#⌖ ─ in our secret hours of the night ❭❭❭ DESIRES

[goldsbitch]

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

//

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

[mustanged]

tag drop.

[chrollohearttags]

!plug connie that’s been fucking on you for a while now but in private because you two have no business being together. A college girl who comes from a good home, loving family and has a bright future with this dude from the streets that sells drugs, totes guns and is always in a dangerous situation..not someone that anyone would ever expect you to associate with but here you were…legs spread up in the air with his palms gripping your ankles as he slow stroked your shit. “Ooh fuck…this pussy so good, baby..” drawing out in a pathetic moan. Truthfully, he could stay there and get lost in it for hours. All those troubles and business could wait. Right now, the only thing he needed was your body. His pistol on the dresser, pounds of marijuana faintly giving off a fragrance from the next room and shoe boxes full of money stuffed up underneath the bed as it creaked from the movements. No, this was the last place you should’ve been but there wasn’t a chance that you’d leave. “Yeah, that dick feel good, don’t it, baby?…got you shaking and shit..” that much evident by the loud cries escaping your lips, along with the trickling cream that dripped down his shaft each time he pushed it in. You felt like heaven…the closest he’d ever get to it with all the sins he’s committed. You’d look down to see that big cock bulging at the pit of your belly.. “Connieeee.” hearing you whimper his name as those nails he had paid for with dirty money clawed into his tattooed arms. He knew he was fucking you good..better than anyone past or future would even dream of. Tears streaming down your pretty face..lashes wilting off from the dampness but you didn’t want him to stop. Luckily for you, he was only getting deeper; speeding up those thrusts to make you really feel it. But his touches in turn became far more gentle..bending down, Connie brushed a hand across those cheeks before letting your lips meet for a barrage of sloppy kisses. Just then, your phone would illuminate and ring for the tenth time that night with friends and family probably searching for you. Wondering where you were; probably another stuffy party or club meeting they wanted you to attend but right now..there was a private affair for two and no one else was invited. Chuckling as he watched you glare over at it..knowing the urge was strong to pick it up but the desire to be fucked dumb until he was the only thing in your mind was even stronger. “my ‘lil good girl..always doing what everybody tell you to..” affirming so sweetly and lovingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“But that’s why you come see..so I can take care of you..our ‘lil secret, ain’t nobody got to know but us.”

[inklore]

listen as a namor whore (namwhore?) i think that he loves marking you as his like man would go nuts with the hickeys and bruises (and bite marks too). on the off chance he lets you return the favor he’s surprised by how much he loves seeing the love bites and bruises on his own godly self >:)

pairing: namor x princess!reader

word count: 962

warnings: eighteen+ content, mentions of p in v but not shown, teasing, bites and marking, established forbidden relationship.

note: ok see i love this concept, this take, this thot!! but i fear he’s not completely into you returning the favor because for him it’d be more of a ‘i want everyone to see and be reminded who you worship to’. and i think he likes to stay looking proper to his people, but he does let you get away with bites left under the shorts!!

You were supposed to have left your room and met your mother and the council minutes ago—almost an hour ago you now see as the clock on your bedside reflects back to you in the mirror you’re standing at. Trying to right yourself back into looking presentable, kept, like you’re not running late because the man at the foot of your bed used his sweet siren song of pretty compliments, and words that had you out of your dress just as fast as his fingers had torn at the undergarments underneath it.

Leaving your balcony door open for him was seeming more and more like a curse than a blessing.

Letting him come and go as he pleased, when he cared to visit you after days of being MIA. Sometimes only noting his presence with a saltwater covered gift he’d leave at your doorway, when you’d stayed up as long as your body would allow to. As you waited to see if he would come to you; or when duties like council meetings and required dinners were demanded of you—events a Princess was supposedly meant to attend.

You’re surprised your mother hasn’t sent someone to fetch you. You expect it anytime now, ever the punctual woman your mother was. Being tardy was surely going to get you a stern look and deep questioning.

“Jats'uts,” he mumbles against your shoulder.

Beautiful.

Pretty.

Your heart soars, fingers only wavering a little as you do your best to right the necklaces adorning your neck. Your body having just been molded pudy in his hands mere seconds ago. Your thighs still sticky from having his mouth and cock between them. Your legs still feel that heady wobble from post orgasm. Your mind and body still coming off of that beautiful precipice of want and desire, of falling against his body like you couldn’t stand up straight, or function properly, without him being there to sink into—or onto on most nights.

