of someone else’s love, sacrificing for the sake of getting something in return, sacrificing for the sake of keeping someone close to you, sacrificing for the sake of getting to say, “This is everything I do for you, and you still don’t love me? This is all I do for you, you have to love me”, sacrificing for the sake of playing the martyr. He can’t actually sacrifice. He can’t sacrifice something and get nothing in return. Dying with someone gets you nothing. You’re just dead. Together, sure, but you’re not alive to enjoy it. Conversely, Madeleine really isn’t the type to perform acts of service for someone else. She would never be someone’s servant. She’s independent, she’s strong-willed, her companionship with Claudia is a partnership of equals. She’s utterly powerless, both as a human and a vampire (the harassment and assault she faces from her neighbors, her age as a vampire) but she’s not afraid of Claudia, Louis or Armand. Even when she should be. She’s openly dismissive and rude to Armand. She calls him “young man,” asks him if he’s even noticed there’s been a war when he asks how she’ll survive once nothing of her time is left, tells him that he doesn’t know if Claudia will last. She has a spine. Maybe more of a spine than she should have. She’s his opposite in that sense, really, and I do think it annoys him when she says she wouldn’t have a problem eating people since she doesn’t have a problem eating her food now. He tests her with all the difficulties of vampirism, she always has a response. Why should it be so easy for her when it’s so hard for him? I don’t even think Armand sees humans as people (and I doubt he sees most vampires as people, either) so he’s experiencing a really odd situation, like if a dog suddenly started winning an argument against you. By the end of it he recognizes her personhood, maybe even respects the drive she has, but it’s still worthless. She’s mortal, she’s fragile, she’ll die like the rest of them, no amount of psychological fortitude changes material reality. But then Madeleine gets turned (and he hates it, obviously, he hates that Louis picked Claudia over him, he hates that Louis would even turn someone, he hates that Louis did this terrible thing and he hates that he did it because he loved Claudia more than he loved him, he hates that Louis doesn’t need him, he hates that there’s this new fucking vampire in town, and she’s a fucking bitch, even if there’s something real and tragic about her that he can understand). Then in the end Madeleine decides to die during on that stage with Claudia. She does everything Armand is incapable of and more. And she’s weak and she dies. And he kills her and he survives. And then the cycle goes on.

[kingofanemptyworld]

Rin, identity issues, and the complications of being an isolated, alienated teenager

It feels sort of weird to say but I generally don’t head canon characters as having particular sexualities. Whatever people go for in fics is usually fine with me - gay, lesbian, bi, pan, something more general like queer. As long as it makes sense for the story they’ve built and the character they’ve shaped to fit it, I’m good. Unless you’re ignoring a canon LGBTQ+ sexuality, in which case, yeah, I’ll take issue with that.

But anyway. Rin.

I’ve got my personal ship for him (BonRin my beloved), but regardless of the pairing I see him as bisexual. He’s so open with his infatuation with Shiemi, and okay, sure, fandom likes to ignore the love interest in shounen for the most part because we’ve got gay ships to peddle. But I don’t see the point in that unless it really reads like it’s a front, or a result of a character suppressing themselves for one reason or another. And with Rin, I think it’s pretty clear his affection for Shiemi is sincere. You technically have the in-universe evidence of the demon that brought out his true desires to back that up, but even without it, Rin likes her. It’s complicated because of Yukio and Shiemi’s own inexperience with romance, and yet I never once doubt he really likes her.

That being said… he’s very appreciative of the guys in his life, too. (Peddling my gay ship here) Bon in particular, considering he’s often admiring how cool he thinks Bon is, that his haircut suits him whether it’s the blonde rooster look or the undercut. If you don’t want to see it as romantic interest, that’s your prerogative, but to me Rin comes across as seeing cool and cute as different traits he finds attractive (in Bon and Shiemi respectively).

I also think his bisexuality would fit neatly into his narrative struggles to “pass” throughout the early parts of the series. Rin has grown up as the neighborhood problem child, ostracized for being violent, and eventually he decides he’s fine with just his brother and his father — and the rest of the monastery, presumably — for company. (Except that’s absolutely not true and clearly he’s starved for friendship and support.) People looked at him and saw a monster, even before his demonic heritage made an appearance; why would he bother giving them even more ammunition when it comes to reasons to hate him? So no matter when he figured out his attraction to guys, he’s not going to lean into it, because he also likes girls, right? (Ignoring for a moment that bisexuality is a lot more nuanced than that.)

Rin likes girls, Rin is human — that’s what’s going to get people to like him, or at the very least tolerate him. That he likes guys, that he’s half demon, he can shove that shit down and pretend it doesn’t exist. Lock up any stray thoughts and keep the sword sheathed around anyone who doesn’t already know.

(Excuse me for being amused by Rin wielding his humanity and supposed heterosexuality as a sword and shield.)

The problem, of course, is that he can’t keep up the facade forever. The narrative won’t let him. Rin has to embrace his demonic side, because it’s the only way to move forward and to continue to help his loved ones. And once he’s moved past the issue of his friends being upset over the deception, when they understand he’s still Rin despite what he’d hidden from them, Rin is finally allowed to be himself. He uses his flames, he lets his tail move freely in the open around the Cram School kids. Rin still doesn’t like this side of himself — it’s inextricably tied to every moment of pain and isolation he’s dealt with his entire life, including the death of Father Fujimoto (and, y’know, his mom). But he is moving forward, he’s trying to adapt.

And isn’t that some great fucking subtext for his bisexuality, too?

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

Stars Around My Scars: Part I

Summary: Y/N and Harry meet by chance on the street and Harry just so happens to be Y/N's longtime crush. Sparks fly between the two but there's just one problem... Harry has a girlfriend. Featuring our favourite 1D boys and soft Harry <3

Word Count: >1k (super short to set up the story) Warnings: none

Based off this ask

"Liam you forgot the candles!” 

“They weren’t on the list Y/N.”

“But it’s a PARTY, of course we need candles?!”  Y/N rolls her eyes at her roommate who sits unbothered on the couch, stuck in the latest round of whatever new game he had bought.

 “They. Weren’t. On. The. List.”

 “Ok. Fine.” Y/N sucks in a deep breath before grabbing her keys. “I’ll go get them. You’re lucky we still have time before the party tomorrow.” 

Liam groans in response and Y/N rolls her eyes again before heading to the store. Party planning is not for the weak. She isn’t quite sure why she’s taken on such a large responsibility especially because it’s Niall’s 30th so she can’t mess it up. But he’s one of her best friends so obviously she had to throw him a party. And then her idea of a small gathering spiralled out of control and now it’s a surprise party with over 100 guests. It’s not like Liam and Louis have been much help because well… Liam would rather be doing anything else than helping her plan the decor and Louis can’t keep a secret to save his life so he doesn’t even know about the party. Y/N has over a million things to prepare before tomorrow and getting these candles was definitely not on her to do list for the day. 

She rushes out of her car and into the party store, grabbing the first packet she sees, pays for them and rushes back out to her car. However in her rush, (and due to the fact that she was looking at her phone) she slams into someone. Hard. Said someone grunts softly at the impact before reaching out a hand to steady her.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going, I didn’t mean to- holy shit.” 

“No worries love. You alright?” The man in front of her smiles, making sure she’s regained her footing before gently letting go of her. 

“Oh I’m fine… it’s just. Well. You’re Harry Styles.” Y/N can hardly believe her eyes. Her first thought is that his eyes are even greener in person. Her second thought is that he’s even more attractive in person and that’s saying something because he was pretty damn good looking in his pictures. And in the posters Y/N used to have (still has) on her wall. 

“That would be me. You look really familiar love. Have we met?” His voice is low and slightly raspy and it sends a flurry of butterflies to Y/N’s core. 

“Um well no. But I’m Liam’s roommate so maybe you might have seen a picture of me on his instagram or something? It’s really lovely to meet you. You’re… taller than I imagined.” Y/N wants to die. It’s like she’s forgotten how words work all of a sudden because her childhood crush is standing right in front of her and he’s smiling at her like that and Y/N doesn’t really remember how to breathe either. 

“You’ve imagined?” He sends a smirk her way and Y/N’s knees almost give out. 

“I didn’t mean it like that.” She blushes and Harry chuckles at how flustered she is. 

“Well anyway, it’s nice to properly meet you… I’m so sorry love, I don’t remember your name.” He winces as if it’s something he should have committed to memory. 

“Oh. It’s Y/N.” 

“Y/N! That’s right. Pretty name.” He tests it on his tongue and she shivers slightly. Y/N decides she only wants Harry to say her name from now on. It certainly sounds pretty coming off his lips. 

“The boys mentioned you were living in LA? What brings you to London? Just visiting or…?” 

“I’ve moved back actually. I bought a new place and my uh girlfriend and I just moved in a few days ago.” He runs a hand through his hair and Y/N can’t place the slightly sheepish expression on his face. Girlfriend. Of course he has a girlfriend. He’s Harry fucking Styles. She’s probably a model, Y/N thinks to herself. Blonde, skinny, legs for days. 

“Oh that’s… wow. I’m sure the guys will be thrilled to catch up with you. I’ll have to let them know I saw you.” Y/N offers him a weak smile. She isn’t exactly sure what she was hoping for. For him to fall in love with her on the street and whisk her off to his apartment to have his way with her? Actually that’s exactly what she was hoping for. 

“I’m throwing Niall a surprise birthday party.” She blurts out, filling the silence. 

“Oh really? It’s his 30th yeah?” 

“Yeah it is. You should come. If you like. No pressure. You could bring your girlfriend?” 

“Sure we’d love to. It’ll be nice to see the guys again.” Harry perks up at the invitation. 

“I’ll get your number off Liam and text you the details if that’s ok?” 

“Nah, I’ll give it to you now. I’ll surprise all of them by showing up.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. He rattles off his number and Y/N quickly enters it into her phone before sending him a text so he has her number too. They say their goodbyes and Y/N finally makes it to her car, sitting in silence in slight disbelief as to what just happened. She’s staring, slightly dazed out of the window when her phone buzzes.

 (1:05pm) Harry: Send me the details! Lovely to meet you :) 

Harry Styles is texting her. 15 year old Y/N would have passed out by now and current Y/N isn’t really sure she’s got function in her limbs.

A/N: This is something just to tide you guys over until I can get part 2 of obsession out!! My laptop died on me so it's taking me a bit longer I'm afraid. BUT I adore you all for loving that series so much, and I hope you enjoy the start of this 😘

If I haven't added you to my tag list because I've missed your message or forgotten, please message me or comment! Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated xo

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou @velvetballaspark @harrys-flower @macy-tpwk @mema10 @jerseygirlinca @daphnesutton @rafaaoli @allthelovehes @lovrave @tenaciousperfectionunknown @namelesssav @hsonlyangelxo @smartcookee @laurenstears

[damagedintellect]

Fyodor x reader x Nikolai [Rich kids AU]

💌 Days of our Bungo : Part 3 💌  

Summary: All of your fathers made a pack that whenever they had kids they would marry each other. It sounded like a good idea at the time but when the Sigma family was the only family to have a girl, and everyone wanted a bloodborne heir, things seemed a little complicated. After many arguments it was decided they would wait to see which boy, she, would fall for. Everyone always ends up having a crush on their childhood friend right?

Notes: Guess who had another Bungo dream, it was me! This time around the dream sequence started in the middle and just kept going so ima just fill in the gaps and start from the top.

Tropes: Sigma is your twin, Fyodor x reader x Nikolai, Fyodor is endgame, royalty/rich kids, Childhood friends, Mutual pinning but reader thinks it's one-sided, Nikolai knows its unrequited but he still loves you & Fyodor, eventual 🍋

💌 Word count: 5,327 💌 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Completed

“So let me get this straight, our parents were trying to arrange your marriage for years and they just happened to pick Fyodor?”

