#rolling it around in my mind like a shiny marble...

[zylphiacrowley]

Cooking up an idea for a renfaire OC. The Crow-ne: an old lady crow who was made into a human by a well meaning witch who she used to bring trinkets to. And because I have to make a backstory for all my OCs, even the minor ones, the witch made her a human to extend her life and accidentally gave her eternal life, so she survived the witch and now she lives alone in the tiny hut they shared. Might make it a thing to bring little trinkets to hand out to people or smth I dunno.

Mostly I wanted to make a big cloak with feathers and a beak on the hood and a staff with a little pouch full of trinkets...

[ask-the-pioneer]

"I've always been captivated by them. Something about the shiny exterior, how they glimmer when you tumble them around in your hands. My younger self would obsess about them, a childlike fascination. Even back then I instinctively knew they had value. My mom would use pearls I found to pay for a safe passage at scavenger tolls. We tried to bypass those points as much as we could, but sometimes it was unavoidable."

"It's a looong story…. I was found roaming the wilderness by my mentor, who brought me to er, an entity, called an interator. Do you know of iterators? Apparently they are what was left of an ancient civilization that once inhabited these lands. I couldn't wrap my head around it at first. Iterators are massive, absolutely huge, like mountains. Do you see that big structure of a regular, smooth shape?"

[She points towards Five Pebble's can in the distance]

"That is an iterator's «superstrucute». A mountain, the entire thing… is a person. It still sounds crazy when I say it."

"Ah, right, my name… like I mentioned, I got lost and my mentor found me. He brought me to his iterator. If my memory serves me right, his name is «No Significant Harassment», or NSH for short. I recall thinking at that time, «Harassment? I hope he won't be cruel to me». I had no concept of iterator names, their meaning, why it's three or however many words long. It was incredibly confusing to my young mind, though looking back at it I consider myself very lucky. The iterator was, dare I say, «god-like» (his own words), but benevolent. I saw how well he treated Hunter – my mentor – and it made me trust him more, even though I was scared and wary in the beginning."

"Would you believe it if I told you… there are stories written inside the pearls? That those things I’ve been obsessing about all my life are used for storing information? I had many of them leftover from when I lived at a scavenger outpost. One cycle, NSH noticed my interest, and – I wish Hunter had told me about this sooner, but – the iterator shot at my head with something…? And suddenly I could understand everything he said. Not that he said much, because I started crying loudly and ran straight out of there, haha. But before I bolted, he gave me one of his pearls as consolation. I think he felt bad for the scared little me."

"After that, he would eagerly read all the pearls I brought to him. That is how I learned more about the culture of the peoples who were here before me: the Ancients, their customs, why the iterators were built, and much more. It was like the knowledge of the entire world was suddenly revealed to me – to a seemingly insignificant being, a tiny speck in an endless ocean of life. It both made me feel very important, and very small. And, yeah, it has intensified my obsession with pearls beyond mortal limits. What if I could write into a pearl? I could archive the history of my entire species! All the stories my mom told me when I was small? All the places I’ve been to? Or other scugs have been to…"

[Her eyes widen, sparkling with glee]

"Y-yeah… that would be nice… sadly I am what I am – a slugcat. I don’t know how to do this very advanced stuff at all. I have no means of doing this. I once asked NHS for help, but there’s only so much he could guess from my frantic signing. I don’t think he understood me, in the end. But he did appreciate my efforts, and I was given a title – the Pioneer, like a person who is the very first to explore something uncharted. Apparently no slugcat before me thought of reading from or writing into pearls? I find it a little hard to believe."

"This one! This is a very special kind of pearl – it contains an ancient poem from which my name originated. See, my name was a gift from NSH the iterator. It’s spelled: «Mirmyntasseth». The best way I would describe it, is… it’s a name for a feeling, or an experience. The way it was explained to me, is that the word «Mirmyntasseth» is an expression of seeing a marble roll on a flat surface, then hitting another marble. Ah, right, you may not know this – a marble is like, like a pearl, but translucent and even more ornate. I was told that marbles were used by the Ancients for entertainment. They had a game where you rolled one to hit another. I'll admit, I can see the appeal. Throwing rocks is fun, although I image this game was considered a more dignified pastime."

[She tumbles the dark pearl in her hands, admiring its luster]

"The poem inside this pearl, one of its verses spells: «Eight Marbles Cast in Stone». The poem itself is long… very long… I had the iterator read it to me once, and we had to stop in the middle because the rain was coming. Maybe I will ask NSH to read it again, when I’m back at his superstructure with Hunter."

[Her gaze trails off to somewhere far away for a moment, a subtle grimace on her face. She closes her eyes and shakes off the thoughts that cloud her mind]

"So, um… yes… that is why I am called Eight Marbles Cast in Stone, or Marbles for short. I like how it sounds, it has a nice ring to it. And it’s a gift from an iterator, a god-like being. I consider it a great honor."

"…that said, I wonder why he didn’t just name me «Pearl»? Wouldn’t that make more sense? Maybe it didn’t sound cool enough. They’ve used pearls just to store information. I guess it’d be silly to be named «Dirt» because you doodle in dirt, or «Batfly» because you love eating batflies? Hmm…"

[dilftaroooo]

a somewhat detailed gojo imagine because he looks like such a whore in that black compression shirt that I can't help myself

its suggestive but no smut. gn!reader is down bad and perverted. Gojo is also a gym bro

You've noticed something remarkable in Satoru that was too drastic to brush off. It's been plaguing your mind like a medieval peasant--infiltrating your system until you hack out opaque burgundy of sin, until your fingertips are dusted black with libidinous impulse, wanting to reach out for the angel with blue eyes so he can relieve you from your misery.

It's his physique, his muscular build. He's been working out more often than not. Honing the definition of his thick biceps and bulbous pecs whenever you accompany him in his deadlifting sessions at your university's gym.

His body is impeccable and you will never forget how his figure inevitably held you in a trance, still recalling the black compression shirt hugging his torso like second skin: the shiny polyester glazed under the gym's light as he maneuvered with grace yet handled the weights with ferocity, perfecting his form before engaging with the flatness of his core and bending over to lift the hefty object (you made sure to revel at how the roundness of his ass juts out in the gym's mirror) then straightening his legs.

Fattened snakes spiraled around the circumference of Satoru's arms. They throbbed hard at his tense posture while carrying the loaded barbell. The veins that trailed down his hands were defined. They looked phenomenal with his manicured nails--clipped, filed, and polished with a clear coating. He's painted evenly with sweat that makes his skin sparkle--a salty droplet making its way down the curve of his bunny-like nose resulting in him twitching it which funnily emphasizes the comparison. He's gorgeous in every way. Even the heavy smell of must that seeped through his pores felt poetic to you.

His breaths are ragged and uncontrolled. They're rapid, paired with clenched teeth to elicit a series of pained hisses. It's something you didn't bother to scowl him on because you're so busy ogling the rest of his body.

You remember taking a good look at his chest and my God--the tight shirt left little to the imagination as puffy areolas swell under compressed fabric, completely overriding the stiffness of his nipples. His pecs were ample and they poked out whorishly to whoever had eyes fortunate to witness. Lowering your stare, you relish at how his six-pack convulsed at the pressure, beautifully sculpted like every part of him. Continuing to decline your gaze, you've even been able to drool at the flaccid cock that was tucked away in his sweatpants. If only you weren't in a public space and confined to the 'childhood friend' label.

His body jittered lightly as he sensed the urge to let go and he did, the obnoxious slam of the weighted plates that collided with marble flooring could've been enough to scare you if you weren't so accustomed to the sound.

Satoru looks at your awaiting figure that sat on top of a bench across from him. He prohibits the sweat from rolling down his chiseled jawline by capturing it with a cool, damp washcloth you offered. His breathing becomes more relaxed with each inhale he takes and the blush that decorates his face begins to return back to his normal fair tone.

Narrowed eyes in addition to a confident sneer caught your sight and you smiled back due to how infectious it was.

"Wanna feel?" He points to his huge bicep. You couldn't resist the desire to give in and touch him. You reach out for the thick muscle and Satoru leans back to give you a worried look on his face. "Be careful, though. He likes to bite." He quipped, liking the way you chuckled at his silliness.

Once eager fingers grab ahold of him, you almost release a wanting mewl from your lips. You trace your fingertips along the lengthy stream of his veins, still marked in his sweat, but you couldn't care less. They look good, too good, and they look even better when Satoru playfully flexes his arm under your caresses. Azure eyes watch you under hooded lids as he drinks up your amazement, which undoubtedly boosts his swollen ego.

You move the army of digits down his forearm since that's where the map of his veins leads, so you follow its direction. Light, wispy, white hairs on his arm glow under artificial lighting, covering the limb with specks of stars.

Then you're met with his hand which was two times larger than your own, pinpointing the substantial difference in size. He's big. His fingers overrule yours by a mile along with his stature. The thoughts in your head swarm like locusts when coming to terms with the size difference that you don't even realize your palm connects with his as you daydream about the astonishing contrast. You're no longer just admiring his physical gains but rather how he can use those gains against you.

Satoru giggles under a hushed breath and he moves away from you to stand up to his staggering height. Grabbing his duffel bag before putting all the equipment he came to the gym with.

"Let's get going. 'M starting to get hungry and rush hour is about to hit. I'd hate to be in the middle of that." He chirps amidst scratching his belly. He looks over at you and you catch a tinge of something in his eyes, though you're not sure if it's what you think it is.

"And you staring me down like that is riling me up. Do remember that my ego is inflated as is, sugar. We don't need it to overpower me to the point where I'll end up doing something I won't have any regrets about."

[kokonoooi]

✧ telling hanma to bow to you instead :

cw: fem reader, role reversal, oral (f! receiving), dirty talk/degradation, fingering, impact play, brat-taming ig u can say

wc: 991

"On your knees."

His "Sin"-tattooed hand pointed down to the spot in front of him on the shiny, swirled-marble floor in his office.

Very characteristic of Hanma to demand head in the middle of him doing paperwork.

"How about you get on your knees for me?"

You quirked a perfectly arched eyebrow at him as you stood before his desk; all you were trying to do was ask him what he wanted for lunch.

You didn't have time for his shit today.

Hanma's golden eyes trailed all over your body, starting from your feet and moving up to your pretty fingers sporting those black stiletto nails with real 14K gold-chain detailing.

It came as no surprise to him that you'd say some shit like that; you've always been a brat.

Hell, that's why he liked you.

A dangerous, violent man like Shuji Hanma wouldn't dare put a weak-minded bitch at his side.

"Oh yeah?"

In an instant, all 6'4" of him was towering over you, skulking forward like a panther ready to pounce until he had backed you up against the bookshelf situated at the back wall.

In his pursuit of you, he had also grabbed his rolling chair from behind the desk to push in front of you once he had you trapped.

"Sit down."

"Shuji, I don't have time for this bullshit-"

"I said sit the fuck down."

With an exaggerated huff, you threw yourself into the chair, arms crossed over your chest indignantly. A true brat, indeed.

The corners of Hanma's lips turned up slightly, and he leaned down to kiss your forehead softly before grabbing you by the neck with the "Punishment" hand.

"Telling me what to do, huh baby? I kinda liked that glint in your eyes just then."

He tilted your head back to peck your lips, then put one hand on the chair to push it forward towards his desk.

Hanma slammed you against that desk, the sturdy oak material not even moving an inch with the impact.

"Can't say it's anybody's fault but my own, but that's okay. I like it when you get bitchy."

"What are you doing, Shuji? Stop messing around!" You moved to get up, but the look that he shot you quickly made you reconsider.

"You wanted me on my knees, so that's what I'm doing, baby."

He chuckled softly and dropped to his knees before you.

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor; this was new.

A small, golden key on a chain around his neck came into your line of sight as Hanma reached behind his head to unclasp it.

He used the key to unlock a bottom drawer on the desk and pulled out a pair of shiny, silver ankle cuffs along with a spreader bar.

“You like talking down to me? Making me into your little bitch? Huh, babe?”

Once he had you situated with your legs bent up at an angle and cuffed to either leg of the desk, he rolled his sleeves up.

Hanma spanked the fat parts of your thighs - left, right - alternating between “Sin” and “Punishment” as if you had wronged him, had betrayed him somehow and he wanted to make you suffer before he gave into pleasuring you.

Your body jolted and you flattened your back against the soft cushion of the chair with each strike.

He didn’t stop until your skin was so warm that it could’ve been glowing if you looked hard enough. His big, strong hands smoothed over the aching flesh and then slipped behind your knees to hike your legs up enough to slip his head between them.

The cuffs clinked against the legs of the desk, the cold material uncomfortably digging into your ankles.

“SHUJI, oh God!”

His hot tongue flickered over your clit; he used the tip to coax it from under its hood before pulling back and spitting a fat glob of spit onto it. The lewd sound echoed across the expanse of the large office space, making your face burn.

He moved his hands from behind your knees to grip your still-aching thighs and hold you steady as he buried his face in your wet cunt and went to town.

When Shuji was irritated and eating you out, he was doing it for his pleasure, not yours. It always felt like he was worshipping you, though. Doing his best to please you and show you that you didn’t belong anywhere else except with him.

“Mmm..,” he moaned, opening his golden eyes and staring up at your heated face as he continued to use his tongue to play between your folds. 

With a loud slurp, he pulled himself away, reluctantly.

“Ahh!”

Three fingers sunk into you; “Punishment” while “Sin” pulled your folds back so he could watch how your little hole stretched to take him.

“You’re soakin’ me, fuckin’ slut.” Hanma grunted as your juices began sliding down his wrist and forearm.

After only a few minutes of this, he removed his fingers and flicked them - you could hear your wetness splash against the marble floor, further embarrassing you but also turning you on.

He switched hands in rapid succession and began fingering you once again, twisting and angling his fingers directly at your G-spot.

“S-Shuji, please…” Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, breathing labored.

"What's that?,” he leaned his ear towards you, “ready for me to get up, love?"

He sat back on his legs, knees spread wide so you could see how his cock strained against his pinstriped suit pants. You quickly shook your head.

"N-no, Shuji - please, don't stop!"

This brought a wicked smile to Hanma’s face and he licked over his lips before leaning back in to kiss each of your knees.

"Hmph, wasn't planning on it, brat."

✧taglist: @enchantedforest-network, @darkstarlight82, @chifuyuskoneko, @honeybleed, @ranspuppy, @kokonoiscoconut

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 2100+

Warnings: mentions of fight, blood

This chapter was inspired by @nocasdatsgay and her stimulating questions😉 Thank you for always reading and commenting on this fiction💕

Part XX | Part XXII

You stood in a rose garden, fog lazily rolling on the ground and around your legs. Light was so soft that you couldn't say what time of day it was. You had no idea how you got here nor where you were or how to get out.

The pendant between your collar bones was warm to touch. You had a strange feeling. You turned around, finding only roses. Thousands and thousands of roses of all colours. You needed to look for something. However you wasn't sure what that something could be and so you aimlessly wandered around until you got to a low marble pedestal. The smooth white marble with golden veins was carved into the shape of a bed.

On the pedestal was lying beautiful young male seemingly asleep, shiny golden strands of his long hair spread around his head. His broad chest heaved with deep breaths.

Tamlin.

You finally remembered. You were here looking for Tamlin.