You had told him how urgent it was that you make it to this meeting. How he needed to turn around and make his way back to his beloved ocean before someone saw him, and your mother had both of you locked away.

A threat he laughed at. A threat you knew meant nothing to someone as powerful as him; a God.

“If this were Talokan I’d make our people come to you. You’d never have to lift a finger, princess.”

Our people.

As if there were some alternate reality in which that could come to formation. Where the two of you would rule as equals and not something forbidden, and secretive.

There had been too much death and destruction on both sides, from both of your people, for either groups to be happy to be ruled by the both of you.

But the fantasy was nice to dream about—get lost in the idea of actually being able to flaunt your love instead of hiding it.

When his arm wraps around your waist your body works on instinct, on knowing the hands and warmth of the man that’s touching it. Guiding it into his chest to lean and rest against. His lips brushing at the side of your neck, mustache burning your skin.

“Or you could stay naked, spread out for me. Waiting for my return while I handled everything.”

“Mm.” You let your eyes close as you grin, “no responsibilities other than pleasing my king.”

“Precisely.” His teeth take a hold of your sensitive skin, his tongue following after the sting like a salve. Making your body tremble against him, a gasp falling from your lips. “You’d never want for anything. I would have it brought to you. Made for you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to you, princess.” His mouth repeats it’s actions against your neck, his hand creeping lower to the start of your thigh.

That ache between your legs quickly making a home once more at your swollen clit.

“K’uk’ulkan,” his name falls from your lips, practiced, known, worshiped—as you moan softly. As you let him suck and bite at your skin, letting his words coax you into that fantasy world you want so badly.

You don’t come back to reality until you feel his fingers start to pull up the bottom of your dress, the cool air against your damp underwear bringing you back down from that building high.

“Nononono,” you pull away from him. Untangling his arms from your body and sending him a scowl at the way he’s smirking at you. “I’m already late because of you!”

“My apologies, princess.” His hand waves towards the door, “don’t keep your people waiting any longer.”

“I won’t! You-” your quick movements stop abruptly when you see it, when the deep hue catches your eye in the mirror. And maybe it’s half your own fault for not stopping him, for once again falling victim to the hot-tease of manipulation of his beautiful words.

There’s words of anger and disbelief in the back of your throat, ready to come up and spill over at the man whose eyes are locked onto yours in the mirror. Who is still wearing that signature cool as can be expression, that you really want to slap off of him.

Your mother was going to kill you.

String you up as a pariah!

“My mother–”

“Will not be pleased, no.” He finishes for you. Steps back into that space behind you, returning his heat to your back. His thumb runs along the bruised area, eyes gleaming at his creation before flashing back to yours. “But now everyone will know you belong to someone.”

You belong to me.

Unspoken in words but not in the way he presses a kiss to the love mark, lips soft and endearingly sensual.

[emphistic]

Em, lovely Em, how are you? Let me tell you I'm super proud of your progress so far <3

Soooo I'm here with a little proposition, two options for you to choose from...

1. (Low key) Princess treatment

2. Late night drive

With who else than the love of our lives SUKUNA RYOMEN!

-With love starlet★

A/N: hi hi hi, starlet, i am doing pretty good actually except for the new crack in my phone screen, but thanks for asking! and i really appreciate that — hard choice, but i choose option 2

The wind rushed through the open windows and pervaded the car. Your hair blew and billowed. And Sukuna watched you through the mirror as the moonlight fell upon your face, gracing your already blessed features, and goddamn, Sukuna thought you looked absolutely ethereal in the night.

The music blasted from the car’s built-in speakers, but he had already stopped listening an hour ago, more focused on staring at you.

“You cold?” Sukuna asked, in that deep, raspy voice of his — that you had grown accustomed to after these last few weeks.

“Mhm. Just a little,” you nodded, leaning onto the head rest behind you and turning around to face the man himself. Sukuna laced his fingers through yours on the console between the both of you, a warmth fluttering in your stomach in an instant.

This whole arrangement between the two of you. . . It all happened like a blur. You guys had met through a mutual friend at a college party and had hit it off ever since. What started as innocent tutoring sessions turned to friendly hangouts. Consequently, those turned to dates, and those dates led to now: present time — where you two were in relationship. A secret one, at that.

The mutual friend was Itadori Yuuji. Let me rephrase that, he’s your friend. But not Sukuna’s, because, well, they’re brothers, actually.