Nikolai asked bluntly, wearing an expression you couldn’t decipher. You had asked him to meet you by the fountain to see if he knew anything about the situation. He didn’t. He was actually shocked at the notion. Given how many times he's expressed his envy towards birds for their freedom you can imagine he probably has some mixed opinions on the endeavor. At least they weren't forcing Nikolai to marry anyone. Sigma was relieved about that. He was still frazzled and reassured you everything was fine after his talk with your father but you assume he's not telling you everything because you have your own problems to deal with.

You sighed. “From what I’ve gathered, that’s the gist. Apparently my father knew I had a crush on him.” You wondered if Kolya knew. Even if he didn’t, after Valentine's Day, he definitely did now.

Nikolai hummed rubbing his chin “Then what’s the problem? Isn’t this just hitting the jackpot?”

You stood up abruptly “How can you say that? What about Fedya?”

Nikolai smirked “What about Fedya? This is about you. Do you, or do you not want to marry Fyodor?” Nikolai stood up towering over you. A chill ran down your spine, you always forget how much taller Koyla is when you're not on pointe. You feel so tiny in comparison. It was a hard question, one that the latter didn’t even think twice about.

“I don’t want to marry him like this. You know that.” You couldn’t look into Nikolai's eyes anymore. You felt ashamed. It wasn’t like you were forcing him to marry you, that was your parents doing, but you still felt like you were taking advantage of the situation. He put his hands on your shoulders. “If you can’t marry Fyodor then how about you marry me instead!” Nikolai’s soft smile made you blink.

“What?” You were awestruck at the offer. Your head was empty, all you heard was the water pitter pattering behind you.

“You said you couldn’t break the engagement and Fyodor won’t help you do so either. I was a potential candidate for your hand, so marry me! I find it really quite simple.” He placed a hand on your cheek while the other grabbed your hand to pull you closer. “Eventually you’ll have to talk to Fedya whether you like it or not. You don’t want to marry him because you don’t know how he feels about you and it would feel wrong to force him into something he doesn’t want, even though you and I both know he would do whatever it takes to appease you or his father.” He tilted your head up. Forcing your eyes to meet. As he took a breath his features softened giving you a dreamy look. “I’m telling you point blank that I love you and I would give up my freedom to marry you in a heartbeat because that's how much I love you.” His voice dropped lower, a tone that held none of his usual playfulness. None of his typical Nikolai craving attention antics, it was said so that only you could hear him. Like he was telling you a secret. Nikolai has always been charming but it's never once flustered you before. The sincerity of his voice alone made you second guess yourself.

“Kolya” You whispered as he slowly started leaning in to close the distance. 

Just before your lips touched he snaked his hand around the back of your head and shoved your face into his chest. “I know, but please just let that sink in. Nothing has to be weird, I just-” He took in a deep breath “I will always be here for you but you should really consider talking to Fyodor.” He kissed the top of your head letting his lips linger for a moment before letting you go and abruptly turning around. It was fast enough that his braid ended up whacking you softly in the face as he walked away.

“Even Fedya can misinterpret things on occasion. It's better to be upfront with him.”

It would have been so easy to love Kolya but your heart didn’t ache the same way. You wanted to be alone for a little while but you didn’t want to worry your family. You took a walk in the garden watching the sunset. As darkness cascaded over the flowers you sigh as the brisk night air chilled your skin. It was probably time for dinner but you didn’t want to head inside just yet. A little further out was the gazebo where you first played as kids. Taking off your shoes you rubbed your socks on the hardwood to check how slippery it was. The groundskeeper was really good at maintaining the area. The floor felt perfect to dance on.

Just like that by the light of the moon illuminating your stage you danced. The world stopped existing for you. None of it mattered as long as you had the strength to hold each arabesque or the stamina to float on each grand jete. Anything to feel the ache in your muscles that made you feel alive, that made you live in this moment. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes to spot your pirouettes that you realized someone was watching you and it wasn’t Nikolai. You were panting after deciding a triple was enough. You can't run away from this.

“You're truly breathtaking. I was so enamored I did not want to interrupt.” 

Fyodor entered the gazebo. He walked over handing you a flower presumably from your garden. You twirled it between your fingers. Of course it was your favorite. “Why are you here?”

“Your father called in hopes that we were together. No one saw you come home. I had a feeling I knew where you would be so I told him not to worry.” In truth he already knew where you were because this is where you always go when you have a lot on your mind but even if he didn't, the locket he gave you had a tracking device just in case anything happened like that time before. Fyodor had it made after the kidnapping incident but never actually gave it to you because of Nikolai. After the study abroad it just seemed like the right time since he had it crafted to match the rings he wanted for your engagement.

“May I?” He took the flower back gesturing to your hair. 

You nodded. As expected if anyone would be able to find you it would be Fyodor. He curled your hair and put the flower behind your left ear. “You really are exquisite.”

You couldn’t stop the fluttering of your heart. Naturally he’d try to keep up the appearances even when he didn’t need to. Only Fyodor could be so meticulous. 

“It’s just us Fedya you don’t have to, you know.” Glancing down at your feet you didn’t have the words to express what you meant but you know he understood. He was annoyingly good at that.

Fyodor laughed lightheartedly, “Am I not allowed to indulge my fiance with compliments?”

“I-” You sucked in a shaky breath. “Did you know?” You peered back at him. Fyodor had to know what you were referring to. 

“I did.”

“You knew,” You could feel your eyes starting to tear up. “How long?”

Fedya delicately caressed your cheek. His eyes glistened in the moonlight. He was hopeful that you were going to be relieved by his words, given your reactions earlier. He still didn't know why you were so weary about it. “Since the day we first met.”

It was as you feared. He has known from the start. You didn’t know what to say. Maybe you were too scared to say anything. Fyodor didn’t seem to mind. He probably could guess what had been stewing in your head. You let Fyodor wrap you in his arms as he kissed the top of your head. He was warm and you felt safe but he was only following orders. He didn’t choose to marry you but if he’s known since the beginning then this was okay right? You felt the weight of guilt drop to your stomach again. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

You tilted your head to the side. Did you hear him correctly? You pulled away to try and see the moon. It was too cloudy to see from your angle but maybe Fedya could see it. “It’s too cloudy for me. I’m short, remember?”

“No I meant-” He stopped mid sentence “Nevermind, lets go inside before you catch a cold.”

___

After that you pretended that things had gone back to normal. It was easier that way. The voices were still resting in the back of your mind but they were easy enough to ignore. It was such a weird predicament you were caught up in. Nikolai loves you but you knew he didn’t want to take over the family business but he was willing to give up that freedom because he loved you. Fyodor has known since the beginning and if he had a problem with it at anypoint, could have done something to rectify his situation. Although in your heart of hearts you know he would never disobey his father. You can and will be able to do as you please so all you had to do really was make him fall in love with you. At least then it would make you less guilty.

It shouldn’t be that hard right? You had months to do so. Piece of cake considering you made Nikolai fall in love with you. The only other person he’s ever shown any interest in was Fyodor. You started off simply by playing the doting fiance by making homemade lunches to give to him. However you forgot that he could read you like a book. Every attempt you made to show him you were perfect wife material he could tell you were forcing yourself to do for his sake. It was almost driving you crazy. You knew it was pointless from the beginning but you had to try. Expressing your love was hard.

So the acts of service fiance didn’t work. You already spent a lot of quality time together and physical affection was so so but there were still other options to make him fall in love with you. If he didn’t want you romantically or even domestically, maybe you could try sexually? It was a long shot but hey you never know until you try. He was a teenage boy. They go crazy for a little bit of skin right? 

Technically you had a school uniform but you rolled up your skirt a few inches and unbuttoned the top few buttons on your shirt. Purple had always been his favorite color so you made sure to wear a vibrant neon purple bra that showed through your white shirt. A push up bra no less. Unfortunately Fedya took one look at you and forced you to wear his uniform blazer and covered your chest area with his scarf. He even went as far to wrap his extra cardigan around your waist so your skirt wouldn’t ride up in the back. Again you knew it was a long shot but damn did it hurt your pride. He only muttered “Are you trying to get dress coded?”

You were running out of ways to make him fall in love with you. Romantically and sexually were off the table so maybe intellectually? This really was your last ditch effort. You weren’t bad at academics, you just weren’t a gifted genius like Fyodor. To impress Fyodor you decided that if you beat him, Dazai or Ranpo at chess that should be enough. However you realized after your first match with Ranpo that it might actually be impossible. You were trying not to let it show on your face that you were downtrodden while you were playing against Dazai. Unfortunately it was so obvious that he let you win. You sighed as Dazai shook your hand making a big spectacle of losing. Fyodor had to swat Dazai away because he was being disrespectful to his fiance. Again another failed attempt. You were running out of time and fast. Before you knew it you were graduating.

In the blink of an eye you were out of time. You didn’t even bother trying to mask your melancholy as you got ready for the day. You had to wake up early and you didn’t even remember half of the things on the itinerary but you remember it was a lot. The maids were so excited as they were running around preparing for your departure. There was so much to do and you had such little knowledge of how Russian weddings proceeded. The paying the ransom, the betrothal, the crowning, a civil ceremony, a tour of the city, and finally the only thing you were familiar with was the reception. It all made your head spin but you followed along to the best of your abilities.

You wished you could have heard what Fyodor paid in the ransom. He refused to tell you as you were both ushered to the next location for the ceremony. You were anxious you didn’t want to do anything wrong. In fact you were so anxious you were running on autopilot until you had to break the crystal glasses. Fyodor held your hand to help you balance as you tried your best to stomp on the glasses with him. He was smiling at you so softly like you were his world but he aggressively tried to smash the cups into as many pieces as possible. You asked him about it in the car as you toured around the city.

“The ideology is that the number of shards signify the number of years our marriage will last.”

You didn’t even know what to say to that. It was such an endearing sentiment. Any words you had were caught in your throat. Fyodor didn’t mind the silence, your awestruck expression was enough for him. You were exhausted by the time you made it to the reception. 

The first toast was made to you and Fyodor. After finishing your drink his family started a chant that had everyone shouting at you. He chuckled at you before whispering “It means we kiss now.” Crashing his lips on yours he takes your face in his hands. That familiar warmth from your first kiss comes back full force. You’re dizzy as Fyodor's tongue explores your mouth. Everyone is cheering him on while you're melting in his touch. You can’t believe he’s doing this in front of your family. You're a mess by the time he pulls away. You have no idea what the hell just happened and by the time you came back to your senses Fyodor pulled you to the dance floor.

“My apologies darling, was I too rough?” He twirled you around and held you close. 

“I-I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“It would have taken too long to explain but the kiss is supposed to counter the bitterness of the wine. It needed to be sweet with passion.” He smiled fondly at you. His face practically had a smile plastered on it all day. You wonder if your classmates found it unnerving given his typical apathy towards them. He's always sort of regarded you with such fondness and you could fall in love with the brightness in his eyes.

You blushed but continued dancing, only humming in response. This whole day was giving you whiplash. Again maybe Fyodor should have been the actor of your group. You were the one who was supposed to make him fall in love with you and right now it felt like the other way around. Once your dance was done he ushered you right in front of your favorite dance partner and offered you to Nikolai. Which you raised an eyebrow at. 

“You look best when you're dancing. Who am I to stop you from enjoying the night with your friends? It is your wedding too.”

Nikolai pulled you both in for a hug quickly placing a kiss on Fyodor's cheek, snickering “Well I don’t need to be told twice.” He pulled away, bowing to you as he offered his hand. “May I?” You grabbed his hand as he led you back to the floor.

Nikolai smirked looking back and forth from you to Fyodor. “You two never talked about it, did you.” It wasn’t a question, he could tell.