You ran to him, squeezing his hand, but he didn't move. His skin was cold to touch, unyielding as that marble.

"Tamlin?" Nothing. Not even a muscle moved in his calm face. "Tamlin? Do you hear me?"

He didn't react. You tried to shake his shoulder with the same result. Your heart sank, tears lining your eyes. You sat down next to him and caressed his face gently. He looked so calm.

"I see you," a voice came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. There was no doubt, you knew the voice. It belonged to Tamlin, though his mouth didn't move at all. "In my dreams.. I see you.. even when I'm awake.. Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N. Have you forgotten?" You leaned closer, cupping his face.

"Y/N.."

"Yes, Y/N. You gave me this name. Please, try to remember. Return to me, Tamlin."

He didn't seem to listen to your words, his mind as hazed as the garden around.

"Y/N.. I keep dreaming about you even when I'm awake. Why?"

"Because it isn't dream, Tamlin. I'm here, right next to you. Open your eyes." He didn't move, motionless like a statue, cold as a stone. You inhaled readying to tell him more.

The dream disappeared replaced by bright light of late morning penetrating through dirty windows.

It was just a dream, yet it felt so real. Just like the one you had some time ago back in Velaris. Your heart painfully throbbed in your chest, eyes filled with hot tears. What could that mean?

Two warm bodies pressed against you from each side. The heat was unbearable. It was also quite uncomfortable because you were used sleeping alone. Sighing you touched the pendant hidden under the dress and at that movement one of the bodies rolled away. Good. Cool air bit into your left side causing a shiver running down your spine at the sudden heat loss.

You turned to the right intending to push the other body away, too. You were met with bright emerald eyes with golden flecks, already staring at you. Tamlin was still in his beast form, but his eyes changed during the night.

"Tam?" you questioned. The purr like sound came in answer. He watched you with interest. You sat up and sinking your fingers into his fur you caressed his head.

His eyes closed at that touch and he leaned closer, licking the back of your other hand and nuzzling to your palm. "Can you speak?" He made a whimpering sound. You smiled at him reassuringly. "It's okay. Take your time."

" 'morning," a hoarse voice muffled by sleep spoke from behind you.

"Look," you turned to Lucien with beaming smile.

He was lying on his back with hand shielding his eyes against the bright light. Wounded hand was carefully rested on his stomach. He cracked his russet eye open, focusing on you. You rolled your eyes and nodded with chin to Tamlin, now nuzzling to your legs. When he noticed the colour of his eyes, Lucien sat up swiftly, drawing a deep growl from the beast.

"Easy," Lucien laughed nervously raising his hands. "It's just me, Tam. Lucien."

"He still doesn't speak, but his eyes are again normal colored."

Lucien's gaze turned to you, watching you thoughtfully. "I knew it. Just one night and he's already getting better." You grinned, kissing the top of Tamlin's head.

Lucien agreed to go out to get some food for all three of you. Tamlin was too weak to stand up, although too stubborn to let you leave his side for even a while, so you stayed with him sitting on mattresses and waited for Lucien's return. At some point Tamlin drifted back to sleep while you stroked his head soothingly.

There was no warning of what was to come.

Rhysand stormed into the room like a dark cloud, panic and rage seeping from every part of his tall figure. In a blink of eye Tamlin's huge body flew through the air to the opposite side of room, hitting the wall with a loud thud. Whining in pain he slid down, staying on the floor.

"How could you," you gasped scrambling to your feet while fighting with the long skirt of your dress.

Rhysand blocked your way, embracing you firmly. "Thank the Mother! I was so worried-"

"Are you out of your mind, Rhys?" you snapped at him, catching him by surprise. He took a step back, pulling you with him, gaping at you. You tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let go.

"I won't allow him to get any closer to you. I saw the fresh blood downstairs. He's dangerous," he hissed angrily. You fought with him, hitting his chest and arms, but it had a little to no effect at him. Meanwhile he was trying to calm you down.

Deep growl was the only warning before sharp fangs snapped in front of your face, at the place where your brother's head was just moments ago, cutting only through air.

Rhysand managed to avoid the attack, but he had to release you in the process. He stood up, ready to repay that. Growling Tamlin stood between the two of you, saliva mixed with blood dripping on the floor.

"No!" You wrapped your arms around him, frowning at your brother. "You promised you wouldn't hurt him."

The tattoo on your shoulder burned and Rhys' had to hurt even more. Rhysand halted, assessing the situation.

"Y/N, slowly come to me," he reached out his hand to you.

"Tamlin won't hurt me, but it doesn't mean he won't hurt you. Especially if he thinks you threaten me."

"I do not-" Rhysand snapped, but changed his mind when the beast snarled at him, baring the fangs. "Sweetheart, please. Tamlin .. he's gone. This beast isn't him anymore. He's going to hurt you whether unintentional or not."

"I've spent last 10 hours with him and I'm fine." You showed him whole your body, so that he could see that there isn't a single drop of blood on you and the dress. He sized you up for head to toes and back up.

"That means nothing. He can get angry and-"

"You mean like right now?" You took a few steps, stopping in front of the beast's mouth. "Just look how angry he is." Tamlin stared at Rhysand, unblinking, growling.

Rhysand gasped. "Y/N, stop! Get away from him." You sent him angry glare and turned to the beast, placing your hands on his head with thumbs too close to the corners of his mouth. Just one move and he could bite off whole your hand easily.

"Tamlin," you spoke calmly to him. His eyes immediately moved to your face. He stopped growling and calmed down. "Are you hurt?" You knew he couldn't speak yet, but a small whimper was enough good answer for you.

"You see?" You looked back at your brother, running your fingers through the soft fur. "He won't hurt me."

Rhys shook his head. "But he could. Come back home with me," he pleaded.

"I am home," you sighed. You whispered to Tamlin to not worry and stay calm and pivoting walked to the place your brother stood at. You didn't dare to look at his face, knowing very well what you would see. Instead you hugged him. His arms squeezed your waist, hiding his face in your shoulder he relaxed a little.

"I'm so sorry, Rhys.. I like Velaris and I love you. And our family. I'm so grateful for what you have done for me, for returning my memories and everything. But this is my home. I've spent centuries living here."

"I just want my sister to be safe and with me. That's all," he breathed out lowly.

"I understand. I really do. I also want my overprotective big brother close by. But.. you have your Court and lovely wife. You started your own new family. I want to find my own happiness, too."

He sighed heavily. "And what about Az?"

"I think he understands how I feel and accepts it."

"All the time.. he knew you left, right? His behaviour was..strange last night and even in the morning."

"Don't be angry at him. I made him to promise." A lie smoothly slid from your lips.

Rhysand snorted with amusement. He always knew when you lied to him. This time it wasn't different. "He loves you too much when he allowed you to corner him like that." You were glad he wouldn't use this against Shadowsinger. "How did you get here anyway?"

Oops. Good thing Lucien wasn't here. You had to come with something enough truthful to pass your brother's lie detector.

"I winnowed," you said, your voice even. "Your help and those lessons we tried, were actually very helpful." Two unrelated truths connected into one lie.

While city was preparing for Starfall, Rhys offered to ease the fear and horrors of your memories which you gladly accepted because they were haunting you day and night and you didn't want to end up like the last time - too broken to fight. You had a mission and needed to be prepared and capable of offering all help and support that would be necessary.

He also patiently listened to you, letting you get everything that bothered you out, talking with you until you felt better. In the end, you ended up trying even some easy magic. You had a lot to be grateful for. To him and to Azriel, too. They both got you from the worst. And even though you still weren't completely healed, you felt much better these last few days.

"I don't want to leave you here," he whispered to your ear after being silent for a while.

You heard Tamlin nervously trampling over behind you, his claws scratching floor, small growls escaping him.

"I'll be safe here. He'll protect me."

Rhys straightened, frowning at nervous beast. "I hope you heard that. I'm willing to let her stay here and do as she pleases with one condition. If something happens to her, anything, I won't forgive you. Ever. And I'll find a way to revenge on you a hundredfold."

Tamlin snarled baring his fangs. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats and then Rhys simply nodded and looked down at you.

"Also I want to visit you. Often. Actually so often that you will wish to move back in."

You raised a brow. "I doubt that. Anyway you are always welcome."

His jaw tightened and then he smiled. It was very sad smile. He embraced you one more time and reluctantly releasing you, he winnowed away.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

Tamlin behind you collapsed. He was heaving when you pulled his head to your lap. You checked him for any wounds, finding just few already half healed bruises.

"Are you okay? Lucien will return soon with some food. Just hold on a little longer."

"I'm already here," he spoke from threshold, his expression serious.

It was clear he returned finding Rhysand in here and wisely stayed hidden. "I got us some bread and veggies. We can make him soup later."

His lips were pressed into thin line, eyes narrowed at you.

"I'm fine," you assured him.

"You lied to fucking Rhysand, the most dangerous High Lord ever, to protect me. I want you to know that when I brought you here, I knew what was to come. And I was ready for that. You don't have to cover for me."

You shrugged. "I know. I did it because I wanted. After all, that fucking High Lord is my brother. And your mate lives in his house."

Lucien tensed.

"It would be such a pity if he didn't let you in, the next time you go to try your luck with her."

"How do you-"

You shrugged again, not wanting to talk about that. You took a piece of bread he handed you and offered small piece to Tamlin. He didn't seem to want it, but when you told him to eat it, he listened.

You ate your late breakfast in silence.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot

[harrywavycurly]

The Last Visit: An Eddie Munson Oneshot

TW: Death/dying, mentions of blood, cemetery

A/N: This is pure sadness, but like a tiny tiny tiny hint of happiness if you squint? I’ve had this idea in my head all day and it just seemed interesting and I hope y’all enjoy also sorry I didn’t edit it much I wrote it in one sitting✨

Eddie zips up his jacket as he walks down the worn out path, the only sound he hears is the crunching of leaves beneath his shoes and trees blowing in the slightly chilly autumn breeze. He looks around and can’t help but feel a little sad at how empty it is, he knows it’s an odd time to be here but still he feels as though he shouldn’t be the only one here every time he comes to visit. The moment he turns the corner his eyes land on the reason he’s here, the Hawkins cemetery, he smiles when he sees the flowers he put up last week are still there and haven’t blown away or dried out yet.

“Hey sweetheart.” he whispers as he places his hand on the cold stone. “Miss me?” He asks as he takes a seat on the bench in front of the headstone.

“It’s a little hard to miss someone who doesn’t ever really leave.” Your voice is as clear as day as you lean against the shiny marble stone that has your name etched on the front of it. Eddie just rolls his eyes as you playfully glare at him.

“I don’t want you to get lonely.” Eddie watches as you look around at all the headstones covering the ground of the cemetery.

“I’m not alone Eddie.” You explain as you walk around your headstone and pick up the flowers he had picked just for you. “It’s been six months.” Eddie looks down at his feet as you bring the flowers up to your nose so you can smell them. He doesn’t need to be reminded of how long you’ve been gone, he knows exactly how many weeks, days and hours it’s been since he lost you.

“It feels like it happened yesterday.” His voice is low and you know he’s a few moments from losing it by the way he runs a hand over his face and looks away from you. “I can still hear Harrington’s voice in my ear telling me you’re gone.” His voice cracks as you slide down the front of your headstone so you’re sitting with your back against it as the memories of your last few moments alive flood your mind.

“No no no.” Steve’s voice is frantic as he runs to the middle of the street in front of Family Video where you were headed to start your closing shift. “You’re okay.” You can tell by the way his eyes get wide as they scan over your face and your body that he’s lying. You can’t feel much as you lay in the middle of the intersection’s crosswalk, Steve carefully lifts your head so it’s resting in his lap.

“It’s just a scratch right?” You mumble and Steve just nods his head as a few tears slip down his cheeks.

“Yeah just a scratch.” He repeats as he grabs your hands and holds them in his, you can hear sirens in the distance but you know they’ll be too late because you can feel the warmth of the blood coming from your head now covering Steve’s lap.

“Tell him,” you find it hard to speak but Steve just holds onto you tighter as he nods to try to encourage you to keep going. “I love him so much.” You feel your eyes water as tears freely fall down your face. “And I’m sorry I won’t be home for dinner.” Steve looks away from you as he tries to hold himself together.

“I’ll tell him.” He promises as he looks at you one last time before you feel everything beginning to go dark. “It’s okay.” Is the last thing you hear Steve say before your eyes close for the last time.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say as you look over at Eddie who is already staring right back at you as a single tear rolls down your cheek. “But you can’t just keep coming here Eddie you need to try to move on.” Eddie lets out a sigh of frustration as he stands up.

“Move on? How the fuck am I supposed to move on when my wife was taken from me by some asshole on a random ass Tuesday afternoon on her way to work?” You let him get it all out because you know he’s been holding it in for a while. “It makes no fucking sense so that’s why I can’t move on.” He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at your headstone. “Why’d it have to be you? Of all the people in the world why are you the one that had to die that day?” You stand up and drop the flowers letting them land right in front of your name.

“It was going to happen eventually.” You know that’s not what he wanted to hear as he takes a step closer to your headstone. “You deserve to be out there living your life not hanging out with dead people.” You fight the urge to reach out and touch him but you know it’s pointless because he can’t feel you.

“You know she looks just like you.” You smile at the mention of your daughter. “Sometimes a little too much but in a good way.” Eddie reaches into his back pocket so he can grab his wallet.

“Better me than you right? Isn’t that what Wayne would say.” Eddie just chuckles as he shakes his head, he opens the wallet and holds up a photo of your little girl who just turned two almost three weeks ago. “If you needed a reason to move on and start living your life to the fullest you have the biggest one in your hand right now.” Eddie looks down at the photo and smiles at his little girl’s big goofy grin on her cake covered face. “She needs you.” You watch him bend down and place the photo next to the flowers by your headstone.

“I love you.” Eddie swallows back the lump in his throat as he looks at your name etched in the stone.

“I love you too.” You answer as you move so you’re back behind your headstone. “Moving on doesn’t mean you love my any less Eddie.” Eddie turns so he can look at you as you speak. “It just means you’re making room to let others in.” You give him your best reassuring smile making him just nod because you’re right, as usual. “This is our last visit.” Eddie knew this moment would come, where he’d stop being able to see you and it would become all too real that you’re actually gone.

“I’m not ready.” He knows he sounds like he’s begging but he doesn’t care, you feel his sadness and it’s overwhelming making tears flow down your cheeks. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You already are.” Your voice is soft and sweet as it flows into Eddie’s ears. “You’re going to be okay Eddie.” You look away from him as you begin yourself starting to fade. “I’ll check in on you two from time to time.” Eddie just nods as he wipes at his cheeks with the back of his wrist.

“I love you.” Is all he can saw as he watches you give him one last smile as you fade away and eventually disappear. “I’ll always love you.” He whispers as he places a hand on top of your headstone. He stays there for a few more minutes before he looks at his watch and sees it’s almost time for him to go pick his daughter up from your mom’s house so the two of them can go have dinner with Wayne.

“See you later sweetheart.” Is all he says before he turns and begins his walk back towards his car. Eddie knows this is the last time he’ll come visit you for a while and deep down he knows you’re somewhere smiling down at him because you’re right, he needs to start living life again but not just for himself but for the little girl that calls him dad.

