#the most beautiful moment in life is yet to come

[captainlakes]

♥︎ morning after

conrad fisher x wife!reader

summary: the morning after your wedding with conrad comes with kisses, sweet words and, of course, breakfast.

warnings & tags: suggestive but nothing explicit, pure fluff. established relationship. newlyweds. english is not my first language! (be nice at any mistake)

words: 2.1K

note: husband conrad that's it 😋 writing this felt like an ending of a book but I love it, hope you love it too<3

It's early in the morning, the sun hasn't risen completely but Conrad notices the faint trace of sunbeam crossing across the crystal of your now shared bedroom directly to the wood-like floor.

The dawn welcomes a new day, but it isn't the only thing welcoming today. No, this Sunday comes with a special feeling, the gold ring hugging his fourth finger, the white dress hanging on the closet and your naked body laying next to him, sleeping peacefully on the left side of the bed, are evidence enough of the events of the previous day.

Your wedding.

It's insane, even thinking about it makes it insane. Before the summer started, he was just a sad boy that lost a job at an important clinic of a known doctor and today? Today, at almost the end of the season, he can officially call himself your husband.

The word still feels foreign on his mind, he hasn't said it out loud yet but as he takes in your sleepy figure beside him, a sense of pride invades his system. He is your husband. You are his wife. It’s done. He won the battle, he conquered your heart like you conquered his and now he's tied to you for the rest of his life, and beyond if he's lucky.

Conrad is still covered by the blankets, his eyes are fixed on your form while his head spins around over the fact that everything seems brighter today, incredibly positive. His own room, which he'd once complained about being a little dark, has this shiny vibe on it, making it feel happier, perfectly aligned with the occasion.

It is as if all the suffering and conflict disappeared from the face of earth, from his own brain, magically. As if he is suddenly able to finally feel free, to feel happiness in every sense of the word. He's even able to hear the singing of the seagulls on the outside as background noises that, before this moment, he didn't acknowledge.

The constant feeling of sadness due to his mother's passing that lingers with him every minute, everyday, now has faded slightly transforming in an unclear buzz in the back of his mind while he rolls to his side, carefully, doing his best effort to not waking you up. One of his hands instinctively travels to brush the softness of your messy hair, all spread on the pillow, then moves lower to the exposed skin of your back. The tip of his fingers traces imaginary circles above your upper back muscles, so lightly and slow, it gives his mind time to send the memories of the night before when he touched you right there, hands warm against your hot skin, when he kissed you with fervor, when he worshipped even the most hidden corner of your body.

A smile tugged on one side of his lips. It was a good night, the best night, better than the ones he’d already shared with you. This one was special, loving and a promise of what was starting, of your future together. He leaves a soft kiss on the top of your hair, whispers an “I love you” and then he's gone.

Slowly, he stands up from the bed to search his underwear on the floor. When he is dressed up, he proceeds to pick up the rest of the clothes, especially yours, and fold it above one of the chairs, so you can find it easily when you wake up. Your wedding dress, the one you looked so gorgeous on, crosses in his sight, he recalls perfectly the way your whole face lit up when you were dancing and having the time of your life. He's glad he could offer you that, a beautiful wedding that you both will remember forever.

It takes him twenty minutes to get ready. He gets in the shower, reluctantly, not wanting to erase your scent from his body, or the way your mouth pressed all around against his chest, his back, his shoulders, his legs, but he does, he cleans himself, gets dressed, leaves his hair damp so it can get dry naturally in the next hour and also, because he knows you love it like that.

It's barely past eight, he has hopefully half an hour more before you wake up. So he goes downstairs, straight to the kitchen. Connie opens the fridge, the cupboard, the drawers takes out all he'll need to make your favorite breakfast, pancakes with a fruit bowl and a cup of coffee. And quickly, he's cooking in a perfect rhythm, eggs, butter, milk, flour… He knows the recipe by heart, he has cooked you before. He sometimes pretends he bought it somewhere so he doesn't draw so much attention to himself, but there's no use of lying anymore, you're his wife, this is the first day of your life together and you deserve to eat some damn pancakes made by him, at bed.

Soon enough he finishes, puts everything in place, prepares the last details, accommodating all the food in one of the lovely wooden trays his mother bought once, when it's ready he walks upstairs, taking care the coffee doesn't fall from the mug.

The room is exactly like he left it. The clothes are still folded on the chair, the salt breeze of the ocean enters for the small crack of the window, you, still there, curled up on the left side of the bed, unaware of what's happening around you, lost in your dreams.

He doesn't want to break the quiet atmosphere, so when he comes closer, he does it unhurried, slow steps to the bed, until he is back with you, he leaves the breakfast on the nightside table and sits beside you on the comfortable, warm mattress. Now, you do feel the shift on the bed, your body rolls up to your back, your hand holds the sheets tight as you move, your head turns to the right, half lidded eyes till you adjust to the brightness of the new day and the first clear image is him, wet hair, already dressed, a grin on his face, almost beaming, like he was brand new man. Maybe he was or maybe not, maybe he was always this radiant, this perfect.

You blink. Twice. “Hi…” The words fall in a whisper, half of you are still sleeping, the other half is tired of singing so much during the party, and it shows on the slight husky tone of your voice, his face lits up.

Oh, he is happy. He is completely and utterly happy to be with you. To be your husband. He's content to be the man who enjoys this side of you, the calm one, where nothing troubles you.

“Morning Mrs. Fisher” he smirks, you send him a soft smile, your eyes close, head leaning back on the pillow, you giggle. It feels good, being his wife.

“I'll never be tired of the sound of that” You confessed, watching him through your lashes. “I'll never be tired of saying it” He says, with a genuine affection on his tone.

His hand tangles with yours, presses his lips on your knuckles, right above the golden ring matching his, he looks at you, really locks his ocean blue eyes to yours before he turns your hand and kisses your palm, every inch of it, from the tip of your fingers to the base of it, then he's kissing your wrist and moves upper, spreading soft, reverent kisses in all your arm going directly to your shoulder until he is right at you neck savoring your skin, as he hadn't doing it for hours the night before, smelling your scent on his nostrils, he relishes on it.

When he has roamed the entire journey to your neck, he stops close to your ear and you hear him talk, his voice vibrating on your skin “Thanks for marrying me” oh, and the way he says it, you know he means it. He's really thankful as if you had done him a favor as if Laurel would've asked you to accept his proposal and marry him, so he wouldn't be alone or pining for Belly anymore, as if you don't actually love him that much.

It surprises you, it's like all you said during your vows didn't really convinced him, but you don't get angry, the only thing you do is pull back a bit, enough to break the contact of his head with your body, your smile fades slightly and he notices the change, he's waiting for whatever comes from your lips next, he's so crystal clear with his body language you catch it quickly, the confusion, maybe a flicker of guilt of saying what he said, all over his expression. He opens his mouth to fix it but you're faster to speak.

“Conrad, you don't need to thank me, you know that right?” you're not scolding him, you're being gentle with him. He's sensible, he feels everything so deep in his soul, however, his mind plays games with him sometimes, so you need him to really understand you're in love with him, deeply, madly and crazy. His not a man you chose to marry just because.

He nods, he grins nervously, he watches away and shakes his head “Yeah…Yes, I know” He says, his gaze lingering on the widow, offering you a weak smile when he finally looks back.

You study him, watch the slight frown of his brows, barely there, the tension in his jaw. You sit up, back against the headboard, sheets covering your naked form, hand placed softly on his cheek, he leans at the touch “I love you, Conrad Fisher. All of you” You whisper, firmly, his eyes flicker from your eyes to your mouth, then back. He listens, quietly “I am madly in love with you” you repeat, his expression softens “I married you because you're the love of my life”

For a minute, there's just silence between you, He doesn't answer right away, the words are sinking in his mind, in his heart, in his soul till you feel his hand squeezing yours, his head leans against your forehead “I know” he says and this time he's convinced. His hot breath hits your lips, you close your eyes, he angles his face to kiss you, still, he doesn't do it yet “I didn't meant it like that, I just…” he trails off “I'm just grateful... For having you as my wife. For you being here. For letting me love you…”

He lets go a breath, your noses touch, your heart flutters, you let him continue “You're the one for me” He completes the sentence with your name, which falls from his mouth like a prayer, his face gets a little closer “I don't think I could ever stop loving you”

You don't hesitate to kiss him, slow, tenderly, he responds with all the love a man can feel for his woman, your lips dance perfectly in a familiar rhythm that now feels promising, hopeful. Because now you're legally a couple, you're emotionally tied to the golden corners of a string, dreaming it'll never break, expecting the bright of it never turns off.

As he explores your mouth, he smirks, a side to side smile that reflects the insanely amount of happiness that holding you provokes. He breaks for air, both of your smiles are radiant, eyes sparkling, joy in the air. He kisses you again, wrapping his arms around your body, helping you to straddle him as he showers you with kisses, on your mouth, on your temple, on your jaw, on your neck, your throat and back to your mouth.

You giggle, your smirk, you laugh but most importantly you answer fumbling with the first buttons of his shirt, wanting them off, wanting to be loved by him once and twice and all the times possible, you're in the middle of the action when your sight catches the tray of food on the nightside table, a plate with a pancakes, two cups of coffee and two bowls of fruit.

“Oh, Connie…You made breakfast?” You're touched, deeply touched in your heart, you hands falls to his shoulders, you look at him, he smiles softly, nervous, like if he was caught in the middle of a crime and you just know it, he's the most good man alive.

“Everything for my wife“ he answers, simply. An immense smile decorates your face. Another stolen kiss, that feels like a promise.

This is it. This is happiness.

You and Conrad.

Forever.

[chocolatierrai]

COMERTE ︶︶ CHAPTER THREE

after taking a gap year, y/n l/n got into the most expensive performing arts university: dream academy. thank god she got a scholarship! but even though saying goodbye to her friends in a small town in minnesota is emotional, she's hyped to continue her journey as an aspiring dancer! however, her first day at DA and she already made some friends... and a foe that certainly has an expensive musky perfume and cat eyes.

wc: 477

HUZZAH, THOU ROOMMATE

you took one last breath, before the key was inserted into the slot and you twisted it horizontally. the door creaked open, and you were immediately greeted by a harsh beam of the warm sun in your line of sight.

you took just one step onto the carpet flooring and saw her.

raven braids on her scalp. smooth chestnut skin. straight, sculpted brows. a beauty mark, that seemed oh so close to her brown eyes, but not really.

and the first sound you hear from her?

a small gasp.

not the scared kind, where you're caught off guard because you weren't prepared to see anyone at the time, no. it was the kind you would let out to show how pleasantly surprised you were.

you didn't even notice that she was sitting by her desk, but now the mystery roommate got on her feet, and started to walk towards you.

"heyyy!" she spoke, arms seperated to embrace you gently. you gladly embrace her back, but just with one arm. the other was still holding onto your luggage handle for dear life.

"hi," you replied, your voice just a bit softer, more light. for a few moments, the two of you just hugged silently, but without any tension. it was just calm.

soon enough, the woman's hands retreated, giving you your space.

"i'm manon," she introduced herself in that sweet, yet slightly humorous tone. "and you're roomies with me. congrats. you're gonna suffer while i'm around."

a low, but genuine, chuckle escaped your lips at her remark. "mhm. uh, i'm y/n. y/n l/n if you're going to leak my secrets."

"cute name and amazing humour!" manon beamed. "love that. come in! sorry for blocking your way."

you wanted to reassure her, say that 'it's cool', but you got distracted by your room. it was small, sure, but it was just the two of you. you two would surely fit. while your side of the room only had the standard furniture (wooden desk, chair, bedframe, and that blue mattress you've seen in other people's vlogs on moving into their dorms), manon's side was decorated, making it obvious that she has been here for much longer than you have. a few posters of mainstream artists here and there, a shit ton of pillows on her white mattress that fit right under her white ikea bedframe, and her entire desk setup could probably be in a pinterest board.

ikea pegboard, fake plants, a macbook laying on the desk, you name it.

"i suggest you go to any furniture store today," abruptly, manon cuts off your train of thought, "because that mattress is hard as hell. i literally did not sleep that night."

"i'll make a mental note of that," you responded, a small grin on your face. "thanks."

"no need to thank me! that's just what i do."

END

masterlist ︶︶ next

a/n: no dani you cant be jealous yet, you havent even met her... also the reason its 5 follows and not six is because dani did not follow LMAO

TAGLIST: @98oceans , @iluvyuandme , @cceanvvaves , @kianthegirlkisser , @marvelwomen-simp , @sewiouslyz , @gigi4evr, @avanzinii , @runm3over , @seobluuu , @yeetaberry127 , @hydrardz , @gablmk , @wwwlpgs , @werewolfblde

[eldritch-spouse]

I just thought of something but, what if the average human goes to hell, stays there a long time (any ring). But after some time, their transformation starts to take an unexpected turn. They somehow get the weirdest mutations, they grow 6 tails, 3 long horns, pale and dark skin, and somehow wings.

["Hit the slay button."]

You become an incredibly attractive demonoid + Icon reactions

You're something of a marvel to the denizens of Hell.

Whenever you show demons a photo of yourself as a perfectly untouched human, they're generally unable to believe you ever were human to begin with. Surely, even if you spent entire decades of your life in the Rings, you could never become such a striking specimen! Alas, it is the truth, and you can prove it with your medical records, all the progression photos you've taken...

You're not even sure how you achieved this yourself. You'd come to a certain point in your life where the physical changes seemed inconsequential to you. In fact, since you planned to keep living in the Rings, you figured these mutations would only serve to help you acclimate easier, maybe make some of the locals respect you more- It's a double-edged sword, socially.

You don't think there's any demonic ancestry in your genes, and even if there was, the chances of you becoming what you are today are the equivalent of winning a genetic lottery.

Three curling, spotless horns branch out from your head, symmetrical and evenly spaced, your back is adorned with leathered wings you've had a tough time learning to live with, and there's barely enough space on your lower back for the six flowing tails you've been gifted with by forces unknown. Although you are no concubus, your eyes still carry a shine to them, lashes long and heavy. Your pallid skin all but radiates in the burning heat of Wrath, and glimmers softly in the dusky skies of Sloth- Save for a choice few spots which are utterly void-like in complexion, yet seem to compliment your proportions perfectly.

It turns out you are a vision of utter beauty for most fiendish folk.

Covetous, irresistible, enraging, overpowering beauty.

Life has become hectic, to say the least.

People began getting pushy with you.

Concubi drooling over the ground you walk on, moaning for you to join them in adult industries, or just to let them touch you. Pride lusts for your image as well, wanting to make you the face of several modeling jobs and picturesque decorations. Greed demons attempt to ply you with ornaments, offering anything to have you as their arm candy. Gluttony likewise is very insistent on having you passing by almost every restaurant, promising to let you indulge in whatever you most crave. Sloth will do anything to keep you around for just a bit longer, oh just a little more- Smitten wrathful folks maim each other in your honor, and oh... You don't want to talk about the skinwalkers in Envy.

Celebrity that you've become, you'd give anything to have a moment to yourself, to have some privacy- But even having hired a trustworthy manager (you think they too are unfortunately infatuated), you simply can't do anything wihout having to face a crowd.

In fact, things get dire when the Icons themselves send formal invitations.

You can't deny them. Even if you wanted to, being in bad-standing with the rulers of Hell is a one way ticket to danger.

And, to make things even more conflicting, all of them seem to covet you, a realization that has you nearly nauseous.

Cero will wax about how poetic it is that only someone like you could ever meet his standards. That the two of you are clearly so alike and so aligned, it's be foolish for you to even want to stick around other Rings, with the dirty riff raff- But he understands, you are a public figure and you must tend to the masses. Just reach out to him when you've decided that you want a life as grand as it should be, by his side.

Vorticia is nothing if not a huge charming mistress to you, so effortlessly capable of dragging you into a comfortable dinning table to share meaningful conversation and splendid wine with. Isn't it nice to have this peace and quiet, away from people who simply can't appreciate you normally? If you would just let her care for your weary self, you'd want nothing else but to be in her hands. She promises.

Rinx is relentlessly pushy. He's sure the next set of priceless thingamajigs he sends your way will be what has you tumbling into his arms! Give in, you shall never crave for anything else, he will place you atop the tallest pedestal of the Ring itself. There's no one in Hell and out who could offer you a smidge of what Rinx readily lets flow your way. You are born for opulence and you would be his most unfathomable treasure.

Kalymir has promised he will have you. Neither a request nor a threat, he plainly says you will fall into his bloody hands when he slaughters all who dare take his chosen mate away. A gorgeous trophy you'd be, but to pair such looks with deathly force would be his greatest pleasure. You can only keep running from him for so long, and Kalymir is nothing if not a fan of the chase, you teasing little whore.

Zizz believes you'll choose him in the end. He can offer you a type of peace none of the other Icons hold. In the privacy of his chambers, you'll know nothing but the sweetest sleep and the most satisfying dreams. The two of you will dance together, away from undeserving eyes, your minds connected for a greater purpose. He has time to watch the others fumble and crush their chances entirely Like the fools they are.

Vesper is determined to whisk you away and show you such insurmountable pleasures that you forget all others. He will play your perfect body the way it is meant to be, and everyone will see you come apart by his ministrations. Nothing else matters, darling, just let yourself get worshipped day and night, you'll live in a paradise of adoration and he alone will be the puppetteer to every spark of sensation.

Livius is mad with want. You are everything! He wants you! He wants to be you! Within you! Join him, pick him, he will match your every trait, the two of you would be so incredible together. Please, everyone wants you, they hate you because they can't be you- But not Livius. Oh no, he loves every pore on your skin and he will rip his way to you eventually, his envy for those that get to spend time with you is all-consuming.