You didn’t mean to hide this whole thing from Yuuji, you just didn’t know how he’d react if he found out. Would he think you two were going behind his back? Would he accuse you of using him to get with his brother? You weren’t, and you never would try to get between the Itadori brothers. It’s just . . . you felt guilty about this whole relationship thingy. You loved Sukuna, you really did. And you loved Yuuji, as a friend, of course. But, you didn’t want to cause any misunderstandings or any problems, so you and Sukuna came to an agreement about keeping this under wraps.

However, unlike you, Sukuna couldn't care less if his younger brother found out about the both of you. But choosing to respect your wishes — like the good boyfriend he was, he would keep things low key, just for you.

So, late night drives like these were one of the only opportunities the two of you had to have time to yourselves, without having to worry about any younger brother finding out.

Sukuna pulled up into an empty parking lot; you guys usually drove around for an hour or two, listening to music, before parking the car and chatting to your hearts’ desire.

“So. How was your day, baby? Anyone bother you? You don’t look too happy. Do I need to kick somebody’s ass for ya?” Sukuna turned to face you, but like always, you shied away and avoided his gaze.

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you.” Sukuna hooked a finger under your chin and lifted your head to meet his eyes.

“That’s better. Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl.”

You complied, though your eyes flickered between each of his, contrary to his unwavering stare.

“My day was fine. I just . . . I’ve been thinking about your brother: Yuuji, and—”

Sukuna rolled his eyes; you paused. “You’re seriously thinking about another man right now? Even when I just asked you how you were doing? Can’t believe this shit.” Sukuna scoffed, though you knew he was only joking. Or so you hoped. . .

You cheekily giggled. “C’mon, ‘Kuna. Don’t be that way.” You cupped the side of his face with your free hand; he leaned into your palm, placing a tender kiss upon it.

“Anyway, as I was saying.” You cleared your throat. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to continue what we’re doing . . . together.”

At this, Sukuna lifted his face away from your palm, his hooded eyes staring back at yours, waiting for you to explain yourself.

“Fuck you mean this isn’t a good idea?”

“I—how would Yuuji feel if he found out? If we told him now, he would probably ask why we didn’t tell him earlier. And then what would we say? That we didn’t even plan on getting into a relationship in the first place? And we were just friends with benefits?”

“Do you want to tell him?” Sukuna pursued.

“I . . . don’t know. I mean, we were just fucking around earlier. And then we got exclusive. And . . . I thought you weren’t really looking for an actual relationship. As boyfriend and girlfriend, I mean.”

“That’s complete bull. Don’t let me catch you saying that crap ever again.” Sukuna grabbed your face in his hand when your eyes started to drift elsewhere. “You’re the only girl I would ever even think about dating. You hear me? So get that shit out of your pretty little head.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “Okay.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear. Anywho, go on. Tell me about your day. I’ve been longing to hear your voice ever since I started my shift.”

“Oh, please.”

“Deadass.”

You started to talk about your classes, your annoying professors and their annoying assignments, your lunch that took ten minutes to arrive at your door, you told Sukuna everything. Well, you were planning on that. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a figure start to approach the car. Though they were still a long distance away — fortunately — they were getting closer, and Sukuna didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy listening to you speak your heart and mind.

Your eyes widened, and you shook Sukuna’s arm, as if to get his attention. Which, in that case, did nothing, really, because his undivided attention was already on you, but maybe you forgot. Silly you.

“Babe—babe, I think there’s someone in the parking lot.”

“No shit.” Sukuna let out a laugh.

“No, like, besides us. I think they’re getting closer to the car.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, assuming your eyes were just playing a trick on you, but then he saw it. He saw what you were talking about.

There was indeed a person — a man? Perhaps so. And they were quickly approaching the vehicle. In the light of the posts, it could be detected that he was wearing nothing other than black and dark colored articles of clothing.

What the hell?

All the shops and restaurants in this area were closed, save for the 7-Eleven, but that wasn’t as relevant. There were no cops or cop cars, nothing, so who was this person? And what did they want?

“Kiss me.”

“What the what? Are you okay?”

“Damnit, always making me have to do everything these days.” Sukuna grabbed your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks together in the process, and messily slotted his lips against yours.

Your lipgloss smeared across his mouth and even added a little shine to it, but neither of you paid attention to that.

And albeit a little surprised at first, you melted in Sukuna’s hands and kissed back sooner or later. You guys moved against each other like rabid animals in heat, well—Sukuna did, you were a little more civilized than the pink-haired man. Which wasn’t a new thing.

But could you really blame Sukuna? When he tasted you against his lips, he nearly went feral right then and there. You were as sweet as the day you guys first indulged in something like this together. The real reason he started calling you ‘sweet thing’ in the first place.