[spicybeefnoodles]

dancing

summary: johnny takes bi han out clubbing

warnings: suggestive :)

Bi Han felt his eye twitch as he watched Johnny dig through his closet to find something suitable to wear. Liu Kang had ordered the assassin to bodyguard the actor because there had been some sightings of Shang Tsung across Earthrealm, but that didn’t mean Bi Han was happy about it. The actor was insolent and proud and much too boisterous to even spare Bi Han a moment of peace. Despite the threat that Shang Tsung might appear and try to harm and/or kill Johnny, the actor still wanted to go out and have a night of fun at some VIP club and would not change his stance. Something about maintaining his reputation.

Right now, Bi Han had his arms folded across his chest, a disapproving glare directed toward Johnny and an irritated scowl etched into his face as Johnny finally pulled out an outfit, a purple sleeveless turtleneck and a form-fitting skirt.

“Perfect! Now, I just gotta find something for you to wear.”

“No.” Bi Han somehow had an even deeper scowl on his face as Johnny laid out his own outfit and started to rummage through his clothes to find something for the assassin to wear.

“What do you mean no? You can’t exactly go out wearing that. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb.” Johnny didn’t even glance back, just moving to another part of his closet to find something a bit looser but still form-fitting.

“I am not changing.”

“You’re changing. I have an image to uphold, and your current outfit is just going to look weird in public.” Johnny retorted back, pulling out a shiny blue dress shirt and black dress pants. “Here, change into this. Bathroom’s on the right. Tell me if it’s too tight. Unless you wanna change with me.”

Johnny shot Bi Han a wink, and the assassin snatched the clothes from Johnny and hurried out of the closet into the bathroom to change, hiding the blush on his cheeks. A few moments later, he walked out of the bathroom and found Johnny sitting on the bed, his legs and arms on display. Bi Han had to avert his eyes in case he stared for too long. Despite his annoyances toward Johnny, Bi Han admittedly found the actor attractive. Johnny whistled at the sight of Bi Han.

“Looking good, grandmaster blueberry ice! But, here.” Johnny hopped off the bed and strutted over to the assassin and rolled up the sleeves of Bi Han’s shirt. The grandmaster hadn’t noticed before, but Johnny’s hands were manicured and quite soft against Bi Han’s own rough skin. Bi Han tried not to think of another scenario where Johnny’s hands would be touching him. After the actor had finished, he pat Bi Han’s arm twice before heading toward the bathroom.

“There’s food and alcohol in the kitchen, and the TV has every channel and streaming service. I gotta go and finish up my look. I’m sure you can keep yourself entertained.” Johnny disappeared into the bathroom, and Bi Han wandered around the mansion. It was decadent, overpriced and filled to the brim with objects that Bi Han couldn’t even imagine the price of. Sitting down onto the couch, which was probably worth more than everything in Bi Han’s room combined, the assassin just tried to calm himself. He could not afford to be distracted. Especially by Johnny. However, as he tried to clear his mind, images of Johnny’s slim waist, his soft lips, how he would look debauched, how good he would look with the tears running down his face, how his manicured hands would look wrapped around-

Bi Han growled and suddenly stood up, spotting the alcohol cart by the couch. Uncorking the bottle, Bi Han poured himself a generous amount of the amber liquid and tried to forget his thoughts.

After what felt like ages, Johnny finally made his way down the stairs, the tell-tale sound of heels clicking against the marbled floors. Bi Han had finished his drink by then, trying to nurse it slowly.

“Oh perfect! You’re already pre-gaming!” Johnny smiled, and Bi Han couldn’t stop his heart from lurching. The man had on red lipstick, a dark eyeshadow and perfect eyeliner. His hair was styled to perfection. He looked gorgeous. Bi Han could drop to his knees right now and worship the actor. Fortunately, Bi Han managed to stay upright and just poured a glass for Johnny.

The actor took the drink, downed it, and poked his tongue out to catch the last few drops of whiskey hanging from his lips. Bi Han turned his head away and poured himself and Johnny another glass, trying to beat down the filthy thoughts arising in his mind.

“Alright, let’s get fucked up!” Johnny clinked his glass against Bi Han’s, and they drank. When Johnny finally determined that they were drunk enough, they headed outside to the chauffeur waiting for them and sat in the car. Bi Han sat still in the car, though a red blush had started to creep its way up his neck, and Johnny was a gigging mess on the other side of the seat. After they finally arrived at the club, Johnny hooked his elbow around Bi Han’s, flashed a few pretty smiles to the press, and dragged him inside the club to the bar. There, Johnny ordered and immediately two fruity drinks with small umbrellas slid toward them.

“Let’s have fun!” Johnny handed the drink to Bi Han. While Johnny polished off the drink quickly and ordered a few shots, Bi Han was content to sip on the drink, letting the buzz of the previous alcohol pleasantly settle in his head. The actor sauntered off to the dance floor, and Bi Han couldn’t help himself but let his eyes wander up and down Johnny’s figure. The sleeveless turtleneck emphasized his muscles, and the skirt barely covered Johnny’s ass. His long and tanned legs were on display, and Bi Han couldn’t help himself from ogling the actor.

The assassin just watched for a while as Johnny danced in the club, keeping a close eye on the actor, but he felt something dark curl in his stomach when another man grabbed onto Johnny’s hips and started grinding on him. Even worse, Johnny didn’t seem to mind and simply smiled and laughed. Bi Han scowled and downed his drink, emboldened by the alcohol in his system, and walked onto the dance floor, grabbing Johnny away from the man and pressing himself flush against the actor.

“Oh, feeling jealous, are we?” Johnny wrapped his arms around Bi Han’s neck and pressed his body even closer into the grandmaster.

“Shut up and dance.” Bi Han grinded into Johnny, and the actor flashed a shit-eating grin before reciprocating Bi Han’s movements. For a few songs, they both stayed in each other’s arms, just dancing against each other, but as the alcohol fully settled into Bi Han’s body, he couldn’t help but to admire Johnny. His makeup and hair were done to emphasize his most attractive traits, and the assassin wanted to do nothing more than take the man to bed and ruin his perfect image. Bi Han found his head leaning down until their lips were only a breath apart. Johnny’s pupils were blown out and wide, a slightly dazed look in his eyes. He glanced between Bi Han’s lips and eyes, and that was all the assassin needed.

Bi Han smashed their lips together, teeth clashing painfully as they both groaned into the kiss. Johnny’s hands trailed up into Bi Han’s hair, tugging at the strands, and Bi Han dug his fingers into Johnny’s hips deep enough to leave bruises. They continued to make-out on the dance floor, not really caring that they were taking space from the other people dancing.

“Wanna-wanna get out of here?” Johnny pulled away, cheeks flushed and his lipstick smeared around his face. Bi Han was sure there were some lipstick marks on his face as well. Bi Han just dragged them both off the dance floor, and Johnny called for a cab. By the end of the night, Johnny was most definitely ruined, and Bi Han wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

[fayeforrosie]

Angstober Day 3~ Miscommunication

Seulgi x Fem! Reader

KinkFluffAngstober Day 3~ Miscommunication with Kang Seulgi

Warnings- Swearing, mention of sex, seulgi is a walking red flag

Word count- 1.1k (my shortest one yet😟)

Seulgi pulls her head away from in between your legs, huffing in short breaths as she looks above her and sees your messy state atop of the sink. The bass from the outside party has yet to stop blasting through your ear drums every since Seulgi dragged you into this shiny marble bathroom.

After seeing you in the miniscule black dress you had worn for the sole attention of the girl, Seulgi groaned and rolled her eyes at the thought of anyone else seeing you, and placed her champagne class on the table adjacent to her and left her members, bringing you to where you are now.

Seulgi cups your cheek harshly and forces it towards her face, attacking your lips fervently as though she'd been hungry for you all night, your own juices flowing from her tongue back into yours.

You moaned at the taste and pulled her closer, that is until the both of your heads snapped to the door in response to a few short knocks, followed by a voice asking if everything was alright.

You couldn't make out the face the voice belonged to, but you figured Seulgi did as she immediately pulled away from your lips, pulling her shirt over her head as if in a race, fixing her hair evenly.

"Wait Seul," you softly request, ready to speak to the woman the words that have been on your mind for more months than you can count.

She turns around to face you, almost seeming irritated by the fact that you were calling her once again after your business was already concluded.

"What is it?" Seulgi asked nonchalantly.

You feel awkward still resting yourself on top of the sink, so you hop down to meet her eye level. Instead of looking you back in the eyes, Seulgi's fixation seems to be fixated on your exposed chest, eyeing them like a treasure chest filled with gold.

"I was thinking...," you begin, and she nods but continues to fixate on your body, "and I wanted to say this earlier but... I feel like you only want to see me, or call me, or text me when you're in the mood. I'm never your first choice to go out to dinner with, or have a nice picnic outside, or grab a coffee with. I'm just the girl that you call up when you want pussy, and honestly just... I want something more than that."

It was true. Seulgi only ever interacted with you if she wanted a quick fuck or to play with your body unrepentantly. She would take other woman out on dates, experimenting with various other girls to find someone she truly liked. She's even went as far as sending you a picture once while she was out on a date, only to explain later that she wanted to make you jealous so she can fuck you while your mad, claiming you looked hot when heated.

Nobody knew about you. She decided to keep you her own secret, and when you would ask why she would never want to mention you to her groupmates, or her other friends, it was always the same response.

"I want to be the only one to know about you, since you're mine and nobody else can have you."

You knew it was bullshit, because Seulgi could care less if she was on a casual stroll down the street and saw you were out on a date with someone. Her eye wouldn't even spare a blink.

You wanted Seulgi as something more than just a booty call, you wanted her in every state, in every way. But what was the point if Seulgi only used you for your body, and also the fact that she would continuously remind you how sexy and attractive you were, but never how kind and beautiful instead.

Seulgi, already anticipating your whole speech sooner or later, rolled her eyes and went back to putting her clothes on.

"Y/n I've told you this, I am so fucking busy with work every day. I do so much for us-"

"That's not true!" You exclaim, your hands pushing the woman's shoulders to make her stumble back into the wall, and if it had not been you to do that, Seulgi probably would have spit in their face and walked away.

"Seul I see you talk to other girls! I hear about everything you say to them! Why can't you do the same to me?"

You sounded alost desperate, and absolutely hated the words that were spurting from your tongue, cringing with every syllable.

"Did you forget what we talked about when this whole thing started Y/n?" Seulgi slowly approaches you, walking you backwards until your back comes into contact with the cold marble of the sink.

"This thing between us, is specifically just sex. I've said that."

It pains you to hear Seulgi's sincereness, your brain screaming continuously to just give up on her and walk out of this party, but your heart knew you couldn't.

"Seulgi we've been doing this for two years," you sigh, "I want you in more ways than just sex."

The woman laughs in your face, turning around as if asking the audience "did you just hear what she said?", and it ruined you. The tears waste no time in filling the brim of your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

"Y/n, let's get this clear," her finger pushes against your chest, any harder and she would poke you through your heart.

"You are the only person I ever have sex with now, so first of all, you should be grateful."

She's ridiculous, it almost makes you laugh.

"Second of all, you might want to go on all these stupid little dates together, and get ice cream and watch movies and live happily ever after, but it doesn't fucking work that way, so we must have had a miscommunication in what this", Seulgi waves her finger back and forth from herself to you, "is."

You go to open your mouth and reply to her, but she cuts you off with more to say.

"I made it clear to you what we were getting ourselves into, so whatever you thought, is never gonna happen," her finger now pushes against your forehead, "so get that out of your head."

With that, Seulgi picks up her phone from off of the toilet seat cover, opening the door brutally before she slams it behind her, not even sparring a final glance.

So now you're back in your familiar place, on your knees, head dug into your hands as the sobs wreak from you throat.

It didn't matter anyway, because in two days you know she's going to show up at your apartment door, kissing away each apology and promising good sex as an expression of regret.

And if that's all you could do to stay by her side, then so be it.

[gojo-mochi]

Making Snowmen in The Shape of You

SYN: The winter blues been increasing the levels of curses lately and you finally found some time alone to yourself. You decided to take this time to build a funny little snowman totally not in the shape of your crush

CW: A bit of dirty talk at the end, Gojo being Gojo, Mostly Fluff.

WC: 1.4k

A/N: Was supposed to be apart of a bigger series but shush its ok.... My actual Gojo bday fic will be out tomorrow!

You had a free hour away from your students and paperwork. Well, technically, you made a deal with Gojo to shove all your paperwork on him in exchange for some special, limited-edition mochi you managed to snatch on one of your work trips. You were 99% sure that Gojo would still try to pawn off his paperwork to Ichiji or some other poor sap. Curse activity has been through the roof lately due to seasonal depression. You roll your shoulders, trying to loosen some of the tension and stress you've been feeling lately due to the increasing number of missions you've been assigned.

You packed the snow tightly on the miniature snowman you were making as these thoughts crossed your mind. While you were grateful to have a momentary break, you couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t miss the company of the boisterous students and a certain white-haired coworker of yours. Blood ran to your face as you thought about Gojo, and you blamed it on the cold weather instead, pushing down any inappropriate thoughts you had. Your hands moved on their own as it finished building the base of the snowman, picking up some of the fallen leaves nearby and placing them sticking up on top.

By the time you were done giving the snowman a hairdo, taking a step back, you realized that it oddly resembled Gojo in some sort of hilarious way. Your hands found their way in your pocket as you were thinking of what to do for its eyes, remembering that on one of your missions you came across a small toy shop. Selling buckets full of marbles that you used to play with as a kid, one of them caught your eye as you were walking by it—a shiny and bright blue. As you picked it up to peer in closer, you were faced with an endless blue ocean. No matter which side you were peering in from, the endless blue in the marble always seemed to shift endlessly. 

A cough pulled you out of your trance. The shopkeeper was eyeing you warily. You coughed and embarrassingly smiled back at them, asking if they had another marble with the same color. They gave you another look, grunted that if they were one, it would be somewhere in the bin, and told you to find it yourself. The click-clacking of marbles running into each other still haunts your dreams even to this day, but you held your head high as you found an exact match to the marble that caught your eye. As your fingers roll the two marbles together in your hands now, you wonder what possessed you to go to such lengths to get these marbles anyway. 

A certain annoying laugh invaded your mind as these thoughts passed. You sigh, bending down to your tiny snowman and poking in eye holes so you could place the marbles in. Backing away a bit to look at your sculpture, The sun shining down made the marble almost seem to glow with an intense blue fire. You squinted your eyes to make sure you were thinking right, laughing a little at how much it resembled Gojo. ‘It only needs that dumb blindfold he always wears now.’, you absentmindedly tug at your black scarf, thinking silently. You pull it off in the next moment, being careful as you wrap it around the snowman’s head.

The marbles were hidden away now, like precious gems. You stood proudly in front of the Gojo snowman, puffing out your chest proudly at the silly resemblance. Taking out your phone, you decided to take pictures of it to send to your students, knowing that some of them would get a kick out of seeing it. Only to get spooked by cold hands suddenly appearing on your neck, you screamed and dropped your phone on the snowy ground. Turning around to find a snowy man with a shit-eating grin on his face, "Scared, ya?” Gojo laughed at the expression on your face, his infinity blocking the snowball you threw at him while bending down to get your phone. Dusting off the snow on your screen, Gojo took this lean over your shoulder, squishing his cheek next to yours and placing a hand delicately on your waist.