[moonlight-prose]

*throws this at you and runs away* its hard to sit here and be close to you and not kiss you for clark kent PLEASE IM BEGGING-

broken down and hungry for your love

a/n: this has ruined me. has me yearning in ways that i never thought humanly possible. and yes the title is absolutely from a jeff buckley song, because this is all i could listen to as i wrote this. just utter fluff and romance for this man. it's what he deserves. i kept it more fluffy than smutty just cause he's such a perfect man for pure fucking romance. i hope you enjoy babes!

summary: late at night you find yourself sitting across from clark kent. a friend, a colleague, and much to your detriment the man you're in love with. OR a conversation leads to kissing him on his couch until oxygen becomes secondary.

word count: 2.1k+

pairing: clark kent x reader

warnings: semi-explicit so minors DNI, tension, romance, fluff, friends to lovers trope, clark being the obvious one, reader being stubborn, mutual pining, making out on his couch, kissing, he begs for it cause i say so.

There were moments in time you wished to document each shadow and glimmer of light. How the lamp glowed in the corner of your apartment, the darkness cast along his mess of curls as his bent head was all you could see—fingers clasped and arms propped against spread knees. Fragments in time that stole what breath remained in the depths of your already barely working lungs. Shallow breaths, unsteady heartbeat, and he could hear each shift along the leather chair.

“What are you thinking about?” he muttered, fixing the smudge on his shoe already scratched to fucking hell.

You smiled at the obvious tension in his shoulders. “Wondering how long it’s going to be before you look at me.”

His eyes rose…barely. Neck still bent and knuckles white, but you could finally catch a glimpse of that haunting blue. Piercing and perfect and unfathomably beautiful in the yellow light of your shitty living room lamp. The same one he helped you carry home three months ago. As friends.

A word you made sure to emphasize, drill into his head with the tenacity of a good reporter.

Now you could feel the regret burrow in your stomach, curling remorse in the notches in your spine until you were unable to run away from that fact. You couldn’t fall for a coworker. Let alone a fellow reporter. But that was the fickle thing about romance—you would never see it fucking coming. A quick timed slap in the face you fought against, battling emotions layered in the betrayal of a stress free love life.

“I’m lookin’ at you,” he breathed—what little oxygen you had catching in the base of your throat at the sight of him. Free of glasses welcoming you to take on all that he way, accept him without secret weighing on his shoulders—help him carry the weight of a god among men.

That was the scary part.

Clark Kent was…Superman.

Clark. The man who spilled coffee on your blouse the first day you met, turning it sheer in seconds as he melted into a puddle of crimson hued apologies. The friend who brought you soup from your favorite spot in the city when you were sick two months ago. The person you counted on to stay during long nights at The Daily Planet, hunched over your desk with you, pen in hand as he searched for mistakes you never caught.

Yet simultaneously the one who saved Metropolis. The hero people called for in their most desperate hour. The same person who swooped in and saved you from a car wreck three weeks ago—depositing you on the very same rooftop Clark met you on during lunch for small conversations and cookies he swiped from the kitchen.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Clark-”

“My eyes are on you sweetheart. What more do you want?”

Your gaze narrowed, nails curling into the arm of the chair. “I want you to face me. Talk to me like you used to.”

The sigh was thick enough to shove another brick in his wall of anxieties; you could see his thoughts churning as he fiddled with his watch. What if you didn’t want this? What if you chose to disregard all you could be to run away from the chaos he brought with him? What if…he wasn’t enough for you?

“You know how I feel,” he said softly, leaning back. “You’ve always known.”

Swallowing past the stone in your throat, you finally relented—allowing months of emotion to spill into your fluttering chest. “Yes…I do.” You shifted, allowing your bare feet to touch carpet and your hands to fall to your knees. “Then tell me about it.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me about…saving people. What made you want to do it in the first place?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he replied, lips curling. “Because my parents from Krypton told me to protect the people of Earth. And because my parents from here raised me to be good. Hopeful.”

You smiled and for the first time in thirty minutes the tension diffused—ease settling back into your bodies with the flick of a switch. “That explains a lot.”

“I should have told you after I saved you-”

“I would have run,” you confessed, fingers tangling together as he settled back onto his knees, closer than you’d been in days. “I—uh—I’m not good at this.”

The dimpled grin he flashed demolished the trepidation in your heart, a flicker of hope—of warmth—wrapping tight around the unsure organ. In the time since meeting him you found peace in his presence. Comfort in his gaze and promise in his touch. He was unafraid to love, unashamed to wear his heart on a rolled up sleeve. But that’s what terrified you.

Not Superman, certainly not his sheer willingness to fall head first into love. It was the thought of finally giving in—showing all the broken parts that no longer worked beneath the already fractured skin. You were clawing along the ground, seeking warmth in the pitfalls of a lifeless winter, until the sun entered your life and burned your skin with something unfamiliar. He cradled your heart in his still palms and you were unsure how to relinquish the final bits that you clung to.

The side of you that reeked of someone who had been victim to false hopes and broken promises.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said with an air of ease you tried not to be jealous of. “‘M yours baby. Since the day I met you.”

You dropped the pieces in his hands with a sigh, your hands shaky and body hot at how his eyes latched onto your parted mouth. That soft blue disappearing in favor of something darker. A hunger you never knew he could possess.

All that filled the room was the tick of your desk clock and shared breaths. His were annoyingly calm, your were…barely there. As if he could see through your lungs, he grinned—cheek caving in—as he caught the quick glimpse of a sputtering heart processing the flurry of emotions. He settled closer, eyes latching onto yours as the clock faded in favor of your own blood rushing in your ears.

“What are you thinking about sweetheart?”

You sucked in air. “That it’s hard to sit here and be so close to you…and not kiss you.”

Half expecting him to profess emotions that were practically scrawled in the extra supply of ink at The Planet, he chose to smile instead. His chin propped in a broad hand, lips pulled wide as he watched you fidget on the seat—unable to meet his gaze for longer than a few seconds.

This would be—to date—the furthest you’d gone in speaking your emotions aloud. Sure the words were barely a puff of air on your lips, but to Clark you might as well have shouted them off your fire escape. Loud enough for the whole of Metropolis to hear.

You wanted to kiss him. You.

The person who clutched his heart in your palm without even knowing it. Didn’t you know he’d bring you the moon if you asked that of him? He’d traverse galaxies and solar systems to find the perfect stone to fit on your left hand. He’d worship the very ground you walked on.

“You can kiss me,” he assured you, blue eyes sparkling in the dark.

“It’s not so easy.”

He huffed. “I want you to kiss me all the time.” A hand, or more a proposition, was thrust in your direction and you forced yourself to take it. Give him the reigns and walk you in between his legs, your hands pressed into the wrinkled white button down that was always one size too big. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”

The flutter in your heart ricocheted throughout the whole of your already nervous body, eyes falling to his lips with a shuddered breath. “Really?”

“Yes,” he murmured, voice a low rasp you could practically feel through the air. “Please kiss me.”

Tentatively you leaned down, cupping his jaw even as he tilted his head up to meet you halfway there. His back straight and hands a heavy weight on your hips—the only thing that kept you upright when his lips touched yours. And suddenly you understood. Why romance bloomed between two souls. How it could cling to others with a tragic necessity—the very thing that allowed people to breathe easier at night.

It sparked in the base of your stomach, stretching along veins and tendons, curling like vines into your stiff body that practically melted into his touch. You sighed into his mouth, lips a soft press to his soft ones, and Clark met your breath with a gasp of his own—fingers a sharp press into your flesh. His anchor in the middle of a raging sea.

He tasted like home. Like the honey biscuits he favored in the afternoons and coffee that was more cream and sugar than bean. Like a man who was ready to collapse to his knees at the sight of your smile, devotion clawing at his chest and ripping at his heart.

You sunk into him, tongue sliding wet along his bottom lip to taste more of him, memorize the grooves of his teeth and roof of his mouth. He opened up with a moan that shot a hole through your chest—breath coming in quick and shallow. As if you could barely get enough before he stole it for himself.

Somehow your arms looped around his neck, knees practically ready to sink to the floor. He caught you halfway and dragged you gently into his lap. Your knees pressed into the cushions of the couch and thighs spread around his—fingers burying in his thick curls until you could feel your nails scrape his scalp. Unfathomable warmth built between your bodies, sinking deep into your trembling chest as he licked into you with a soft groan—his hands respectfully latched onto your waist.

Never higher, never lower. Always the perfect gentlemen.

“I like kissing you,” you whispered against his swollen lips. At this point you were certain that yours didn’t fare any better.

He smiled, large and wide and accented with dimples you wanted to press your thumb into. “I love kissin’ you baby.”

The flutter of your heart didn’t go unnoticed by him if the crinkle around his eyes told you anything. “You make it so easy.”

“What’s that?” he mumbled, dragging his lips along yours, tongue peeking out to slide along your bottom lip.

You shivered. “All of this. Being with you. Somehow it’s like breathing to you.”

“I like you.” That seemed to be all he could say, the only explanation that made the most sense to someone who welcomed love with each sunrise and sunset. He shrugged, pulling back to watch your fluttering lashes as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “If this is moving too fast-”

“No.” If only you possessed half his talent of expressing his feelings, the sunshine that poured off his body with an air of ease. “I just…I want to be with you.”

“So be with me.”

“But what if it goes wrong? What if we find ourselves stuck? What if-”

He cut you off with a chaste kiss, lightly pinching your chin to tilt your eyes up. “We won’t know until we try.”

“So corny,” you huffed, eyes pricking with the threat of tears. “Are you sure?”

Another kiss to your lips, your cheek, the curve of your jaw until you were caught in a laugh that spread warmth to the tips of his fingers and toes. If only he could show you what he saw. The light that poured from your eyes when you turned your gaze on him. The beauty always meant to steal his breath the moment you met.

This was always meant to be. Even if he had to write it in the stars himself.

“I’ve never been this sure of anything in my life.” You could tell he meant it, every syllable and letter was punctuated with the blinding certainty in his gleaming eyes. “Well except being Superman.”

You laughed, finding his lips as he finally wrapped his arms tight around your waist. “Well of course. It’s Superman.”

“Of course.”

“I guess…we’re doing this huh Kent?”

Clark beamed, nose pressed into your cheek and lips poised over yours with that tender smile that caught you in his snare in the first pace. “I guess we are sweetheart.”

[lovelyhavenn]

I GOT YOU, BABY | JOHNNY STORM X READER

summary: while showering, johnny comes home to you with a wrecked mood, slumped shoulders, and sad eyes. He tells you how he doesn't want to lose you, and you assured him he will always have you, he will always have a home in you.

Warning/tags: comfort sex! Angst with comfort, fluff, oral (m receiving), shower sex, soft sex, unprotected sex, p in v, praise kink, comfort during sex, aftercare!, spit, you two are soooo in love!

You are currently in the shower, letting the cold water wash over you. The smell of your coconut scented bodywash surrounds the whole bathroom, the glass starting to fog because you switched to warm water. You closed your eyes, humming a soft tune while washing your body.

You suddenly got startled, feeling two strong yet soft arms gripping your body from the back. It was johnny, fully naked with his arms around you and his head resting on your shoulder. You felt his breathe against your neck, it was soft and warm, you heard him sigh. You tried to turn around and look at him, but he only held you tighter.

"Johnny, baby? Is everything okay?" You asked softly. He wasn't okay, you felt it, you immediately knew. His shoulders were slump, his mood was down, and he's holding you as if he doesn't want to let go. The water dripping on both of your bodies.

"Yeah...everything's okay." He whispers, soft yet tired. You know that voice, you know it better than most people. You held his hands that are wrapped around your waist, you softly turned around, facing him. And you were right, he's not okay even if he hides it. You cupped his cheek, flashing him a soft smile just to make him feel better.

"Wanna tell me about it, baby?" You asked, caressing his cheek while his hands remains on your waist, caressing it too.

"Mhmm... Later. Just wanna hold you right now. Want you close. Don't wanna lose you." His voice cracked, head down, and tears welling up in his eyes. He does not hold back any of his emotions when he's with you. With other people he does, he restricts himself, stops himself from showing too much, but with you he does not, he shows all of him the good and the bad.

"You won't lose me, never. Not today, not tomorrow, never." You assured him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. You pushed his wet hair back, brushing your thumb on his cheek once more. "Johnny, i won't leave. Even if they drag me out, i won't leave. Even willingly, i won't do that. You got me, always, you always have me." You remind him, kissing his soft lips, he nodded before holding your face gently with his hand, he liften your chin up and his palm met your cheek again softly.

"Your eyes are really beautiful... Just by lookin' at them i feel better. I feel like there's always a tomorrow waiting for me." He whispers, eyes looking deeply at you, telling you how your presence alone reminds him of a brand new tomorrow. You chuckle under your breathe.

"Johnny, you have the prettiest eyes too. They also serve as a reminder, one look at your eyes I'm always at ease, at peace, and your love keeps me grounded, reminds me how beautiful your love is." He wasted no moment, connecting his lips with yours in a soft, gentle rhythm that shows how much he loves you. A testament of love between the two of you. Your lips danced into a slow and passionate rhythm, overflowing with emotions.

Johnny caresses your cheek softly while kissing you with nothing but love, with instinct you hooked your arms around his neck, palm on his nape to pull him closer. Your naked body pressed against his bare chest, the shower head showering you two in warm water, droplets of water going through your kiss.

"I love you so damn much. " How it rolled off Johnny's lips felt so natural, it felt so good. He didn't imagine himself falling in love, to have his person, a person who now shares his life and someone to call his own. Someone who keeps him grounded, not just to be with him through highs, but everything even the lows. You've been there for him through everything, you've been his anchor. Because the thing with johnny, he masks everything as long as he can, but with you, he can be himself, good days or bad days, he's himself with you. Sue was beyond thankful when you arrived in Johnny's life, telling you how much it means to her that you love johnny with everything you have.

"I love you, johnny. More than you know... " You kissed him again. He's the light in your life, he gave your life so much color. From darkness, he gave your life meaning. That being said, you two are like puzzle pieces that fit.

"Feel better, baby?" You asked him, panting, chasing for air. You smiled softly when he nodded.

"I do. I do feel a lot better, because of you." He smiled, the kind where it reached his ears. He brushed his thumb on your cheek before kissing it softly, then your forehead.

"There he is, my favorite smile. Glad you feel better, baby. " You whispered against him. "But, i can make you feel better. You trust me?" You asked softly, waiting for his answer. He nodded almost immediately.

"I trust you with my life, baby." He softly said, "trust you with my whole life." repeating it once more with a whisper. You slowly pushed him back, walking forward, he now walks backward until his back hits the wall. Your hand reached for him, for his cock which is visibly hard, veins angry and tip red, it's beautiful. You started stroking his cock, slowly and softly, earning a moan rolling past his lips.

"Oh shit, feels good... Baby." He pants, the way your hand wrapped around him, still not enough to hold all of him, he got harder, twitching on your hand. You felt it, the twitch, you smiled while stroking his hard cock. You locked your eyes with him, you tiptoed and kissed his lips softly.

"Yeah, baby, that good huh?" He nodded, biting his lips, controlling himself, slowly breaking in front of you while you're stroking his cock. The way your thumb brushed over his tip, it made him catch a breathe.

"Fuck, baby... " He moans, his voice surrounding the whole shower. His voice soft and rasped, looking at you with softened eyes, knit eyebrows from pleasure and parted lips. What a sight to see, you got wet just from that, your juices slowly dripping down your legs.

"Can you spit in my hand, baby? Please," You asked, eyes soft and eager. Johnny was hesitant, but by looking at you, at your pretty eyes, how can he say no. The way you asked, nipples perked from the cold, he didn't have the heart to say no. Your palm was open infront of his mouth, he did as he was told, he spit on your hands.

You lowered yourself, down to your knees infront of him. You stroked his cock, his own spit covering his cock. You kept stroking him with both hand, still it wasn't enough. Johnny looked down at you, sitting pretty against him. You looked at him with a smile, showing your dimples before taking him in your mouth, tasting the whole him. Your eyes rolled back while gliding your tongue on his cock, his cock half disappearing on your mouth because it was just too big. Johnny bit his lips, soft whimpers and groans leaving his lips.

"Fuck, baby... Your mouth feels so good... Feels good... " He whispers, groaning when he felt his tip crash against your throat, his cock buried deep inside your warm mouth. He released a loud groan, followed by your name leaving his lips, the sound enchoed in the whole bathroom. You wrapped your hands on the part of his cock that didn't fit your mouth, you stroked it while bobbing your head to suck him off. It was messy, filthy, but johnny finds you beautiful whatever you do. The sight of you kneeling infront of him, sucking him off, you look beautiful for him, even if spit was everywhere, tears on the corner of your eyes, you're beautiful.

You twirled your tongue on his tip, sucking on it, earning a loud gasp from Johnny from how sensitive it was. "Fuck, y/n! Baby... So good-" He leaned his head more against the wall, biting his lips when you increased your pace, the tip of his cock hitting your throat everytime. "Not gonna last, baby... Sh-shit!" His orgasm came fast, didn't even have the time to give you warning, the second his cock was buried deep in your throat he shot his loads, warm and hot deep in your throat. You wiped your mouth clean, johnny held you up softly.

"Fuck, baby you're amazing... So good to me, takin' care of me just like that." He kissed you, still soft even if he's eager. Just pure, no rush, just making love. "Let me take care of you now, okay? Will you let me, baby?" You nodded immediately.

"Good girl. Now jump for me, please." You did as you were told. You jumped and he immediately caught you, his arms right in your thighs. He switched positions with you, you're now against the wall, still in his arms. "There you go, good girl, my love." He presses a soft kiss on your lips. You felt his other hand letting go of you for a moment, lining his cock against your entrance.

"Relax for me, baby... " He whispers. "There we go, such a good girl." His tip slowly sinks in you, he held you firmly before adjusting your body properly.