“Is it really that obvious?” You hate being an open book. Shaking your head you continued. “On second thought don’t answer that. I have a feeling I know the answer.”

“Well then let me ask you a question.” He leaned down to dip you. “Are you happy?” 

You looked over at your husband who raised his glass to you. He looked relaxed and that smile of his left a heat to your cheeks. On one hand you were. Even if everything today was just for show, at least he made the effort for you. Like he always has. You think you’ve finally hit acceptance that Fyodor does care for you and that’s all that matters. 

“I think so.”

Nikolai took another bow as the song ended “If you ever need anything, you know I’ll come running.”

As you turned back around, Chuuya offered his hand. “May I-” Dazai pushed him over and out of the way as you reached out he took your hand and swiftly led you to dance. You could hear Nikolai cackling as the redhead grumbled.

“Hello to you too, Dazai.” You said flatly “I didn’t even know you were coming? I don’t remember Fedya sending you an invitation.”

“Easy, he didn’t! I’m Sigma’s plus one.”

You raised your eyebrows at him “Really? How’d you manage that?”

 “I’ll spare you the details! What I actually wanted to tell you was!”

Fyodor watched the two dance flummoxed as to why Dazai leaned into his wife’s ear. Dazai was wearing a shit eating grin staring him down while (Y/N) seemed very taken aback. Fyodor slammed his drink on the table as he paced over to grab his shoulder. “Dazai.”

“Ah why if it isn’t Fyodor. Again congratulations! Eh? Where are we going?”

You saw Fyodor drag Dazai away as you started dancing with Chuuya. Once they were away from the dance floor Fyodor started interrogating Dazai. “What were you saying to (Y/N)!”

“Aw don’t be like that Fyodor! We were just giving (Y/N) her wedding present. Since you insist on being stubborn we’re playing our own game. Honestly if you’d just tell her yourself it would make things go way smoother but-” Fyodor’s eyes widened perplexed as he looked back at his wife. 

“I did tell you I have my eyes on the sigma family.” Dazai grins as he watches Fyodor storm off to collect his wife. Sigma crossed his arms. “Must you keep saying it like that you’re going to give him the wrong idea.”

“He can think what he wants. Although I’m surprised you didn’t tell your sister anything.” Dazai shrugged as Sigma pinched the bridge of his nose. “I doubt she would believe me if I did. Even Nikolai couldn’t convince her.”

Out of nowhere Nikolai appeared behind them. “In all fairness I was being selfish but they really are made for each other, huh.”

___

Chuuya sighed as Dazai was dragged away. “It’s about time you two got married, everyone's been sick of seeing the two of you dance around the subject. Dazai in particular has been trying to make it everyone’s problem.”

You were confused “Chuuya what are you talking about and what Dazai said I don’t-”

Chuuya cut you off “As a wedding gift we planned on telling you since that anemic bastard doesn’t have the balls to say it out loud, but-” Chuuya stopped as Fyodor put a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to spend some time with my wife. If you don’t mind.” The touch to the shoulder contained all the malice that his words lacked.

You looked back at Chuuya as your husband whisked you away. You thought he was going to go back to your seats but he kept on walking out to the car. He refused to let go of your hand as the vehicle drove away. It wasn’t headed towards your manor but it also wasn’t headed towards the Dostoevsky’s estate either. It was slightly unnerving that Fyodor wasn’t talking. You had so many questions and not enough answers. Dazai told you that he gave Fyodor your chocolates during Valentine’s day but he didn’t get to tell you how he reacted to receiving them before Fyodor dragged him away. Chuuya also didn’t get to finish his sentiment, it just left you more confused. It also begged the question why they bothered meddling in the first place.

You had been so lost in thought that you didn’t notice driving up to a new manor. One that you had never seen before. Fedya got out of the car and held out his hand. You thought he was going to help you out of the car but he scooped you up in his arms and walked into the estate. “Fedya, I can walk just fine! Where are we going?” Being this close to him caused your face to heat up. He had such a determined look on his face. It never occurred to you what would happen after the wedding. You were trying to take things one day at a time. Realistically you know what should happen next but you're unsure if that interests Fyodor at all.

“What did Dazai say to you?” His tone was dark and it honestly scared you a little. You’ve never been on the receiving end of this attitude. Sure sometimes he would be annoyed or irritated, you’ve witnessed him get snappy with people but it was never directed at you. 

You stammered out trying to collect your thoughts. “I don’t understand wh-” He placed you down a little carelessly causing you to flop backwards on the bed. Honestly you were surprised he could carry you. Physical strength has never been his expertise. When you were younger he used to get winded very easily.

He loomed over you with a hard look on his face. His jaw was tense and his eyes had you frozen in place. The Fyodor you know would never hurt you but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this distressed before. The position you were in under Fyodor brought back flashbacks from your first kiss. It makes you hot with shame because this is definitely not the time for that thought.

“You’ve been acting strangely ever since the engagement. What has Dazai been instigating! If someone else is coming between us I-” He huffed with slight bewilderment, had he truly made such a dire miscalculation? You were his, Fyodor has been certain of that for years. Your heart belongs to him. He didn’t understand why the game had suddenly changed when he was finally so close to achieving his goals. 

“Tell me, do you not love me anymore?”

Anymore? You felt a pang in your chest. Of course he knew about your feelings, everyone else did. Wait, was that why he married you? Fyodor has always put his comfort aside for your sake. Is that what Nikolai was trying to tell you? Before it even registered to your brain the words fell out of your mouth “No, it’s always been you.” Frustrated with yourself your brows knit together as you turned away from him. “I don't think I could ever love someone else.” You didn't mean to divulge that last bit of information but you feel slightly less guilty about the situation somehow. Maybe confirming that he knew was enough validation? Your face was flushed and you could hear your heart working overtime. Although it's not fair for you to be cornered like this. You hated it but you couldn't bring yourself to push him away. You didn't want to see his expression but you felt his weight shift as his hair tickled your neck.

His hot breath warmed your ear as his tone dripped sweetly like molten honey. “Then why have you been acting so reluctant to be my wife?” the smugness was radiating from his being as he lazily smirked at you. He loved that he could finally call you that. His wife. Fyodor doesn’t think he'll stop saying it anytime soon. It stirs too much pride and euphoria in his being that he finds his own heart buzzing in his chest.

“Because you didn't choose to marry me!” You whipped your attention back to his handsome albeit slightly confused face.

Fyodor was taken aback, flabbergasted even. “I beg your pardon?” 

Didn't choose to marry you? Did you really not notice his affection towards you? He thought it was abundantly clear from the beginning. 

He's been enamored with you from the start. When you went missing he was the first person to drop everything to go find you. He should have been paying closer attention back then but he was complacent knowing your fondness towards him. He was the anonymous tip that got rid of your understudy for good. Fyodor purposely gave you his first kiss which should have made his sentiments towards you increasingly obvious given his extreme avoidance towards physical contact. As much as he did that for you, he selfishly wanted to indulge in your innocence together. During your year apart he wrote you letters religiously but thinking back, it would have been easy for Nikolai to tamper with those. He frowns to himself that there was that possibility but he supposed it's not important now. Fyodor told you that the moon was beautiful! Which is the most poetic way of saying I love you in the Japanese language. How could you have missed that? Your last literature exam was literally about Natsume Soseki and his works. He was increasingly frustrated with the fact that you dismissed it so easily. Much to his dismay your Japanese language scores were higher than his but he'd never openly disclose that. Nikolai has always ridiculed him for it.

“You heard me,” propping yourself on your elbows, you snapped him out of his racing thoughts. “Our parents decided that. They've been pulling the strings since we were kids. You said so yourself. My father took advantage of the fact that I harbored romantic feelings towards you!”

“And you think I don’t return the sentiment?” He cradled your face in his hand. “When have I ever sowed such disbelief in my love for you.”

“Then why didn't you propose to me yourself!” Your face was hot with embarrassment. Fyodor's thumb brushed away your frustrated tears.

With a loving smile he denoted “When I asked your father for your hand in marriage I may or may not have had some unforeseen complications.” Fyodor looked away abashedly remembering how unprepared he was for your father’s ecstatic reaction to his wedding plans. “One thing led to another and well, your father and I got carried away in our discussions and I may have accidentally promised that he would have the honors of relaying the proposal announcement.” he rubbed his face, not one of his best moments but there was a lot at stake so it was easier to comply. At the time he was certain it wouldn't change the trajectory of the engagement overall so he brushed it off. “Likewise the article about our family's merger was one of the other tasks he had me fulfill before giving his approval. Similarly that “business conference” I was forced to attend was merely a front so as not to raise suspicion. What I was actually doing was buying this estate.” He had been manipulating everything behind the scenes to be so perfect that he might have forgotten you would not see it the same way.

“All of that and you couldn't just say I love you.” You were perturbed. Fyodor was out here playing 4D chess yet he couldn't ease your mind by saying three simple words? Wholeheartedly you were astonished this never came up sooner. 

“I supposed I could have stated the obvious, yes.” The strain on his face didn't go unnoticed. He was dancing around the subject and while you had a revelation over it he still didn't admit to it outright. “Would you like me to prove it to you?” If the words were to ever leave his lips he's sure the elated rush would cause him to faint. He feels too intensely about the unfolding of his affection. Instead he captures your lips with such a passionate effervescence that you nearly forgot what you were asking for.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

It was breathy leaving your mouth. A plea to confirm that this was truly what Fyodor wanted and not just some trick. He paused for a moment intaking a shaky breath. You felt Fyodor's weight shift as he dipped his lips to your ear and whispered.

“I love you more than life itself and tonight you will be forever mine.”

Your breath hitched as Fyodor's hands explored your body. You wrapped your arms around him as he pulled you impossibly closer. It was mind numbing how much your body reacted to him. A simple touch to the shoulder burned hotter than a blue flame as he somehow found the time to undress you in the position you were in. Your head was so focused on the indulgent kisses that you didn’t even notice Fyodor being stripped away of his layers by your hands. Soon both of you were laid bare as you assessed your beating hearts. Lust dripped from his expression as his fingers caressed your inner thighs.

You moaned as he kissed down your jaw, slipping fingers into your wetness. The pleasure swirling your core causes your walls to pulse around his digits as he continues to pepper kisses down your torso. Worshiping every inch of your body with a near systematic discipline as he unraveled your patience. You were a mess of barely coherent thoughts by the time he got a taste of you. Such an overwhelming rush had you gasping and convulsing on his hand as he gazed up at your disheveled state. 

You watched with half lidded eyes as he lapped up your sweet nectar placing himself just above your entrance no doubt waiting for your approval as he stroked himself with what remained on his hand. 

Coming down from you high you managed to pant. “Please Fedya, I need all of you.” The absence of his fingers only stirred your arousal more.

“Anything for you, my love.” He leaned down to kiss you once more before his member vanished inside of you. Fyodor shuddered and groaned at the sensation as your toes curled with the new depth he could achieve. You watched as his carefully crafted composure shatter with each thrust. Only you could elicit such expressions from Fyodor. Sweet nothings tumbled out of your mouth as choked moans and lustful requests. Your breath hitched as his hips jolted forward and that familiar build of pleasure snapped again making you see stars. He collapsed on top of you catching his breath. In the afterglow he placed a kiss to the crook of your neck bringing you back from your hazy stupor. The words had been bubbling in your throat but only desperate pleas  had escaped your mouth until now. Fyodor had known of your love from the beginning but you've never expressed it out loud.

“I love you.”

You could feel him smile into your skin as he retaliated. “I love you most.”

___

Tagslist: @skullyz1 , @tttttttf , @ayameshu

[irulaan]

THE ONE | SIRIUS BLACK

— I persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different. Would everything be different today?