His long fingers just barely pressed down on your uniform, like he was afraid that he applied any more pressure that you would break. “Is that supposed to be me?” He points at the mini-Snowgojo with his other hand. You swat at his outstretched hand but made no move to get away from his hold, fighting down the blush that was threatening to come up from being so close to your not-so-crush crush. “Kinda, it definitely doesn’t capture your annoying aura, though.” You murmur, and Gojo faked a dramatic gasp and pretended to faint on you, making you catch him in your arms.

 He didn’t put all of his weight on you, but it was still enough to make you struggle a bit. "Gojo, get off of me!” “I told you to call me Satoruuuuuu.” Gojo pouted and crossed his arms, not making a move to get up. “Fine, Satoruuuuuuu~ Can you please get off of me?” You mimicked his whiny voice, making him pout those pretty lips of his even more, but he did eventually get back off of you. Crouching down to look at this mini-me, “You used your scarf for my blindfold?” He tugged at the makeshift blindfold on the snowman, accidentally pulling it too hard and pulling it loose.

“Whoops.”  

As the scarf fell loose, the marbles also fell off with it. You scrambled to get them before Gojo could, but his reflexes were much quicker than yours. Scooping up the marbles in his hand and bringing one near to his face, he lifted up his blindfold to take a closer look. “You know… These marbles have a very striking similarity to my eyes. Did you miss me so much that you went out of your way to build this?” He clutched at his heart and pretended to wipe away a tear. “If I knew that my absence would affect you like this, I would have taken you on my missions with me!" 

The blush went on full force this time as Gojo continued to tease you, “Satoru, I’m not a special grade like you; I wouldn’t survive if I went on your missions.” Gojo draped an arm around your shoulder, resting his chin on top of your head. “Now, when did I say that you'd be fighting alongside me?” His arm goes down to rest on the small of your back now. “Now, when did I say that I’ve put you on the front lines with me, hmm? You would just be resting back at the hotel, all nice and cozy, waiting for me to come home to you, like the good girl I know you are~."

Gojo whispered the last part directly next to your ear, making you shiver like crazy. “Did you really think I didn’t notice all those looks you would give me all the time? Hmm~? Especially when it was training day, your eyes were glued on me, weren’t they?” He pulls you in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe now. “Naughty girl, you should have been focusing on teaching and not trying to eye-fuck me.” “I-I wasn’t-ah!” You let out a strangled yelp as Gojo bit down on your earlobe gently, but the surprise and the warmth of his tongue were enough to make you start melting even in the winter weather.

 He suddenly lets you go and walks back, still holding up the marbles in one hand, taking off his blindfold fully now to take a good look at you and your adorable, flustered expression. You had to suppress a whine at the loss of contact, "Satoru-"

“SATORU GOJO, COME BACK HERE AND FINISH YOUR PAPERWORK!”

“Principal Yaga?!”  

You turned around to see Yaga stomping his way towards you and Gojo, but before you could say another word, Gojo took your hand in his and started running away, laughing maniacally as he did. “Satoru! Let me go! You’re going to get me in trouble with Yaga too!” He pauses for a bit, making you stumble at the sudden stop, only for Gojo to scoop you up in his arms and start running away faster. “Sorry, cutie, I waited too long for you to finally make a move, and I’m not about to let anyone ruin this for me.” He winks down at you. “What do you say we head over to that new cafe and you could stare at me all you want there~?"

[decaying-words]

Threshold

All chapters Edward Nigma x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 5k words TW & tags: Permanent collar, leash, edging AO3 • All my stories

Only when his voice murmurs in my ear that he is done do I allow myself to release my hair, pooling like a waterfall down my shoulders, glimpses of shiny slivers piercing through the dark strands. My fingertips caress the icy metal with a pious restrain, the feeling bringing pristine tears to my glassy eyes, bottom lips aquiver with a divine emotion. In this instant of perfect peace, all stain had been wiped away from my sullied mind.

Threshold

My glassy eyes, reminiscent of two perfectly round marbles, study with unconstrained fascination the shiny object which Edward holds in his hands. He makes it roll and move between his fingers, offering me a complete view of all of its silvery surfaces, displaying a smile as proud as it is smug.

It is a metal ring, large enough to enclose a neck and rest on the clavicles but not enough to slide a head through, its appearance spectacularly smooth and polished to ensure the comfort of its owner, and of reasonable thickness, thin enough to be elegant despite its rather striking nature. A single perpendicular slit at the back, which I assume is made to lock the device with an instrument of some sort, is the sole notable feature on the otherwise unmarked appearance. This collar is made to be worn but not taken off, a permanent mark of ownership and control.

“Did you make it?” The question is closer to a whisper although it penetrates him all the same, his smile widening in unrestrained delight. Hidden in the inflection of my voice lies the second half of my interrogation, much more intense as well as much more intimate; did you make it for me? I do not believe that he is capable of perceiving the subtleties of the heart, instead accepting the balmy caress on his starved ego with an undisguised pleasure.

“I had the impression that this is what you desired; was I wrong?” His habitual playful tone perfectly conveys his fundamental need for control, the taunt putting a reasonable distance between my emotions and what he might be too afraid to crave, even though he is the one presenting the fruit of his own craftsmanship. I find his lack of honesty disconcerting, whereas the most elemental passions of my heart seem at times too grievous to bear; but showing a prideful reaction would be most unwelcome, I am sure. Instead, I give him my consent in a submissive fashion that he is  always so fond of, in the form of a nod accompanied by a genuine smile.

My frustration is short lived and instead replaced with profound rapture when Edward invites me to turn around and hold my hair so as to give him a clear access to my neck. Behind my obedient form and sheltered from my gaze, he remains still, possibly weighing his imminent commitment. Does he feel like he has made a rash decision, answering an impulsive thought forged by an improper desire and now second-guessing himself? Cruel doubts and anxiety bite my stomach; am I not acceptable enough, willing and eager to endure his every treatment? 

His heavy breath caresses the nape of my neck, my lower lip aquiver with a bitter sense of insecurity; the idea of losing everything we’ve had so far, as fragile as it might be, seems like a very much real hypothesis, and one I cannot afford, for I would undoubtedly lose myself just as well. Unfortunately, I will commit a great mistake in a hopeless attempt to defuse the thick and unnerving tension between us.

“You don’t have to…

– I know. You need not remind me.”

What I thought would be soothing words bruise his delicate ego instead. I should have expected as much. That was thoughtless of me. My body tenses like a bow with the grandiose inertia of a cadaver, muttering a quasi aphonic word of apology. Shame and embarrassment stir the depths of my mind and flush my face a ruby tint, warm tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. In the emotional storm, it is easy for me to drown and disappear, swallowed by the hostile waves of insecurity. 

Edward’s footsteps are a lighthouse, grounding me when nothing seems to bring me stability anymore. A faint clicking noise is followed by the phantom presence of his hands hovering over my head then appearing in my peripheral vision as they lower at the level of my throat, the collar open on the back. The entire world turns silent, save for the supreme cacophony beating in the most intimate depths of my ribcage with the devastating strength of a hurricane. I notice the slightest tremor in his gesture when he envelops the shiny ring around my neck, the cold touch of the metal merciful on my scorching skin as it rests on my exposed clavicles. 

Another click lets me know that the collar is closed. I feel a light pressure on the back of my neck as Edward is pushing, or rather inserting what I believe to be the key to lock the ring permanently, then tugging at the collar as to test its sturdiness and verify that all is correctly installed. During the entire process, my body remains perfectly immobile, arms raised in the air in order to keep the nape of my neck clear from my hair, gaze haggard and wandering nowhere. Only when his voice murmurs in my ear that he is done do I allow myself to release my hair, pooling like a waterfall down my shoulders, glimpses of shiny slivers piercing through the dark strands. My fingertips caress the icy metal with a pious restrain, the feeling bringing pristine tears to my glassy eyes, bottom lips aquiver with a divine emotion. In this instant of perfect peace, all stain had been wiped away from my sullied mind.

Edward moves around my flustered form, keenly staring at the proof of ownership, mind galloping in a land of complex thoughts. Emerald eyes look at me with a balmy warmth, his smile so faint I can only guess, a tender rosy tint blooming on his cheekbones. There is an unspoken question in his gaze, one that stems from the original desire to be reassured but that his cruel pride won’t allow him to voice.

“It looks absolutely perfect… Thank you.” 

I wish words could accurately convey the pure euphoria my body is trembling with, but he seems pleased nonetheless, despite the situation being probably too intimate for his frigid personality; a polite nod and a restrained smile is the only acknowledgement he offers before he avoids my gaze, contemplating the way my fingers traces shapeless forms on my most precious possession.

“It is made of silver”, he states, tilting his head on the side, “it should be tender on the skin.” 

I cannot suppress the bemused smile growing on my face at the confession of concern for my well-being; he notices it as if caught red handed in a most undignified position, his lips pressing together in a vexed line and clearing his throat as if to remind an imaginary crowd of his important stature. His expression morphs into one of playful cruelty, the luminous green of his irises turning deep forest; it is a gaze I know well and which usually reveals his desire to inflict pain and humiliation or, as I quite recently came to discover, his lascivious appetite.

“I made something else that might be of interest for our… pastimes.” His voice, playful and sinister, penetrates the intimate depths of my being. “Would you like to see it?”

My breath hitches, mind smothered with curiosity and with every kind of imaginable filth, pink lips parted in a way so subtle and yet so vulgar it only reveals my building desire. A sight Edward is particularly fond of, I believe, for it inflates his ego and makes him feel in control, towering over me and visibly expecting an answer, one that will flatter his intimate core.

“I would love to see it, please, Mister Nigma, Sir.” A mark of respect he takes great pleasure from, I know very well, and even  if I didn’t I would now, witnessing his demeanor change into one of a proud feline, pearly white teeth sinking in his bottom lip as to contain a perverted smile, walking around me as if to better analyze and consider my being. Once he is facing me again, his right hand slips in one of the deeper pockets of his stained cargo pants, fingers hooking around an object still unknown and causing a curious metallic rattling noise that I am starting to guess with a feverish hunger.

One hand holds a green leather strap on which is embossed a small and subtle question mark. Attached to it is a chain about a couple of meters long at most and of delicate thickness; reasonable enough to seem resistant, yet still looking elegant and flowy. Edward pulls the length of the chain from one hand to the other, revealing a lobster clasp at its very end, a smug expression on his face and eyes sparkling with teasing mischief.

It is only when I hear Edward chuckle darkly that I become bashfully aware of the way I pant with honest arousal and anticipation; his amused gaze devours my vulgar demeanor, drinking in my every tremor and my every sigh. My submissive nature flatters his ego and pumps him full of crude courage, I believe, for his presence morphs into one of poise and confidence, reeking of control and lust. His tongue works the inside of his cheek for a brief instant, picking his next words, his next action with great care until the corner of his mouth twitches diabolically.

“You know, I seem to remember that you have seen quite a lot of my body already, with a burning fervor and voracious appetite I might add… And still, I have yet to see anything from you. This ends tonight. Please undress.”

And how could I ever refuse, when he is looking at me with such scorching desire, his smile so impertinent it twists and contorts my guts? How could I ever refuse him anything, I wonder, when I would have done it even under the pressure and the threat, even if his gaze wasn’t so forgiving and heavy with impatience.

I do not hesitate nor do I tremble when my fingers hold the hem of my shirt, the fabric slightly stained and dirty from a day of manual labor, and pull it slowly above my form, limbs stretching under his enthralled gaze and revealing the hidden softness of my milky flesh. His mouth is slightly agape, a pensive expression laced with carnal arousal adorning his beaming face; there is an honest excitement glowing in his eyes, and perhaps even a form of surprise which betrays the nature of his newly unrestrained desires.

The fabric falls on the floor in a very soft noise while my hands snake behind my back to unclasp my bra. I do not remove it right away, despite my vigorous heartbeat pumping my system of a renewed thrill; instead, I am savoring the complex emotions I can read on Edward’s face, as faint and controlled as they might be. It takes a few agonizingly long seconds to take it off, harvesting the fruits of  the sensual anticipation I have been building; a gasp, deep and honest, dies on his lips at the view of my round breast, skin turning opalescent under the artificial light, rosy nipples not dissimilar to flushed berries. 

Fingers unbutton my pants, in a movement slow enough to tease and grow his appetite while I kick one boot after the other as graciously as one can. Silence floats comfortably in the warehouse with the shared knowledge of what is implied, tension palpable and delicious between us; it feels heavenly to be the object of his interest, to witness a fire in his eyes which I am the only one to create. It makes me proud, I must say, holding such power within me, and for a blissful moment the borders between who dominates who is all but a blur; while I am answering his every wish with a voracious thirst only he can quench, he is the one swallowing my submissive form with an enthralled inertia.

Cold and cruel is the air biting my exposed skin, a not so delicate reminder of where I stand; this place used to be an orphanage, comforting and inviting, until the lack of funds made it impossible to maintain. Once abandoned, the Riddler claimed it back, turning the hidden floors, swallowed in the bowels of Gotham, into this metal-made paradise glowing under the fire of a green inferno. I do not fear this place anymore, for I see it as divine, working for a Deity who always treated me with indifference and disdain until very recently. 

There is nearly no luxuries on this floor, and asides from a couple of dusty couches, used coffee tables and armchairs, remains of the initial place, the new home now looks like an iron forest, enveloped in a permanent buzzing noise and constantly spitting clouds of smoke, dust, or other miasma of filth. And yet, it is here, in the depths of this quasi diabolic place, that I feel most welcome and finally belonging.

As such, it is not difficult for me to stand obediently in the iron jungle, despite my state of almost complete undress, for all I need for sole motivation is the Riddler’s gaze on my weaker form, nibbling on his bottom lip as to suppress a lustful awe, sighing deeply in approval. The balmy comfort is as present as the burning bashfulness; having never been particularly fond of my body, my hands cross awkwardly over a thigh I always thought disgracious, or a breast I always judged too small. “None of that” Edward tuts, and I force my arms to lie as relaxed as possible on either sides of my body, eyes falling on the ground and feeling blood tinting my face a delicate albeit not very subtle ruby color.

He enjoys seeing the discomfort in my body language, honest and quasi touching but mostly revealing of the power he has over me, something he has always been craving; embarrassment washes through me, a cruel ocean licking the shores of my mind, but I am the willing participant of my own humiliation, for the pleasure of feeling desired and controlled is as intense, I believe, as my shame is profound. When he clears his throat to have my attention, my eyes meet his, glowing an indecent green; he points at my underwear with his chin, the corner of his mouth twitching smugly. 

With the same languidness, my fingers slip underneath the elastic band of my panties; I see him holding his breath, which makes me feel a certain sort of feeling, scorching and dripping inside my core. Only when I present myself completely bare before him, wearing nothing but my prized collar, does Edward exhale, mouth slightly agape and eyes turning glassy with a restrained desire. He walks around me at a dangerously slow pace, taking in every curve and angle of my body, analyzing my bone structure, enjoying the vision of the wooly curls of my pubic hair and the soft arch of my waist. His expression is hungry, possessed by a desire to explore his most intimate needs, a smile growing ferociously on his face whenever his eyes rest on the collar he’s made for me.