"Johnny... " You moaned his name, almost like a whisper but for him, everytime you say his name, it's music.

"Yes, baby... Almost there, just a little more." He pushes his cock more into you, halfway there. He caught your lips, kissing you passionately as he pushes his cock fully in you. You gasped in between the kiss, "johnny... So big, so full... "

"I know, baby... I know, my love. We'll stay still for a moment, until you adjust." Johnny softly said, still thinking about you and your comfort. Your hand on his nape, tugging on his hair that drove him crazy, the way your fingers plays and tugs on his hair, that's heaven for him. He loves your fingers, you can do anything to him and he'd thank you.

"Move, johnny... Baby, you can move now." He nodded, forehead against yours. He started thrusting up to you. Your lips almost crashed with his from how close he was. You moaned, calling for his name and how he's making you feel so good. Johnny releases soft grunts, with every thrust he whispers your name like it's sacred, like it's the only thing he knows.

The way his cock explores inside you, deep inside you, hitting every place that sends you to a heaven filled with pleasure. How you closed your eyes shut, biting your lips, but whatever you do, his name rolls off your lips.

"Johnny... " You whimper. That's enough to drive him crazy, increasing his pace while still maintaining the softness, the delicate sex, no rush, just enjoying and making most of the moment in each other's arms. "Fuck, baby... Johnny, so good... " You whine, feeling his cock kiss your cervix with every thrust.

"Fuckin' love you, baby... Wouldn't trade this for an-anything. I want to come home to you everyday." He moaned, still keeping up with the momentum of his thrusts that sends you over the edge, too much pleasure, too much emotions, too much love, and you wouldn't want it any other way. Your fingers brushed his hair, breathing heavily, you can hear his heartbeat matching yours, like it's one.

"Johnny... " You whisper. "I'll always wait for you. You will always have a home waiting for you... Oh shit- you will always have a home in me, baby... Fuck-" You gasped, feeling him twitch inside you. You clenched around him too, squeezing him tight, leaving johnny a whimpering mess.

"Fuck- johnny, gotta cum... Almost there! Ahh shit-" You whined, wrapping your legs tighter on his waist, fingers clutching more onto his hair.

"Me too, baby... Almost there. Let's do it together, okay?" He rests his forehead on yours, you can feel his unsteady breathing, pants and groans. You moaned loud, your toes curled and your back arched that johnny had to hold you tightly just so you wouldn't fall. Your orgasm washed over you, releasing your cum all over his cock, making a mess on him. The aftermath washed over you, feeling tired and your head rests on his shoulder now.

"Fuck-" He cursed, his cock burried deep inside of you, shooting his thick and messy load deep inside of your cunt, letting your mixed orgasms trail down your legs. After a few minutes, He puts you down, holding you firmly because your legs are wobbly.

"I love you... " He whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead. Johnny shows you a smile, and you smiled back tired yet still genuine.

"I love you too, baby... " You whispered, followed by a yawn that made Johnny chuckle.

"Let me clean you up, baby. Don't have to worry about anything, I'm here." You nodded, almost half asleep that made johnny chuckle even more, placing another kiss on your forehead. He rinsed your body again with your favorite coconut bodywash, washing himself too.

He did your skincare for you, because he knows how much you value skincare, often telling him that you won't sleep without doing your routine. He doesn't want you to be upset that you missed a night of doing your routine, so he did it for you. He dressed you in his shirt, before tucking you in his bed. He finished wearing his pajama pants before completely joining you in the bed, wrapping his arms around you while your head lays on his chest.

Johnny plans to spend the rest of his life just like this, you, him, and create a little family in the future. But for now, he's happy, more than happy with what he have with you.

[polkadotjohnson]

The interview

David Dastmalchian is a kind, cool, super gifted, outrageously busy handsome spitfire of a goth, horror loving dude. check his current superb performances in The Life of Chuck and playing Gareth in Dexter: Resurrection on Paramount. we caught up with him in NYC for the Dexter premiere and snapped a few photos displaying his rad style, eating/drinking some favorite snacks, hitchhiking in his floral tights and dr. martens, then creating some black nailed magic in the hotel shower stall. so scroll on down as we chat grave conversations show, starring in street fighter and the renewal of murderbot. plus he’s just returned from San Diego comic con where he announced the launch of a 5 issue comic book mini series, The Accessories, with his longtime co-writer/creative collaborator Leah Kilpatrick for upstart publisher Panick Entertainment and be on the lookout for his upcoming graphic novel Through. PHEW!

the bare magazine: can you describe the message/meaning of Life of Chuck for those who haven't seen it and the experience working alongside the cast and crew?

David Dastmalchian: The Life Of Chuck is a story about the fragility of life. It’s this beautiful poem about the immediacy of the present. We have a fleeting moment here in this life and each day we’re given is a gift. Heal what needs healing, say what needs saying and absolutely, without question, go dance each time you have a chance. I love Mike Flannagan, he’s a good friend and like family to me. It felt like home being on set.

bare: we had a blast at our photoshoot and chatting when you visited NYC for the premiere of "Dexter: Resurrection" - how was the trip? It appears you and the cast have great chemistry.

DD: I had an exceptional time in New York promoting Dexter: Resurrection. I got overwhelmed several times during the trip and had to find a fire exit or rooftop to catch my breath since there’s a lot of change happening in my life right now and I don’t always know how to handle the expanding circle of experiences.

The Dexter franchise has such a powerful fanbase and the cast in this new sequel is so dynamic, the energy around the premiere and promotions was vivid. I really love this cast: Michael C. Hall has always been an actor that I admire and seeing him up close as he performed was a gift; Krysten Ritter has been a friend for a long time and we’ve been wanting to work together; Eric Stonestreet and I are Kansas City natives and I see him every year at The Big Slick charity event for Children’s Mercy Hospital in our hometown which he cohosts so, seeing him embody a serial killer was terrifying; Peter Dinklage is incredible and a new friend; Neil Patrick Harris has always been someone I’ve wanted to meet; and Uma Thurman is…. Uma. Legend. As cool as they come.

bare: it was also great meeting your writing partner, Leah Kilpatrick in NY, are there any upcoming plans to collaborate on a project?

DD: Leah is a massively important part of my life, both personally and creatively. We’ve been friends for almost twenty years, and she’s always been one of the spookiest, funniest people I know. I can’t talk (yet!) about most of our latest collaborations but I’m so excited that we were able to announce our new comic book series, THE ACCESSORIES, from Panick Publishing during San Diego Comic Con. It’s the story of the world’s greatest henchmen (and woman) joining forces as they escape the tyranny of their masters. Igor, Renfield and Mrs. Hyde are on the run from Dracula, Dr. Frankenstein and Dr. Jeckyl but the sins of their past mean that they aren’t safe in the village. How will they use their knowledge and past to overcome the monstrous challenges ahead?

bare: congrats on the season 2 renewal of "Murderbot". what are you looking forward to the most about getting back to work on that project?

DD: I miss the people who made that show. I deeply love them. Making Murderbot was a life-changing experience, and it pushed my acting in many new directions. Paul and Chris Weitz are very special human beings and the cast/crew that they assembled is very important to me.

bare: you've also just scored a starring role as the central villain M. Bison in "Street Fighter". Are you looking forward to playing a character described as someone involved in various illegal activities, including arms trafficking, mind control experiments and world domination?

DD: I was recently playing Street Fighter with my kid and I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the impact that the nostalgic culture of my youth has had on my life. Comics, movies, shows, games and toys… so many influences. M. Bison is a very powerful figure in that space. I’m honored that Kitao Sakurai trusts me with his vision of the role.

bare: is there a genre or project you haven't yet experienced in your 20 some years of working that you would like to? or would you like to focus on more behind the camera and writing?

DD: I would love a chance to perform in a musical. Cinematic musicals are such a powerful form and there are all kinds. A small, independent chamber musical would be amazing, like a very contained Fantastiks or Little Night Music. I have also always dreamed of playing Orin Scrivello, DDS from Little Shop of Horrors.

bare: you're a very busssssy man. what's your secret to achieving balance and recharging your batteries?

DD: I wake up each morning with a checklist to review goals and what I am grateful for. I’ll journal, then I do yoga, wake up my kids, make us all breakfast, take a long walk and do a zoom for my support group. I try to meditate before I’m too far into the day and I usually find at least ten minutes out of the day to check in with my best friend who lives in France. The most important thing is the gratitude lists. I end each day acknowledging six things I’m feeling grateful towards from the past 24 hours.

bare: you love all BLUE things! we caught you on camera eating a few blue M&M's, when did this all begin and why?

DD: When I was a little boy in Kansas I was visited by a formation of blue lights outside my bedroom window. Was it a dream? Was it aliens? Angels? Who knows. Who cares. Around that time, I started drinking blue Jones Soda and I would get blue icing on every cake. Then, Cookie Monster ice cream was invented and I lost it. Obsessed.

bare: describe your personal style (we know you love black including eyeliner!) also your footwear evolution from Chuck Taylor's to now mostly Dr. Martens?

DD: I’m very intrigued by fashion and the way fabrics and different materials interact with the body. I found a wonderful designer named Johnny Cota in Los Angeles a few years ago and began to feel more and more comfortable embracing my sense of belonging and strength in designs that were more unique and fluid, less traditionally masculine.

I love futuristic designs and recently found this amazing store in LA called Politix Studio. They carry amazing artists like Yeung Chin, La Haine and more. I have worn black Chuck T’s my whole life and really love their all black leather upper design. Docs were a big part of my life in my 20’s. I got a new pair of boots about 4 years ago and immediately fell back in love with the look and feel. When Nine Inch Nails was commemorating the anniversary of Downward Spiral, Docs put out a special design and I got a pair. I wear them all the time.

bare: can you share a dream guest list for your Grave Conversations series?

DD: Guillermo del Toro, Willem Dafoe, Charlize Theron, Taylor Swift, Travis Kelce, Trent Reznor, Hunter Schafer, Stephen King and Patti Smith.

bare: please list your top 6 Bare Essentials

DD:

My kids A classic horror comic (any issue of EC, Creepy or Eerie will do) A journal DoTera Focus Essential Oil An Iced Coffee with Oat Milk and Vanilla Syrup A good candle

(x)

[camilla-and-charles]

A Royal Serendipity Part 13

The July evening shadows stretched across the marble floors of the British Museum's Egyptian wing, a private viewing arranged through royal privilege. Charles and Camilla stood before a glass case containing ancient papyri, continuing their animated discussion about Laurens van der Post's latest work, a conversation that had meandered pleasantly through philosophy, anthropology, and the complexities of human nature. Charles found himself, as always, captivated not merely by Camilla's beauty—though that certainly entranced him—but by the incisive intelligence behind her sparkling eyes.

"You know," Charles said, his voice echoing slightly in the empty gallery, "most people simply nod politely when I mention Jung's collective unconscious."

Camilla laughed, the sound reverberating off the ancient artifacts. "Perhaps they're just being polite to the Prince of Wales?"

"That's precisely my point," he replied, his voice softening as he turned to face her. "You never do that. You challenge me, disagree with me, make me defend my positions." He reached up to brush a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. "Do you have any idea how refreshing that is?"

"I suspect it has something to do with my complete lack of reverence for authority," she quipped, but her eyes softened as she leaned into his touch.

The museum lighting caught the flecks of amber in her eyes, and Charles felt the familiar tightening in his chest—that peculiar mixture of desire and tenderness that only Camilla could evoke. Four weeks into their relationship, and already he found himself utterly, hopelessly besotted. She was unlike anyone he had ever known—earthy yet elegant, forthright yet subtle, her wit as sharp as her intellect.

"Come here," he whispered, drawing her closer into the shadow of a towering statue. Their lips met in a kiss that began gently but quickly deepened, charged with an electricity that made his heart race. Camilla's hands found their way to the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through his hair with confident intimacy.

When they finally parted, both slightly breathless, Charles rested his forehead against hers. "I had rather hoped we might continue this conversation somewhere more... private," he murmured.

"I thought you'd never ask," Camilla replied, her voice low and rich with promise. "Your place or mine, Sir?"

Later, in the soft lamplight of Camilla's London flat, Charles watched her sleep, her features relaxed in repose, her hair splayed across the pillow. Even now, he marveled at how naturally they had come together, how effortlessly she had stripped away the layers of his royal reserve to find the man beneath. With Camilla, he felt known—truly known—perhaps for the first time in his life.

He traced a finger lightly along the curve of her shoulder, committing every detail to memory: the exact shade of her skin in the amber light, the subtle perfume that clung to her hair, the gentle rhythm of her breathing. If he could capture this moment, preserve it like an insect in amber, he would. For in Camilla's presence, he felt not like the heir to the throne, weighed down by duty and expectation, but simply a man in love—a young man of twenty-three who had finally found something real in a world of carefully constructed facades.

---

The following morning found Charles in his study at Buckingham Palace, reviewing correspondence with his equerry, Major Barnes. The work was tedious but necessary, a reminder of the obligations that never ceased, regardless of his personal desires.

"And finally, sir," Major Barnes said, his voice carefully neutral, "His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh has asked me to inform you of a development regarding your naval service."

Charles looked up, his pen pausing mid-signature. Something in the equerry's tone caught his attention. "Yes? What development?"

"Your father has been in discussions with the First Sea Lord. They've decided to accelerate your naval career path. You're to report to HMS Norfolk in Dartmouth again by the end of August for advanced command training."

The pen in Charles's hand snapped, splattering ink across the document before him. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Duke felt it would be beneficial for your future role to—"

"My father decided this?" Charles interrupted, his voice dangerously quiet. "Without any consultation with me whatsoever?"

Major Barnes shifted uncomfortably. "I believe the decision was made at the highest levels, sir."

"The highest levels," Charles repeated, rising from his chair so abruptly that it scraped against the floor. "How extraordinarily convenient. And pray tell, when was anyone planning to inform me of this decision about my life?"

"His Royal Highness thought it best to give you some time to prepare. The training at Dartmouth will last until November, after which you'll be assigned to a ship for active duty. The exact posting and duration haven't been determined yet."

"Active duty," Charles repeated, the words tasting like ash. He paced to the window, then spun back, unable to contain his agitation. "And no one thought that perhaps, just perhaps, I might have some input into decisions about my own life?"

"I understand this is unexpected, Sir," the equerry continued, his discomfort evident. "The paperwork arrived this morning. I can leave it for your review."

Charles grabbed a paperweight from his desk and hurled it against the wall, where it left a small dent before clattering to the floor. The equerry flinched but maintained his composure.

"Leave the papers," Charles said, his voice cold with suppressed rage. "And inform my father that I would appreciate the courtesy of a conversation about my future before it's arranged for me. That will be all."

After the equerry's hasty departure, Charles collapsed into his chair, his hands trembling with anger. How typical of his father and to make such a unilateral decision. How utterly characteristic to prioritize duty and protocol over any consideration of Charles's personal happiness or autonomy.

But beyond his anger at his father lay a deeper, more visceral fear. Dartmouth meant separation from Camilla at a critical juncture in their relationship. It meant she would be in London, surrounded by her vivacious friends, by other men—by Andrew Parker Bowles, with whom she had a complicated history. And then, after Dartmouth, who knew where he would be sent? How long he would be gone?

Charles slammed his fist on the desk, sending papers flying. In three days, it would be Camilla's birthday. He had already planned a special evening, had selected a gift with painstaking care—a rare first edition of her favorite poetry collection. How could he possibly burden her with this news before her celebration?

---

"You're awfully quiet tonight," Camilla observed, setting down her glass of wine. They were dining in Charles's private apartments at the palace, a rare evening of complete seclusion.

Charles looked up from his barely touched entrée. "Am I? I apologize. I was just... reflecting on how much I enjoy these moments with you."

She did look radiant, her eyes bright with intelligence and humor, her presence transforming the staid royal apartments into somewhere that felt, remarkably, like home.

"While I appreciate the sentiment," Camilla replied with a knowing smile, "I'm afraid I don't believe that's all. Something's troubling you, Charles. You've been wound tight as a spring all evening."

He attempted a smile. "Nothing escapes you, does it?"

"Very little," she agreed, reaching across the table to take his hand. "Tell me."

Charles hesitated, torn between his desire to protect the days before her birthday and his inability to dissemble with this woman who saw through him so effortlessly. "It's nothing that can't wait until after your birthday," he said finally. "I don't want to cast a shadow over your celebration."

Camilla's eyes narrowed slightly. "Now I'm definitely concerned. Whatever it is, Charles, please tell me. The suspense is far worse than whatever news you're withholding."

Charles stared down at their joined hands, then abruptly stood, unable to remain seated with the energy coursing through him. He walked to the window, then back, his movements jerky with suppressed emotion.

"My father," he began, and the words tasted bitter, "has decided—without consulting me, naturally—that I am to report to Dartmouth by the end of August. Advanced command training, apparently essential for my 'future role.'" He couldn't keep the venom from his voice. "After that, in December, I'll be assigned to a ship. Where and for how long, no one seems to know. Or if they do, they haven't deigned to inform me."

He picked up a crystal tumbler and for a moment Camilla thought he might hurl it against the wall. Instead, he set it down with exaggerated care. "Twenty-three years old, and I have less control over my life than a child. It's absurd. It's humiliating."

"Charles," Camilla said softly, rising to approach him.

"No, don't," he said, holding up a hand. "Don't try to soothe me. I'm furious. I have every right to be furious."

"I wasn't going to soothe you," she replied, her voice steady. "I was going to say that your father's behavior is appalling. You have every right to be angry."

The simple validation in her words seemed to puncture his rage, leaving behind something more vulnerable. "It's not just about my father," he admitted, his voice lower now. "It's about us. We've only had a bit over a month together, and now..." He gestured helplessly. "Who knows how long we'll be separated? Or where I'll be sent?"

Camilla moved closer, her expression serious. "And you're worried about what will happen to us."