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✧ PAIRING. sirius black x fem!reader

✧ WORD COUNT. 3.6k

✧ WARNINGS. angst. cheating. inspired by my own last breakup. mm slightly proofread and all over the place, expect mistakes, sorry! chronology? who’s that? very ooc sirius

The Christmas dinner that year had a gloomy aura. And everyone pointed the finger at your miserable frown and lost eyes, and of course the big sign above your head with bold crimson letters, ‘heartbroken’. Most of them cataloged you as selfish and whiny; why bring your long face to such sweet festivitie? As if you wanted to have those judging eyes all over you, as if you wanted to be there.

You’ll have a few spoonfuls of whatever that doesn’t trigger your desires for throwing up. Maybe you’ll still do, since your emotions are tied up in knots in your stomach.

Poor of them if they dare to ask you how it all started…

Steadying your breathing, you tried to locate your friend without success. She isn't there, because if she’s not early, then she’s not attending. Resigned and a bit anxious, you decided to take a seat. Alone.

The professor just walked in. “Page number 58” Was all she said.

A ragged breathing and faint footsteps caught your attention and your eyes followed the sound to found one of the most eccentric sixth graders. The blond one, well blond, you weren’t sure—his hair resembled the warmest sand. And he was always hurt, a few scars marring his soft skin. You didn’t like to stare. But you had seen him before, of course, he was in that group—the marauders, as they’d named themselves.

He sat beside you. Trying to tame his breathing, he wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. His darkish hazel eyes found yours, by his expression you knew he didn’t recognize you. It’s okay, so you smiled, and he did his best to try to imitate you. Maybe he wasn’t very used to smiling at strangers? But there was something else. His constant movements and his wandering eyes were screaming something that wasn’t your business to translate.

But there you were, concerned, once more, by a stranger who didn’t even knew who you were.

“Are you alright?” You whispered to him, and he turned his face towards yours, what it felt like a whiplash. He had piercing eyes and an expression shouting “lunatic”. But he ends up nodding.

It’s weak. And you’ll curse yourself until your death for scavenging into your pocket for a piece of chocolate. “On bad days I like to have one of these. Not much but they’re delicious” You offered to him, and he was clearly confused. How could you mind if you knew he was a troubled soul? “It’s yours” It’s the confirmation he needs to accept it, after all, he just cataloged you as nice, bit weird tho.

This time his faint grin matched his eyes. It isn’t uncomfortable to watch. “Thanks”

He looks hesitant to eat it, but ends up devouring the small theat. It was his favorite flavor. He isn’t searching for new friends but in that second, even if it sounds pathetic, he thinks you’ll be a good friend.

The boy clears his throat, startling you, so you shoot him a look. He’s fine, and he mutters, “Oh, uhm,” He’s looking at your possessions scattered around your open book, searching for a name. And you don’t have a problem understanding what he meant.

With a smile, you say your name.Then you pointed at the forgotten aluminum wrapper tossed on the table, near his own open book. “It’s good, right?”

He finds himself surprised. He felt caught and he doesn’t even know why. “Oh, yeah, it’s perfect, it's not about this… I was wondering, ubm” He’s not usually this awkward, he’d built a confident façade over the years. This was just the full moon’s residue. “Do you have… Can you lend me your last week’s homework? … Please?”

You nodded, almost too excited. Not a lot of people asked for your homework. It’s dumb to feel proud. It’s stupid to feel great because you’re being needed by a stranger that probably is about to forget your name.

“Oh, yeah, of course, you’re lucky she didn’t give us much…”

It's okay to regret that pivotal moment when you saw someone crumbling before your eyes, despite your good intentions. You couldn’t despise Remus, he just opened a door but you shouldn’t have entered into his world. Introducing you to the raven-haired boy was his doing but it was your fault to fall for his empty words and ghostly promises and with it, you destroyed everything.

His laugh makes your heart flutter, but you won’t admit it, not now. “Do you have something to do this weekend?” He inquiries, looking down at you with his bright grey eyes and a playful grin.

You held his stare, as you enjoyed searching for undiscovered eye’s details or marks across his face.

“Oh, no, not really…” There’s a beat of silence. Sirius is about to open his mouth, but you formulate a quick question to rescue you from the second hand embarrassment. “What about you? And the boys?”

He frowns, it’s subtle, but still noticeable. “I don’t know about the boys… not really” There's another awkward pause, which seems to drag on and yet is over too quickly. This is far easier for him, you should’ve known. “I was wondering that, because I think it would be great if we go out… to Hogsmeade, together?”

Oh, there are birds chirping in your heart so loud you could hear them. “Yeah, absolutely” You tried to not smile too big, too enthusiastically. It’s pointless, you don’t really want to hide what’s happening inside you, but you’re afraid too.

Now you know you shouldn’t have to accept it, you shouldn’t have jumped into his sticky, harmful webs.

That day you gave him your best smile, your best content eyes. Your softest tone. “We’re going to have a really great time!”

In the present day, and far away from that memory, you understood why your friends hated him so much, even if at the start he hadn’t technically done anything wrong. They knew. Maybe you knew too, but choose blindness.

You thought you'd never understand how things changed so fast, the thing is they didn’t. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable how everything was much more vivid and tender than everything before he asked you to be his girlfriend under the beating sun of august. Everything after felt like a weird, gloomy dream.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think you’ll care that much” He had the cheek to shrug.

Your face softened, no longer holding a frown. Angry melted into disappointment. “Of course I care…” Your voice is delicate and he felt like the worst human on earth.

“Don’t make that face,”

Swallowing a knot in your throat, you gather the strength to speak your mind. Fighting how afraid you’re to mess up the relationship. “Siri, it’s just—You know I, we see each other almost everyday and I don’t—I can’t understand why.” You paused to take a breath, to stabilize yourself, to not go to dark places of your mind. It’s inevitable. “It makes me think you don’t wanna go out with me…”

He desperately shakes his head, like he thinks he can change your mind. “Of course I do! You make me laugh, you’re intelligent plus you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen” Outside, you rolled your eyes. Inside, even knowing it was the most common and ordinary line ever, you feel your heart warming. But your face still had that pout. Those glossy eyes. That dark grey cloud above you, ready to wet your cheeks. “I’m sorry, I just have a lot going on right now, You know, with the boys, and other stuff”

And you act like you forgive him. Because you’re good, because you love him, because you’re worried you’re doing everything wrong. “It’s okay,” I’m getting used to it already, you don’t say. There’s thoughts sharp as daggers threatening to cut your poor heart. You had to get away. “I think I’m going I—“

“—How about we go out next week? I don’t think I have something to do” Your heart beat again with anticipation. And you’ll hate him for every word he has ever said to you.

“Sure, but promise me you’ll remember…”

“Of course I’m going to remember. I’ll make it up to you... you’ll see” He promises, once again. And you have no option to believe him. Because he says he loves you. Because maybe you’re being unfair; he has a lot going on in his mind, and you had to be fine being the last of his priorities. “I love you, and I’m really sorry”

He loves you, and you love him. “Love you too,” You suppose love it’s enough.

At some point everything went downhill. He can’t even remember why he was so vexed by you. You couldn’t go to this place with him because you had plans with your friends? Fine, until he started to feel insecure, until the mind that their parents created could see the sun.

You were tired of canceling any plan just for him to forget almost every single time. So you don’t actually realize when you stopped doing it. It seemed natural, like you left behind the sweet feeling of being excited to find out where you were going, what you’ll be doing… all of that replaced by an icy and somewhat uncomfortable feeling of waiting for something that won’t be coming to you. A kind of longing you despised, but couldn’t shake off your mind.

And the first time you realize, was all Sirius fault.

“Don’t look at me like that, Siri, I’m trying to understand you,”

It hurts you seeing him so distressed about something you did, or say. His breath quivers and you could see his fingers are shaking from the anger he felt. And in your mind it was your fault.

“What's so hard to understand?” He whispers, then, he looks at you. Meeting your confused expression hiding your desires to cry underneath. “Fuck, are you stupid?”

You gasp. There must be something else stressing him to this point. It couldn’t be just you, could it be? “Siri…” It’s soft and inviting but he can’t return from his state. “I’ll cancel, okay? And we’re going wherever you want, uhm?”

He shakes his head. His raven waves are disheveled by the many times he had passed his fingers through it. He wanted to come back, but there’s something stopping him. “No, I can’t keep telling you everything you need to do—let me finish!” You opened your mouth again, to say something. To try to get the pieces together, to fix it. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He needed space to think—you had guessed some time ago, because he doesn’t acknowledge it. “Go have your fun, I’ll have my own”

He disappeared, out of your reach. And forever.

He felt guilty, and he wondered if it would ever stop. He was out of his mind, thinking you’ve done the worst to him. Even at some point, his wasted mind told him you were both done. He had seen you angry—or maybe afraid? He doesn’t even remember, but he hadn’t seen that expression on your sweet face before. He swore he would recall, but he never did.

Deep down he knew he had screwed up a long time ago, and a long time ago he stopped caring. After all you’ll feed your heart full with his excuses, empty promises and words he can’t believe he said so lightly.

He took you for granted.

Now he hates you. For not being there, for not standing your ground and trying to change things… and trying to make him a space where he doesn’t deserve to be.

Your heart was falling off your sleeve when you saw him at the table. He was alone. While the others are still sleeping upstairs. The italian summer breeze won’t be enough to soothe your tormented mind, it won’t heal your wounded heart. You didn’t even want to remember why you’re doing this — weren’t you enough?

It was hard to believe you were still there. After everything you knew, you’d still given him a chance. Every step towards his form was touring your crushed heart. “Can we talk?”

He smiles, leaving behind everything he was supposed to do. You don’t miss how his eyes try to avoid yours. “Oh, darling, I’m going somewhere, maybe later?”

At his futile attempt to leave, you became desperate. “No, I can’t wait. I need to talk to you right now.” He caught how your hand is trembling, while trying to reach for him. But it’s late, and the guilt has started to eat his rotting mind. He can’t say it to you. And maybe you wanted to talk about something else—how could you know? “I won’t insist again, please”

He’s being reckless and carelessness, but he doesn’t have the courage to ignore your plea. So he stays glued to the chair. “Fine but it has to be quick”

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” Your voice is breaking under the pressure of what you know. And it’s impossible for you to look into his eyes and confront him. But he shakes his head. And you see everything falling down. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. “I just have one thing to say, but I was just thinking…”

He takes all of his strength to smile. And it’s a pathetic excuse. “Nope, not really. I love you, that’s all”

You frown. Feeling your tears raining down, wetting your cheeks. “But it means nothing now,” He screws his eyes close. Drowning in guilt. In despair because he doesn’t know if you’re going to forgive him. “I know what you did, Sirius”

An horrified expression hardens his features. And he stands up, to embrace you. “I—I can explain it, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

In your misery, you accept it. Because it’s his arms. Because he smells familiar, like safety. You had to indulge in it, before losing everything. And it’s not too late when you realize he’s none of that. And had to rip yourself away from him. Your big heartbroken eyes stared straight into his soul. “You weren’t even going to tell me…” Your lower lip twitching, under your faint voice.

His heart shrinks, and he doesn’t know what to do. “I was waiting—“

“—You’re always waiting, it seems” You cut him off, suddenly annoyed by his pathetic cries and words. It almost seems like he doesn’t care at all. Then, why’re you there? Your voice can’t help but keep breaking. “I don’t care about your explanation… your acts have been screaming you wanted this to end. But I assume you’ve been waiting,”

His glossy eyes found yours again to deny your sayings. “That’s not true, please, how could I ever want to break up with you?”

There’s a soft humorless laugh slipping through your mouth. “But you did. Or were you thinking fool me would forgive you for this?” And there’s a bittersweet after taste in your mouth. And he’s shocked, because you never had tried to hurt him with words. In fact, he only was hurt by the collateral damage of things he did or said. “I don’t deserve this, Sirius”.