While trying to catch your breath, you murmured against his lips, not yet pulling away, “Is he—is he gone now?”

You felt Sukuna smile against your lips, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards.

“Been. Been gone, sweetheart. For probably a few minutes now. Coward turned into a straight pussy. I saw his face; he looked ‘bout ready to piss himself when I shoved my tongue in.”

You pulled away — emitting a disappointed groan from the man — to fix your messy hair and overall disheveled appearance altogether, before moving to wipe the remnants of lipgloss off Sukuna’s face. He, in turn, only pushed back his hair, not really caring about how he looked on the outside.

Let people know, let people know he just made out with his favorite girl. If he really felt like it, he would even make a full PSA for the world to see.

“So. . . You still want to stop this thing between us?”

“Oh, shut up.” You delivered a light slap to his arm, before attempting to stifle your growing grin.

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside

[moremousewrites]

Disarm

Request link

Pairing: Astarion/Tav (GN)

Prompt: Astarion and Tav have a secret relationship and are discovered

Tags: suggestive language, light fluff, caught in the act, grinding

A/N: thank you for the prompt! I kept it relatively spoiler free and gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Another dingy basement full of traps; terrific. Astarion had been hunched over for at least an hour trying to disarm each square foot. “Whatever's in here better be worth this many traps” Astarion lifted a tripwire from the floor and removed the explosive attached to it. 

You sat on a barrel, ready to extinguish the flames with a spell at a moment's notice. Perhaps you were a bit distracted by Astarion's focused expression as well but you weren't too concerned about a trap going off. As you'd learned in your time together, Astarion was very dexterous. 

“We could always just set them off and pick through the ashes” you joked, watching him roll his eyes at the suggestion. 

“Are you volunteering to be the one to trigger the traps?” he asked, turning toward you. His face looked exhausted but you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You shook your head. “I was thinking about sending Karlach in. She could handle it” you shrugged. 

Astarion walked over to you, resting his hands on your makeshift seat, cornering you. “And where are our dear companions now?” He asked, his signature purr lacing every word.

You parted your legs, instinctively, letting him stand between them. Your little situation with Astarion was hard to explain so you never really tried. Of course there was the sex but neither of you really left it at that despite both of your best efforts. You'd hand him the best loot first, letting him greedily hoard it from the rest of the camp until someone would intervene because he didn't really need a channeling staff. In battle, you noticed he'd defend you more than you thought was necessary. Some patterns were just being slipped into. Like how every morning you'd ask how his hunting went the night before. And every night he'd find some clandestine way to touch your hand before you turned in for sleep. 

“They went outside. I think they were bored” your eyes flitted to his lips which were moving closer to your own. You stayed still, waiting for him to make the first move.

With a quick turn of his face, Astarion leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Then it seems we're all alone” his voice dripping with desire. You couldn't help but try to squeeze your legs together at the sound of his voice, forgetting he stood between them still. Your thighs pressed against his and Astarion let out a light scoff at your expense. “Eager, are we?” he teased. You felt his lips press into your jaw, traveling across your neck. You nodded your head, a flush blooming across your face. 

You let out a small sigh, grinding yourself into him further. As Astarion moved to the waistband of your trousers, a heartstopping voice pulled you from your reverie. 

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Karlach's voice boomed throughout the basement. Astarion straightened himself immediately, trying to act casual but thoroughly shaken from the intrusion. You were not nearly as composed. You scrambled to jump off the barrel and fell off of it, bruising your ego more than anything else but that was irreparable now. 

From behind Karlach you saw Shadowheart, a sly grin across her features. “Well isn’t this a cozy scene. Wyll owes me 15 gold pieces” Shadowheart walked back upstairs, a sway in her step. 

You stood up from the ground, irritated. “Aw Tav, you're blushing” Karlach said in a sing-songy voice a school child might. 

Astarion put on his most flirtatious drawl and pointed at you, “You're welcome to watch, Karlach but you wouldn't believe how deep that blush goes” he gave her a pointed look through his impenetrable grin. You sent a glare his way.

Karlach raised her hands in surrender and began walking up the stairs. “If you're still looking for loot, keep it. I don't wanna touch it after you” she disappeared behind the door and Astarion looked at you.

“Well, now that the cat's out of the bag,” he held your waist and pulled you close. “Shall we pick up where we left off?” 

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and shook your head. “Just disarm the fucking traps, please” you were in no mood to continue what you had started. Astarion chuckled at your frustration and got back to work. You sat on the barrel again, feeling a bit happier than before. 