Edward faces me triumphantly, the faintest tremor in the hand that is holding the clasp of the leash; the metallic buzzing of the area is barely audible, rendered quasi aphonic by my heartbeat, so frantic even he can hear it, I am sure. I lift my chin to not only give him a silent consent but mostly a better access, to his greatest pleasure; the clasp closing over my collar makes the softest click, followed by a sigh, honest and profound. My eyes catch his, maintaining a deeply intimate contact, as if capable of communicating telepathically, reading each other’s emotions in the color of our irises. His are almost black, the pupils dilated in frank arousal; I suppose mine suffer from a similar condition.

The rest of the leash falls dramatically between our two bodies, maintained between my collar and the strap in his hand, not long enough to make the chain rattle on the ground. A dark chuckle vibrates in his throat, wolfish smile possessed by an honest amusement; he stares at my face, then my collar, following the chain that links it to the strap in the opposite extremity, hand flexing around the green leather.

“You look beautiful like that”, he compliments. “Befitting your position, wouldn’t you agree?”, he taunts. His words cause an emotional thermal shock, one that leaves me confused and dangerously aroused, biting my bottom lip in a simulacre of shame and embarrassment. Edward knows my heart, I believe, and knows that it requires much more for me to feel humiliated. I expect him to test and ruin my boundaries, and, in the same breath, discover the depth of his own. 

“You have been acting most inappropriately as of recently”, his tone turns playfully sinister, a chanting inflection in his voice. “Yes, you have been… forgetting your place, I’m afraid.”

My breath hitches with excitement, mouth agape and twisted in a smile, eyes glowing with anticipation… of what exactly, I am not quite sure; the mere perspective of being trained, scolded or controlled enough to fill my heart with a growing fondness. His smile grows wider when I almost squirm in front of him, waiting for any instruction he will give me. 

It comes in the form of fingers snapping while pointing at the ground. Not a single word is needed to understand this order, and my reaction is quasi immediate; crouching on the ground at a most languid pace, I submissively assume the uncomfortable position of an obedient dog, resting on my hands and knees. 

The metal ground feels cold and cruel on my skin; covered in dust, in filth and in debris of all sorts of unidentified origins, it penetrates the flesh and burns it, the sensation painful and deeply unpleasant. I grimace, but quickly lift my eyes until my gaze meets his, elated and thoroughly satisfied; his smile is bright, so bright it tears my stomach open, the warmth it provokes concealing any distress I could ever feel. I wish he would never cease looking at me with such adoring eyes despite the belittling expression they barely hide. I wish he would never cease smiling at me in a way that makes me feel seen and desired, in a way that makes me feel useful to his own pleasure.

He moves backwards, pulling the leash with him in a sensual motion that means to invite, order me to follow. I crawl nakedly on the filthy ground, fully exposed in the most humiliating form, maintaining a feverish eye contact which he seems to drink and savor greatly. He gasps softly, almost imperceptibly so, when I move languidly and follow his steps, drunk with the power he has over me. His breath hitches deliciously as we progress together, the Master taking his Dog for a walk; I try not to show my discomfort too much even though it might be painfully obvious on my face, eyes blinking and head shaking when my knee crushes a particularly sharp debris. It is all part of the game, all part of the pleasure, but my heart still aches when I see the veil of worry on his face.

We do not go far, to my great dismay; Edward stops once his back hits one of the tables sitting merely a few meters away from our initial position, glancing once at the smooth surface before guiding his stare back at me, eyes gleaming with something evil. His fingers run on the metallic table, teasingly discarding the unimportant objects lying there until they fall on the ground in loud noises; a plastic cup and its curious content drop and spill on the already nasty floor, various papers glide and fly like dancing autumn leaves, and rusty iron pieces crash loudly, contorting during the impact. I bite my lips to suppress a soft giggle, an unrestrained amusement on my face, while I kneel in front of him, watching the items raining on the floor.

Edward looks triumphant, swelling his chest dramatically, a demeanor never seen before, joy radiating outside of him, pure and unaltered; and for a brief instant, I catch a glimpse of his gaze, feeling his euphoria touching me with pristine grace. Turning to me, he taps the now bare table, the demand clear and arousal even more apparent; so I stand and sit on the cold surface with a grimace before he gestures at me to lay down. 

“Good girl”, he whispers while caressing my hair, the touch so tender it could make me purr. “I will take great pleasure in your training, believe me…” A promise that sounds like a threat, one that makes me shiver all the same, an indecent warmth pulsating in my sex. His demeanor, from the way he moves with controlled languidness to his intimately attentive gaze, reminds me of a panther, dangerous and elegant; his charisma holds a power that turns me into a water-like creature, morphing into his every touch and desire.

His fingers run over my face, gentle and tender, exploring my being; they brush against my lips, trace the curvature of my chin and caress my delicate throat with a possessed interest. His hand wraps around it, tightly enough to feel my lively pulse and the fragile tendons roll under his fingers, but not enough to be dangerous despite the delicious pressure that makes breathing more difficult. His thumb draws circles on my soft flesh, wearing a pensive expression; perhaps a little game for another time, I think to myself with a growing hope.

A gasp almost resembling a whine echoes the place once he releases his grip, fingers then caressing the silver collar resting on my clavicles with a satisfied smile. There is a soft ruby tint blooming on the tip of his ears when his eyes stare at my breast; I imagine a similar hue is probably flushing my entire face, my nudity feeling immensely more intimate, almost clinically exposed in front of him. My heart feels like it is about to burst from my chest, the burning anticipation shooting tremors down my thighs; a sight that Edward devours with a grandiose appetite. 

His knuckles barely brush against an erect nipple, the faintest sensation already eliciting a devastating cry out of me, honest and uncontrolled. He chuckles, thumb circling the demanding nub with vicious interest. 

“Sensitive, aren’t we? Had I known…” His voice drips with a delightful playfulness while I whimper needily, a wordless plea dying on my lips, one that he answers by pinching a rosy nipple between two fingers and pulling with a lascivious cruelty. A moan, loud and primal, under his elated gaze. 

“You are incredible…” he whispers, giving the other nipple an overwhelming pull; the pain is as barbarous as it is exquisite, throwing my head back and body squirming on the table. The delicate torture continues briefly; he twists, pulls, tugs and taunts my now throbbing nubs while I wail and cry out. His expression is laced with a toxic arousal, mouth slightly agape as he drinks in all the noises my mouth forms with grand satisfaction.

I whine, sulking and delirious, when he releases my breasts; he coos mockingly at me, hand caressing my stomach, delicately covered in a thin veil of sweat. His face gets closer to me, mouth next to my ear, his warm breath tickling my cheek. 

“Imagine all the things I could do to you, to this obscene body of yours, to mark it, brand it as if you were but a vulgar cattle. And you would like it, wouldn’t you? You would like everything I do to you, no matter how humiliating and embarrassing it is, I am certain. But not tonight, no, tonight I am merely getting acquainted with your being.”

My eyes roll in the back of my skull at the string of filthy promises which roll on his tongue, while his hand crawls lower down my abdomen, lower until his fingers disappear in my thick pubic hair, lower until they caress my outer labia and I moan with a renewed vigor, hips rolling and seeking more of his touch. Edward contemplates my sex, throbbing with passion and leaking with desire, sighing deeply with a tender expression on his face.

“Oh, you are open like a flower…” he muses gently, before spreading my legs wider, feet planted on the surface of the table to allow him a better access to my core. His fingers caress the plush flesh of my labia, the cushion of my pubic bone and my velvety inner thighs, marveling at the glistening opening between my legs, burning with impatience. I exhale and sigh loudly, my hips following each and every movement of his hand that taunts and mocks my arousal, avoiding the more sensitive parts of me and painfully building anticipation.

Edward chuckles when the two fingers he mercifully drags lazily over my inner labia make me scream in bursting relief. He chuckles when I roll my hips with intent, tentatively guiding his now slippery touch over my throbbing clitoris. He chuckles when I close my eyes in a quasi delirious state, moaning freely as I am using his own calloused hand to caress and stimulate myself.

And Edward chuckles when he retrieves his hand, depriving me of any more pleasure. I open wide glassy eyes, eyebrows knitted in a pleading expression, whining at his unprompted absence.

“You’ve been awfully greedy lately, haven’t you? Taking whatever you wanted from me when I’ve been nothing but generous to you… Do you think you’ve earned the pleasure only I can give?” His low voice is sinister and cruel, laced with a dangerous arousal, thoroughly enjoying my most submissive state, my face crimson red and nodding frantically.

“Please… give me more…” I whisper quasi inaudibly.

“Oh, you poor thing…” He coos mockingly, gaze heavy with lust as his hand returns between my legs to caress my messy cunt, fingers playing with my thick juices without penetrating me. I wail when I feel the tip of a finger circling my entrance, teasing my hole in an obscenely wet noise, a terrible tension forming in the depths of my stomach. My body response is natural, visceral, chest heaving and head rolling, thighs aquiver with a built up anticipation. Edward hums approvingly when I choke a sob, until I move my hips to make his fingers slip inside of me and… he removes them.

I cry out in frustration, and Edward cackles . My cheeks burn with embarrassment, looking at him with puppy eyes, but his smile remains smug and beaming with a cruel expression. He waits a few horrifyingly long and frigid seconds, long enough to make my heartbeat slow down, long enough to turn the waves of arousal smoother, until his fingers find their way over my clitoris. It is electrifying, really, the heightened pleasure akin to a ferocious bite as soon as the pad of his fingertips circles the throbbing nub with a constant vigor. He drinks in my every expression, my every moan, cooing at me when I seem to fight for air.

“Have I not been anything but generous to you tonight?” His question is poisonous, eyes burning like a green inferno as his fingers work quicker, shooting intense tremors in my thighs, my stomach flipping from an inevitable orgasm, one that I sense will be devastating.

“Yes! Yes, thank you… Thank you, Mister Nigma, Sir ” is all I can mutter, quasi brain dead as he fucks my clitoris stupid…

…And then, he stops.

I scream, body tensing like a bow and thrashing on the table and wailing in frustration. Edward’s laugh is diabolical, wiping his coated hand on my stomach with a content sigh.

“I believe I gave you plenty enough for today. We don’t want to spoil you, now, do we?” He leans against the table, his expression playfully cruel. 

“But… I was so close…” I whine, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes from the intense frustration, thighs rubbing against each other as if to create some much needed friction. His palm rests strongly on my leg to make me still.

“From now on, only I decide when you can get release. No one else, not even when you are alone at night with your crude thoughts. And if you are being nice and good for me, then I will be merciful. But if you are not… 

– Have I not been good to you?” My desperate question makes him bark a laugh.

“I would say that you have been rather bold and cavalier lately. While not all unpleasant, I must admit, I believe you need to learn some manners first. Do we have an understanding?”

I nod silently, heart aching from disappointment as it is swelling from excitement for the promising tone of his words. Edward looks at my scraped knees and cocks a brow, his smile faltering slightly. Holding my arm, he helps me sit down, taking a better look at the superficial wounds.

“Please take care of this, you know where the medicine cabinet is. Come back once you’re done fixing yourself, we have a lot of work to do tonight, and my projects cannot suffer from any delay.” He punctuates while removing the leash from my collar, squeezing my thigh gently and leaving me naked and unsatisfied on the table. I nod again, touching the silver ring as if to soothe my own nerves, to calm my anxieties. He marks a pause, looking at me pensively.

“It really suits you. Let me know if you notice any pain. I wouldn’t want you to feel any… unnecessary discomfort.”

My smile is positively beaming, radiating on my face with the power of a thousand suns, my heart singing praises only he can hear. Another shameful moment for him, I believe, as he again avoids my gaze and clears his throat, licking his lips nervously.

We spend the rest of the evening working together on an intricate machine, as if nothing ever happened between us. His orders are still curt and dry, his eyes are still ignoring my presence, his mind is still possessed by his intimate designs.

But tonight, under my clothes hides a collar, unique, permanent and crafted by his own hands; a mark of ownership, a cherished confession that fills my heart with euphoria and unaltered bliss.

[lydiahosek]

An Ounce of Prevention

[My story for this year's @inklings-challenge! Thank you for a third great year!]

“What are these made of?” Pendula handles one of my mangled Keds with fascination.

“Uh…canvas. It’s a type of cloth.” I have no idea what their frame of reference might be for anything from our world, what Dylan may or may not have already told them. “And the soles are rubber…I think.”

“How do these last you any more than a day?”

"Well...the terrain's not as rough."

I hear a thump and then Picea squeaking in surprise. I turn and see the toddler staring at one of Dylan’s shoes, the red bulbs in its sole blinking. Dylan laughs. He picks the other one up and taps it against the floor for her to see. She is dazzled by the light show.

Dylan has always been an imaginative kid. An overturned watering can becomes a supervillain helmet. Elaborate dramas are concocted not just for his action figures but for his toy trucks, his silverware, his socks. His room is practically papered with his drawings of heroes, monsters, adventures. So when he told me that he had found another world in the back of the laundry room and invited me to see, I don’t think I could be blamed for agreeing to a visit without packing a change of clothes.

I should count my blessings. After all, how many children would keep this all to themselves, or among their friends, rather than bring Mom in and risk her spoiling the fun? This is hard to do, though, with my feet still stinging from the teeth of fifty or so things with too many legs to be fish and too good at swimming to be lizards. I had barely registered the marbled sky suddenly above us and the water suddenly up to our ankles before a crowd of them was barreling down on us from every direction. Swallowing a scream, I scooped up Dylan and made a break for the nearest structure. Pendula saw us coming, let us in, and introduced herself to me. I learned that Dylan met her and her granddaughter the last time he was here, but the hungry little creatures outside are new.

As I took in the space into which we’d been welcomed, I was reminded of an old picture book I used to have, The Elves and the Shoemaker – though in this case our host is both. The spacious room is lined with shelves of materials and tools and jars of who-knew-what, with a long table in the center piled with foot-shaped objects at different stages of creation. Pendula herself looks like she was once tall but now walks stooped. Her skin hangs in folds around her face but her complexion is rosy and elastic. Her movements are quick and sharp, as when she caught a small wooden bowl when Picea first bounded into the room and knocked it off a table. Her voice is raspy but not weak, as when she asked Dylan to take the little girl to the other side of the room (as close to a division between the living area and working area as there is) so she could focus on bandaging my feet.

Now she brings me a roll of something thick and shiny, gold with streaks of red like veins. She begins to unroll it and wrap it around my calf. “This is a strong hide coated in worpwax,” she says. “It will be pliable again once heated, so I’ll have you and your boy fitted and shod before nightfall.”

“Oh…well, thank you, but, um…” I have no idea what this material is worth or how much Pendula might charge under normal circumstances for whatever she has in mind to make for us. Even if I did, I am certain she doesn’t take American Express.

Apparently the guilt of those unaccustomed to unconditional hospitality is multi-universal, because she understands and shakes her head at my concern. “This is overdue. I meant to at least take Dylan’s measurements last time, but he left so suddenly. Granted, it was still the dry season then, but nobody should be out in this country unprotected.”

“Dry season?”

“Yes. For about a month the waters draw back to only the deepest parts of the valley, but you can count on them – and their inhabitants” (she very lightly taps my foot) “– nearly up to the door the rest of the year.”