He falls to his knees, knowing you won’t take him back. “I’m deeply sorry, I swear I can make it up for you,” But you both knew he can’t, even if he was given the chance, he’ll just keep hurting you.

His head hangs low, and there’s some satisfaction in the back of your mind. Knowing he was hurting—or at least he’s good at pretending—even if you’re going through the same.

Suppressing a sob, your voice is a foggy punishment, “We’re done” It’s all you say, leaving him there. And everything after is a blur. No one asked, no one tried to stop you. You didn’t travel alone back home. No, one of the girls decided you couldn’t be left alone. You weren’t expecting anything, they were Sirius’ friends after all.

And Christmas passed by, and other festivities, birthdays, and parties. And you were a ghost. Only your closest friends saw you, as you kept yourself away from Sirius’ circle, not even wanting to hear his name in conversations. But time keeps passing by. Time wasn’t waiting for any of you.

You thought you’d gathered some strength by the time Remus’ birthday came around. It wasn’t foolish to think you could bear seeing Sirius, probably with a pretty another one wrapped around his finger—holding hands and dancing heart to heart to the torturous beat of your favorite song, by his favorite muggle band.

The bricks are cold and rough against your bare, tender back. You light a cigarette, trying to calm your nerves of not seeing him accompanied.

His smell, how his feet struck lightly the pavement gave it away in an instant. This wasn’t supposed to happen, this was—he’s supposed to be a stranger, someone you’ll be meeting again under different eyes.

He stopped and stayed glued to that spot. Near the wall. Only sighs came out of his mouth for what you felt was an eternity. You know he’s dying to speak, but he’s no fool, he knows he has only one opportunity, before you come back inside, running away from him.

He’s helpless if he thinks he still has time. “I’m sorry,” His voice wavered. He never learned how to approach hurt animals, especially if he was the perpetuator of their bubbling anxiety and misery.

You look at him, and you can only be sorry for your buried relationship, for what his hunger for self sabotage and poor emotion control has done. You don’t care if you’re unfair, he deserves all the credit for burning everything to ashes.

A humorless grin adorned your face, “It’s okay, Sirius, you don’t have to do this”

But it’s not okay. It never was.

He closes his eyes, “I regret every single day what I did at that party,”

And you sigh, “I know, I regret that too”. But it wasn’t all, you wish ti add.

And Sirius has to stare at you with his silver eyes, there’s no grin on his lips. He had to know you’re being honest. That you’re not a stranger.

He takes a deep breath, encouraging himself to ask for forgiveness, to explain everything he couldn’t back then. “I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have let my thoughts taint what we had” Sirius takes a pause. You had a worried expression on your face — you don’t want to go through this, to awake your resentment for him. “I want you to know I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. And I want to tell you that I care, I tried to send you letters and all”

You nodded, you knew, even if he didn’t say it. Entering into Sirius’ mind wasn’t easy. He had to let you in order to get to know the real one behind every mischievous grin, teasing eyes and flirty words. It was just a slip. That, you understood.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t read them. I despised you, and then you stopped sending them”.

Now it’s his turn to understand your doings. “Yeah, I didn’t want to push yourself more” There’s a silence loud enough to push Sirius to an edge and he wasn’t prepared to jump, he doesn’t feel he has the right. But he opens his mouth, “Do you think we…?” And his eyes are shining silver, under the dim yellow lights.

“Siri…”, You whispered, feeling almost sorry for him. He knew it was bad news. “I know you regret it because you broke us, and I hated it, because it doesn’t let me come back to you” His breath wavers and his heart shatters to sharp pieces. “We should stay as friends, as I still care about you”.

He closes his eyes, as a flow of undesired anger sends shivers down his spine. “I can’t be your friend, I’m in love with you!” He lifts his arms, trying to reach for you. He can’t. He knows you’re already so far away. Have been for a while. “I can’t bear having you so near yet so far away. Like life is mocking me!”

Waiting for him to finish, you watched how his hand carded through his thick, raven curls.

“Sirius, I thought so too. I thought I would be forever and always in love with you—I was head over heels, but not anymore.” You paused, “What I'm trying to say, it’s that everything will pass. Time would work things up, and then we’d just remember the good times, and we won't turn these gatherings into our personal hell”.

He shocks his head in disbelief. As if he has a right to deny your feelings—to deny you’ve moved on. “You don’t love me anymore?” In his eyes there’s a plea, and you don’t have what he wants. Lips disappearing into a thin line, you lightly shook your head. “When did you realize?”

“Sirius, I don’t think—“

“—Please,”

He just wants to bury the idea you’ll ever be together again. “When I saw you earlier… and I didn't feel my heart would explode. Didn’t hear the birds chirping…” You pause to smile, and it’s warm, nostalgic. “When I saw you earlier and realized you couldn’t hurt me anymore”.

Your voice fainting at the end of the phrase was everything he swore he wouldn’t do to you. “Shit, I really screwed everything”

When his red rimmed eyes connected with your own, a pang of pain spread through your stomach. You longed to reach for him, embrace his body, shield his mind from anything that could harm him. But he was the one responsible. So you stop yourself.

“Hey, maybe I was distracting you from meeting the love of your life,” He smiles. And you finally feel relieved.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance never takes his shirt of when they make love. He never takes it off ever, actually. Not in front of Keith.

And that isn’t a problem! Really. It’s completely Lance’s prerogative, Keith wants him to be comfortable. If he’s comfortable in his shirt, then he’s comfortable in his shirt.

But it’s more than that, Keith thinks. Because it’s not just the sex. It’s not just that Lance prefers keeping the shirt on most of the time. It honestly feels like Lance is afraid to take it off, as absurd as it sounds.

Keith knows it’s a strong stance to take, and it took him a long, long time to realise, but he’s convinced it’s true. He’s noticed too many strange things to believe otherwise. Like, for starters, Lance won’t take off his shirt in front of Keith. Like, ever. Again, it’s not that Keith has an issue with it — he doesn’t. But it’s certainly odd that Lance has no problems with any other article of clothing, easily stripping from the waist down to get pajama pants on, or what have you, but the second the shirt needs to come off he makes Keith turn around (which he does, without question, because as much as he loves riling Lance up there’s nothing he wants less than to make Lance uncomfortable or genuinely upset, or, God forbid, unsafe). And of course there’s the shower quirk — Lance gets antsy, if he feels dirty. He regularly leaves in the middle of conversations to go wash his hands, because they start to feel dusty or caked — which is fine, because everyone is used to that happening. He always comes back. What everyone might not know, though, is that Lance regularly does this with showering, as well — sometimes untangles himself from where he’s koalaed on Keith’s back to go take a shower, regardless of the time of night or whatever they may be doing. The thing about that, the one reason it makes Keith’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and concern, is that for the first few months they were dating, Lance would leave Keith’s room to do it. He’d get up and walk all the way to his own room and bathroom to shower. At first, Keith just thought it was because Lance had all his skincare stuff and soaps in his bathroom. But the longer they were together, and the more of Lance’s things that migrated into Keith’s bathroom, the less that made sense. Until, one day, after a few seconds of hesitation, Lance did shower in Keith’s bathroom. He walked in, towel bunched up in his hands, and locked the door behind him. That wasn’t the issue. Keith knows Lance has a thing about privacy, and grew up with so many siblings it’s probably a habit. But then Keith heard the unmistakable sound of Lance dragging the shelf Keith kept in there for towels and such in front of the door.

That gave Keith pause.

Because that couldn’t simply be a habit, nor was it a preference for privacy. That spoke of a fear that someone coming in. Of someone seeing him.

It was strange enough that Keith was going to ask him about it, when he finished and dried off, coming out of the shower in fresh pajamas and wet, curly hair. But he looked so nervous. Agitated. Like he was waiting to be interrogated. So Keith decided to let it go, smiling softly as Lance as he approached the bed again. Lance crawled over Keith, wrapping his arms around his waist — never the reverse, never the little spoon, because any time Keith tried Lance would squirm around until he was facing Keith or roll away completely until Keith got the hint — and slowly relaxed as he realized Keith wasn’t going to question him.

Lance didn’t drag the shelf over the door, anymore. But Keith still worried.

It got to the point that the rest of the team noticed, even: Lance was never, ever seen without his shirt firmly covering his upper body. Even in intense training, when the shirt was soaked through with sweat and plastered to his body, and everyone else had ditched theirs long ago — Lance’s stayed where it was, even though the feel of the wet shirt was visibly bothering him. (Which crossed out sensory issues as a reason to keep the shirt on, making things even more curious.)

Once, they had a diplomatic mission, and as diplomatic missions tended to go, they were expected to wear the planet’s formal attire. On that particular mission, the planet was a jungle planet, hot and humid. As such, the clothes were thin and gauzy, and there was hardly anything to cover the torso. Lance, upon seeing the clothes they were supposed to wear, locked himself in his room for the hours leading up to the mission — when he came out, he was wearing a shirt he made himself, that covered him from wrists to neck. It went flawlessly with the outfit and he looked wonderful, but he offered no explanation and blatantly ignored any questioning from the team.

At one point, Keith was going to let it go. Going to dismiss it as one of Lance’s many quirks, going to stop thinking about it — after all, when has he ever seen Lance without a shirt? It must just be how he prefers things. It doesn’t matter.

Then he remembered, abruptly, that he had seen Lance without a shirt, once. Two years ago, in there first couple weeks in space — when they both wound up stuck in the elevator, on their way to the pool. Lance had been shirtless, in only swim trunks and a towel.

He and Lance had been swimming more times than he can count, since then. And every time — every single time, without fail — Lance wears a long-sleeved swim shirt.

That, combined with the fact that Keith has noticed Hunk looking at Lance with special concern just as often as Keith himself does, marks this is a newer phenomenon. Something Lance has not done all his life, something that’s not just a quirk of his.

Keith could drop it. Really, he could leave it alone, never think about it again — as far as he knew for certain, it isn’t causing any harm.

But there is something. Something deep in his heart, telling him that he should at the very least ask. Try and find out why Lance is so protective of his back, of his torso.

What if Keith can help?

“Lance,” he starts, dog-earring his book. They’re winding down for the evening, Lance against the headboard of Keith’s — their — bed, and Keith between his legs, leaning on his chest. Lance is weaving intricate braids into his hair, singing to himself.

“Hm?”

Keith purses his lips, trying to figure out how to phrase it delicately. He’s not sure he can.

Eventually, he gives up. Lance prefers clear communication, anyway.

“How come you never take your shirt off?”

Lance tenses, fingers stopping their repetitive motions. His singing stops, too, in the middle of a note. He’s still for a long time, silent, uncertainty coming off him in waves, before he speaks.

“Why, itching for a glance at this rockin’ bod?” he says, laughing tightly.

Keith deflates. Lance doesn’t have to tell him, of course, but he was hoping he’d be able to — well, he’s not sure, but maybe it could be something good.

“Something like that, babe.”

Keith goes back to his book, and Lance hesitantly goes back to braiding his hair.

After a couple minutes, he stops. He sighs, long and heavy.

“What do you know about the healing pods?”

Keith keeps very still. He’s afraid to move, afraid to breathe too deeply, lest Lance change his mind.

“Not much. I imagine you know more.”

Lance hums. “They’re… really interesting. They’re basically these machines that accelerate a coma, keeping your body in perfect stasis. Any healing your body can do on its own, it can do faster, as well as keeping you from aging or helping kill unwanted growths or diseases. It can scan and diagnose basically any physical ailment, too.”

“Whoa. So all of Earth medicine rolled into one, basically.”

“Most Western or lab-created processes, yes. High tech stuff.”

When no more information is forthcoming, Keith presses.

“Why do you bring them up?”

Lance hesitates a long moment before answering, and Keith lets him. He can feel Lance’s heart pounding faster than he’s ever heard it, pressed as he is against his chest.