[hwashotcheeto]

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (4)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: Four

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: A week has gone by since your late night secret with Seonghwa. You kept telling yourself to not entertain the idea of anything more than a one night stand. But Wooyoung, as always, throws a wrench in your plans.

WC: 4.4k

CW: Suggestive towards the end, kissing, touching, lots of teasing, Wooyoung is a cockblock, fluff, cuddles

AN: I spent a whole day writing this, my body hurts, my brain hurts, but I wanted to get this chapter done so badly. I hope you all enjoy it.

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans @malldreamprincess @unlikelysublimekryptonite @becauseilovedyou @kittkat44 @babyxhoiz @asleepylilcat @mxnsxngie @rxnexxi @mommahwa1117 @acciocriativity @anxiousskylar @h3arteyes4mingi

“Hey guys,” Wooyoung said as he entered the living room. “I have an idea for something we can all do.”

The announcement shouldn’t have filled you with fear, but it did.

The week was a roller coaster, if you had to be honest. You’d wanted to keep your interactions with Seonghwa to a minimum, only talking to him if he talked to you, only if you absolutely needed to.

And it felt like torture.

You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to be nice, you wanted to sit with him and have long conversations about anything and everything. You wanted to give him hugs like Wooyoung did.

But you were scared of what would happen if you let yourself do that. If you fell deeper into him. If your lust for him turned to something more than sex.

You weren’t ready to confront that. Despite Wooyoung constantly dragging you with him to do anything, and “coincidentally” always having Seonghwa be there too, you didn’t think it was something beyond Wooyoung wanting to spend time with you. And of course, you were going to spend time with Wooyoung, so you were in a difficult spot.

And yet, the whole time you were trying to subtly avoid him, Seonghwa wasn’t dumb. And unfortunately, he was more observant than you’d thought he was.

And he hated to admit that he thought about it every time he laid down to sleep. He’d lay in his bed for hours and think about you. About the night you had together.

The way you’d look away when he tried to talk to you, the slight red tint in your cheeks when he’d call you “dear” or “sweetheart,” the little tremor in your voice when you talked to him. He was hopelessly attracted to you, and he knew you felt the same way about him.

And you both were battling with your desires in your own ways.

If only you knew that the gorgeous man you were daydreaming about was doing the same thing just one wall away.

You force a sweet smile at Wooyoung as you come back to the present. Seonghwa also looks up at him.

“Eomma, you know that restaurant you’d take me to as a kid?”

Seonghwa smiled and shook his head. “I’ve taken you to many restaurants.”

“The really expensive one that we went to for special occasions?”

“What’s the occasion?” You wondered. In the back of your mind, you wondered if Wooyoung was about to reveal his “relationship” with San to his mother. But the smirk Wooyoung was giving you shot that theory down quickly.

“Isn’t our presence enough of an occasion?” He answered, standing up straighter, puffing out his chest a little. Seonghwa laughed and shook his head again.

“Your presence is always an occasion, nae sarang, but I can’t just take you. That place-”

“Requires reservations,” Wooyoung interrupted, finishing his sentence. “Well what if I told you I already took care of that?”

You and Seonghwa both blinked, not completely believing him. You had no idea where this was going, or what restaurant they could possibly be talking about. Even if you did know the name, it wouldn’t have helped, because you could never afford to go to a restaurant nicer than Olive Garden.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa started, in the signature disappointed parent tone that said everything without having to say it. The tone that meant “you shouldn’t have done that.” But it didn’t dissuade Wooyoung in the slightest.

“Come on, why not? I haven’t been there in a long time, and it’s something we can all do together.” He put extra emphasis on the word “together.”

You turned your attention to Seonghwa, and he was looking at Wooyoung with nothing but love in his eyes, with a little smile on his lips. He knew that no matter what excuse he made up, he was going to relent. He was going to say yes, because there was no reason to say no.

Part of him wanted to see how serious Wooyoung was. Part of him wanted to see what else Wooyoung was up to. He had his suspicions, but couldn’t tell for certain.

“What day do you have this reserved?” Seonghwa asked, tilting his head back a little.

“Tonight,” Wooyoung said proudly. “The perfect night to go out to eat.”

Time had started to warp and bend for you since you were thr0wn off your usual schedule, but Wooyoung had mentioned to you earlier that it was a Saturday. You realized now why he bothered to point it out.

Seonghwa still pretended to roll the idea over in his head. Both you and Wooyoung knew he was faking it based on his smile, but you two were still waiting with bated breath for his answer.

And finally, Seonghwa sighed and nodded. “Okay, when do we have to be there?”