I’d noticed outside that the door, the whole house, was about a foot off of the ground on a stone foundation. I’d noticed once we were inside the effort it took her to close the door, how heavy it was, how very, very little space there was for anything to get through once it was closed. I glance out the window and see other houses not far away. A breeze has picked up and miniature waves lap against their sides.

Again, Pendula seems to know what I’m thinking (perhaps telepathy is another feature common to this world, or maybe I’m just more obvious than I thought) and laughs. “Just a matter of preference. I could move up to the hills and have my house near blown down by the winds. Or I could move beyond the mountains and stuff it with featherweed to keep out the poison arrow flies. Or...”

I sigh. To think Dylan just stumbled into this place one day. What if it hadn’t happened to have been during the dry season? What other seasons await…here or back home, for that matter? Just this morning Alec and I were discussing whether we should let him take his bike to the library by himself. That should seem like nothing compared to this, but somehow now I'm only more uneasy at the thought.

Pendula holds the hide against my feet and legs at various angles and marks it with a tiny blade. “My Parsonsy, she was the same. She would have stayed in this house barefoot all her life. But if she doesn’t leave, she doesn’t sell her candles.” She nods her head backwards. I look and see another window, in which sits a pale pink candle, carved with an intricate design and embedded with colored stones. “She doesn’t learn to make honey bread from the market stand next to hers.” The corners of her mouth turn up nearly to her eyes. “She doesn’t meet an honest, loving ironcaster and bring me back a Picea.”

We both turn to the children. Dylan’s shoes are now on his hands and he crawls on the floor, growling. Picea alternately runs to and away from him, giggling.

“Who knows? Maybe someday she’ll go to visit him.” She smiles, then stands up and takes the hide to the table and picks up a large curved knife. “Wherever she goes, though, one thing is sure: she will have proper shoes.”

I keep watching my son. He’s always been an imaginative kid, and the more reality he is forced to face the more I worry. Now he has two whole worlds of it to deal with.

He did tell me about this one, though. He knows enough to know not to deal with it alone. And when the day comes that he’ll have to…well, before it comes I’ll have to make (keep making?) him some proper shoes, too.

[vals-fanfiction-blog]

ORION

A/N: My silly little fanfiction part 1 of my oc orion who is neros adopted younger sibling.

Dante , dont go near them. Nero hissed as he batted open the door for the small 14 year old child.

"He looks so much like you" dante whispered with a slight chuckle before walking into the kitchen out of sight.

"Orion this is where my work happens"

Said nero touring them round the office.

We have your uncles desk here where he takes calls for jobs.

Orion just nodded slowly in response.

Nero continued to churn up useless facts about devil hunting and orion still nodded but it was slower and their head seemed heavier and they was thinking about more than just the ins and outs of melee attacks.

Of course orion listened to nero but it was only out of one ear. Who was the man nero was talking to earlier, dante right? . He was pretty in a masculinish way and his red coat was really cool better than neros-

"Orion are you even listening to me"

Yes...

"Good, the devil arms...."

Yet their mind wandered back to the mysterious stranger in red.

"Howd it go kid" asked dante as nero walked into kitchen for a drink with a nonchalant shrug "it went fine"

Dante smiled "if ya say so"

Orion meanwhile was sitting on their brothers bed and staring at the portrait hanging on the wall. Nero with a beautiful girl with rosy cheeks like china and eyes like glittering marbles.

With long brown hair like silk hazelnuts cascading off her shoulders.

Many people i dont know. They thought while they twiddled their fingers round the curls of fluffy white hair.

Nero had told them to stay there and to not talk to dante .at.all.

He was dead serious about that.

So there orion sat while occasionaly lending broken glances around the room they were ledged in.

He heard a soft knock at the door before nero came in.

"Im going out alright, you stay here"

Orion nodded.

Nero smiled awkwardly and shuffled out the room before closing the door.

A good 5 minuets rolled by and orion heard nothing but silence. They were told to stay put , not go anywhere.

Would a little rampant 14 year old listen to such words.

They hopped down each wooden step to enter the office.

A room lined with dusty wooden plates enlaced with weapons pinned lazily upwards. It also held posters of shiny women with bright grins. It was cosy, thats for sure.

They made their way into the kitchen. A lazily cut together patchwork of rubbed materials like a collage.

A very old countertop, edges soft and worn with long scratches like roads on a map.

And on the table itself was the man; dante.

He held a bottle in his fist and was reading a glossy magazine with a grin.

His frame was cloaked in dark red ash in a form of a giant trench coat which barley clutched off his bent over posture.

He had dirty white hair now adged grey like soot. And he had blue steely eyes like candles ablaze.

Orion was transfixed.

As if in a honey glue haze , they lurched forward ever so slightly trembling ever so slightly.

"Hey kiddo" said dante not even looking up.

Orion gulped and felt their cheeks flush .

"Hey mr dante sir er" they tripped over each word and their heart was pounding like an uncalled beat of a song . Leaping into the ribcage that surrounded it like a clasp of two hands.

They could hardly breathe , not when he was staring at him like that , two fragments cloaking years of hard worn down traumas, blood sweat and tears.

"You alright" responded dante after a few beats of silence that seemed to reel out for an eternity .

"Y-yeah" stuttered orion.

Dante hummed and motioned them a seat . They sat down awkwardly.

Silence

"Your brother is a bit of stick in the ass at the moment aint he"

He waited for a response .

"I suppose so"

"Your loyal ay, dont go blabbin about your brother like that"

Orion just nodded

"Thats something I respect"

Another beat of silence...

Dante observed orion, they way they sat , straight and curled as if they wanted to hide in themselves .

He knew that posture...

So he slowly put his hand out onto his shoulder and said in a slow calming voice

"Hey, hey its alright"

Orion almost shrugged him off but then began to melt into his touch .

And they sat in silence , dante rubbing his shoulder.

"You wanna get some pizza?"

"Y-yeah sure"

Dante stood up with a tiny groan and made his way to the phone on his desk.

"Er pizz mhm"

The call briefley ended and dante walked back into the kitchen and patted orion on the shoulder.

"Ya wanna watch a bit of tv till the

pizza arrives"

They walked into the "living room" the front of the office.

Orion landed themselves on the couch and snuggled into the cushion.

Dante followed sitting next to him and picking up the remote.

"What do you wanna watch?"

Orion didnt respond so dante chose .

"This one alright"

They hummed in response.

An hour passed as the movie played and the outside plunged into darkness , the orange soft light piercing through the opaque veil.

The pizza had been delived and dante was wiping his sleeve on the grease of his mouth.

"Good kid?"

Orion smiled weakely and nodded.

"Whens nero back its been over an hour" thought orion "and he wanted me to sit on his bed the entire time"

The movie contiued to play and orion felt dantes arm snake around their shoulders. They didnt say anything but shifted in their seat.

"Your gonna be a proper devil hunter ay, arnt ya" said dante glancing at orion with a half drawn smile.

"Dont speak much, thats fine kid"

"Gonna be like your big brother , strong and protects all the women"

Orion's cheeks flushed red "I-I dont think so"

"No?"

"Ya got a gilfriend" dante gave him a playful wink.

"N-no"

Dante gave a chuckle"oh thats alright"

"You will find her one day, be a big strong man"

Orion clenched their fists on their lap "how do i tell him"

"I dont even know him that well but it feels like ive been here for years"

Orion looked out the window into the street and it was so peaceful. The wind rustled the trees and rocked the long spindles of twigs .

The lamposts roared with a soft orange hue, burning the shop fronts with a golden light.

"Hey....dante"

"Yeah kid?"

"Im not....a man"

Dante looked surprised and orion held their breath, heart hammering but dante gave a smile.

"Im so sorry"

Orion let out a breath they didnt realise they were holding before they proccessed dantes words and gave a confused and surprised look.

"I would of not said such things if i realised, im really sorry"

The door opened suddenly spurred revealing an out of breath nero.

"W-what on earth?"

Nero strolled towards dante, heavy shopping bag in hand like a mother with 5 kids who had just finished her divorce papers.

"Dante" he mused "what did I tell you about staying away from my brother for the time being?"

And the peaceful atmosphere snapped like a ruler splitering into 2 plastic halves.

"I dunno" dante shrugged nonchalantly.

"I SAID" said nero teething with anger "to NOT go near them"

"Orion just go into the kitchen"

"Me and dante have to have a word"

[renaissancerepose]

your words roll around in my mind like a shiny marble

it smooths out the bumps and the rough edges

for the dark chambers of my brain are no match for kindness in your voice and the love in your breath

my neck is on swivel replaying our conversations

trying to memorize the exact phrasing

as if i am learning a new script

my favourite play is the one where i can see my reflection in your big brown eyes,

when i can hear your words of reassurance echo loudly enough to silence the voices even just for a moment,

when you place my hand on your chest and i can feel a beat i could dance to until my feet give out

i keep our shared moments tucked neatly in my shirt pocket

they make a glorious sound as they rattle around with each other

i take them out and roll them between my fingers any chance i get

for time is not something i have in infinite supply

and so i fill the time i do have

with reminiscence of your splendour

for it makes the days both gloriously long and delightfully quick

you have the magic of warping the hours

i hope that we grow to amass a marble collection large enough to overflow pockets, bowls, jars, minds;

uncontainable.

[copias-girl]

Pamper Your Papa Part III (Papa IV x Reader)

•••

A/N: After not very much contemplation from me and a lot of enthusiasm from my ghestie @sucharide I decided to go for it and write a third instalment for this because I’m still hung up on the idea doing *actual* facials with Copia! So get ready for some spicy flirting and fluff! More smut will be in chapter 4! 🖤 Btw sorry I was so late uploading this, I got busy with school!

(Also when I picture Copia with no makeup why do I still picture him with the black around his eyes?? lmaoo)

Read Part I HERE Part II HERE and Part IV HERE

•♥︎♥︎♥︎•

“Satanas, calm down, Papa, I’m talking about actual facials this time.” You giggled, walking into the man’s papal suite with him in tow.

“Satanas, calm down, Papa, I’m talking about actual facials this time.” You giggled, walking into the man’s papal suite with him in tow.

“But amoreeeee, my cum on your face is an actual facial.” He pouted, gazing at you quite convincingly with those big mismatched puppy dog eyes.

“We just fucked in the confessional, how are you still horny?” You teased him, rounding on him once the door clicked closed behind you. You smoothed your fingers over his chest and shoulders as his gloved hands skimmed up up up your thighs and waist, going back down again and grabbing two big handfuls of your ass, eliciting a yelp from you as he pulled your hips flush to his.

“I suppose it is, how do you say, the effect you have on me, dolcezza.” Copia growled, causing you to let out a little whine and bite your lip. Oh, how this man could tease you, how he could wind you up so tightly until you were nothing but a dripping mess, squirming and begging for him.

You both could work each other up into a hot, feverish frenzy, often making love for hours and hours on end until the two of you were so sticky and tired and fucked out; hair messy, eyes bleary, minds dizzy and foggy and full of bliss from one too many orgasms.

You almost gave into him just then, almost forgot all about your real spa night in turn for another evening of delicious lust with your Papa. And he realized it. He could see it in your eyes, the way he had gotten you all worked up. But that’s when he smirked and released you from his sinful hold.

“Alas, I do need to take care of my complexion.” He stated simply, gently brushing his gloved fingertips against his cheek.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes, old man.” You playfully swatted at him, rolling your eyes.

“Ehh?? Don’t wound Papa’s heart, cara mia.” Copia pouted, kissing your cheek and melting your heart. “Besides, now you know how it feels. You were a very naughty girl today, flustering Papa in front of everyone like that. Making my cock so hard. It’s a wonder I even had enough restraint to wait and drag you into the confessional, tesoro.” He purred, hand rubbing little circles on your lower back. “I should have just fucked you right there on the altar, in front of everyone and under the watchful gaze of our Dark Lord. That way, they all could have seen what a good little slut you are for me. For your Papa.” He said quite matter-of-factly, but his voice was dripping with lust as he articulated each word in that sinful Italian accent of his.

“Oh yeah? Maybe next time you should, old man.” You squared up with him, so close that the tips of your noses were brushing together.

“Hm. Perhaps I will.” The man chuckled with a little smirk, eyes flicking down to your kissable lips before meeting your gaze once again. Fuck, Copia just couldn’t help it; when you acted like that towards him, it really got him going.

“Well, I won’t keep our spa night waiting any longer, dolcezza.” He spun away from you, sheer black cape whirling dramatically as he made his way to the ensuite. “Do with me what you will.” He out stretched his arms in a flourish, taking a seat at the vanity.

You skipped over to him, taking out all the spa stuff you had been waiting to use with him. You were so excited, laying out all the items on the shiny black marble. Mud masques, sheet masques, jelly under-eye pads, gel lip masques, facial serums, and last but not least, your rose quartz face roller, which was a personal favourite of Copia’s.

He grinned endearingly, seeing you so enthusiastic. You seemed like a little girl whose father just agreed to letting her do his makeup. Satanas, he loved you so fucking much. You were just so cute.

“Alright!” You clasped your hands together. “First we have to take your paint off.” You smiled, grabbing the makeup remover and cotton pads, coming to straddle his lap where he sat at the vanity. He let out a little huff as you hopped right onto his lap, his hands settling on your waist as he looked up at you.

You took his black cornette hat off, placing it atop your own head, making Copia chuckle at how it was a little big for you.

“Ok, here we go.” You said, soaking a cotton pad in makeup remover and then beginning to gently smooth it over your Papa’s face. He looked so elegant like this, with his pretty face tilted up towards you.

He gazed up at you, awestruck by your beauty, smiling a bit at the concentrated look on your face as you removed his paint little by little.

You changed the cotton pad every so often, getting a fresh one soaked and ready to go, rubbing it over his cheeks, lips, nose. He closed his eyes when you removed the paint there, looking absolutely angelic. Your Papa always looked so pretty and angelic with his eyes closed.

“All done.” You told him, punctuating your sentence by giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

Copia’s mismatched eyes fluttered open and he looked into the mirror, checking out your handiwork. “Ahh, very good, amore mio. You do such a good job for your Papa.” He smiled sweetly, kissing your cheek.

Your heart fluttered at his praise, rubbing your nose against his before hopping off his lap and running into the bedroom. You set his cornette on his dresser and grabbed some loungewear for the both of you.

Walking back into the bathroom, you threw Copia’s at him and started to strip your clothes off. He couldn’t help but stare at you, eyes roaming up and down your form as you took all your clothes off, and he swallowed hard.

You noticed his eyes on you and you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, shaking him from his daze.

He smiled sheepishly when you caught him staring, scrambling to get up and start changing as well. He took off layer after layer, putting on his VVLGARI t-shirt, sweatpants, and hoodie, as well as slipping on his more casual gloves, the ones he always wore with this outfit.

All you slipped on was one of Papa’s pyjama shirts, black silk with ‘IV’ embroidered in gold thread just above the breast pocket. It matched your black and gold lace panties, and was long enough to just cover your ass, so you didn’t bother putting any bottoms on.

“I hope some of this stuff is anti-aging, dolcezza.. I’m so old.” Copia groaned as he sat at the vanity, looking into the mirror and resting his chin in his hand.

“What are you talking about, Papa?” You frowned, coming to stand behind him and looking at his reflection.

“I.. I have so many wrinkles, tesoro…” He sighed with a sad laugh. “I think I really do need this spa night.”