“The healing pods can’t repair something from nothing,” Lance says softly. “They can form skin grafts, encourage scar tissue, but they can’t… they can’t grow new skin.”

Lance swallows roughly.

“The Rover explosion burned off almost all the skin of my back.”

Keith’s heart stills at the admission. It makes — it makes a lot of sense. Rover was a truly massive bomb, and Lance was in his civvies, right next to it. He had no protection, and it took so long for them to get him to a pod. It makes sense, that the damage was severe.

Somehow, Keith never considered it. For all his injuries over the years, he’s never been badly burned. He has his fair share of scars, but he’s never had his skin just… obliterated, burned clean off.

“…Can I see?”

He’s not sure why he asks it. It’s a big thing, and Lance is already doing so much. But he does.

Lance bites his lip. A million emotions flash through those dark brown eyes. He takes a large, shuddering breath.

“It’s ugly.”

Keith says nothing.

Lance closes his eyes, and slowly — hesitantly — peels his shirt off his chest. He chucks it somewhere beside them, and then pauses for several minutes before he gathers himself and flips around, facing the wall.

Leaving his bare back in front of Keith.

Lance… wasn’t exaggerating. Instead of the smooth, brown skin he’s used to, the skin is rough — wrinkled, almost; darker in some places and pinkish in others. It’s a swirling mass of textures and shapes, a quiltwork of varying colours.

It’s nothing like Keith’s ever seen before.

It’s not ugly.

He’s not sure what compels him to do it, what tells him it’s the right thing to do, but he knows in his heart that it is: he leans forward, slowly, and presses a soft kiss right in the middle of Lance’s scarred back.

He barely brushes his lips to the skin before Lance is gasping. The skin must be sensitive. But he’s not — he’s not pulling away.

Nor is he telling Keith to stop.

Keith moves his face slightly, pressing another kiss to the skin just to the left of his first.

Then another.

And another, and another, and another.

“…Keith?” Lance’s voice is unbelievably quiet. Breathless. Like the word escaped him without his permission, like a reflex.

“You’re beautiful,” he mumbles, pressing the words into Lance’s skin just as carefully as the kisses.

Lance’s shoulders start to shake.

“I’m not,” he says, and this time his voice is wet, cracking.

“You are. You — you’re breathtaking, Leandro. Every part of you. Every piece of you makes my heart light up with joy.” He doesn’t let up on the kisses, one between every word. He’ll kiss every inch of Lance’s back — of his scars — until he realizes how honest Keith is being, and then more still.

“Do you know that? What you do to me? How much I love you, how much I dream about you, how much you invade my every waking thought?”

Lance sobs. “I don’t. I can’t. I’m — ruined, Keith, I’m —”

“You are everything to me,” Keith says firmly, easily. “Everything, my love. There is no part of you I don’t adore.”

Lance continues to cry, as Keith presses his lips to every part of the skin of Lance’s back, shoulders shaking and en endless river of tears dripping onto the sheets. At one point he reaches a trembling hand behind him, and Keith grips it immediately, holding steadfast as he travels from the small of his back to the curve of one broad shoulder.

“Salanghae, naui haneul,” he whispers, kissing the last spot left untouched.

I love you, my sky.

Lance sobs again, quickly turning around and burying his face in Keith’s neck. Keith holds him tightly, squeezing him together as his body trembles and his tears drip.

“I love you too,” Lance chokes out, fists gripping the fabric of Keith’s sleep shirt. He cries until he can’t anymore, until there are no tears left, until his stuttered breaths smooth and he’s half asleep.

Keith untangles from him, then, padding quickly to the sink to get him some water and a damp facecloth. Lance takes them both gratefully, and curls into Keith after he puts them away, tucking them both under the heavy duvet. He falls asleep quickly, cried-out and exhausted, with Keith running constant fingers through his hair.

For the first time in as long as Keith can remember, he sleeps completely peacefully, tucked snugly into Keith, completely comfortable with Keith’s protective arm across his back.

[xaharadesert]

Over-Apologizing MC - Headcanon

Arcana Characters (Julian, Portia, Asra) x MC

A/N: here’s #7, the winner of the poll! The person who sent in the request was anonymous, so I feel slightly less bad about writing it 6 months after it was submitted hehe :) (side note: I’m Canadian, so my definition of over-apologizing may be vastly different than yours) please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes! (End note: y’all need to be grateful that I have learned self-control, because every time I write for Asra the opportunity and temptation for angst is incredibly powerful)

❤️Julian❤️

He’s a somewhat clumsy man himself, so he can relate to constantly apologizing

He always quickly dispels any guilt he senses you’re feeling, often saying not to worry, or that it’s no issue when you apologize

To be honest, at first he doesn’t even realize that you say you’re sorry even when you’re not in the wrong

If he hears you apologizing when you’re in a different room, he assumes you’ve knocked something over and he just didn’t hear— he’ll shout a quick “no worries, my love, you’re fine” and then go back to whatever he was doing before

He only catches on when someone bumps into you in the market while you were standing still, and you decided to apologize while stranger glared at you

Now that just wouldn’t stand

He was quick to correct the situation— much to the chagrin of the stranger— since he assumed you had apologized on reflex

But when you began insisting it was your fault, even though it clearly wasn’t, he made a note to himself to keep an eye on what he was beginning to think was perhaps a bad habit

And lo-and-behold, this was definitely a pattern of behaviour that he immediately knew he would have to help correct

There is a difference between being polite and being a doormat, as he would gently try to inform you

Fortunately for you, if you ever backpedaled and started apologizing more than you should again, Julian would be more than happy to step in and correct the situation

Of course, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a self-deprecating hypocrite who also apologizes much more than he should

So standing up for each other becomes the new habit— even if you both apologize far too often for yourselves, you both keep an eye out for when your partner is doing the same

And slowly, you work your way out of it

🧡Portia🧡

Unfortunately for you, Portia is the kind of woman to get sick of constant apologizing pretty quickly

She lived through it for years with Julian, and she’s not willing to go through it again

She notices the pattern within a few weeks of living together; at first she thought you were just nervous about the next step in your relationship, but she quickly realized that there was an underlying problem

Not wanting to be insensitive, she tries correcting it from a couple different angles

Her first guess is anxiety, so she tries to reassure you that you’re fine, even in small situations where there would be no indication otherwise

The next is a lack of confidence, so she starts standing up for you whenever she thinks you need backup

This one can come in a few different forms:

There’s the classic “THAT’S MY SPOUSE!” punch in the face whenever someone disrespects you

But there’s also moments where she starts threatening the vegetables that rolled off the cutting board when you were cooking

At least she’s consistent

When she can’t figure out some deeper meaning behind your apologizing, Portia ends up sticking with the same tactic that worked with Julian

“Stop.” “No.” “Literally don’t.”

As time goes by, those three phrases become more exasperated, but also more effective

She adds to this method by giving you a kiss every time you catch yourself and don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault

Portia has never read about Pavlov, but she’s still a dedicated student to his methods

💙Asra💙

He’s lived with your habits the longest, and doesn’t really think he can change them at this point

It’s not like they bother him though; the apologies don’t hurt anyone, and as long as there aren’t any underlying issues of anxiety or a lack of confidence, he sees no reason not to let you continue

And although he would never admit it out loud, it provides him the opportunity to ask “for what?”, which he thinks is hilarious even if you don’t

The funniest part, in his opinion, is that you usually don’t have an answer

If there were cameras in Vesuvia, he would take a picture every time you started staring off into space, looking for an answer that doesn’t exist

He’s not mean though; he would never do this in any kind of situation where someone else was in the wrong

If that were the case, he would step in immediately

He can’t stand to see you take the blame for something you didn’t do

Most people are kind enough to admit their own fault, and they’ll apologize to you in turn

But occasionally someone will be a complete dick, and in that case Asra takes the opportunity to verbally destroy them

It usually only takes one oddly specific insult for them to change their mind and apologize

And if you dare to then apologize to Asra for the hassle of defending you?

That’s probably the only situation where he will actually tell you to stop

Defending you and taking care of you will never be a burden to him; it will always be a gift to stay by your side

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | dawn // sixteen

| @amuhav | @catamano

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EIRA: Hey. TAYUIN: Hey. EIRA: Drink. TAYUIN: I’m not thirsty. EIRA: Aster can be an idiot, but he was right about one thing: You need to loosen up. TAYUIN: Isn’t it a bit ironic you saying that? EIRA: Why do you think I’m here? You should be flattered I even thought to share. TAYUIN: I am a bit, yeah. EIRA: Good. So. You wanna talk about it or something? TAYUIN: Not really. EIRA: Let me rephrase that: Talk. TAYUIN: What’s to talk about? I have no reason for being here. Even if I win now, I can never be Chosen of the Sun. Maybe it’s not such a great feeling to know that even the gods can’t fix me. Not that I ever thought they could. EIRA: So, all of that means you can’t enjoy a night out? To be honest, I expected you to be the type to lose yourself in shallow bullshit, if just to distract yourself from the truth. TAYUIN: Maybe I was like that. Before. EIRA: Before? TAYUIN: When I was back home. When I had nowhere to run. Sure, enough wine can make you forget things for a night. It doesn’t change anything. EIRA: No, it doesn’t change anything. EIRA: Is it true what the witch said? You’re a prince? TAYUIN: I was. It doesn’t matter now. EIRA: You ran away? TAYUIN: There wasn’t much else to do. EIRA: Must have been the pits, then. If it was so bad you wanted to leave. I always imagined homes and families were the kinds of things people fought to keep. Not that I’d know. I never had that choice. TAYUIN: Your parents are…? EIRA: Dead? No idea. I was barely one day old when they decided I wasn’t worth keeping. So, I imagine they aren’t worth knowing. Maybe if I’d grown up with them, I’d have been like you and run away in the end, too. Then it all would have ended up exactly the way it did. Suppose some people just aren’t meant to have children. TAYUIN: You… might be right. EIRA: You should tell him, you know. TAYUIN: Him? EIRA: The priest. You should tell him what happened with the witch. TAYUIN: What good will that do? It’s not his burden to bear. EIRA: If his premonitions return and he finds out unceremoniously, you’d have rather he heard it from the horse’s mouth. TAYUIN: I… EIRA: What are you so afraid of? TAYUIN: I don’t know. Hurting him… I guess. He didn’t see a problem with throwing himself on the fire for us. What is he going to think when I tell him what I agreed to? He’ll feel guilty, again. He’s a good person and I don’t know how to deal with that. EIRA: Do you regret the bargain? TAYUIN: Regret has nothing to do with it. There was no other way out. Whatever she asked for, I would have had to agree. There’s so few people in my life who’ve ever shown me any real concern. And maybe he—like some of them— only does it because he’s obligated to. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels genuine with him. And that’s why— EIRA: You like him? TAYUIN: What? EIRA: Is that not what you were going to say? TAYUIN: No! Why would I— EIRA: But you do like him. TAYUIN: I wasn’t— EIRA: Cut your shit. You aren’t in there turning down Prepaid Pretty Boy for nothing. TAYUIN: I just wasn’t in the mood! EIRA: Yeah. Right. TAYUIN: Just go back inside, already!       EIRA: laughs I don’t know, I’m starting to like the ambience out here. TAYUIN: You and the Bard are just in cahoots to ruin my night. EIRA: Stop whining and finish your thought. TAYUIN: …Fine. I just… don’t want to see someone like that… someone like him, punished. And maybe a part of me is afraid of losing the opportunity to have someone to really listen. I guess now I’d feel the same about you. EIRA: You’re not alone in that. TAYUIN: For once, it’s nice not to be alone.