Wooyoung did a little happy dance and squealed. You smiled and sighed in relief.

You didn’t feel so scared about the idea of going to dinner with Seonghwa knowing Wooyoung was going to be there. You’d have to throw together a decent outfit from the clothes that you brought, but you were sure you could do it.

And that’s what you did. About an hour before you were going to leave, you had taken a shower and made yourself look nice before you went to sort through your clothes. Just a simple outfit, but it still made you look put together. It wasn’t luxury, but it would pass decently for an hour or so.

As you were going to leave the room, there was a knock on the door. When you called for them to come in, Wooyoung peeked in. He took one look at your outfit and shook his head.

“No, that’s not gonna work.” He left and went back into his room. You followed him, befuddled.

“What do you mean, I look fine!” You protested, but Wooyoung was already going through his closet to look for something better. He frantically grabbed at different clothes, looking them over, and rejecting most of them.

“Fine isn’t good enough, this is a high class restaurant.” Wooyoung pulled out a shirt that he was satisfied with and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Thankfully, your awesome best friend is here to help you.”

You sighed and looked at his outfit. He wore black slacks with a belt, with a white button up tucked into the shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his arms. This was the nicest you’d ever seen Wooyoung in the entirety of your time knowing him, Wooyoung never dressed up for anything. Not even to the formal events your college hosted.

Realizing that, you decided to listen to him and accept the clothes. You let Wooyoung dress you in the outfit he’d picked, and he helped fit and adjust it so it looked good on you. He accessorized you as well, with a couple of necklaces and rings.

You had to admit, when Wooyoung was done with you, you looked much better than you did before. Much more worthy of a fancy restaurant dinner.

Wooyoung also put a coat over your shoulders. “To match the outfit,” he commented.

“I have a jacket, Wooyoung.”

“Not one that goes with your clothes.” You rolled your eyes, but buttoned up the coat regardless. He had a point, sure, but you mostly just wanted him to shut up.

You and Wooyoung made your way to the front door and waited for Seonghwa.

“How do you have all these nice clothes anyway?” You asked, remembering that you never asked what Seonghwa did for work. With his nice house and Wooyoung’s extensive wardrobe, he had to be doing something amazing.

“My mom is a model,” Wooyoung says nonchalantly, looking at his phone.

Oh. Of course he was.

“What does he model for?”

“Mostly shoes, but he does a lot of other stuff. He has a couple deals for a few different luxury brands.”

Of course he does.

As you were about to continue, you heard a bedroom door close, and the familiar click of heels across the hardwood and down the stairs.

Your breath caught in your throat as Seonghwa came down the stairs. Good Lord, he looked fucking stunning.

He’d dressed himself in black slacks, a white, long sleeved turtleneck, and heels. Heels.

His silky black hair was curled and fell down in beautiful waves, his bangs framing his face perfectly. A few gold chains hung from his neck and rings on his fingers. He’d even put on makeup, with small wings by his eyes and sparkly eyeshadow, with sparkly, glossy, pink lips.

You had a sudden urge to kiss him.

You knocked yourself out of your daze when Seonghwa came over to the door. “Are we ready to go?” He asked as he reached into the closet for a coat.

Wooyoung pushed off the couch, already having a coat like you did. “Yeah, we-” And then his phone began to ring. “Oh-Sorry, let me take this.”

Wooyoung took a few steps away as he answered the call. “Hey. Oh, no. Oh, that sucks. Do you want me to come help? Yeah, I can come over. I’ll be there soon. Okay, bye.”

“Who was that?” Seonghwa asked, fixing his coat, which was white and fluffy, and long enough to cover his entire body, leaving it open. You tried to focus your attention on Wooyoung instead, who was putting his phone into his coat pocket.

“A friend from college, he needs me to come over.”

You had a strong feeling who that “friend” was.

“What happened?” You asked, but Wooyoung was already making his way to the door hurriedly. You grabbed onto his arm to stop him, and as he looked at you, you could see in his eyes that he was scared.

There was genuine fear there. Your stomach suddenly filled with dread wondering what could’ve happened to this unnamed “friend.”

“I’ll explain later, I just really have to go.” He pulled his arm out of your grip and opened the door. “I’m sorry, you two should still go enjoy dinner!”

“Wait, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa tried to stop him, but Wooyoung was already gone.

And you and Seonghwa were alone. As the silence stretched on, another realization dawned on you.

You were about to go to a restaurant and have dinner with Seonghwa. Alone.

“Well,” Seonghwa began. “Do you still want to go?”