“Papa, we’ve talked about this. You know I love the way you look. You know how you make me feel.” You pouted, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind, looking into each other’s eyes through the mirror as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

“You like dating an old man, dolcezza?” He chuckled.

“I love dating an old man, Papa.” You whispered into his ear with a smirk, sending a shiver down his spine. Placing a hand on his jaw, you turned his face towards you and captured him in a soft yet deep kiss, one that had his eyes fluttering closed as a quiet moan escaped him.

“You’re sure you wouldn’t want me to dye my hair?” He asked half-jokingly as he self-consciously ran his gloved fingers through his grey locks.

“Mm, don’t you dare.” You murmured against his lips, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Copia sighed as you quelled all his fears, settled any anxieties he had. You always had such a knack for doing that, for making him feel so good about himself. He just couldn’t help having those thoughts sometimes, especially when you were so young and beautiful, always glowing with an ethereal luminance, always leaving him breathless, always leaving him craving more more more of you. Copia often found himself wondering what a pretty little thing like you saw in someone like him.

You grabbed a fluffy spa headband, the one with the cat ears on it, and slipped it onto your sweet Papa to keep his hair out of his face, and put one with bunny ears onto yourself. Gathering up all your things, you took Copia by the hand and led him to the bed, sitting criss cross applesauce in front of each other.

Ripping open one of the packages, you began slathering the lavender-coloured mud all over your Papa’s face as he sat there all pretty, gazing at you with those gorgeous mismatched eyes. But once both of your faces were done, you had a hard time not laughing as you looked at each other, faces purple and stiff and unable to move.

“Stop making me laugh!” You giggled, desperately trying not to crack your masque.

“I’m not doing anything, amore! Well, I can’t do anything, I can’t move my goddamn face.” Copia responded, huffing in amusement, only causing you to swat at him and laugh more.

After not looking at each other for a minute and finally calming down, you and Copia slowly glanced at each other, staring at one another for exactly one second before he snorted out a laugh, causing you both to lose it again.

After the 25 minutes was up, you both ran to the bathroom to wash the masque off before returning to bed for the rest of the stuff.

From there, you applied the jelly pads under his eyes, the gel lip masque, and finally the sheet masque on top of everything. Copia sighed as he reclined back, resting his head in your lap as you began to use the facial roller on him, going over his cheeks, forehead, up the bridge of his nose. You smiled at his little groans of relaxation, soothingly scratching your fingers against his scalp with your free hand.

You admired your darling Papa like this, enjoying the gentle moment with your love. He looked so precious, his closed eyes fluttering open every so often to gaze up at you. And you couldn’t help but smile, because there was so much love in those mismatched puppy dog eyes when he looked at you. Copia never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

After time was up and you removed everything from both of your faces as well as the headbands, Copia sat up and you told him to hold still while you fanned his face with a handheld fan. You didn’t have to rinse any of these products off, just allowing them to soak into the skin. To finish everything off, you smoothed a vitamin enriched serum onto his face, also applying some on yourself.

“All done.” You smiled, leaning in to give him a big smooch.

“Oh, grazie così tanto, bellina! This was just wonderful. You make me feel so special.” Copia grinned, kissing you back happily. “How do I look? Younger? More, eh.. more handsome?” He asked, patting his gloved hands against his cheeks, turning his face side to side so you could get a good look at him.

“You look so gorgeous, Papa. Gorgeous as usual.” You bit your lip, that lascivious look in your eyes not escaping your man.

“Eh, davvero? You really think so, amore?” He asked again, gasping when you playfully pounced on him, tackling him down onto the bed and straddling his hips.

“I always think so.” You whispered before peppering his face in lots of little kisses, making your way down to nip at his neck. You placed hot, open-mouthed kisses on his jaw, his cheek, and finally his lips. You kissed his lips so many times, unable to get enough of the man. You had it so fucking bad for him. You needed him to know much you loved him, how crazy you were for him. Copia returned your kisses with matched desperation, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him more more more, needing you to be impossibly closer. He opened his mouth when you licked across his lips, his tongue teasing you deliciously, swallowing all of your moans. His gloved hands slipped from your waist to your hips and you fisted the soft fabric of his shirt, licking into his mouth with growing fervour, your Papa groaning in pleasant surprise when you began to grind on him.

You broke the kiss, a saliva string still connecting your lips which Copia eagerly licked up. You stared at each other, lips parted, panting, trying to catch your respective breaths. He was hungry for you, you could see it in those gorgeous mismatched eyes, the way his pupils were blown wide, the way his cheeks were flushed red hot.

You leaned in again until the tips of your noses were brushing together, fingers gently smoothing the pretty whiteish wisps of hair near your sweet Papa’s temples. You then leaned in further until your lips gently brushed together, just staying like that for a few moments.

Unable to take it anymore, Copia cupped your face in his hands, bringing you in for a passionate lip lock that grew sloppier with each passing second.

To be continued 😈

Tagging: @sucharide @my-mummy-dust @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @rightintheghoulies @copiaswifey @youhaveahomeinmyheart

[maelstroms-blog]

Beach day [sort of]

Since Dream came back into his life, their meetings usually occurred at night. It made sense really, once Hob discovered his partner’s role. Though night was his busiest time, Dream still found time to come to Hob. He would have been more flattered, if Dream didn’t seem intent on scaring him to death. [Again]. You would think an immortal would get used to his partner materialising out of thin air.

Nope. And he was certain Dream was enjoying himself. A tiny twitch of his lips the only sign.

‘You’re a bastard, you know that?’ Hob gasped after the latest scare. He was in his bathroom, shirtless, brushing his teeth, and getting ready for bed. [Seemed counterintuitive for Morpheus, of all people, to interrupt]. Dream, standing in the doorway, didn’t react. Instead, he ran his dark gaze up and down, taking in every inch of Hob’s exposed skin. Hob, in response, broke out into goosebumps.

‘Oh?’ Dream finally said, his voice was low but it reverberated around his flat, settling into Hob’s bones,

‘Shall I take my leave then?’ he turned as if to leave, Hob rolled his eyes at his dramatics,

‘I’m sure you’re going to leave,’ placing his toothbrush in his cup, he yawned, stretching his arms above his head, with a quick scratch of his chest, he felt eyes following his movements, settling on his bare chest once again.

‘And I shall go to bed, alone. With nothing but my cold sheets for comfort,’ he glanced over. Dream, now hidden in the shadows, stared at him hungrily. His silence was answer enough.

‘You know,’ Hob began, lips twitching, ‘For the supposed Prince of Stories, you sure are easy to read.’

Dream said nothing, just stared with his shiny eyes. For a second, he watched Dream arch a regal eyebrow, a small hum leaking from his mouth,

‘If you truly believe that,’ a pale hand reached up, beckoning him with slender white fingers, ‘Then guess what I am thinking.’

Hob didn’t need to; he was thinking the exact same thing. Accepting the outstretched hand, a thrill shooting through him at the cold touch, he closed the distance between him.

‘Like I said,’ his voice low, ‘A bastard.’

Dream lowered his eyelids, staring at him through his thick lashes, or more accurately, his lips. Hob didn’t keep him waiting. He pressed his lips against the Dream king’s. Though they were cold, almost like ice, they were soft as silk, opening eagerly at Hob’s touch. He was gentle, still mindful of Dream’s trauma, the last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm him. Hob was a patient man, he waited six centuries, he didn’t mind waiting six more. Dream, on the other hand, had no such qualms. How did Hob know this? From the teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. He let out a gasp, both from shock and pleasure, leaning further into Dream’s touch.

Dream was the first one to stop, he pulled away with a frown. Hob’s heart thudded in his chest; did he overstep? Dream poked out his tongue, a pretty pink thing, and wetted his lips,

‘Hob Gadling, why do your lips taste of mint?’

Hob wiped at his mouth, a strip of toothpaste foam sticking to his arm hair. Hob tried to explain but couldn’t stop giggling at Dream’s face. Pouting, as usual, face twisted as the minty taste invaded his senses.

‘Sorry, love,’ he gestured at the bathroom, ‘You did capture me at an awkward time.’

Dream tilted his head, ‘You are preparing for bed’

Hob nodded, hoping he wasn’t discouraged.

‘I see, well, the last thing I want to do is to prevent a dreamer from entering my realm,’ he turned. Hob tried, and failed, to hide his disappointment. But with every low, came a heart stopping high, as the Dream king, Hob’s lover, stopped at his bedroom door, looked back at him with his heavy-lidded gaze, and shed his coat in one fluid movement.

‘Luckily, I am here to give you a personal escort.’

Hob caught as quick glance of marble white skin before it disappeared into the darkness. Hob banged his knee in his hurry to follow, only realising the next morning when a dark bruise blossomed on his skin.

Hob went about his day, lighter than air, embodying every romantic cliché. Staring off into the distance, sighing at nothing, and his face ached from the amount of smiling. His students were quick to notice, because of course they did, gossiping loudly during class about, in their words, ‘the professor’s goth twink.’

Despite himself, Hob snorted. He wondered about saying it to Dream’s face, would it be worth seeing Death in response? He shook the traitorous thought from his mind, thinking instead of tonight’s meeting, he wanted to do something special. Perhaps he would cook for Dream. He would refuse of course, preferring to keep his wan look.

He shook his head, fondly. Dramatic bastard.

He would find something though, something the Dream king would devour. Sweets were always a safe bet, in particular, cake. Hob knew just the place. He went straight there after his lecture, and soon, his arms were laded with all kinds of pastries. He would find one Dream liked, even if it killed him. [lol]

As he made his way home, he found himself passing by the beach. The sound of waves crashing against the sand was music to his ears. Perhaps he would bring Dream here someday. He would have to talk him out of his all-black ensemble. Hob blushed at the thought.

‘I would not need to change my attire.’

Hob, having fought many battles and witnessed many atrocities, screeched. He screeched like he was being murdered, again. [Long story]. The boxes tumbled to the ground, Dream, the smug looking cat, just stared at him.

Hob stared back, eyes wide, and clutching his chest,

‘Why?’ he asked, trying to catch his breath. Dream didn’t even blink,

‘Do I need a reason?’

‘For making me jump out of my skin, I would hope so,’ Hob squatted down, gathering up his purchases. Dream, sensing Hob’s irritation, lowered himself to help.

‘It was not my sole intention,’ Dream said, keeping his gaze low, ‘To terrify you.’

Hob scoffed, ‘You didn’t terrify me, you just gave me a startle,’

Dream raised an eyebrow, and then, perhaps remembering his ‘startled’ sound, looked away. He merely hummed in response. It could have been Hob’s imagination but he was certain he saw a twitch of his rosebud lips.

‘So, why did you startle me? Is something wrong?’

Dream said nothing, toying with the ribbon around the cake box, uncharacteristically hesitant,

‘Nothing is wrong, I merely…found myself with time and…,’ he kept his eyes down, never blinking,

‘I…I wanted to see you.’

Hob, surprised at his emotional, albeit, stilted answer, smiled.

He once told Dream, after he revealed the reason for missing their 1986 meeting, that he could visit him anytime for any reason. Day or night, it didn’t matter. Since then, Dream favoured the late evening/nights. Pride swelled in his chest, pride for his friend for admitting to something he wanted. He reached out, slowly, then seeing no protest, cupped his cheek.

‘Thank you for coming to see me,’ he leaned forward, looking him right in his shiny blue eyes, ‘I am happy to see you, truly.’

He meant every word, and Dream knew it, leaning into his touch and closing his eyes,

‘Even when I ‘startle’ you?’

Hob chuckled, ‘I suppose that’s the risk I take, falling in love with the king of Nightmares.’

Hob didn’t realise what he said, not until Dream’s eyes shot open, staring at Hob in disbelief, Hob, for once, was lost for words.

‘What did you say?’

‘Uhh….,’ Hob’s mind went blank, Dream continued to stare, waiting for an answer,

‘No, you know what? It’s true,’ and then, channelling 1386 Hob, the one that openly defied Death, [he fully apologized later], he grabbed Dream’s hands.

The cakes lay forgotten.

‘Dream, I love you, I don’t know when I realised it, maybe, deep down, I always knew. You’ve seen me at my highest and my lowest, and you didn’t think any less of me. You cared enough to advise me and to look after me,’ he glanced down at their joined hands, running his thumb over an unblemished palm,

‘You are sweet, brave, intelligent, and a dramatic wet cat of a man,’ he felt Dream stiffen, but carried on,  

‘And, I can’t imagine not having you in my life.’

Silence fell over them like a blanket, doing little to smother the rapid heartbeat in Hob’s ears. Dream was quiet, he was still there, evident by their joined hands,

‘Hob Gadling?’ the question was soft, and yet, it rang in Hob’s ears,

‘I feel the same way.’

Hob’s head shot up, fast enough for it to hurt. Dream was looking at him, his gaze penetrating but tender. A soft blush had risen to his pale cheeks, and his lips half open, words paused on his tongue.

‘I had a plenty of time to think, when I was…,’

Hob didn’t need him to elaborate, he lifted their hands, pressing his lips to Dream’s hands, rewarded with a small smile.

‘In that time, I thought of many things, my subjects, my realm, people I’ve loved, people I’ve hurt,’ his hands tightened around Hob’s, ever so slightly,

‘You were right, I was-am a prideful creature, and at our 1886 meeting. I was…lonely, and you saying it, out loud, it was jarring. I was…am lonely, and…and I have been for a long time.’

He loosened a hand, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind Hob’s ear,

‘You-You see me, truly, see me. Not as an endless, or a god, or a monster…you see me as me,’ his voice dropped an octave, barely higher than a whisper. Hob heard it, he heard every word.

‘You’ve seen me, and you are not unnerved or repulsed. You are…loving, to the point of reverence,’ he gently cupped Hob’s face, raising it so they gazed into each other’s eyes,

‘I know you love me, and I love you too.’

Hob couldn’t believe it, he didn’t blink or breathe, scared of breaking the illusion, or dream. No, it was real. He knew from the stinging in his eyes and the cold lips pressed against his. Hob wasted no time in reciprocating.

‘I didn’t want to tell you like this,’ Hob admitted between kisses, ‘So soon after you got back, I didn’t want to overwhelm you,’

Dream huffed, his version of a laugh, ‘I hardly think six centuries is soon,’

Hob grinned, and because he acts before he thinks, he grabbed Dream’s hand and charged down to the beach.

‘Come on! Let’s go into the water,’ he didn’t know what came over him, too much joy he later guessed, and Dream, his sweet dream, humoured him enough to not protest. He stood back, watching as Hob plunged into the water. He went up as far as his knees then turned back, waving at Dream,

‘Come on in, the water’s fine!’ he called out, the water wasn’t as cold as he first thought, reminding him of a certain someone’s lips. That someone in question was standing still, letting the waves lap at his boots. It took a lot of encouragement from Hob, [and a few flirty words], before Dream relented. He strode into the water, his long coat pooling behind him like some strange sea creature. He stood beside Hob, looking all around him,

‘May I ask what the point of this is?’

Hob just spread his arms wide, gesturing all around him, ‘To live,’ he touched the water, letting it fall from his fingers, ‘Too feel,’ he glanced up at the sun, catching the last golden rays of the sun, ‘To remember the reason why you’re here.’