It wasn't a question, but Charles nodded, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. "You'll be here in London, surrounded by people who make you laugh, who don't carry the weight of the monarchy on their shoulders. You'll be at parties I can't attend, enjoying a freedom I can never share."

"Look at me, Charles," Camilla said, and when he raised his eyes to hers, she continued, "Do you imagine my affections are so fleeting? That I would discard what we have for some passing amusement?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, of course not. But I've seen how other men look at you, Camilla. I know Andrew still harbors feelings for you."

"Andrew is irrelevant," she said firmly. "As are any other men you're conjuring in your imagination. I'm with you, Charles. I chose you."

"But for how long?" The question escaped before he could stop it, revealing a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. "How long before the constraints of my position, the constant scrutiny, the endless separations become too much? Before you realize that loving me means loving the institution that controls so much of my life?"

Camilla was quiet for a long moment, her eyes never leaving his. When she finally spoke, her voice was steady and sure. "I don't have all the answers, Charles. No one does. But I know that what we have is rare and precious. I know that when I'm with you, I'm so happy."

She reached up to touch his face, her fingers gentle against his cheek. "Training until November is not forever. And I'm rather good at writing letters."

Despite everything, Charles felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Are you?"

"Exceptional," she assured him with a playful gravity. "Positively scandalous, in fact."

"Besides," she continued, her eyes taking on a mischievous gleam, "I could always visit you, you know. Portsmouth isn't so terribly far." She ran her fingers along the lapel of his jacket, a suggestive smile playing across her lips. "And I must confess, I find naval uniforms particularly... compelling. Especially on you."

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Oh yes," Camilla nodded, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Ever since I saw those photographs of you in your sub-lieutenant's uniform, aboard the HMS Norfolk in Portsmouth after our weekend at Broadlands. There's something about a man in uniform..." She let the sentence trail off deliberately.

"I had no idea my naval career had such appeal," Charles replied, a genuine smile replacing his earlier tension.

"There's something about the Royal Navy dress that simply outshines all others," she said with a playful gleam in her eyes. "Almost makes your father's high-handed decisions worth tolerating. Almost."

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "I don't deserve you."

"Probably not," she agreed lightly, "but you have me nonetheless."

As they finished their dinner, a fragile peace settled over Charles. The challenges ahead remained daunting—the separation, the uncertainties, his father's unyielding expectations. But looking at Camilla across the table, her eyes bright with affection, he found himself believing that perhaps this time, his happiness might not be sacrificed on the altar of duty.

Later, as they lay tangled in his sheets, Charles propped himself on one elbow to gaze down at her. "I should still speak with my father," he said quietly. "Not that it will change anything, but at the very least, he should understand that I won't always accept these dictates without question."

"Of course you should," Camilla replied, tracing a pattern on his chest with her fingertip. "You're not a child to be ordered about without explanation."

Charles captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. "I love you," he said simply, the words inadequate yet necessary. "More than I thought it possible to love anyone at my age."

Camilla's smile, tender and knowing, was answer enough. In that moment, in the quiet intimacy of his room, the young prince allowed himself to hope—for a future where love and duty might find some delicate harmony, where the woman beside him might walk with him through whatever trials lay ahead.

It was, perhaps, the greatest act of courage he had ever known.

[toasterkoi]

Hey… hi… big fan of ur Maria stuff.. Have you ever considered “I’m going to go back there someday” from the muppets but as Maria.. a isolated individual who longs for something she’s never truly known (a place on earth) and it can so easily be her and shadow if you look into it..

Okay i hope u have a great and awesome day. Keep up the really cool stuff… scurried back into my dark cage

HI!!! I'm so happy you like my Maria stuff!!! Ark siblings are everything to meeee I had my head in my hands thinking about them urgggh.. and HOLEY MOLEY I just went through that song and YOU'RE SO RIGHT I SEE IT! Ohhhh ohhhh especially with the lyrics "Close to my soul, And yet so far away, I'm going to go back there, Someday" really is Maria, longing for something so important to her, yet pretty unfamiliar. Like, maybe she felt somewhat out of place on the ARK? Because earth is where the human experience is considered the fullest, and she's missing out on that in the ARK? But she still is full of hope despite it all, and Shadow is in her same situation to an extent, idk if I'm wording it well :'^)

(Warning⚠️⚠️ I'm about to yap) Also I don't have the words to describe how bittersweet it is that she longs for the earth but her grandfather is doing everything to make that dream possible away from it all. Like only being able to view the earth from space.. but from the ARK view, Maria can almost fit it in the palm of her hand? And it's almost as if only her and Shadow are the only two who share that dream (to experience earth), not sure about the scientists(who may already understand a life on earth before coming to the ARK) which also plays a big part in why they are each other's everything and confide in each other despite everything they went through..Ah so many feelings, so little words for me to explain it!! It's more of a feeling I have with them, ya get me?

And correct me if I am wrong, but I believe I saw your tags in my most recent post and what you🫵🫵said about the flower imagery was EXACTLY THEIR DYNAMIC IN MY HEADDDDD about how like a flower they're beautiful but not forever OMG YOU GET ITTTT it's so temporary but so full of love and everything good, but so bittersweet... And like how pollen spreads, there are little pieces of Maria everywhere Shadow goes that could easily be missed. But not Shadow, how could he? Dawg I'm actually getting emotional, agh... so so doomed, but so full of love, and that's why I really like them! Shadow deserves lots of it considering everything he went through is something no one should ever have to experience (darn you evil scientists who dehumanized my boy...) I tend to draw lots of emotion in my works, but I really value the soft moments too because SHADOW NEEDS LOTS OF THEM!!

Anyways, essay aside (omg) I'm super flattered that you think I have a decent grasp on their characters!! Surprisingly enough, I'm still pretty new to them, so it's awesome that I'm able to portray their complexities in my artwork. Many thanks!! :3

[jmdbjk]

Looking back and forward.

2023 was one for the books.

It is Thursday, Dec. 7 where I am... Friday, Dec. 8 in Korea.

It is the last Friday for Namjoon, Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook to be civilians. This is their last weekend to spend in their homes, at the company to work, running along the river, doing boxing workouts, ordering delivery food, loving on their dogs, doing the things they've been doing the last over ten years. It will be about 100 days until they get time off and can maybe spend some time back at home.

They are tying up loose ends, getting their shit together, preparing to put their lives on hold.

They will return to us in mid-June 2025.

I've watched their last group live several times after the english subs were up. There were a lot of things I saw and I have a lot of mixed emotions about it all.

None of us know these men, we are observers and all we know is what they choose to show us. Unfortunately, they can't control every single thing and people and the media insist on prying and publishing images and things about them that lead to unconfirmed rumors and misinformation.

In the approximately 38 minutes they shared with us, they conveyed that they are getting ready to go, they seemed in positive spirits. They conveyed that they were still working on things for us (except Jungkook).

They said there was A LOT of content coming, so much... they've NEVER ever reassured us like this before.

They asked fans to NOT show up at the induction site out of respect for the other men and their families also entering the military those days. They explicitly said "we are their face and to do them proud."

During this live, I saw Tae being the fantastically funny guy that he is. Tae was alight with excitement. He was anxious to learn from his fellow soldiers. He is a flower waiting to bloom. And seeing his friendship with Jimin maturing, flourishing, same age friends forever was wonderful.

And Namjoon trying to keep up with the crazy shenanigans of the maknae line. Trying to be the voice of reason: "it'll go by quick, we've left a lot of content. Jin will be back soon. We'll all get strong." But there seemed to be a bit of push and pull between he and Jimin... it was interesting. But he was lighthearted, positive, going into with an open mind. Get in, get out, get back to work.

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin... There was a bit of resignation wrapped up in Jimin's positivity. He wouldn't agree that it would go by fast and he didn't want to show himself with the buzz cut. I wanted to reach through the screen and hold his hand and reassure him we'd be here waiting and that we know it's hard to leave everything right now to do this. This man lives to do work on his passion. He's already had to stop once. Now he has to do it again. I think he is going into his MS kicking and screaming because he does not want to leave his youth behind. It is unfinished.

He said he had been sick. He coughed, sneezed and sniffled the entire live. I hope all of these symptoms have disappeared by Monday/Tuesday. I remember his friend Sungwoon had to delay his enlistment date because he tested positive for covid. Please don't let that happen to any of our four.

During this last group live, I saw a Jungkook that I'd never seen before. His vibe was so in tune to Jimin. I know he's been that way since... 2017? 2018? But this was so in your face I was dumbfounded. Jungkook constantly soothing Jiminie. The things they probably talked about while they were in Japan a few weeks ago, man, to be a fly on the wall.

ALL of those lives he did this past year flashed through my head, how unhinged he was the first few months, falling asleep drunk with the candle, calling out stalkers. ALL those times WE said he was missing Jimin because he was begging him to come eat chicken and drink beer, or come do a boxing workout, or better yet, "let me come over and we can shower together..." No... I meant to say: he can go over to Jimin's and wash up and do a live together. Yes, that's what he said. Beggged him. Tried to use Army as leverage. And all we got was Jimin saying he "can handle it" and "you know how my personality is"...

Jungkook watching all that Jimin content... something happened, some decision was made early in the year. Jungkook embraced it and ran with it.

And to know they are going into the service together, it still has me astonished but it all makes sense now. Y'all... they knew they were going to do this wayyyyyy back, not just in August or September when they applied. Jungkook said back in February (before someone lit a fire under his butt in March to start working on music) that he had to take care of his body for the next year. This has been the plan and Jungkook said "no worries, I got this."

2023 was A LOT.

Jimin, Face: the melodies poured out (as they seem to be free-flowing from him at any given moment) but he had to pry those lyrics out of himself. Jimin achieved a #1 BBHot100. And yes, it appears there were not just one, but TWO of those blasted cakes. I didn't know much about PDogg before Jimin's documentary but now I know how much he supported Jimin during this process.

Yoongi, D-Day: I got to see Yoongi in real life. That weekend flew by for me. One of the best weekends ever. As soon as the concert was over I said out loud, I need to see all seven on that stage. His concert tour filled a void for us. We needed that so bad after last year's gut-wrenching news that there would be no tour. And now he's fulfilling his social service. Let him serve quietly with dignity.

Hobi, Military: after tearfully sending him off, what we hear now is he's cracking the whip, though ever-so empathetically (not to be confused with emphatically) over those new enlistees every day. I need to see his boom chakalaka marching drills. Jimin said when he visited Hobi, he wasn't greeted with his ebullient "Jaman!" but more of a lowkey "oh, you're here."

Jungkook, his solo songs and album: Jungkookie chose to go the route of choosing songs that resonated with him. Over the course of years, Kookie has always shared songs with us. We used to love his song recs and his covers of very poignant songs. He KILLED those songs with his vocals. He did what HE wanted to do. And look how well he did with it, also a #1 BBHot100.

Taehyung, Layover: again, Taehyung did what he wanted to do. Not on his album, but Taehyung singing along with Karen Carpenter was never on my bingo card, ever! (a clip on his Instagram stories where he was singing along to "Close to You")

RM, we kept wondering: why isn't he enlisted yet? Someone had to wrangle the maknae. Not that he ever did that this past year. He cut himself over his left eye and had to get stitches... that's gonna leave a scar. Good thing there are 40 bajillion plastic surgeons in Seoul...

Jin is coming. The Head of Ministry of the Military making the decision that no celeb will be doing anything special, instead they will serve just like regular civilians. Sergeant Kim Seokjin will become civilian Jin of BTS on June 12, 2024.

Their constant looking forward to 2025

Skipping over 2024 for the moment...

BTS has to evolve. They must evolve. They are not going to be a 30 something year old K-pop boy band. Some groups might be stuck but BTS will not stay stagnant, they never have. They have to step forward out of that niche and they have been trying to do that incrementally for a while now. They’ve taken us in baby steps already through chapter 2, and Joon said the REAL chapter 2 will begin when they are back from fulfilling their service.

What will they be like? Will they reinvent themselves? Perhaps, but not overnight. I don’t see any sort of extreme makeover for BTS once they come back together. I do see them addressing more mature topics (as we’ve seen), I do hope we see songwriting from all members.

They don't need to abandon their Korean-ness in order to accomplish this. There is nothing stopping them from being a mainstream artist who just happens to be from Korea and who release songs that are in Korean.

I think the accomplishments that Jungkook achieved will continue to pull BTS out of the K-pop realm and into the main stream Pop music realm. They worked that western market. They got pushback, especially western industry institutions: Billboard and the Grammys. And they learned.

Progress is slow but progress nevertheless. They will cross over to general pop one way or the other. They are not going to stay in the kpop box in the future. Straddle both at the same time. They can do it.

For 2024:

I think comeback/HYYH 10th anniversary reboot is already in the works and has been.

I think PDogg will be working on the songs over the next year. I think they have recorded all this year.

I think when Jin and Hobi get back, they might record their parts. I also am pretty sure we'll see a full-bodied solo effort from Jin and more from Hobi. I think we'll get a ramp up to his discharge with some Hope on the Street content that he recorded before he enlisted.

I think we'll slowly see wheels start turning to get the machine going again much sooner than we imagined.

I think what we see next year will all be primed to pre-promote and whip up the excitement for 2025.

I just feel strongly that Bang PD would NOT have mentioned that specific thing and we would not be hearing the members constantly saying 2025. And especially saying 2025 is not that far in the future and that they are looking forward to the incredible synergy the group will have when they get back together. They've got a lot of work done already. They know already.

They said there is A LOT coming to us.

In about two weeks BTS: Beyond the Star docu-series will begin.

We know we're getting some sort of Jimin and Jungkook traveling content, whether a series or not...I'm leaning toward it being a multi-episode series. Camping? Drinking? Breweries? Beaches? Boating or sailing or both but separate? Fishing? Snow sports? They said it was fun.

We will see activity around all the solo album anniversaries. We still have an RM documentary, a Taehyung documentary and a Jungkook documentary. I bet the latter two will come out towards the end of 2024.

We might have Tae acting, we know he'll be in an IU MV soon.

About aging bangtan ...

Remember when we said this is Bangtan in 20 years?

I joke about it but seriously they are aware that things will be different as they evolve and age as people and as artists.

There are new groups debuting all the time and BTS is aging out of a certain demographic (as they should).

Yoongi saying "cruise with BTS" would be the best case scenario for their future.

I would love to be on that cruise if it ever happens.

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe and late night wake ups...

The room was pitch black, except for the faint glow of the street lights outside Tannyhill, which gently seeped into the room through the blinds. Y/n stirred first, groaning softly as the sound of the baby’s cries filtered through the monitor into the silence of their bedroom.

“She’s up” 

Y/n mumbled, burying her face into her pillow. Motherhood had been the most beautiful thing she’d ever experienced, every moment with their baby, every tiny coo, soft sigh, or fleeting smile, felt like magic, a love so profound it stole her breath. It filled her with a joy so overwhelming, that sometimes she found herself crying tears of gratitude just holding her. But as much as her heart was full, her body was weary. The late nights, the constant feeds, the endless cycle of changing, soothing, and rocking had started to wear her down in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She was more tired than she’d ever been in her life. Y/n let out a long sigh, pressing her cheek against the cool silk fabric of the pillow, she wanted to move- knew she had to- but the weight of tiredness anchored her to the mattress. Rafe shifted beside her, the bed creaking under his weight. 

“I’ve got it” 

He said, his voice thick with sleep. He blinked a few times, scrubbing a hand down his face, letting out a low groan, before rolling out of bed. Y/n murmured, already half-asleep again.

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, go back to sleep.”

Rafe padded down the hall, his steps heavy with exhaustion. He stepped into the nursery, the soft glow of the nightlight casting a comforting warmth over the room. The baby’s whimpers echoed through the stillness, her little body squirming restlessly in her crib. Rafe moved quickly, used to the familiar route to the kitchen and back to the nursery. He set the bottle, which he’d just prepared, down on the changing table and gently reached for her, her cries growing louder as he picked her up into his arms. 

“Hey baby girl,” he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. 

“What’s the matter, hmm?”

She quieted a little at the warmth of her father's embrace but still whined slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. Rafe smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of her head, 

“Let’s get you fed.” 

He murmured, cradling her against his bare chest as he walked over to the changing table. He moved to offer her the bottle, but as he tilted it toward her lips, she turned her head away stubbornly, a small whimper escaping her. Rafe blinked in surprise, holding the bottle closer and gently coaxing her to take it. 

“Come on, sweet girl,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly over her cheek, “it’ll make you feel better.” She turned her head again, the tiny furrow in her brow deepening as she whimpered louder. Rafe’s shoulders sagged slightly at her refusal. 

“Stubborn, just like your mommy huh?” 

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, though the faintest feeling of worry lingered in his chest as she let out another whine. He tried again, holding the bottle gently in her direction, but she pushed away again, her tiny hands flailing in frustration as her whines grew louder. Rafe shushed the baby, his voice calming, but there was a hint of concern underneath. He shifted her carefully in his arms, making sure she was comfortable before bringing the bottle closer once more. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

This time, she slowly turned her head, her tiny mouth opening slightly, her little lips grazing the bottle’s nipple. And just when it seemed like she might latch on, she pulled back again, her eyes wide and her face scrunching in discomfort. Rafe sighed, a soft laugh escaping him despite the situation. 

“You’re going to make me work for it, huh?” he muttered under his breath. 

Y/n slowly stirred awake at the soft sound of their baby’s whimpers getting louder. Her eyes fluttered open just enough to see Rafe now standing by their bed, his brow furrowed as he held the bottle, trying yet again to get their daughter to take it. She turned her head away from it, and Rafe sighed softly, clearly at a loss, gently rocking her in his arms. With a tired movements, Rafe placed the bottle on the nightstand; his eyes flicking to Y/n, who was laying peacefully under the covers. She'd shifted slightly, sensing the change in the air. He hated to wake her, but he knew she’d be the one who could calm her down.