“Yes,” you blurted, way sooner than you wanted to. Seonghwa’s lips curved up into a smirk.

“You don’t have to hide it anymore, sweetie. He’s gone.”

Your heart stops and you can feel sweat break out all over your body. Of course he knew, of course he’d seen how you were avoiding him and being shy around him. But you weren’t prepared for him to confront you about it.

And all that you can say is a soft, strangled, “What?” Seonghwa laughed softly and closed the gap between you two, standing over you. He made you feel so much smaller than you already were.

And you wanted to grab him. Desire burned in your bones to reach out and hug him, pressing your face into his chest, being safe and happy in his arms, letting the rest of the world fade out.

But you held yourself back, and forced yourself to keep eye contact with him. And he was loving the panic in your eyes.

“You can relax. It’s okay.” Seonghwa grabbed your hand and held it gently. “Enjoy this night with me.”

“But Wooyoung-” You tried to argue, but Seonghwa shook his head.

“He’s an adult. He’ll be okay. I’ll leave my phone on if he needs me.” He squeezed your hand gently. “Please. Come with me.”

And who were you to tell him no, when Seonghwa was asking you to go with him?

You followed Seonghwa into the restaurant, and you were already impressed in the first few seconds.

The entrance had little lanterns on the walls with candles inside them, illuminating the small hallway to the hostess stand and the rest of the building. There were large potted plants along the carpeted walkway, and the walls were adorned with large, gorgeous paintings of different landscapes and animals.

You stayed close to Seonghwa, but still far enough away to not touch him. He didn’t allow that, he grabbed onto your hand and laced his fingers with yours. The small gesture made your stomach flip over.

The hostess looked up and smiled at Seonghwa, and she started speaking in Korean. You heard her say “Mr. Park,” but you couldn’t understand anything else. Seonghwa responded, but there was a slight stutter in his voice.

You looked up at him, but before either of you could say anything else, the hostess motioned for you to follow her, and she led you into the dining area.

The dining area had the same theme of decor as the hallway. Dark moody lighting, lanterns, paintings and plants everywhere. The tables ranged in different sizes, from large to small, and nearly all of them were full.

But there was one open small table, with only two chairs with it.

You and Hwa took your seats, removing your coats first and leaving them on the chairs. You turned to Seonghwa and you nearly choked seeing him in the low lighting. Highlighting the bright parts and increasing the shadows, he looked like a character from a movie.

“It’s funny,” Seonghwa began, looking at you. “The reservation was under my name. For only two people.”

Your heart stopped for a second. And then you couldn’t help but laugh.

Wooyoung, the fucking brat. He set you two up. He was never going to come with you two.

Seonghwa laughed too, a soft, beautiful sound. “Did you tell him?”

You shook your head aggressively. “No, he told me not to.” And as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up to you, and chills ran all across your body as when his eyes met yours. A smirk appeared on his lips again.

He was about to make a comment when a server came over and, in Korean, began to speak to Seonghwa. The look on his face disappeared and was replaced with a bright, award winning smile.

And somehow, jealousy began to burn in your bones, seeing the server clearly flirting with Seonghwa. You couldn’t understand what either of them were saying, but the way the server was smiling, giving him half closed eyes, laughing at what he said, it made you angry.

You balled your hands into fists by your sides, trying to keep your face neutral as the conversation went on. It was brief, but it was enough to piss you off.

The server walked away and Seonghwa turned his attention back to you. You forced a small smile and unclenched your fists. Seonghwa smiled back and crossed his arms, leaning on the table. You awkwardly kept your hands in your lap, not knowing what else to do with them.

“I’m sorry you’re getting left out of a lot of conversations. All I did was order for us, I hope you don’t mind what I got.”

“We’ll see when it gets here, won’t we?”

“Of course, we’ll see.”

And silence went over you both. You weren’t sure how to do this. This was less of a simple dinner and more of a date, and you’d been working to avoid this. But now you were sitting in front of him at a luxury restaurant waiting for food.

You had no idea how to fill the gap, since you hadn’t ever planned for this. You could see in Seonghwa’s eyes that he had ideas. But he just watched you.

He delighted in how you squirmed under his gaze. Holding eye contact, but nervously fidgeting and shifting around. Maybe he was just a little bit of a sadist.

“So,” he finally said, sitting up to take a drink of water. You let out a heavy breath and gulped, suddenly needing the water too. “Should I teach you a few words? Just for fun?”

“Sure.” You set the glass back down and put your hands back in your lap, still fidgeting with them. “That sounds fun.” You smiled, but it was weak and forced. Seonghwa was living for your nervousness.