[vodika-vibes]

Oh I have an idea for Mereel x Reader ! So he is always flirting with Reader (as he does) and they brush it off because it’s Mereel and he doesn’t mean it. But! One night they’re at like 79‘s or sth similar, either by plan or they meet by accident, and reader gets jealous seeing him flirt with other people so she starts flirting with someone and then Mereel kinda snaps and 💋

I hope this isn’t too detailed or stifling your creativity, feel free to change whatever you like!

I'm Not Jealous

Summary: You're bothered at how much Mereel flirts with everyone, including you, but when you flirt with someone else, Mereel decides to change things.

Pairing: Mereel Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 808

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

Mereel is going to be the death of you. 

He’s always there. Leaning against your desk, leaning over your chair, flirting with you, teasing you. Making your face heat with his suggestive comments and the way his gaze sweeps across your body, like he actually means the things that he’s saying.

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. 

This is just what Mereel does. He finds a new target and flirts with them until he gets tired of them and their reactions, and then moves on to the next woman.

You’re just his most recent fixation.

It’s fine. He’ll get bored of you soon enough and move on to the next person. 

Which is the problem. You don’t want him to flirt with other people. You want his eyes on you and only you. You want him to keep flirting with you.

Honestly, you want more. You want all of him.

You sigh silently as you pack up your work for the day. Castles in the air. Never going to happen. You’re hardly pretty enough to keep his attention for long periods of time, let alone for a proper relationship.

Whatever. It’s fine. All you need is a night out. To get your mind off of Mereel and his charming smile and his deep voice and-

Yeah. This isn’t helping.

You exhale slowly, and push to your feet. You already have plans to go to the club tonight. You just need to get there.

Yes. This is going to fix everything.

When you arrive at the club, dressed in a new black mini-dress, and leather boots that come up to your knees, you think you’re going to have a good time for all of thirty minutes.

And then Mereel shows up with his brothers.

He finds you with an ease that shouldn’t really surprise you. He seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to finding you in a crowd, and yet when his gaze lands on you and a blinding grin crosses his face you are surprised.

You smile back at him, slightly weakly, though the smile fades when he turns his blinding grin towards a woman who approached him. You watch, almost absently, as the woman giggles and brushes her fingers against his chest, and you feel sick.

Of course he came here to hook up with someone. Someone prettier. Someone better.

You absently stir your drink and jump when someone leans against the table near you. He’s handsome, you suppose, with long hair and a blinding smile, and he seems very interested in you, so you offer him a small smile.

And when he flirts with you, you hesitate for a moment, and then flirt back.

And then you nearly jump out of your skin when a hand slams on the table between you and the stranger. Mereel beams at you, though he seems to be glaring daggers at the man who was flirting with you. You press your hand against your racing heart, “You scared me, Mereel.” You scold.

“Ah, sorry cyare! I didn’t mean to.” His gaze softens as he looks at you, and he smoothly slides into the booth next to you, pushing himself between you and the stranger with such ease that you don’t realize what he’s doing right away, “Is that a new dress? You look amazing.”

“Oh, yeah.” You smooth the skirt, “I used my bonus to buy something nice.”

Mereel’s fingers slide against your shoulder and you shiver, “You look stunning.” He says quietly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dress up like this.” 

“Oh, well I normally don’t,” You don’t even realize that the blond man has left, you’re so distracted under Mereel’s attention, though by the smug little grin playing on his lips, he has and he’s thrilled by it. “I just wanted to try something different.”

“Something different?” He prods.

“I…well…it’s not exactly like my work clothes are overly attractive, so if I want a boyfriend-”

Mereel’s smile falters, “You’re hunting for a boyfriend? Here?”

“I-I mean, where else am I going to look? It’s not like anyone at work is interested-” You say with a self-conscious laugh.

“I am.”

“...what?”

“I’m interested. Why do you think I’m always flirting with you?” Mereel asks.

“I just…that’s just what you do-”

He huffs out a frustrated noise, and crashes his lips against yours, his hands coming up to cup your face. And you react immediately, leaning your whole body against his and pressing your hands over his.

He breaks the kiss slowly, and lightly presses his forehead against yours, “Be my girlfriend?” Mereel asks, “Don’t flirt with anyone other than me.”

“Are you jealous?” You ask, sounding slightly breathless.

“So kriffing much,” Mereel mumbles, “Please, cyare-”

“Yes,” You interrupt, your voice soft.

He smiles at you then, and then his lips are against yours again.

[gabessquishytum]

This morning I woke up thinking horny Dreaming thoughts and for a second I was so bummed out that I couldn’t tell anyone. But then I remembered I can tell you and I just really want to thank you for your inbox and for all of your enthusiastic responses. I’ve been doubting lately if I want to stay in fandom spaces but you really make it fun and worthwhile and plain lovely, and I’m really grateful for you.

Anyway: horny thoughts.

I come from a region where religious affiliation was systematically discouraged two generations ago, so we’re all pretty much atheist and only go to church — if at all — for Christmas, so I was rather surprised that there is such a thing as premarital counseling aka. Telling young couples what to do/expect in bed after the wedding. Which is. Such a strange concept to me? Whatever happened to comprehensive sex ed? Do parents actually believe their teenagers are not experimenting and figuring themselves out?

Never mind my confusion, but I was thinking older marriage counselor!Dream and soon-to-be-wed!Hob. And why not make it a/o/b?

Hob is young, a fresh-faced, barely 18 Omega. He isn’t conventionally attractive but handsome in a way Betas and maybe even Alphas would be: broad shoulders, tall. By the time he’s 16 it was clear he will never have problems growing a full beard (unlike most Omegas), his chest, arms and legs are full of coarse hair-

Hob’s okay with it. After he’s lost his parents and was sent to the orphanage he figured he wouldn’t be of much interest for anyone really. He spent his time in the library and helping the nuns to take care of the little ones. He’s really good with kids and smart, so he aims to be a kindergartner or maybe even a teacher, if he gets the chance to study.

Considering how odd he is, he’s never had much to do with other kids his age. The alphas were intimidated by how large his is, larger than they are sometimes. Some Omegas and Betas avoided him for the same reason, while others were just put off by how strange he is. It saddens him a bit, but as long as he’s got the kids to take care of and hang out with, it’s fine. He’ll just live out his extroverted tendencies by playing with them for hours. He didn’t make the same experiences as others — there was one kiss with another Omega when he was 15. Hob liked it but the other Omega was so terrified that Hob decided this just isn’t worth it — but he’s content with his life.

Two weeks shy of his 18th birthday, the nuns ask him for a meeting. Hob knows that this is about his future and he plans to present them with his plans going forward: Either keep helping around the orphanage while he gets a few hours off each day to work on his schooling or find a part time job tutoring or as a nanny to do the same. He knows that they can’t keep him around forever, but they’ve always been good to him and he hopes they’ll let him stay a bit longer.

He is very surprised when they tell him, they found an Alpha who wants to marry him.

Hob protests. He doesn’t want to marry, he wants to be a teacher! That’s what he’s worked for ever since his parents died and none but the kids at the orphanage showed him any affection. He doesn’t want to sit at home all day, waiting for his Alpha to come home and knock him up (though he would love to have children of his own. that’s not the point). He doesn’t want to be an object, locked into a solitary building yet again!

The nuns assure him they’re written to the Alpha who is amenable to Hob getting his degree and working in childcare, as long as it’s not hindering him from performing his marital duties. Which to Hob doesn’t sound like a completely horrible deal? He can sleep in the same bed as some Alpha every night, that’s okay. After all, that’s all it is, right?

He agrees, reluctantly. The nuns send him to marriage counselling and Hob goes. He’s not sure what he needs it for because he knows how kissing works (mouth A on mouth B) and that sleeping next to your spouse will eventually lead to children.

Enter marriage counsellor!Dream, who has not done this before and has no idea why he agreed to this. His last marriage ended in tragedy so he’s clearly not the right person to prepare anyone for that kind of commitment but his siblings talked him into it. Something along the lines of how being around younger people in love would help him and make him less jaded.

Hob is immediately fascinated. The Alpha is so, so different from what he expected. He’s slender and tall, which is only accentuated by the suit he wears. He’s twice Hob’s age if he had to guess, judging by the grey in his hair. He’s stunningly beautiful and Hob is immediately enamoured. What a pity this guy isn’t the one he’s marrying because he sure wouldn’t mind lying in bed next to him, especially considering how delicious he smells and how Hob's body feels all tingly as soon as he steps inside the room.

Dream is equally as ass over teakettle for the sweet, naïve Omega that stumbled into his office. They talk a little about Dream’s actual day job, Hob’s aspirations for the future, etc. to get comfortable with each other before Dream starts poking at Hob’s experience only to realise that he has none. Zero. Zilch. He gently inquires what Hob does when he gets aroused and hard to which Hob answers that he waits for it to go away.

Dream is speechless. This beautiful, smart, kind Omega is so inexperienced, it would be a crime to let him get married like this. I mean that’s just setting him up for unhappiness! Dream knows other Omegas his age — the same age Hob’s prospective husband seems to be — and they won’t take care of him the way they should.

So Dream decides he has to do something about it. He starts slow, inviting Hob back for another evening to continue the counseling but gives him homework: The next time, Hob feels aroused and his prick is hard (in private), Dream wants him to wrap his hand around it and stroke it until he cums. Hob doesn’t know what that means, but Dream promises him that he’ll know when it happens.

Thing is tho: Hob doesn’t know what Dream meant. He tried but stopped at the first sign or pre on his tip. So next time they meet, Hob complains that he couldn’t sleep after because he was so keyed up!

Dream, his head a bit hazy given the image of Hob on his bed, his hand wrapped around his small Omega prick, that he goes ahead and asks Hob to demonstrate what he did. And Hob — blushing from both shyness and arousal — strips out of his trousers and pants, sits down on the leather armchair in the meeting area of Dream’s office and starts masturbating.

It’s painfully clear that he doesn’t know what he’s doing so Dream starts to coach him through it. He tells him that his grip needs to be tighter, that he needs to stroke faster, that he can’t stop now-

Dream nearly cums in his pants watching Hob. His eagerness is incredibly beautiful, the flush on his cheeks so, so stunning. He’s never seen anything as mesmerising as Hob looking down at his prick in surprise, his smell permeating Dream’s office and the wetness from his cunt soaking into the expensive leather upholstery.

Dream sends him to the bathroom to clean up, answers a few questions before he sends him home with more homework. Then Dream rushes to the bathroom himself, cumming within seconds because what he just witnessed- most erotic sight ever.

Two days later they have their next counseling session and Hob immediately blurts out that his wrist hurt too much so he couldn’t do the assignment Dream had given him, but he still wants to try. Aren’t there any other ways to finger his cunt? And Dream, who has been thinking about nothing but Hob for the past two days, proposes that he could just do it for Hob. So Hob strips down and takes a seat on Dream’s lap, already wet with slick and smelling ever so delicious.

Dream makes Hob cum twice on his fingers before he orders him to recline in the armchair and eats him out. Hob can barely walk afterwards and curls up on the couch, his head resting on Dream’s thigh. Maybe this whole marriage thing isn’t as bad as he thought it was? But what about the Alpha? Surely he has still so much to learn from Dream.

Next time they meet, Dream teaches him to kiss, while Hob sits on his lap. Hob's rubbing against his thigh until he's a shuddering mess and Dream gives him the quickest blowjob he's ever given.

This goes on and on and on and progresses steadily. They meet with take-out dinner and talk, they have their "lessons". The first time Hob cums on Dreams cock, Hob cries with how good it feels. He's an incoherent mess when Dream's knot inflates. There’s about two months left until the wedding and Dream vows he’ll make sure to teach Hob everything he knows about how to be pleased and how to please his Alpha.

And if they fall in love along the way and elope before Hob can marry some stranger, well at least Dream’s not jaded anymore and Hob is suddenly much more enthusiastic about marital obligations.