“Y/n,” he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. “She won’t take the bottle”

Y/n mumbled something incoherent but shifted, her eyes barely opening as she adjusted herself, pushing herself up the bed, back against the headboard. With a soft groan, she pulled the strap of her vest down, goosebumps rising on her now exposed skin, and moved their baby into position, lining her up to her breast. Instantly, the baby latched onto her, and Y/n hummed softly, her eyes half-closed as she rested her head against the headboard. Rafe stayed close, his hand gently brushing her thigh as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, the tenderness in his touch speaking more than words could.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, his gaze soft with concern.

“Mmm,” Y/n hummed, barely lifting her head, “tired.” 

She murmured, her eyelids fluttering closed again, exhaustion seeping into her voice. Rafe smiled faintly, his heart swelling as he watched her. 

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

She tilted her head slightly, her voice barely audible. “Why are you sorry?”

Rafe chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You’re never disturbing me” 

Y/n smiled faintly, her hand gently resting on their baby’s back, her voice full of warmth. Settling down beside her on the bed, Rafe propped himself on one elbow, his eyes fixed on their daughter. She was feeding peacefully now, her tiny hand resting against Y/n’s chest, her eyelids fluttering closed in contentment. The room was quiet except for the faint sounds of suckling, Y/n's soft breaths and the rhythmic hum of the monitor on the bedside table. Rafe reached out cautiously, brushing the back of his finger against their baby’s cheek. His eyes then flickered up and watched Y/n, eyes glistening in the dim light. He could see how tired she was- the faint lines under her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly- but even now, she glowed with an effortless grace that took his breath away.

“Hey,” he said quietly sitting up, drawing her attention back to him. She turned her head slightly, her eyes heavy with sleep but full of love.

“Hmm?” she hummed. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as he murmured, 

“I’ll take her after, yeah? You need rest.”

Y/n’s lips quirked up in a soft smile, and she nodded faintly, her head resting against his shoulder. Letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment. Rafe watched her, his gaze flicking down to the baby, who was still latched on, her tiny body snug in Y/n’s arms. 

“What if she spits up?” 

Y/n asked softly, not even opening her eyes, her voice tinged with a playful worry. Rafe grinned, shaking his head. 

“I think I can handle a little spit, baby. She’s got nothing on your pregnancy nausea.” 

He teased, leaning his cheek against her hair. Y/n opened one eye, giving him a sleepy, knowing look. 

“You say that now, but you’ve never taken a proper hit.” She murmured with a small smirk. “C’mon,” Rafe replied, tilting his head back dramatically. 

“She’s like nine pounds. What’s the worst she can do?”

As if on cue, their baby let out the tiniest hiccup, followed by a soft gurgle. Both Y/n and Rafe froze for a moment, staring at her, before a wet, unmistakable sound followed- a small spit-up dribbling down her chin. Y/n bit back a laugh, her shoulders shaking as she glanced up at Rafe, 

“You were saying?” 

She quipped, her voice thick with amusement. Rafe sighed, shaking his head with a wry smile as he grabbed the burp cloth already draped over his shoulder. 

“Alright... guess I earned that one.” 

He dabbed gently at their daughter’s chin, his expression softening as he looked down at her, “still the cutest, though.”

Y/n chuckled softly, leaning her head back against his shoulder again. “Welcome to parenthood,” she murmured, her voice laced with affection. Rafe grinned, placing one more kiss on the top of his daughter's head, her soft hair brushing against his lips as he said quietly.

 “Wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Dad!Rafe has my heart

[hanniebaeee]

Pieces of Us

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: Exes to lovers, second chance love, fluff, smut

Summary: Even a year after your divorce, you can't get over Chris. You keep seeing him all the time because you're co parenting your daughter, and you see that he's still the same man you fell in love with. And you both haven't moved on at all.

It’s late. Your apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, as you sit on the sofa, nursing a glass of wine when you hear the doorbell.

You find Chris on your doorstep, punctual as usual, holding your toddler, Mia, against his chest, her small body curled into him like she’s still a newborn.

Your heart does a funny little lurch. It must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“She fell asleep in the car,” he whispers, stepping inside. He is still dressed in his formals, and your traitorous eyes drink him in.

“Rough day?” he asks softly, noting the wine and the way your shoulders sag.

“Something like that,” you mutter, gesturing to Mia’s room. “You can put her to bed.”

Chris nods, carrying her toward her bedroom. He emerges moments later, quietly shutting her door behind him. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and a little too comforting.

“What happened?” he asks, folding his arms against his chest.

“It’s nothing,” you say, but Chris raises an eyebrow.

“Bullshit,” he counters smoothly, sitting next to you on the sofa. “You know you can't lie to me.”

You roll your eyes but relent and say, “Work politics. Same old garbage.”

Chris winces, before he leans forward and says, “You’re too good for them, you know that, right?”

Those are simple words, but they hit harder than they should. You glance at him, something raw flickering in your chest.

“Oh please,” you murmur, looking away.

“What?” He asks. “It’s true.”

You don’t answer, reaching instead for the bottle of wine. Chris doesn’t stop you as you pour a second glass.

“Here, celebrate my failures with me,” you tease, trying to ease your own heart. “I don't feel like wallowing in self pity alone tonight.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but takes the glass.

“You're so dramatic,”

“And yet, you were married to me for five years,” you quip, with a grin.

The wine loosen you both faster than it should. Soon, you’re reminiscing about Mia’s first words, and the road trip to Busan where the car broke down, and you ended up making out in the car till Minho came to rescue you both.

“I miss this,” you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Talking...and everything,”

You and Chris had been good friends before you both fell in love. It had been the most beautiful years of your life before things started falling apart.

He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s subtle, but it sets your heart racing. Like always. Even a year after your divorce, you clearly haven't moved on.

“I miss it too,” he finally says, his voice low. “All the time.”

“Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” you mumble.

He leans in, closer than he’s been in a more than year, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“You think I don’t mean it? You think I ever stopped wanting you?”

Your breath catches as he closes the distance between you. His lips hover inches from yours as he says, “I never stopped…”

It’s reckless, stupid, maybe even a mistake - but you don’t care. You let him close the gap, his lips crashing into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills over.

The kiss is messy and heated - all the pent-up frustration and longing coming crashing down. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt against him, your arms circling his neck. His lips move against yours desperately, like he is afraid to let go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and a little lost, Chris brushes a thumb over your cheek.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper.

“No. But it’s a start.”

It’s intoxicating - the feel of him, the heat radiating off his body. You both pull each other close again, his lips moving down your neck, leaving soft kisses.

But somewhere in between, reality raises its nagging head and you falter.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back slightly.

Chris freezes, his breathing ragged, as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“This is… reckless,” you whisper, though your heart won't allow you to let go of him.

He exhales sharply, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. “Y/N, I -”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice trembling. “I don't want us to mess up again.”

He gives you a look and you think he might argue. But then he sighs. He looks exhausted and a little heart broken. But he stands up and says, “You’re right. We can’t… not like this.”

“You have to go.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

He stares at you for a long moment, then he nods.

“Right. I’ll… I’ll call tomorrow to check on Mia.” he says, clearing his throat.

You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. Because this feels even harder than the first time.

“Goodnight, Chris.” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice rough.

As soon as he’s gone, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You sink onto the couch, your face in your hands, and you cry until your throat is raw. You missed him. And you still hate yourself for letting this happen.

It starts with a look. It always does.

The next time Chris comes by, it’s late again, Mia’s tiny backpack slung over his shoulder, and her hand clutching his tightly as they walk to your door. You try to play it cool, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed and a polite smile fixed on your face.

But then he looks at you and the air shifts.

“Hi,” he says, his voice lower than it needs to be, his gaze lingering on your mouth.

“Hi,” your voice shakes but it's soft.

Mia is already running into her room, way too excited to get to her new playset, and Chris watches her for a moment, before his gaze settles on you.

And then there are no words exchanged as his hands grab you towards him and he's pushing you against the kitchen counter, kissing you.

You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand slips down your back, cupping your butt before pulling you flush against himself.

“Is this going to keep happening?” you ask breathlessly, as he kisses down your neck. Past your collarbone. Down your chest. His face is buried in your breasts, before he kisses them over your t-shirt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him, and you gasp as he bites your nipple over the fabric and a dull pleasure courses through your body.

“What?” he murmurs, his lips back on yours again.

“This,” you say between kisses.

He kisses you again, rougher than before and says,

“Tell me to stop,” he says, and his hands cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes.

You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you pull him closer, your bodies so familiar with each other.

It becomes a pattern after that. Anytime he comes over - whether he’s dropping off Mia or picking her up - it happens.

Sometimes it’s rushed and frantic, like the time he cornered you in the kitchen, your lips colliding as the coffee maker sputtered in the background. And other times, it’s slow and sweet. Especially when he knows you're a bit down or you're having a bad day.

You don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend this is just an outlet, a way to scratch the itch that never seems to fade.

You tell yourself this is only because he's the only man you've been with for so damn long. You two had married so young. You hate thinking about it.

So you don't. But deep down, you know it’s more than just sex. But you’re not ready to acknowledge it. Neither is he.

Friday evenings with Minho are sacred. He's your best friend, your big brother, your pillar of support. The one person who held you up during your separation from Chris. The only person who knows that you still loved him with everything in you.

Minho brings take out, you both talk, watch a movie, sometimes two. And fall asleep on each other because obviously, you both were the laziest besties in the world.

You've been trying to tell Chris to leave, but he is busy pounding into you. You stand with your hands grips the kitchen counter as he thrust into you from the back, his hands holding onto your hips tightly.

“He's gonna be here any minute!” You hiss, and Chris moves faster, and more rough. You try not to moan as waves of pleasure hit you, and you clench so hard around him, he's shuddering with his release.

“Fuck-” He groans, pressing his face against the back of your neck before slowly pulling out of you.

You both clean up and look somewhat presentable when the doorbell rings. You sigh because Minho will see right through you.

And he won't let you live this down. Ever.

You glance at Chris before opening the door. And Minho steps in already ranting about his day and he stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Chris.

Well that's a first - Minho being at a loss of words.

You freeze, your cheeks burning, while Chris awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Minho,” Chris says, giving him a quick nod.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks between the two of you, his lips twitching in amusement, before slowly smirking.

“Hey, Chris.” Then, he strolls further inside saying, “Don’t mind me. I'm just here for my niece.”

He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Chris standing there like a couple of teenagers caught doing something bad.

“I should, uh, get going,” he says, though he doesn’t move.

“Right, yeah,” you stammer, smoothing your hands over your skirt nervously.

“See you on Sunday,” he says, opening the door.

“See you,” you manage, your heart racing again, and Chris flashes you a smile before leaving.

The moment the door shuts, Minho reappears, a wicked grin plastered across his face.

“Soooo…”

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re clearly fucking Chris freaking Bang and you want me to not start?”

“Minho,” you warn, making a beeline for the living room, and he follows you with that menacing grin still in place.

“So, when exactly did this ‘we’re just co-parents’ arrangement turn into ‘we’re fuck buddies again’?”

“It’s not like that!” you protest, though your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Uh-huh.” He says, starting to plate up the food. “You two were totally not flushed and guilty. Try again.”

You bury your face in a throw pillow.

“Linooooo stopppp!! It’s complicated.” you whine.

“It always is with you two,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like Ross and Rachel, except somehow more frustrating.”

You peek out from behind the pillow, glaring at him.

“We’re not -”

“Don’t even think about saying you’re not into him,” Minho interrupts, pointing his chopsticks at you. “I know you, Y/N.”

You open your mouth to argue but immediately close it, because he's stating the obvious and there is no real use of denying it.

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to jump your ex-husband, at least warn me so I can avoid walking into it.” Minho smirks, leaning back smugly.

You groan, throwing the pillow at him. He dodges it easily, laughing as you sink further into the couch, hands covering your face.

“Seriously, though,” he says after a moment, his tone softening. “Are you okay? I mean, this whole Chris thing… are you sure about this?”

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I love him, Minho, and I swear I tried to move on…but, everytime I look at him…he's the same person I fell in love with. He's not a monster. He's a great father. He's a good friend. And.. and I don't even know why…” Your voice cracks a bit as you struggle with your thoughts. “Then we talked, and it’s like… like nothing’s changed. But everything has changed, and it’s so… messy.”

“Messy’s okay. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Whether that’s with Chris or someone else.” he says softly. “If you're sure, then go for it.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be honest with Chris. To let go of the pride and the fear and just… try again. Because God, you really want to.

Sunday arrives, and Mia is up early, ready for her day with her daddy. She even picks out her favorite toy to take along with her and insists on wearing the sparkly dress she knows Chris loves.

When Chris texts, you think it's to let you know that he's on his way. But it wasn't.

Chris: Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule Mia’s time for today?

You blink at it for a moment, heart sinking slightly. You don’t question it - life happens, after all. But Mia doesn’t take it as well.

“Daddy’s not coming?” she asks, her lower lip trembling and her little shoulders slump in disappointment.

You kneel down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“No, sweetheart. He’s just busy today, but we’ll see him soon. How about we have a girls' day instead?”

She looks up at you with big tear filled eyes.

“Girls' day? With Mommy?” she asks, and you nod, pulling her into a tight hug.

“That’s right. Just you and me. Let’s make it special.” You say, kissing her cheek and getting on with it.

You spend the afternoon indulging in ice cream, shopping for new art supplies, and of course, toys. You also take her to an indoor play area that she loves, and by the time you get home, Mia is falling asleep in your arms.

You carry her to her room, tuck her into bed, and she’s out within minutes. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you step out of her room.

The apartment falls into a quiet, peaceful lull. You wash up quickly and sit in front of the TV, hoping to watch an episode of that show you've been trying to watch for a while now. It's not exactly easy with a toddler around.

But around fifteen minutes into the show, you hear the sound of the doorbell. You open the door, and there stands Chris, holding a small box in his hand.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, as he meets your gaze. “I'm sorry about today. I brought her favorite cupcakes.”

Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him.

“That’s sweet of you.” you say, “But she's already asleep.”

“Oh…I was hoping to see her before....ah,” Chris says with a little sigh.

You give him a small, sympathetic shrug.

“It's okay, she can eat them tomorrow,” You say with a smile and step aside to let him in.

He nods, stepping inside and setting the box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. There’s disappointment in his eyes and it stirs something deep inside you.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he says, and it feels like he’s apologizing for more than just missing his day with Mia.

“It’s really okay. Mia missed you, but we still had a good day. She was really happy.” you tell him.

Chris’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long before he says,“I feel like I keep letting you both down.”

“Chris, please don't say that,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “We know you’re doing your best. I know you’re trying.”

He nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced.

“So,” you say, trying to keep it light, “I’m about to have dinner… want to join me?”

It’s an innocent enough invitation. Casual. Polite. But the way he looks at you gives you an idea of what's about to happen next.

Chris takes a step forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and then his lips are on yours. The kiss deepens almost instantly and he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together.

You stifle a sob, and Chris is quickly pulling back to look at you, tipping your chin up to see you better.

“Baby, please don't-”

“I love you-”

There is a moment of silence - Chris's eyes soften as he watches the tears fall. You can't believe you just said that. But this whole thing was getting more and more difficult to manage. The constant need to be close to him. Waiting for the days he spent with Mia, just so you could see him.

And then he's kissing you again, mumbling a hundred ‘I love yous’ you against your lips, and the next thing you know, he's scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards your bedroom.

He closes the door gently (so that it doesn't wake Mia), and places you on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor.

“Baby, I never stopped loving you. And there isn't a day where I don't regret letting you walk out of my life… we could've handled things better…and everytime I came here for Mia, I wished you would just ask me to stay. I selfishly wished that you wouldn't move on.” he says, his voice soft and his touch even softer as he placed his hands on your knees.

“I don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll not let you down. I'll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that you're my everything… and I will be here for you, always.”

You nod and tears falling more rapidly now, and throw your arms around Chris's neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing against your neck as he holds you close.

“I love you, baby I'm sorry-” You cry, your arms tightening around him. “I didn't know what to do…the baby, the job, there was so much noise, and I wasn't well…I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering too-” you hiccup through your tears.

You feel his hand moving up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“I know baby, I'm not mad. We were both suffering. We were both hurt. But we're here now.” Chris whispers.

“I love you, I want you back. Please don't leave me again-”

Chris kisses you again, stealing your breath away.

“No more crying over me ok?” He says with a soft smile. “I'm not going anywhere…I love you and Mia so much, I am going to be here-”

More kisses follow and you move back into the bed, and he follows, both of you pulling at each other's clothes.

He trails his lips down your neck, and it feels like the world outside your bedroom might as well not exist. His hands glide over your skin, gentle, but just as desperate.

You can feel the way he trembles against you, the way his breath catches as your hands move down his chest. And then when he slips inside, as gentle as ever, you can't help but cry, because as beautiful as the moment feels, you realize just how miserable you have been without him.

Chris moves slowly at first, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds. He peppers so many kisses on your lips and neck, like he can't kiss you enough.

His fingers work on your clit as he moves, and soon your body shudders as your orgasm ripples through you. You moan softly, and it obviously has him crashing down too.

You don't let go, because truth be told, you're afraid he's going to leave. And tonight? You don't want him to. Actually, you don't want to see him walk out that door ever again.

And Chris isn't planning to, because he holds you just as tight, promising softly that he'll be here when you wake up in the morning. And you let your eyes fall shut, trusting him.

You both decide to take it slow, for Mia's sake.

Chris doesn’t officially move in, yet, but his presence is…undeniable. There are more of his things around the house, and more than anything else, it's the way Mia’s laughter grows louder every time he walks through the door. You’ve caught yourself smiling more too - wide, genuine smiles you hadn’t worn in ages.