He glanced at Dream, seeing if his words had a reaction. It was hard to tell, he was only staring at Hob, but then, his eyes flickered to something in the water. Quick as a flash, his arm darted in and out, water dripped from his coat sleeve, and in his palm, sat a tiny crab. No bigger than his thumbnail.

Dream smiled a fleeting smile.

Hob, opening his mouth to ask what crabs dreamed of, instead, got a mouthful of saltwater. A wave washed over him, soaking him from top to bottom. His hair hung in his face like a curtain, he spat out water, wondering what that noise was. He turned to Dream, who had his hand covering his mouth, but it failed to stop the noise. That awkward, snorting noise. it was only from the crinkle of his lover’s eyes that he realised what the noise meant. He was laughing. Dream was laughing.

Hob couldn’t stop himself from staring, he had never heard a sound like it. He…loved it. Mistaking his look for something else, Dream quickly stopped laughing, the pink in his cheeks returning full force.

‘Apologies,’ he muttered, looking away, ‘I did not mean to,’

Hob blinked at the sudden change, ‘Mean to what? Laugh?’

Dream didn’t say anything, the troubled look still on his face. Hob wasted no time in closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around him. Dream was all angles and sharp elbows, yet melted like butter in Hob’s embrace,

‘Don’t ever apologise for laughing,’ he pulled back to look in his eyes, ‘Please, I never want you to feel ashamed for feeling.’

Worryingly, Dream’s lips trembled, a sharp breath escaped before he hid his face in Hob’s shoulder,

‘You know not what you ask,’ he quietly warned, voice thick,

‘I never do,’ Hob joked, ‘And I don’t care. It isn’t the end of the world for you to feel something.’

Dream said nothing. He tightened his grip around Hob, clinging to him like he might suddenly disappear. Hob didn’t mind, he hugged him right back.

Something had to interrupt them though, and that something, another big wave. Hob didn’t see it in time, and Dream was lost to the water. Hob grabbed his sleeve, keeping him from going fully under, and righted him up. He quickly checked Dream, his breath catching in his throat at the sight.

Dream was soaked, his clothes hung off his frame, shrinking him even more, [like a cat that was all fur], and his eyes were lost under a dripping mop of hair. He tried and failed to blow it out of his face, his pout returning full force. Hob tried and failed to hide his laughter. Even with his eyes hidden, Hob could feel the heat in his gaze.

‘You dare!’

Before Hob could apologise, he was met with another faceful of water. He looked up in time to see Dream hiding his hands, another smirk on his lips,

‘Oh, you sneaky, little thing,’ he plunged his hand into the water, sending an arc of it into the air. Dream turned just in time, sending up his own spray as he ran away. Hob followed, giggling all the way.

He didn’t know how long they frolicked in the water; the sunset went unnoticed. It was only when Hob tripped and fell face first into the water, they finally stopped. Dream offered a hand, pulling Hob easily to his feet. The pair were freezing, soaked to the bone, but huge grins plastered their faces, well, one of them. Dream just smiled his tiny smile. After retracing their steps, grabbing the cakes boxes [somehow unscathed], Dream brought them home.

Dropping the boxes on the table, turning the heat up high, he grabbed his fluffiest towel and enveloped Dream, gently ruffling his hair, smiling at his half-hearted protests. Dream poked his face out, shaking his hair out like the cat he was. After both were sufficiently dry, wearing pyjamas, [Dream stole a pair of Hob’s], and settling themselves on Hob’s comfy couch. Dream wasted no time settling himself against Hob’s chest, nuzzling into him with a content sigh. Hob’s heart skipped a beat at the sound. With a tea in one hand, and an éclair in the other, he offered the latter to Dream. He blinked at the offering, sniffing at it, before licking it experimentally. From his point of view, Hob saw Dream’s eyes light up.

‘We had a grand wee day, didn’t we?’

Dream mumbled something; mouth full of pastry. Hob leaned over to get a bite, chuckling when Dream held it out of reach,

‘Love, I paid for them,’ he said, no real heat to his voice. Dream just hummed, licking cream from his lips,

‘I suppose,’ with that, he turned and planted his lips, once again, on Hob’s, kissing him deeply and slowly,

‘You can have a taste.’

Hob grinned, too out of breath to say anything. He savoured the sweet taste of Dream’s lips, and the warm weight of him against his chest. He thanked whoever was listening for being that loud mouth rogue in that dirty tavern, he thanked it before and he would do it again. For as long as he lived, with Dream.

   tysm for reading, hope you enjoyed this pointless fluff

[lonely-lost-soul]

Let Me Worship You

(C!Technoblade X Gn!Reader)

Request 9: Could I perhaps request a c!techno x gn!reader where maybe the reader is good friends with Dadza and meets Techno one day and they fall for each other? Bonus if the reader is maybe a great builder like dadza but too shy to actually meet anyone so they just build things quietly and then move on and no one but dadza really knows them? Soft! and/or protective! Techno would be cute but not needed!! 😊😊😊

Requested By: 🍀 Anon

I hope you don't mind the shameless art I made for this lol.

At this point in his life, Technoblade had known Phil for centuries, they started their own brief empire together and he watched him raise Wilbur the best a single father could. It was about five years ago when you started following Phil around, the first time Technoblade met you was entirely by accident. He just needed to drop off some building supplies to Phil and Wilbur when he saw you trifling through Phil’s stuff, you had gorgeous white wings and when the sun hit them just right he saw flecks of gold peek through. His piglin side was immediately enamored with the gold wanted to reach out and run a delicate hand through the feathers. Technoblade set his jaw and summoned his ax to his side, you turned around (e/c) eyes widening with shock and fear. Technoblade couldn’t help but feel pure satisfaction rush through his veins seeing your fright. You held up your hands and everything you were holding tumbled to the ground, wings puffing up with shock and horror. Hearing the noise Phil wandered into the room and was quick to diffuse the situation, you hid behind the taller male and Techno gave a grunt of an apology in your direction.

From that moment forward you were as much of a staple in his life as Phil was, Phil had explained Wilbur had found you half dead a little ways away from his home. You had wings like his and Phil couldn’t let you die without answers, his crows would never let him live it down. After he got what he needed from you, Phil noticed just how handy you were around the house especially when you were building things so he kept you around. Technoblade never really interacted with you unless Phil was there to interpret, you weren’t much of a talker and Technoblade was never one for long-drawn-out conversation anyway. However, when Phil had killed Wilbur and he and Technoblade had to move north you inevitably followed the birdman. That’s when Technoblade really began to understand and get to know you and your little quirks. He noticed that when you concentrated on blueprints to a certain build you’d stick your tongue out all cute like, or the soft songs you’d hum when you thought no one was listening.

But Technoblade always listens.

He also noticed that since you and Phil had moved in there was an abundance of not only Phil’s crows flying around but a few stray morning doves pecking at the snow as well.

With the encouragement of the voices, Technoblade had gathered up enough courage to attempt to hold onto a conversation with you. As he walked up to you he noticed the soft coo of a dove was heard, catching your attention. You turned around and your eyes locked with his own, he watched your shoulders tense and face flush a little as he approached you.

Off to a rocky start already. Great.

“Ugh. Hey?” Technoblade grunted hands crossing over his chest,

‘Hey? HEY? is that the best you can do? Look at them they’re cowering. Good, they should be, which means we’re well known.’

Technoblade cleared his throat a little as you held up a hand with a shy wave, “hello.” You greeted, your voice was soft and sweet like honey in his ears. The exact opposite of Wilbur and Tommy’s, he found himself enjoying the tone. “So um...did I do something wrong?” Your wings folded back and he watched you methodically run your fingers through the feathers.

‘Look at the gold flecks! I want them! I wanna pet them they’re so cute! So small and helpless like a little worm. Worm? Really? What it’s an analogy! A bad one! Shut up she’s giving us a look!’

“No? Did you do something I should be concerned about?”

“No!” You sputtered out in panic, dropping the bricks in your hand stumbling back so they wouldn’t crush your toes.

You had fast reflexes, that’s good.

The morning dove around you cooed in distress fluttering up to your shoulder, nesting there like it was its home. “I’m alright,” You whispered eyes going soft as you scratched under the bird’s chin, Technoblade watched with interest. Technoblade gathered why Phil really liked you, you were almost an exact replica of the mild manner builder, other than the anarchist tendencies.

“Didn’t mean to make you drop your stuff,” Technoblade clicked his tongue softly bending down to gather your materials. “Where do you want them?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I asked you a question kid.” Your mouth snapped shut and your lips pressed into a thin tense line. Technoblade observed as your eyebrow twitched, oh you were annoyed. You didn’t voice your annoyance he couldn’t help but mentally comment how cute that look was on you. A huff spilled past your lips and you directed him where to place the bricks in their proper locations. The both of you fell into light conversation after that, he caused you to laugh a few times and it made him feel oddly warm inside. He didn’t even realize that the sun began to set until you pointed it out, Technoblade rubbed the stubble on his chin glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. You were staring up at the sunset, the orange and red colors shone through the gaps in your feathers, your eyes were alight with wonder. You looked like an old Greek statue, an angel carved out of the finest marble and gemstones.

He flushed when you turned to face him, embarrassed to have been caught staring at you so blatantly. You smiled the tips of your pointing ears turning pink, “You should stay the night.” Technoblade spoke without really thinking about the consequences, “there’s plenty of room.”

“Alright. I think I will. It’s not safe flying at night anyway.” Your smile only growing in size at his offer, he made the right decision then, he led you and your little dove through the snow and into his cabin.

Spring rolled around and there was a little house set up right next to Technoblade’s home. It fit his aesthetic nicely, made out of wood, and always had its lanterns lit, it was your home. However, you began to spend most of your time at Technoblade’s home talking with the retired Blood God. You and Phil also had begun molting which was Technoblade’s least favorite time of the year mostly because of all the feathers. However, this year in particular he was particularly enamored with your shiny golden feathers he would find around his home. Maybe he collected them and kept them in his ender chest, it wasn’t creepy he was cleaning. At least that’s what Technoblade told himself, not because he found your feathers beautiful or anything and was enamored by the shine.

“Hey Kid,” Technoblade asked from his seat across from you in his sitting room, you picked your head up and tilted it to the side in a questioning manner. Your wings were ruffled, messy and you looked uncomfortable to be interrupted from your grooming. “Need some help?” He watched your entire face turn bright red in the process, “look you can say no. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable!” You argued, “just caught off guard a little Tech. I never thought it’d be something you were interested in.” Standing up from the chair you spread your wings wide, pulled over a stool, and flopped in front of Technoblade. He was a little shocked at how quickly you agreed, they must’ve really been bothering you.

“Do I...just stick my hands in there or…”

You tossed your head back and let out a roaring laugh,

“heh? What’s so funny huh? I don’t wanna hurt you.” Technoblade snapped at you with an embarrassed huff, your laughter slowly dyed down after a few more seconds.

“Sorry I just. Is that what you say to the ladies too?” Technoblade choked and blanked never once have you said something so dirty before, he didn’t even know you were capable of making jokes like that.

“I say that to everyone actually, I don’t discriminate to just women- I’m not helping my case am I? I should stop talking.” It only served to send you into another set of loud giggles, Technoblade was red in the face and stuck his hands into the little feathers by your back. He felt you tense up for a moment before relaxing into his touch, you let out a soft sound of pleasure. Technoblade chose to ignore the sound even if it sent the voices into a frenzy, to mark and claim, and...he was absolutely not going to finish that thought. You both sat there for about an hour and thirty minutes, fixing up your feathers making you preen at the touches. You were smiling like an idiot by the time he was done and you spread your feathers wide, almost like you were showing them off. Technoblade couldn’t help but feel proud that you liked the work he did so much,

“They’re so soft! Thank you Techno!” You turned towards him, eyes practically glowing with adoration. His face turned red, you were stunning, he kissed you that night and by wintertime, the both of you were an official couple.

Phil was quick to catch onto the change in demeanor between the couple, he clapped Techno on the back as congratulations. You were out on another building project, making a little farm because you knew how much Technoblade loved potatoes, you really were attentive. Surprising Technoblade, Phil had also threatened his first cannon life if he ever hurt you in any way, shape, or form. Techno was a little surprised Phil would go as far as to threaten him, but he promised his old friend he wouldn’t let any man, woman, or creature lay their hands on you, including himself.

It was the dead of winter and temperatures had dropped drastically, Technoblade had made both you and Phil warm clothes for the occasion that matched with his own winter gear. He had given you a friendship emerald and in return, you made him a necklace with one of your golden feathers on it.

Technoblade cherished the gift with his entire being. On occasion, while he was out on a long journey he’d press gentle kisses to it when he missed you, and he swore sometimes he swore it moved on its own. He walked into the cabin to see you spread across his couch, a book on your lap, wings curled in tight against your body. He smiled softly dropping the wood he gathered by the door, he snuck over to you and pressed a kiss against your cheek.

“Hi, sunshine,” You greeted turning your head to look at him, his face burned and his chest filled with warmth. Technoblade moved to sit in your lap with a smirk, he plucked the book from your hands to look at the cover. You frowned in his direction, “You lose my spot and I’m hitting you over the head with it.”

“Violent.” He tutted softly bopping you on the head with said book, you shot him a cold look.

“Hypocrite.”

“Nerd.” He responded casually, you let out a little huff, wings ruffling in frustration.

There’s that look, he loved that look. God, you were so cute.

You slapped your hands on his cheeks, and it shocked him back to attention. He felt your fingers spread across his cheeks and your thumbs brush against the apples of his face. Technoblade’s eyes softened and he snuggled into your open palms, he saw you smile and his eyes dropped to a content close. Technoblade did something he hadn’t done in years, he felt the rumble in his throat before it happened, he purred.

His eyes snapped open with fear and embarrassment, but the way your eyes were sparkling quelled the feelings immediately.

“Did you just purr?”

“So what if I did?” He grumbled another purr mixing with a growl,

“That’s the cutest thing in the entire world Mr. Big Bad anarchist. You only purr for me?” The light teasing in your voice sent him aflame, “Aw you do!” You cooed rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs again, he buried his face in your chest as more purrs spilled from his mouth without him wanting them to. “No need to hide it, keep them purrs coming.” Technoblade’s entire face was red as you reached forward to pluck his glasses from his nose. You placed them on the end table and grabbed a blanket wrapping you both inside a cocoon of warmth.

“You tell anyone about this and we’re breaking up.”

“Deal. Your secrets safe with me.” You hummed quietly running his hands through his pink locks melting against your touch. He finally relaxed completely resting the side of his head against your chest to listen to your heartbeat. Technoblade purred and you could feel the rumbles of his chest against your own. The ferocious Blade was akin to a cat, grumpy on the outside but a big softie who wanted attention on the inside. Leaning forward you kissed his forehead, another louder purr was pulled from the man and pressed his forehead back against your lips. “Good boy.~” You teased scratching under his chin he sent you a tired look but the redness in his cheeks gave away how much he enjoyed the praise.

“Shut up. You’re being cringe.” He growled with no real bite or fire,

“Take a nap big guy. You deserve one. You’re safe with me.” Technoblade yawned loudly at your words, his jaw unhinging a little, only proving to show how tired he really was. “I’ll protect you, always.” Technoblade smiled sheepishly and allowed himself to let his guard down just this once to fall asleep in his lover’s arms.