Love, 💄

I'm having a kinda terrible bad no good day today, so it's perfect that this has come to the top of the pile for the posting! First of all I want to say: thank you for letting me be the outlet for your thoughts and ideas! It's really a pleasure for me to know that my blog feels like a safe space. I hope you'll stick around for a very long time!!

I'm always grateful when you guys occasionally drop an absolute banger like this in my inbox. It's a real gift on a day like today when my head is empty. Anyway. I am. Deeply obsessed with this whole scenario. The whole setup with "marriage counselling", Dream being peer pressured into doing it even though his marriage was a trashcan on fire... excellent, I love it. And Hob!!! Darling, clever, innocent Hob!!!!! I would take a bullet for him in this au. I need him to have a happy life!!! I need him to be able to get his qualifications!!!! Most of all I need him to be railed by Dream 24/7.

I gotta know... has Dream taught Hob about birth control? Is there such a thing in this universe? Because if Hob is getting knotted several times each week for two months, I feel like there may be a whole other reason for them to elope together...... although I do kinda love the idea of Hob showing up to his wedding with his intended alpha, guiltily hiding his tiny bump behind a bouquet of flowers because Dream got him pregnant, oopsie.

Anyway, I love anything with omega Hob and this is no exception!!!! Thank you so so much for sharing it with me!!!!!!

[secretlythepits]

Passenger Seat

This week—

This week—

This week did not go as expected. My husband made choices that last minute excluded me from important oncology appointments. Fine. It’s his choice. But I didn’t call my dentist about a problem I had because I was supposed to be there as a support. I didn’t go to my godson’s wedding across the country because of these appointments. My husband doesn’t quite understand this. I hadn’t wanted him to feel guilty about needing help. The sacrifices I made were cutting but pointless.

His decisions were erratic, fear-based choices. When I tried to get him to slow down and think, he told me not to start.

Because anything that might be emotional, psychological, spiritual, or neurological is off the table.

I didn’t start.

I need to stop.

The mini surge of resentment I felt flooding my body from my toes to my locked jaw puffed my chest with an unintended deep breath.

It’s information, I told myself. Anger is information.

It’s telling me I’ve given too much. Middle age has taught me that I should never give so much that it hurts. Not even in an emergency. Not even to my children. Give only to the point I can freely give up whatever it is being taken. Because, let’s face it, this is not pure generosity. It’s patriarchal expectation and familial obligation— which seems to be always the case for wives and moms. Do we ever choose what we give? Isn’t it just that we made a choice to marry and have kids and then everyone else got to define what that choice entailed?

But I digress.

I gave too much. I allowed myself to be squeezed out of my own life— which he gladly accepted and also expected. But I was never happy to do it. I was willing to give to a point, but then damn, it swallowed me up. Again. Maybe that is always the path of caregiving. Maybe. But maybe I can and should put protections around my vital parts.

Yesterday I was in the bathroom when he announced that he was leaving for the appointment. The appointment that is 10 minutes away from our home, scheduled for 1 hour and 45 minutes later. He wanted to be seen earlier and go to work.

Don’t start.

Things I know that he doesn’t: His pathological restlessness is a fear/trauma response. He is alienating others (or kids) with it and hurting himself. Chemo is affecting his thinking. He wanted to go to this doctor, the one who lied to him, the one who will always say he is ok until he actually dies, for reassurance, to step back into comfy denial again.

Things that failed to take place at this appointment because I wasn’t there: discussing clinical trails (the main oncologist said this doctor was supposed to to research them), discussion sleep medication for his insomnia, accountability for lies about CT results, probing questions about the recent PET scan. All that happened was that my husband waited for an hour and 45 minutes and was told everything looks fine, go ahead with the radiation (which was already decided by the radiation doctor).

I missed my godson’s wedding for this.

(It was a small nature wedding on a Wednesday across the country. I wasn’t expected and to be honest, I try to avoid most weddings, but I wanted to be there for this one. It was too late to book without making myself be a disruption.)

I missed calling the dentist for my pain.

I missed working out for this.

(Didn’t want to sweat before the appointment.)

When I asked about it, he said he didn’t need to talk about anything else with the doctor because radiation was going to take care of it. Actually, radiation will destroy a couple tumors but won’t increase your survival; you need a systemic treatment for that, which is why you were supposed to discuss clinical trails. I don’t remember it that way. Well, both the main oncologist and the radiation oncologist said that, so—

I dropped it and picked up myself. I went on a walk. I realized that it felt like he was the driver of my life right now and he’s drunk. I don’t feel safe. I am so angry. He’s behaving erratically and I don’t want to be stuck in the passenger seat. He won’t give up his keys and I don’t want to have an argument about it. It feels useless because he is drunk and can’t think clearly. I need to get out. That’s my only option. Drive myself.

So, what decisions do I need to make to steer my life in the direction I want it to go?

Basically, I just want to take good care of myself.

The road we are on is long and windy. It’s a closed course so I have to keep going until the end. I need to focus on myself. I need to remember Bolivia and how earlier this year I booked a flight, defied gravity, and created an adventure out of an idea.

But it’s strange.

Imagining a new life, a beautiful life full of so many gorgeous possibilities—

while sleeping next to someone who is coughing and contemplating the loss of his own precious life, the single span he believes in.

This year contains 365 weeks, I swear.

[madarasgirl]

Madara Headcanon

CW: NSFW. Pregnancy, period sex, anal sex

I love Madara headcanons, fanfics, scenarios, smut, meta analyses, fanart, and everything else to do with Madara. Been binging content the past months, but haven’t seen much on certain topics –likely because most people aren’t as degenerate as me? So I decided to write my own headcanons about Madara and an S/O who’s interested in pregnancy sex, period sex, and anal sex! Hope you enjoy.

Pregnancy sex

Madara is a traditional man at heart and can be a bit of a prude. While most sexual interests don’t bother him, the moment there’s potential for truly hurting a loved one, he’ll clam up. Pregnancy sex is where he’d think “Who does that?” in the most judgmental old man way possible. So Daddy Madara would need much convincing to participate.

In my mind, Madara would only father a child with a woman whom he already cares about greatly. He loves his woman and unborn child, is overprotective to hell and it would KILL him if he hurt his love and/or baby in any way. It doesn’t matter how pent up or needy he/she is, he’d push her off and tell her to behave. He’s soft with his pregnant partner (I’d like to think she’d also be his wife), so he wouldn’t tease her as much as he usually does when she gets this way. He’d distract her with (PG) activities she enjoys, take care of her, cooking her favourite meals and catering to her strange food cravings, massage her feet… which are fine wholesome activities, but not what she NEEDS!

Eventually the baby mama snaps at the poor Madara, who’s trying to do his best for his small family. She shows him evidence from literature and has permission from the doctor, informing him that it’s medically SAFE to have sex since theirs is a low-risk pregnancy. STILL, Daddy Maddy refuses her, citing his brute strength and the unacceptable possibility of hurting her or their baby. He’s also angry at this point, so the household would turn tense for a while with these two stubborn mules running it.

Madara may be frustrated (in more ways than one), but he’s unable to stay angry with his S/O forever. Her unhappiness distresses him and he slowly softens up again with her. He’s gone over the medical evidence that it’s okay to do the deed during the period when they were at odds with each other. Logically, he now knows it’s safe to do in their situation, but it still makes him uncomfortable. However, Madara ultimately wants whatever makes the S/O happy, as long as she (and baby) are safe.

The first time they have pregnancy sex is so beautiful. It’s been a long time for both of them. Madara would be so tender, ensuring he doesn’t put his weight on her, keeps his grasp gentle, and is fully in tune with how she is feeling. Though he’s feeling needy too, his queen’s needs are always placed before his own. He makes sure she knows they can stop at any time and that she’ll tell him if anything he’s doing is too much. It’d be like getting to know one another all over again.

When it later becomes clear the baby isn’t going to “fall out” and nothing bad passes, Madara would wonder why they didn’t do this earlier.

(They are responsible parents and stop having sex weeks before the due date)

Period Sex

Doesn’t bother Madara much at all. Blood? What’s the problem? At first he didn’t like the sight of blood leaving his S/O’s body, but he knows it’s a biological function and she’s not in pain nor injured. In fact, the orgasms he pulls from her body relaxes her and eases her symptoms, so he comes to enjoy it too. The blood getting all over the place isn’t cause for too much concern for Madara, who believes they can get most of it off without their house ending up looking like a murder scene. What they can’t adequately clean off, Madara will get replaced, whether it’s linens or even furniture. Madara just isn’t bothered by those sorts of things. The S/O however, is a bit more sensible and prefers the bloody murder sex on her heaviest days in the shower.

I can even see Madara and S/O taking a bath together while she’s on her period, the heat easing her cramps and mood more, bloody bath water be damned.

Anal Sex- also fem S/O here

So I don’t actually think Madara is a total prude. I think Madara would be open to anal sex if the S/O is interested. It wouldn’t be his first choice, but it’d be a nice bit of variety to change things up occasionally. He still prefers the pussy, since he has a breeding kink after all.

Madara would be generous with the prep and lube, the king of patience taking his time to loosen up the rear to accommodate his girth. Agonizingly slowly, he slips it in, inch by inch, until his hips are seated against hers. Her jaws drop. “It’s HUGE!” Madara laughs, telling her she’s had it before. Despite feeling the stretch and the sensation of being stuffed FULL, there was no real pain. He stays in place for as long as needed for her to get accustomed to the foreign sensation.

Madara picks up the pace over time. The view of her back exposed to him, completely vulnerable and trusting, her TIGHT HEAT surrounding his length, the notion that their activity is taboo… the moment has him undone. Madara wants to rut. He pounds the S/O with her ass up into the mattress to the music of her delighted screams.

His baritone gets even lower while he chuckles, “Is this what you wanted? To be on your hands and knees taking it like a dog? Such a naughty girl. Heh. NOW you’re embarrassed?” He taunts her and keeps his thrusts deep, stroking her back until she turns her head to peer up at her man, eyes unfocused yet filled with trust and devotion. Without even knowing it, Madara had his Sharingan activated, immortalizing this moment in his memory forever as he pushes in deep and fills her with his essence, determined to claim ALL of his lover.

_________________________________

Wow that turned out much longer than I anticipated, but I couldn’t stop. My first real post and still trying to figure out this platform works. Hope you enjoyed my word vomit!

[bunnywan]

i guess to me it feels weird when i see you or your group of friends liking vader or thinking he’s fucking “serving cunt” or whatever it is when it’s still anakin….. there’s literally a fascist underneath (it probably is you guys just trolling and i’m misreading it as genuine) but about the not liking your friend’s bf thing: if i don’t like my friend’s bf i don’t tolerate anything about him or even waste a thought on him just because my friend “loves” him and i get that you can’t really separate obi-wan from his presence in anakin’s life but hey it’s fiction anyway like you can fucking rewrite star wars if you wanted to

… are you under the impression that after anakin becomes vader i lose all of my former opinions about him and suddenly like him ? i have no idea where you’re getting that from. he’s the same dude in a different outfit to me.

star wars isn’t real. anakin isn’t real. his crimes against humanity aren’t real! i’m not running a blog about mussolini. that’s why me and my friends joke about him (yes we are joking). if you decide for yourself that you’re not into that, that’s fine! but like … i’m not sure what you want from me ?

also it’s weird that i’m the person you’re coming to with this. your problem seems to lie with engaging with anakin at all, and while i do write fic about him, i’m an obikin author that doesn’t do the “pls don’t remind me my poor pathetic meow meow babygirl is a facist. it makes me feel yucky😖” thing. so like. why me ?

not gonna lie you got a big laugh out of me with “thinking vader is fucking serving cunt or whatever” even tho i don’t think i’ve ever said that. genuinely lost my shit for a minute.

(eta: here’s the original ask for more context if anyones wondering — with some great additions in the notes)