You love watching him help Mia with her bedtime routine, fixing squeaky hinges around the house you’ve ignored for months, and finding every excuse to stay a bit longer.

And Minho? Well, he’s having the time of his life.

---

One Friday evening, you’re all gathered in the living room. Chris is helping Mia build a tower with her blocks while you sip wine and half-listen to Minho’s dramatic story about his latest “date gone wrong.”

“And then she said she didn’t like cats. Cats, Y/N. Can you imagine the nerve?” Minho says, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks as he digs into the takeout he insisted on bringing.

“Oh my God” you say, laughing as Chris adds, “Sounds horrible, but maybe try not to bring home every stray you find?”

“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to steal my best friend away. Again.” Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at Chris.

“Jealous, Minho?” Chris quips, and Minho scoffs, leaning back dramatically.

“Of you? Please.” Minho says. “But whatever this setup is, it's sure looks promising.”

You freeze mid-sip of your wine, while Chris raises an eyebrow.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“I’m just saying, for exes, you two sure look cozy.” Minho grins, and your cheeks burn, as you try not to look at Chris.

“Minho…” you warn.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m rooting for you,” Minho says, winking before turning back to Mia. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt Mia. Because you two are idiots. And we're done dealing with you. Sorry, not sorry.”

Mia giggles at the mention of her name before getting back to her game.

---

Later that night, after Minho has left (eyeing you mischievously because Chris was still there) and Mia is asleep, you and Chris are clearing up the kitchen.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “Minho isn’t wrong.”

“About what?” You ask, glancing at him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“About us. About this.” Chris says, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.

Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at him, watching him push off the counter and walk towards you.

The towel slips from your hands as his fingers brush against your cheek, and his lips land on yours.

It’s slow at first, warm and tender, but it doesn’t take long for it to snap and you're both pulling each other closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body responding to his touch like it always has.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I love you too,” you admit, and he smiles, his dimples making an appearance and your heart races as you reach up to run your fingers over it.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. And at that moment, this doesn't really feel like a second chance.

It’s the beginning of everything you’ve ever wanted.

The smell of pancakes fills the house as sunlight filters through the kitchen windows. Chris stands at the stove, a spatula in one hand, flipping golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. He’s wearing his usual gray shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair is messy, a sign that he’s only been up for about twenty minutes, and he’s humming softly to himself as he works.

Mia sits at the table, still in her pajamas, happily coloring into a giant coloring book. This is such a dream. You lean against the counter, sipping your coffee, watching Chris with a faint smile that you haven’t been able to shake since he stayed over last night.

For the first time… in a very long time.

And then, the doorbell rings. You frown, setting down your coffee.

“Expecting someone?” He asks and you shake your head, walking to the door and opening it to find your mum standing there, a purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face.

“Mum?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Surprise, sweetheart!” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to see my girls, and I brought muffins!”

She holds up a bakery bag, grinning, then stops dead in her tracks.

Her gaze falls on Chris, who’s just turned around from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” your mom says.

There's silence for a second before Mia screeches, “Grandmaaaaaaaa!!!”

Your mum picks Mia up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before asking if she could play in her room for sometime. Mia pouts, but runs off with a muffin.

Her eyes narrow slightly, taking in how casual Chris looks, his messy hair, and the way he just seems to be part of the scene.

“Good morning, mum,” Chris says smoothly, recovering faster than you could've thought.

He smiles, dimples flashing, as he asks, “Pancakes?”

Your mum raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. She folds her arms, looking at you.

“Y/N… what’s going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you start, suddenly feeling like a child again.

“Mhm.” She gives you a look that says she doesn’t believe you for a second. “You’re telling me it’s normal for your ex-husband to be in your kitchen, making pancakes, looking like he just rolled out of bed?”

“Technically, I did just roll out of bed,” Chris says, unable to resist.

You shoot him a glare, but he has already turned back to the stove, hiding a smirk.

“Y/N?” Your mom’s eyes narrow further.

“It’s… kind of...,” you say finally, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Yes?” she prompts, looking from you to Chris and then back at you. You think she's going to give you a nice big lecture about responsibility. But she lets out a sigh, her posture softening.

“You know,” she says, her tone gentler now, “I always thought the two of you were good for each other. When you got divorced, I was shocked and devastated - for you, for Mia.” She pauses, her eyes locking with yours. “But if you’re giving this another try… I just want to make sure you’re happy, sweetheart. That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“I know I messed up before. I know I hurt your daughter. But I love her. I always have, and I’m doing everything I can to show her - and Mia - that I’m here to stay. I realize that I need them more than they need me…so yeah,”

Your mum’s gaze softens as she studies him, and then she looks at you.

“And you, Y/N? Are you happy?”

You glance at Chris, who’s watching you with that steady loving gaze that’s always made you feel safe and sure, and you nod.

“Yeah, Mum. I am.”

Your mom smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to stick around for breakfast. Those pancakes smell amazing.”

Chris grins and gets back to work, and your mum nods, making her way in to properly greet her granddaughter again.

Just as she disappears, Chris slides up beside you, his hand brushing yours as you start setting the table for breakfast.

“That went better than expected,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“You’ve always been her favorite, you know.” You glance at him, your lips twitching into a smile.

He smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Good to know I still am.” He pecks your lips quickly before getting back to work.

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your mum comes back with Mia in her arms. And you all sit around the table and enjoy breakfast.

It’s chaotic and imperfect, but it's home. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. All the scattered pieces of you finally fit.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[dionysianivy]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚

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What is Litha?

Litha is a solar festival celebrated between June 20th and 22nd in the Northern Hemisphere, and around December 20th to 22nd in the Southern Hemisphere. It marks the summer solstice, the longest day of the year and the moment when the sun reaches its peak power. Traditionally, Litha honors the height of light, the fullness of life, and the abundance offered by the Earth in bloom. It is the midpoint of the Wheel of the Year, when nature is at its most alive: fields are green, flowers are open, fruit begins to ripen, and warmth fills every corner. Litha celebrates vitality, strength, joy, and the energy of the sun at its zenith. Fires are lit in its honor, herbs are gathered, and the power of manifestation is strong. Yet, within this brightness lies a quiet turning point, from this day forward, the light will begin to wane. Litha carries both celebration and awareness: the joy of what has flourished, and that all things are cyclical, Now it’s a great time to reflect on personal radiance, express gratitude and to honor the sun and all solar deities.

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History of Litha

The name Litha comes from Anglo-Saxon sources and was recorded by Bede as the name of the months around midsummer. However, the solstice has been celebrated across many cultures for thousands of years. In Celtic lands, midsummer was a sacred time when druids lit bonfires on hilltops to honour the sun and support the fertility of the land. Sacred herbs were gathered at dawn, believed to be especially powerful when infused with the longest light of the year. In ancient Rome, this period was dedicated to Juno, goddess of marriage and women, and to Vesta, the goddess of the hearth fire. Her temple was opened to women, and offerings of grain were made to ensure household blessings. In ancient Greece, midsummer was connected to Hera, Aphrodite, and it was also believed that Prometheus stole the fire from the chariot of the sun and gifted it to humanity at this time. In ancient China, the summer solstice was linked to yin, feminine, earthly energy, in balance with the winter solstice, which represented yang. ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Litha and the Faerie Folk

Midsummer is also a time when the faerie realm is believed to be especially active. Just like Beltane, Litha is considered a liminal time, when the veil between worlds grows thin and the unseen becomes just a little more visible. In Celtic folklore, the fae wander freely during the solstice, drawn to beauty, music, laughter, and offerings left in nature. People once left milk, honey, or bread under sacred trees, near springs, or in gardens to honour them and ask for protection or blessings. Wildflowers and oak groves are especially associated with faerie energy at this time, and some believe that in the shimmer of heat on the solstice horizon, you can sense the opening of other realms: Avalon, Tir na nÓg, the Land of Youth. It’s believed that faeries hold their grand celebrations within mystical faerie rings. These circles, often found in grassy meadows or forest clearings, are thought to mark the dancing spots of faeries. To honor these elemental spirits, offerings of honey, butter, or creamy milk are left in the hopes of gaining faerie favor. (source)

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Midsummer Herb Ritual

Litha is also traditionally a time for harvesting herbs used in potions, elixirs, and spells, a moment long held sacred in magical practice. Since ancient times, it has been believed that when the sun is at its peak and the earth is overflowing with life, the bond between plants and those who work with them grows especially strong. Witches, healers, druids, and others in tune with the land’s rhythms would venture out to gather herbs with deep care, following the natural flow of the day. Some plants were picked at dawn, others at noon, some at sunset, and a few in the gentle quiet of late afternoon. They used small blades, sometimes curved or shaped like serpents, and approached the task slowly, with reverence. Before cutting, they would sit with the plant in stillness, offering a soft prayer or moment of presence. Only a small amount was taken, never more than needed, always leaving enough so the plant could continue to grow and thrive. Gratitude was at the heart of the act, gratitude for the plant, for the living earth, and for the unseen spirits watching over the wild. The herbs gathered during Litha were believed to be especially potent. Little was required. Just sunlight, clear intention, and a respectful hand. Many flowers are linked to this time of year, but the most well-known is St. John’s Wort, valued for its protective and healing properties. Roses, in every color, are also deeply connected to Litha, representing love, passion, and the fullness of life under the midsummer sun.

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The Rise of the Holly King

The myth of the Oak King and the Holly King is often told to explain the shifting balance of light and dark throughout the year. The Oak King rules from the winter solstice to the summer solstice, he is the spirit of the waxing year, of expanding daylight, growth, and vitality. He represents the rising power of the sun and the energy that brings life back to the land. But at Litha, when the light reaches its peak, his brother, the Holly King, returns. The Holly King rules from the summer solstice to Yule, guiding the year into the waning half. He is the spirit of stillness, reflection, and retreat. Their meeting is not a violent battle, but a symbolic shift, one steps back so the other may rise. This story reminds us that light and dark are both sacred, and that every high point contains the seed of return. Just like the sun, we too rise, peak, rest, and begin again.

Litha and Goddess Áine

Áine is a Celtic goddess very closely associated with Litha. is the Celtic Goddess of Midsummer and Queen of the Faeries, deeply tied to both the light of the sun and the mystery of the fae. As a solar deity, she is honored during Midsummer celebrations, being associated with summer, love, protection, fertility, wealth, and sovereignty. On the eve of the 23rd, just after the solstice, people used to gather on Cnoc Áine, where she was said to dwell. They would light bunches of straw and hay tied to poles. These poles were then carried in procession to the top of the hill. Later, people would run with the flames through their fields and between the cattle to bring good luck for the rest of the year. Áine is also connected to horses, animals considered sacred and symbolic of midsummer in Irish tradition. It was said that she could take the form of a red mare named Lair Derg and ride through the fields during the solstice, blessing the land with fertility and magic. Offerings to Áine might include flowers, honey mead, and horseshoes.

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Magic Correspondences

Planets: Sun

Season: Summer

Element: Earth, Fire

Time Of The Day: Noon (when the Sun is at its highest)

Tarot Cards: The Sun, The Empress, The Wheel Of Fortune, 9 Of Cups, The Emperor, The Strength

Colors: Yellow, Orange, Green, Blue, Gold, Red

Herbs: Fennel, Ivy, Yarrow, Verbena, Mugwort, Sage, Mint, Basil, Clove, Thyme

Fruits: Cherry, Raspberry, Peach, Strawberry, Berries, Pineapple, Orange, Apricot, Nectarines

Vegetables: Spinach, Lettuce, Tomatoes, Carrots

Crystals: Jade, Carnelian, Peridot, Citrine, Tiger’s Eye, Sunstone

Runes: Kenaz, Fehu, Ehwaz, Sowilo

Trees: Oak, Birch, Elder, Linden

Goddesses: Brigid, Hel, Amaterasu, Hestia, Juno, Hera, Aphrodite, Áine, Freyja, Bastet, Hathor, Sunna, Flora, Vesta

Gods: Apollo, Helios, Lugh, Baldur, Ra, Zeus, Horus, Dionysus, Aten, Loki, Jupiter, Thor, Cernunnos

Dragons: Fafnir

Flowers: Daisy, St. John’s Wort, Rose, Lavender, Sunflower, Poppy, Calendula, Honeysuckle, Foxglove, Chamomile, Marigold, Jasmine, Peony

Animals: Horse, Bee, Butterfly, Lion, Wren, Moth, Bull, Cow, Hawk, Lizard, Donkey, Hawks, Eagles, Swans

Magical Powers: Good Energy, Solar Magick, Confidence, Healing, Love, Power, Warmth, Success, Fire Magick, Fertility

Symbols: Birch, Sun, Horseshoe, Flower, Butterfly, Summer Birds, Sea Shells, Sun Wheel, Bonfire, St. John’s Wort, Faerie Rings, Roses, Oak, Spiral

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Activities to Do:

☀️ Read A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare

☀️ Take a bath with rose petals or rose essential oil

☀️ Swim on this day to honor both the water and fire elements

☀️ Drink St. John's Wort tea (⚠️Just a quick warning: consuming St. John's Wort while on certain medications, like antidepressants or some painkillers, can trigger serotonin syndrome, which is a serious and painful condition. So make sure to check first or skip it if you're unsure.)

☀️ Craft faerie houses in your garden

☀️ Meditate while lying in the grass, letting the sun touch your skin

☀️ Bake a honey cake for the sabbat

☀️ Go camping to connect with nature

☀️ Craft a homemade sundial

☀️ Leave offerings for the faerie folk

☀️ Create a Litha altar

☀️ Make a flower wreath or crown

☀️ Honor solar deities

☀️ Dance around a Birch tree

☀️ Wear bright colors (yellow, orange, green, blue) to reflect solar energy

☀️ Make lavender lemonade

☀️ Spend time in the sun (don’t forget sunscreen!)

☀️ Do a tarot reading outdoors

☀️ Read poetry in nature

☀️ Host a garden party or BBQ

☀️ Make a Litha magick jar

☀️ Watch the sunset or sunrise from a peaceful place

☀️ Water your garden with intention

☀️ Leave water bowls outside for animals

☀️ Dance around a bonfire at dusk

☀️ Eat fresh fruits in celebration of the season

☀️ Meditate outdoors and ground yourself in the sun’s energy

☀️ Bake sun-shaped cake or bread

☀️ Make a fruit and veggie salad

☀️ Cleanse your crystals in the sunlight

☀️ Leave seeds out for the birds

☀️ Plant trees or herbs in your garden

☀️ Make sun tea by infusing herbs in a jar under the sun

☀️ Hang a horseshoe on your door for luck and protection

☀️ Create a sun catcher

☀️ Spend time outside with your pets

☀️ Make sun water

☀️ Eat honey

☀️ Host a mini gather with loved ones

☀️ Learn about sea witchcraft

☀️ Do your makeup, nails, or outfit in festive Litha colors

☀️ Go collect seashells if you live near a beach

☀️ Draw the sun wheel symbol and place it on your altar

☀️ Bake sun shaped cookies

☀️ Collect flowers and place them on your altar

☀️ Read about solar deities and their myths

☀️ Make lemonade with herbs or edible flowers

☀️ Reconnect with your inner child: play, dance, read, do activities you loved as a kid

☀️ Make a daisy chain

☀️ Set intentions at sunset for the rest of the year (until Yule)

☀️ Craft a sun wheel

☀️ Honor the sun through rituals

☀️ Harvest herbs from your garden

☀️ Start a herbarium

☀️ Research about draconic magick, dragons resonate with Litha’s fire energy

☀️ Have a picnic at noon to soak in the sun’s peak

☀️ Get yellow or orange candles and inscribe them with runes or sigils

☀️ Engage in gardening and connect to the Earth

☀️ Practice a solar plexus chakra meditation

☀️ Perform spells for confidence, personal power, and abundance

☀️ Visit a botanical garden

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

Food and Drinks:

Grilled veggies, grilled chicken with rice, barbecued or flame-grilled food, honey cakes, honey, lavender cheesecake, lemonades, orange juice, summer salads, croissants with jam, bread and pastries, cakes with edible flowers, mead, sun tea, mint tea, spiced punch, rum, ale, wine, milk (for the faeries), strawberries, raspberries, peaches, oranges, lemons, pears, grapes, summer squash, sweet potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, butternut squash, carrot cupcakes, tomato soup, mushroom appetizers, spicy foods, curries, spiced cakes, cinnamon toast, pumpernickel bread, bread with grapes, white bread, potato salad, pasta salad, rice salad, strawberry tart, raspberry tart, leafy green vegetables, spinach, basil, thyme, sunflower seeds, pine nuts.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁

sources: Midsummer: Rituals, Recipes & Lore for Litha (Llewellyn's Sabbat Essentials, 3); Midsummer: Magical Celebrations of the Summer Solstice by Anna Franklin; Magie Blanche by Eric-Pier Sperandio; https://thebusypagan.com/pagan-holidays/litha/

[satorena]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. an ugly, green eyed monster resides in the pits of your guts, and to his utmost confusion— don’t you know he has eyes for you only?

cw. 18+. lowkey sub gojo. a littleee foot action. reverse cowgírl. cunningulūs. sorta ruined orgașm. fem!reader. 3k wc.

you’re upset.

you’re upset with him.

what he’d thought had been the perfect date at the perfect restaurant with the most perfect partner, had positively gone to shit, and he’s not sure who’s to blame. himself or that unnecessarily audacious waitress— who might get blacklisted as soon as he gets home for having the nerve to foul his girlfriend’s mood.

(but not you. you’re never to blame. you can literally do no wrong in his eyes.)

he tries to ease the tension in his sleek car by talking your ear off about god knows what, reminds you how beautiful you look in your suede dress, rubs the pad of his thumb at the smooth skin of your thigh— but to no avail, you remain as quiet as you’d been back in that crappy establishment.

after all, there’s only so many “wow’s”, “insane’s,” and “that’s crazy’s” you can muster. . . right?

wrong.

because when you both make it to your shared condo, he hangs his keys on their respective hanger and immediately kneels on one knee. you don’t seem surprised in the slightest— and he’d be a horrible boyfriend if you had been, you deserve nothing short of the ultimate princess package — arms crossed over your chest expectantly.

and just who is he to disappoint you?

his fingers get to work with quickness— expertly as they undo the straps of your heels. he can’t imagine the pain your gorgeous feet endure just for the sake of his lowly self. so he grants you a short but tender foot rub where your skin reddens. his knuckles ease some tension where it throbs, and the soft hum you release is enough to bring a smile on his lips.

he’s finally doing something right.

you roll your ankle once he’s finished his caress, face as stoic as ever, but before you can even think about resting your foot on the floor, he lowers himself and kisses. he peppers the ankle bone in hot, gentle kisses that come from the depths of his soul, and trails his way up from your calf all the way up to your mid thigh. when he lays down the last of his embrace to your leg, cerulean eyes flutter open and meet yours— eyes narrow just slightly.

he doesn’t falter in the slightest, parroting every movement onto the next leg. he undoes the straps of your heels, massages your foot, and spoils your leg in kisses once more. there isn’t an inch of you that doesn’t smell nothing short of divine.

but the moment fleets as soon as it came, and you make your way to your shared bedroom in the blink of an eye. his knee may ache against the hard floor, but he finds it impossible to keep his eyes off of you— there’s a certain elegance in every step you take towards the bedroom, hips swaying with divine femininity, fingers fumbling as they work to undo the hook at the top of your dress.

it’s only when you arrive at the door, that you take a beat of a pause. he doesn’t take his eyes off of you once. he doesn’t think he could if he wanted to, anyway. there’s a pregnant silence in the air, safe from the ticking of the clock in the living room. it seems you’ve finally managed, as your arms lower to rest at your sides and your dress slips comedically slow from your frame and pools at your ankles.

his dick immediately stirs to life. you’d gone commando this whole time. and it’s only when your hand hovers over the knob of the door, you cast him a look over your shoulder, the ghost of a smirk tugging at your coloured lips. you step out of the dress and waltz into your shared space, and he doesn’t think he’s ever ran this fast in his life, tumbling over scattered items in the house in desperate attempts to get to you.

(he picks up your fallen dress of course.)

oh, you’re so beautiful yet so cruel. he admires the duality you carry with ease— like a deceitful siren luring pathetic fishermen into the sea, he falls for your trap with no regards of his own safety, enamoured by your entire existence.

which was how he found himself bound to your king sized bed, limbs restrained to the headrest and his cock throbbing in his tight slacks. he’s flushed from the neck up— he’s so hard it hurts, watching as you pay him absolutely no mind, carrying on with your nightly routine. the anticipation drives him insane, as you pace from the bathroom, the sound of the shower running, before pacing back to your bedroom, grabbing your essentials before heading back to the bathroom.

all the while adorned in your birthday suit. wet and naked— his favorite combination.

god, you’re cruel.

after an infinity and a half, you come out of the bathroom, now wrapped in your silk robe, hair tied up and face completely bare. christ— just when he thought you couldn’t get any prettier. you sit at your vanity, grabbing at whatever tools you needed for your lash care, and that’s his final straw.

“princess,” he croaks, hoping he sounds as desperate as he feels. you tilt your head back, expression entirely remorseless, though you do cock a brow. he swallows harshly, “c’mon, untie me already. please?”

you blink at him, spoolie in hand, “for what?”

for what? isn’t it obvious? for him to grab at your hips, pull you over his face and tongue fuck you so raw that he erases all traces of negative emotions in your soul that’d come to life within the past few hours and have you forgive him of any wrongdoing.

duh.

gojo’s a smarter man and keeps those thoughts to himself. instead, he heaves out a deep sigh that kins to a whine and shifts his hips, “to properly apologize, baby.”

you turn your focus back onto your own reflection in the mirror, running the brush over your lash extensions. even when you pretend to ignore him, you’re beautiful. he doesn’t miss the way you cast him look through the glass though, “well what’s stopping you?”

he tugs his wrists against his ties restricting him as an answer, an exasperated look coating his face. truthfully, he could’ve easily managed his way out of this predicament but then he’d have to deal with your attitude worsening. he’s already on your bad side and doesn’t wish to stay there longer. so, he’s willing to sit this torture out just to have you forgive him.

but good lord, his balls hurt.

you put the spoolie down and sigh. hope blooms in his chest as you stand up from your vanity and make your way towards the bed. as you begin to crawl into bed, he spreads his legs a little further, creating an opening in case you were to change your mind. you have an unreadable expression on your pretty face, and he can’t lie, it’s kind of worrying him.

and turning him on, but fork spotted in kitchen, right?

you take the bait and make your way in between his legs. though, instead of releasing him from his restriction, you sit criss cross and give him a long look. his chest heaves and he’s starting to feel like those madmen scientists that come close to achieving whatever bullshit project they’d poured years of their lives into.

you don’t falter, however, “you want to properly apologize?”

he nods eagerly, like a puppy trying to please its owner, and frankly, that’s exactly what it is. some may call him desperate— pathetic even, but they’ve never came close to having the god earned blessing of having you as their partner. and they never will, so respectfully, they can shut the fuck up.

“that’s all i want.” he emphasizes, and for extra measure, “let me say sorry the best way i know how.”

he watches the gears turn in your pretty head. and, with a convictive nod, you stretch your arms backwards to support your body weight as you bend your knees and spread your legs. and whether or not you meant to send him to the great court in the sky, you swipe your tongue against your index and middle finger, before crawling them down your stomach and right at your cunt, spreading your lips apart in a filthy fucking sound.

his eyes might as well pop out of their sockets in heart shapes as his jaw falls slack. he thinks he hears his stomach growl in hunger, eyes narrowing at the sight of the meal he craves most. your robe slips past your shoulder and reveals a sexy amount of collarbone and boob, while simultaneously slipping past your hips, revealing the cash prize.

your dripping pussy.

his throat runs dry as all rational thoughts are immediately thrown out the window. if he doesn’t have your cunt in his mouth this instant, he might actually die. she clenches around nothing and trickles a tantalizing trail of slick. you have the world’s prettiest smile on your lips, and despite deriving pleasure from his demise, he’d gladly let you ruin him if it got you this turned on.

“thought you wanted to apologize, toru?” you ask him, with feigned innocence and a tilt of your head. and if the cutesy bat of your lashes wasn’t enough to kill him, then dragging your foot over the print of his bulge definitely did. you rest the arch of your heel over his shaft and experimentally roll it around. he didn’t even consider he was into foot play, but coming from you? another box checked from his kink list.

he groans, hips chasing the pleasure set ablaze in his fiery guts, “god— i do. i really, really do,” lord knows if you keep this up, he’s never going to beat the minute man allegations. and frankly? he doesn’t care.

“but i’m right here,” you coo, lowering your foot to cradle at where resides his heavy balls. you nudge at the sack and the whimper that follows his lips cracks a pity pout on your own, “what’s the hold up?”

this psychological ass torture. at this rate, he figures you know he knows he can free himself out of the ties at any given moment. but doing so would definitely upset you. and the chances of him getting some would be slim to absolutely none.

you beautiful yet painfully cruel woman.

“you know what’s the hold up,” he groans, fighting both inner demons and the urge to paint his boxers white, “at this point, you don’t even need to untie me— just let me eat you out, please.”

and like the angel sent from heaven you are, you comply. had he been released from the binding, he’d gladly be kicking his feet in the air and twirling a strand of snowy locks in his fingers in pure bred excitement. except, in the position he’s in, that outcome is not possible. but never fear— munch man is here!

and with his back pressed against the headboard, you stand on the bed, your feet at each side of his hips, and bend forward— not without a quick look back and a knowing smirk of course. and from this angle, with your spine dipping into a sinful curve, he’s presented with a view that puts the goddess of beauty herself to shame.

the roundness of your ass paired with the fullness of your cunt— a two for once combo. hell fucking yeah.

and he wastes no time. he stretches his neck as far as it allows him to and then some, as he indulges into the five star michelin meal that is your pussy. with your arms stretched out and your hands supporting your body’s weight, you moan gracefully into the quiet of the night, your sounds unfortunately overshadowed by the slurping of his filthy mouth at your sloppy core. if he was a better man, he’d have reduced his own volume at the expense of hearing yours,

but it was just so hard when you tasted so good.

and like the selfish bastard he is, he doesn’t quiet down. doesn’t even think to, instead voicing out his delights in the art of cunningulus. yes, because being blessed with the opportunity to have your pussy in his mouth is nothing short of art itself. he flicks his tongue from that sensitive bundle of nerves and drags it up to your tight hole, and tongue fucks the shit out of you.

“s-shit, baby,” a soft mewl comes from your voice. he feels a hand caress his hair, and when your manicured nails claw at those locks, he feels his cock jump eagerly in his pants, “that’s it— fuck, eat it right.”

he’s a weak, weak man. you grind your hips back on his face and praise him for doing what he was put on this earth to do, all the while riding his tongue. he flattens the muscle and lets you use him like the toy he is— up and about for your pleasure, always. if he died suffocating between your plush thighs, don’t mourn his death, because he went out doing the thing he loved,

you.

it feels like both forever and a second when he’s rewarded with your juices. you wail and cry out his name, and before he knows it, you’re gushing all over him— his nose, his mouth, his chin. to the best of his abilities, he widens his jaw and slurps everything you have to offer him. the taste is so authentically you, a sweet nectar you couldn’t pull out of the ripest of fruits from a tree. his face is moist and damp and the only thought process going through his mushy brain is don’t cum just yet don’t cum just yet don’t cum just yet.

luckily, he doesn’t, but you’re not done just yet. because it doesn’t take anymore than a few breaths for him to catch up on unsolicited air, before a deep and boyish moan rips out of his chest like wind had gotten knocked out of him.

in all your glory, you squat down— he’d been too dazed out to even notice when you’d taken his brick hardened dick out— and ride him. you’re pulling out all the big guns— both hands and feet planted on the mattress, your silk robe resting right above your lower back, as you sink down on him.

gods, it takes everything in him— everything, to not bust. his fingers tighten against themselves as his toes curl, and his head is thrown back, but even so, he never takes his eyes off of you. the ripples of your ass ricocheting with each bounce, the amplified bass of your cries, the melody of your wetness squelching on his cock.

why the fuck would he ever look away?

your pace is steady and fast— you are by no means wasting time. and he loves it just like that, quick and meaningless despite his love for you being everything but that. every meet of your ass on his hips comes as fast as the last one, and tugs on the coiling in his stomach ready to snap.

sweat begins to collect at his hairline, and given the fact you’d sprayed him earlier, he’s certain his hair is now matted to his forehead. no matter though, “justtt like that,” he eggs you on, knowing despite your foul mood, there’s nothing you enjoy more than praises. there’s nothing he enjoys more than praising you, “use me baby, this dick ‘s all yours— fuckkk,”

and because he knows his princess so well, you ride him even harder— his sincere words running like fuel to you. he notices your creamed unison coating the peremiter of his dick, glazing his shaft to the point he can barely feel himself in you because of how wet everything feels.

“damn— ‘m not gonna last,” he warns you, and to his biggest mistake. his balls are heavy with love he’s itching to release in your womb, and if you keep jerking at his cock with your gummy walls, he’s bound to spill. he blames it on it being the first round, after all.

you tilt your head back and there’s a mischievous glint in your pretty eyes. you bat your lashes a few times, and the corner of your lips tug into a radiant smile, “yeah? you wanna cum inside, baby?” there is literally nothing more he wants. he nods his head excessively, not enough languages in this entire world to describe in words just how badly he needs to fill you up with his sperm.

but still, he tries with moot point, “yesyesyesyes— fuck, i’ll do anything,”

and with purposeful kegels, you clamp down on his cock whenever you bottom out and latch onto his tip whenever you sit up. he can’t take anymore— he feels heat licking at every extremity of his limbs, blood rushing into his head and his abdominal muscles are caving in. he needs it— he needs it.

at the very last second, just as the dam is ready to break and release— you pull away.

his eyes widen before snapping shut as his orgasm washes over him anyways. his cock springs out of your warmth and rests at the crack of your ass, and shoots. he’s soiling your gown in his nut, and you slip a hand between your thighs to cradle his twitching balls. his back arches at your touch, and somehow, shoots double his average load.

“aweee,” you coo condescendingly while fondling his privates, giving him both the best and worst time of his life, “‘s too bad i’m still upset with you.”

his ears ring pretentiously as his limbs fall limp— not his dick though. never his dick when you’re around— his breathing ragged and skin blotched a bright shade of pink. with an adorable giggle, you give your ass a little shake, and his dick bounces with you, shooting weaker spurts of cum. what a view.

but shit. . . he’s gonna be here for a while, isn’t he?

as long as it’s with you, he doesn’t mind. he’s ready for round two whenever you are.

sum calm, sum slight 🙂‍↔️. enjoy these crumbs while i fight for my life

[almadelsur]

💋 The Secrets One Keeps

summary: You're in love with jj but he's with kie, so in moments of pure desperation you often find yourself turning to the person he hates the most...rafe

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, one or two uses of y/n, plz let me know if I missed anything

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering i first wrote this like 3 years ago, and yes for those of you who have been asking, I fully intend to finallly continue this fic....more info on that later ;)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

JJ’s eyes change the moment Kiara steps into any room. Immediately his presence is ripped away from your immediate atmosphere, popping the little bubble you'd spent all afternoon crafting as he sprung up to greet the olive-skinned enigma that captured his affections.

“Kie!” The joy in his tone was incomparable to anything he’d directed at anybody else. Nothing could draw out such happiness from the blonde. You hated that about her.

In an attempt at self-defense, your brain shut itself off. Shielding you from processing the scene in front of you, your emotions ran cold like cement pouring down and across your neurons. It was the only way you could survive such a beating to your heart.

You figured that by distancing yourself mentally, you wouldn’t have to raise suspicion and distance yourself physically. In reality, you knew the real reasoning was your inability to stay away from JJ but the facade helped you cope.

“Hey J” she embraced him and his body relaxed around her as if she was the only source of his happiness. The only way he’d find alleviation from what he perceived as a shitty life being through her. “Sorry I’m late my parents had me running like crazy at the wreck today.”

Scattered greetings filled the air from the rest of the pogues, yet you could only focus on the way his eyes fixated on her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here come sit baby” he offered her the seat he had just previously been place holding. What you thought had been quality time with your best friend, presented itself to you now as momentary attention to pass the time until his actual desire arrived.

Settling herself down and offering you a wide smile, her shoulder bumped against yours gently as a sign of acknowledgment.

“Hey dude” she directed at you, but you didn’t reply. You just couldn’t bring yourself to pretend. Not today anyway. Instead, you offered her a small smile, it was minimal but it was the best you could do under the circumstances.

“Yo" A crumpled tissue paper flew at your head, jj attempting to refocus your attention on him, "didn’t you say you were gonna get some water or something?” He spoke up, the scheme evident in his tone.

“um yeah I guess” You lifted yourself up and took a few steps before jj used the opportunity to slump himself down where you had been sat and sprawled his arms across his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“snooze ya loose sucker” he joked as he turned to Kiara to start up some mindless conversation. Leaving you behind in the dust.

Your teeth gritted as you focused on making your way to the kitchen hoping the distance from the scene unfolding would lift the iron grip on your heart.

You made the fatal mistake of glancing back and you were met with the image of jj nuzzling up to kiara in a picturesque display of love. The lump building at the base of your throat indicated that it was your time to get the hell out of there before you broke down in front of everyone. 

“Shit guys, y’know what I just realized I gotta go” You spoke quickly, your tone matching your pace as you rushed to the exit of the chateau. 

“You’re still coming to the party later though right?” John B asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen in front of him. 

“Mhm yeah sure” you opened the door ready to depart. 

“Shit I forgot about that! Me and jj are gonna be late, we got dinner at the wreck tonight.” kiara added as you stepped out, unable to control the escape of a rogue tear.

“Date night babyyyy” You heard JJ cheer before you slammed the door behind you. 

“Is Y/N okay? She seemed a bit off.” Kie nudged JJ as she questioned. 

JJ furrowed his eyebrows momentarily. Glancing out the window, he saw you jog away from the house, and a brief flash of worry flashed through his mind. As quick as it came, it dissipated. He shook his head figuring that if there had been something wrong, he’d have been the first to know. 

“Nah she’s okay don't worry.” he offered to kie.

Boy was he mistaken. 

——————————————————————

“Fuuuck me” you moaned out, sinking into him one last time. You were hot, sweaty, and heaving as you pulled him out of you.

“I thought I just did” Rafe taunted leaning back to lie down, arms crossed behind his head causing his taut abdomen to flex.

You scrambled off the bed, picking up your garments and shoving them back on your body forcefully.

“What, no pillow talk?” He tried again.

“Rafe..” you trailed off. Whenever you’d finish fucking, you’d struggle to even look at him. The self-hatred flooded your body as soon as the orgasm poured out.

“Hey you called me” he eyed you intently but you knew he didn’t actually care. To rafe cameron everything was just a game. At this point it was pretty much common knowledge. “In fact” he moved closer to you so that he could speak directly into your ear “It’s always you that calls me.”

“Don’t be a dick” you stood up and eyed your heels contemplating whether you could face the walk back in them. “You know it makes me feel like shit.” It might have sounded brutal but that’s how things were with rafe.

“Yeah, it’s like you punctuate your orgasms with self-hate.”

“I'm a pogue, rafe.” You argued back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So? Kooks and pogues can fuck you know.” You couldn’t comprehend why you were even having this conversation. Why now, why tonight.

“Yeah maybe, not you though.” You didn’t want to tell him the reason explicitly.

“I fuck pogues.”

“You fuck anyone.” The words came out almost instantly and without thinking, yet rafe took no offense.

“Exactly so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is, rafe.” You paused trying to find the words without actually having to say the words. “The issue is that if my friends found out they’d hate me, probably more than I already hate myself.”

He just chuckled, the look in his eyes changing as he figured you out.

“What's funny?” You challenged.

“You don’t have to bullshit me princess.” He looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eye. “You just don’t want jj knowing about your little escapades huh?” Bingo.

“He’s with Kiara.” You shrugged him off.

“Uh huh, you like him but you can’t have him.” Every word he spoke striking a nerve deep within you. “So you’re fucking me to fuck him over.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grabbed your heels and shoved them on, wincing as you buckled them up.

“Don’t I?” He threw his joggers on lazily as he stood, the level dynamics changing significantly. The older boy towered over you. “Where are they tonight?”

“Back at John B’s, we had a little get-together.” You crossed your arms. More often than not you usually called rafe after a few drinks left you feeling lonely. “Sorry, your invite must have gotten lost in the mail.” You attempted to jab at him with sarcasm yet he clearly held the upper hand with his line of questioning. 

“So all of them are there now?” He stepped towards you.

“Mhm,” You lied.

“Even jj?” Moving closer until your neck was craned upwards to meet his eyes.

Taking your silence as an answer, he reached up and ran his palms across your upper arms, prompting you to uncross them.

“He was uh- him and kie should be getting there soon” You mumbled.

“So would i be wrong in guessing, that might have prompted your call then?” You let yourself be guided by his movements leaning your neck further back as his hand trailed up to your jawbone.

“rafe…” you called out insignificantly.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against your neck, right over where he could feel your pulse, and pressed down.

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth. Because as much as your heart belonged to jj, rafe was just so fucking good at raising your temperature.

“Round two?” He mumbled against your neck.

“Yeah..” you attempted yet it came out as a whisper. He grabbed you swiftly and lifted you, moving you across the room and throwing you down onto his bed, crawling on top of you in a predatory manner as he did so. As your back hit the bed, the ringing of your phone brought you back from the haze he had you under. 

“Wait rafe stop stop” you pushed him off and grabbed the screeching mobile, pressing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Dude, where are you?” The sound of jj’s voice came through over the pumping sound of music and party chatter. “Me and Kie just got back and John B says no one’s seen you for like over an hour.”

“Oh I’m uh, I had to go do something for my mom” The lie pouring out of your mouth caused rafe to chuckle which was of course met by a slap from you signaling for him to be quiet.

“Oh well, when are you getting back? I have to tell you about this date. You’re gonna be so proud of me I actually think I’m ready to tell Kie I love her” you screwed your eyes shut as he spoke.

“Yeah I- you know what I can’t make it back my mom needs me to stay and help out but uh I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” You hung up before he could even reply, throwing your phone down uncaring of its state.

“What’s wrong? They getting hitched?” Rafe spoke up from behind you.

You turned to Rafe, the fire in your veins pushing your arms to grab him, roughly pulling him back onto you.

“Just shut up and fuck me rafe.”

And fuck you he did.

——————————————————————

The next morning you woke up to the sight of rafe’s bare back. Not much of a cuddler, you figured.

Quietly you pushed the covers off and began to dress yourself back up. As you got to your shoes you sighed and shook your head, as if there was any way in hell you were going to walk home in heels. You scooped up your shoes and your now-cracked phone shaking your head, slightly ashamed at your outburst.

Without even a second glance at the sleeping body you were leaving behind, you made your way over to the door. As you turned the knob and stepped out to leave, a husky voice spoke up.

“I’ll keep my ringer on for you babe.”

You rolled your eyes looking back at him, “Fuck you rafe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on.” He didn’t even open his eyes as he answered, instead just rustling around in the bed and turning to the other side, once again facing his back to you.

You scoffed as you exited. Your internal rant clouded your vision, body on autopilot with an excellent self-navigation of the Cameron house from the countless times you’d made this exit.

“Y/N?” The gentle voice wiped your thoughts clean as the shock stilled you dead in your tracks, slowly turning to come face to face with none other than Sarah.

“Sarah” you drawled out. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house?” Her head was cocked to the side, equally shocked to see you.

“No I just mean- I thought you were spending the night at John B’s.” You forced the small talk, avoiding the topic of why you were here, sneaking out at 8 in the morning.

“He had to work today, did you spend the night here?” She glanced up at the door of rafe’s bedroom.

“Umm-“ There had only been two other instances where you had been at a complete loss for words. The day jj told you he and Kiara were dating, the morning after your first sexual encounter with rafe, and now this.

“Are you sleeping with my brother?!” She whisper-shouted, eyes wide as the realization hit her. Busted.

“No?”

“Oh my god!” She grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to her room, slamming the door as soon as you were both inside. “How long has this been going on?!” Her tone was loud and her hands wild as she interrogated you.

“Just a little under a year.” You sat on her bed and looked at your lap as you spoke. Reminiscent of a child being scolded.

“A year?! Oh my god!” She repeated. “Who knows about this?!”

With that, you looked up at her desperately. “No one. No one knows so please don’t tell them.” You didn’t have to name names for her to know who you were referring to.

“Are you two like” she paused “together?” She scrunched her nose up, disgusted at the thought of her bully of an older brother dating anyone.

“No god no. It’s just sex” you were just as uncomfortable as Sarah was, having to tell her about boning her older brother.

“Disgusting.” She turned away from you with her arms crossed, looking out the window.

“Look I’m not proud of it okay? Just-“ You sighed “Just please don’t tell anyone” pleading again.

Sarah let out a long sigh and uncrossed her arms. She walked over to you and joined you on the bed, her eyes showing concern mixed with something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

“I thought you were into jj” she spoke softly, there it was. Pity.

“Yeah well, jj is with kie and instead of sitting around wallowing in self-pity, I decided to do something about it.” As the words left your mouth, you realized how weak the explanation was.

“So you just use rafe to bang the jj out of you.”

“It’s not like Rafe cares, if anything he’s also using me.” You tried to reason.

“I don’t doubt that. But I mean, that’s- It’s not healthy, you’ll never move on if you don’t actually process your emotio-“

“Look Sarah, I don’t need to do any of that shit okay? What I have here works, when I fu- when I’m with rafe, I don’t think about jj.” Tears began to swell in your eyes “Sleeping with rafe helps me forget about everything, even if it’s only for a little while he uh- he makes me feel good.” To an extent, there was truth behind your words, while you and rafe fucked the rest of the world went away. It was only after, that the crippling self-hatred hit you along with the return of your immense feelings for jj. 

Sarah shuffled over and threw her arm around you. “That’s not good for you, it’s just momentary. It’s easy and it's a cycle, you’re never going to get better going down this path. Especially not with rafe.”

“Rafe he’s- he’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is. But i bet it gives you satisfaction fucking him knowing jj hates him. Feels like revenge right?” She’d always been so perceptive your Sarah, you hated how she could see right through you.

Tears ran down your cheek silently. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right?” You sniffled.

She gave you one of those classic salt-of-the-earth Sarah Cameron smiles, the kinda smile that would light up any room she walked into. “Takin' it to the grave babe.”

A loud beeping caused both your heads to whip towards the window. “Shit, I completely forgot I was supposed to go on the HMS with pope and jj, we were gonna chill there until John B and Kie finished work.” She rose to her feet and extended an arm towards you. “Wanna come? Or we could drop you home if you’re not up for it.”

With a sigh you took her hand and pulled yourself up, walking beside her as you mentally prepped yourself to face the blonde you desperately pined for.

“Well rise and shine campers.” jj yelled out of the window of the drivers seat.

“Y/N! Where you been dude? you totally bailed last night.” Pope was next to speak as you and Sarah filed into the Twinkie. As JJ began to drive you avoided any form of eye contact in his general direction.

“I had to go help my mom out, blackout at mine again.” You didn’t even look at pope either, instead focusing your attention on the blur of trees and houses pacing by the window as JJ sped down the winding roads.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing last night?” pope, observant as always, pointed out.

“Uh yeah, I didn’t really get any time to change cause…”

“I called her last night when I got home, I was so drunk I don’t think I was ready to stop the party.” Sarah covered for you.

“Yeah I wrapped up helping my mom out and then this one calls me talkin bout a sleepover or something so I didn’t exactly have much time to change.” 

Thankfully pope had lost interest as soon as he had asked the question, otherwise, your overcompensating ass would have been caught out straight away. You always had to add to the lie until you felt like you had sold it completely.

Keeping your eyes trained on the outside meant that jj’s frown directed at you through the windscreen mirror went completely undetected. He always knew whenever there was something up with you and right there and then he knew something definitely was.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t need to address you explicitly for you to know he was talking to you.

“Yeah just tired.” You shrugged him off in an attempt to distance yourself from him yet again.

He knew you were lying but he didn’t understand why, you never lied to each other. Apart from John B, the pair of you were closer to each other than with anybody else in the group. You’d been best friends since kindergarten, and since then you’d sworn 3 things to each other.

1- You’d always share your snacks.

2-You’d always be best friends even if you argued.

 3- You would never ever lie or keep secrets from each other.

Of course, as the both of you grew older the rules became more and more lax. The snack sharing was limited only to when you felt nice enough and sometimes you’d go for days without making up if you had argued particularly badly. Having kept two friendship-breaking secrets from him, the childhood rules seemed pretty insignificant by now.

“Mhm,” he responded, flickering his eyes between you and the road. “Are we taking you home to change first?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll join you guys afterward though.” You chewed down on your nail anxiously as the tension from being in the same space as jj paired with the guilt from having fucked rafe prior, suffocated you.

JJ made a face as he focused on the road, something was wrong with you and he’d be dammed if he wasn’t going to put his everything into finding out what that was.

[narcjsistx]

i’ll just say "does your boyfriend pay for your nails?" just this, trust me <3

BLUELOCK: sae itoshi and micheal kaiser

Hearing your friends talk about how their boyfriends spoil them is often amusing. You enjoy watching how they unintentionally feel like queens of the world, and that genuinely pleases you. It's funny to you how, while they speak, they show off their long necklaces and their enhanced lips — things they only have thanks to their boyfriends' money

They talk and often make you feel almost inferior, simply because you're not someone who likes to show your private life — especially when it comes to your boyfriend's privacy

"So, does your boyfriend at least pay for your nails?"

You laugh, looking at your hands: no, he doesn’t pay for your nails. Your fingers are covered in rings from the world’s top brands, but the biggest one stands out on your ring finger: a natural and sparkling diamond, worth about the same as an entire stadium. He gave it to you a few weeks ago, during your last vacation in the Maldives, where your bank account remained untouched. A trip organized only because, a few days earlier, you had liked a post where the resort was mentioned — a like that he noticed very well

You think about how, in front of the whole world, he's precise, technical, charismatic — but with you, he’s the perfect definition of a clingy cat. You know perfectly well that if work didn’t call him away every day, he’d spend hours with his head nestled between your thighs, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, and you forced to stroke his hair

You think about how, twice a week, his only goal is to take you to your favorite restaurant — one of the most expensive in your city. These are dates you’ve been treating yourselves to for quite some time now, and yet, more often than not, you don’t even feel like going — because he comes back truly exhausted from his training, and it genuinely hurts you to see him too full or too tired. Still, you’ve never managed to get him to stay home on those planned date nights — not when his fatigue seems to vanish the moment he sees you in his favorite dress, the one he bought you years ago, and that still makes his head turn as soon as he even sees the color

You think about how there's not a night where you wear the same lingerie as last time. Your boyfriend loves only the finest things, especially when they’re on you: expensive silk, soft velvet, even the cutest little bows. Every time he buys a new one it doesn't last long because he has the habit of ripping it off of you — he thinks that's the best way to fuck you right

You think about how he handles everything involving you with absolute precision: never getting too familiar with other girls, never making an inappropriate comment when talking about you on TV — and never, ever making a mistake that would make you feel anything less than truly the most important thing in the world. When people ask you why you fell in love, you simply think about how he, despite being a world famous player, has never made you feel the weight of his job

Not even when he’s tired, he still cooks for you

Not even when your feet hurt from wearing heels, and he lifts you using just one arm while holding your heels in the other

Not even when, after scoring a goal, he looks at you as if you gave him the strength and the luck to score

Not when he kisses you as if his life depended on it, while he's deep inside you, whispering the nicest things to you while he's ruining you with the same grit he has on the field

So no, your boyfriend doesn’t pay for your nails

Usually, he pays the beauty salon directly to come to your home and do your nails with the best in the business, sparing you even the effort of driving to the beauty salon

✶ beautiful dividers by @pommecita !!

✶ 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

[readwritealldayallnight]

“You having fun there, Si?”

“‘Course.”

“‘Cause you look like you’re having a lot of fun right now.”

“I’m here aren’t I?” He snaps at you without thinking, immediately catching himself with a shake of the head when he spots your raised brow. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know I’m pushing you out of your comfort zone. But Simon we’re safe here, I promise you.” You attempt to reassure him, still intent on making the most out of this trip together

One year

365 days

An entire trip around the sun since the day you and Simon met for the first time

And not a day has gone by since without each of you holding the other’s heart in the palm of your hands

Though Simon would do quite literally anything for you, he’d been less than impressed when you’d dropped the boarding passes in his hand last night

You’d been reminiscing to him about the holidays you used to take each summer with your family while growing up, memories of building sand castles and burying siblings until only their heads were visible, visions of waves lapping at your toes and seashells in your hands, images of melting ice creams cones and chasing pesky seagulls until the sun set

Memories that Simon could not relate to, could only smile and nod along as you told him about missing a time when you could be so care free

“Wonder what tha’ was like.” He’d said offhandedly to you that night as you both stood at the kitchen sink, his large hands passing off the clean dishes for you to dry

The idea of Simon having never enjoyed a family holiday when he was young made your heart ache, but thinking about Simon never having had a holiday, never having had a chance to slow down and relax, to enjoy himself for once in his life, well that left a foul taste in your mouth that you were determined to change

You’d had to pull some strings, even go so far as sneaking behind his back to arrange the time off with his Captain, who’d agreed wholeheartedly with you that his Lieutenant was in need of a holiday but who’d laughed when he bid you good luck in telling Simon as much

The suitcases were secretly packed while he worked, the plane tickets purchased as he slept, the secluded beach house with private access to the water booked while he was busy with making dinner one evening, your plan coming to fruition while your lover was none the wiser

As excited as you were, his reaction had been just about what you’d expected

Grumbling about how it was unnecessary, too risky, too dangerous, he’d wanted to reject the idea entirely from the get go, to flat out say no, though deep down he knew he could never truly tell you no

That was how Simon found himself on a beautiful, private beach, miles away from any military base, without another soul in sight apart from the one linked to his own, all while he tried his best to continue sulking in the sun

“Can’t know tha’ for sure, love.”

“Simon, this place had the best rating I could find, promises to be totally private. It isn’t peak tourist season, we’re far out from the city. Plus we literally used fake names on everything, I think we’re going to be fine.” You tried to rationalize, though knowing his past and how preoccupied his mind could become, you knew you were essentially speaking to a brick wall at the moment

“Anythin’ could happen, can’t account for everythin’.” He argued, adjusting the sunglasses over his eyes as he scanned the surroundings yet again, not enjoying how exposed he felt out here clad in nothing more than the swim shorts and sunscreen you’d packed for him

“You’re right, anything could happen.” You agreed with a shrug, dropping the last of the beach gear onto the sand, reaching for the bottom of your sundress. “But I can tell you what’s going to happen right now. I’m going to go swim in the water, because I want to, and because I can. You can join me, or you can sit here and mope, but I have a feeling you’ll change your mind. And because it’s our anniversary and because I love you, I won’t even say I told you so.”

He’s just about to tell you that that’s far from likely, that he’s certain he’ll be staying under the shade of the umbrella he’s about to stick in the sand, that he’ll be the smart one here and keep look out for the danger he’s decided is certain to happen, when you stop any logical thought of his in its tracks, as you lift up your arms and peel off your dress, revealing the bathing suit you’re wearing underneath

He’s seen you naked before hundreds if not thousands of time at this point, seen your body form every angle imaginable and more, had you in every way he could ever dream of

So why is the sight of your swaying hips walking away from him the most enticing thing he thinks he’s ever seen? The view of your ass in the skin tight material of your bathing suit the first thing to really give him pause?

No

No, he’s not going to let himself fall for that, he’s not going to cave so easily, not when you’re both in a new place like this, so exposed-

All the fight is nearly drained out of him, when he sees your arms reach up behind your back, your head angling enough to meet his eyes just as your steady fingers untie the strings that hold your top in place, letting the material fall to your feet as you continue making your way towards the shore, a quick wink sent his way before you’re turning your focus to the waves

He gulps loudly, not that he can hear it over the sound of his heart beating rapidly in his damaged ears

He tells himself he’s not going to fall for this, though his grip on the cooler full of drinks is rapidly slipping

Tells himself he’s only just going to pick up your bathing suit top off the ground for you, when his legs decide for themselves to start following you in your wake

He tells himself that he can keep his cool, surely you’ll be quick, that when you emerge from the water, wet droplets rolling off your naked, sun kissed skin, that he can satisfy himself by offering to reapply your sunblock, that the image he’s just conjured up of getting his hands on you soon will be enough to tide him over

But then, of course, you go ahead and slide your hands down the side of your waist, reaching lower until your fingers slipped under the fabric of your bottoms, pushing further and further down until the material is pooled around your ankles, leaving them behind for your ghost to pick up

Fuckin’ hell, he really had said anything could happen, hadn’t he?

Simon’s following you into the water before he fully realizes he’s stepped in, knowing that he’d follow you anywhere at the end of the day

One year down with you

A lifetime to go