“Okay, first word, eomma. It means ‘mom.’”

“Wooyoung uses that one,” you piped up. “I guessed that’s what it meant.”

“Yeah, that was easy.” He went quiet as he tried to think of more words to teach you, and one popped up in your head.

“What about the one you call Wooyoung?” Seonghwa looked at you, and his smile spread across his whole face.

“‘Nae sarang?’ It means ‘my love’.” His smile made butterflies burst in your stomach.

“That’s cute,” you squeaked out, reaching for the water again. Seonghwa’s eyes sparkled in delight.

“I thought so too,” he mused, leaning back on the table.

He was playing you like a goddamn game and you were falling right into it.

He was teasing you, toying with you. Trying to break you and admit that you wanted him as badly as you knew you did. He saw it all over you, but you refused to admit it.

But he’d made you. He knew he’d make you crumble for him.

“How about another cute one? ‘Jagiya’ means “baby,” like the pet name.”

The looks Seonghwa was giving you while he was teaching you these words was obvious. You knew the game he was playing. And you were powerless to stop it.

“Yeah, it’s cute,” you said softly. Seonghwa moved so he could prop his head up on his hand, under his chin.

“Why don’t you try it? Go on, say it.”

You gave your best attempt at the word, and Seonghwa’s heart fluttered hearing you say it. He was already imagining you calling him that.

And maybe someday, nae sarang.

No. That’s ridiculous. That would never happen. That’s not possible.

But what if it was?

The food came not long later, and the same server from before was the one to deliver it. The server was more bold this time, putting a hand on Seonghwa’s shoulder while she spoke to him.

The jealousy bubbled up in you again. Aren’t servers not allowed to touch customers unless it’s an emergency? This had to be a violation of some kind. Could you report the server for being inappropriate? Maybe, but you don’t know how you would.

“Sweetheart?” Seonghwa called softly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at him. You realized the server was nowhere to be found. How long had you zoned out?

“Sorry, I-”

“If looks could kill, that server would’ve been dead and buried.” He said as he picked up a pair of chopsticks. He spoke so matter-of-factly that it almost sounds like a lecture. Your cheeks burned hot and you looked down at the food, which looked delicious. A noodle based dish. “Go on, try it. I think you’ll like it.

So you did. You struggled with the chopsticks for a bit before you got a hold of them, which Seonghwa found adorably amusing. You grabbed a small bite of the mixture and took a bite.

And he was right, you loved it.

“Oh, this is so good,” you mumbled as you continued to eat, trying to remember your table manners and restrain yourself. Seonghwa could only smile as he watched you.

“I’m glad you like it.”

You both ate with minimal talking. Mostly because you were starving and hadn’t eaten in a long while, and you were loving the food. Seonghwa didn’t mind, because he was happy enough being here with you.

You were adorable. Plain and simple. You were stuck in his head.

Which is why he wanted you to admit that you wanted him to.

You got back into Seonghwa’s car as he did, settling back into the seat.

“Thank you for that, Seonghwa.” You looked over at him. “I really appreciate this. This was really nice.”

“You’re welcome, jagiya.” He started the car and began the drive home. He’d made the drive many times before, with Wooyoung, who had set you both up. It’d be an interesting conversation when you both got home.

You were sitting in the seat beside Seonghwa with your brain shorting out from the pet name. Jagiya. You knew there was a chance he’d use it on you, but it still broke your brain.

“Jagiya?” Seonghwa called softly. He glanced over at you, and he smirked, seeing your eyes glazed over.

Seonghwa placed his hand on your thigh. Gently, very gently. He didn’t move, he just kept his hand there. Just a gentle, steady pressure.

But he felt how your thigh tensed under his hand. He glanced up at your face, and your eyes were wide and clear, but your hands were gripping onto the seat below you.

“Do you want me to stop?” Seonghwa asked softly.

“No,” you blurted.

It shouldn’t have made him so happy to hear that, but he felt the desire bloom in his bones. He gently squeezed your thigh, massaging it.

And it made fire shoot up your leg and all over your body. Your stomach was churning inside you, your head was growing light. You didn’t think you could melt so badly from a simple touch, but you felt like you were actually turning into a puddle in the seat.

Every night, all week, he was in your head. You were thinking about your night together. His hands on your body, his arms around you, how his touch lit you on fire. You craved it more than you knew.

Seonghwa’s hand moved up your thigh, and you couldn’t cover your mouth in time before the whimper fell past your lips. Seonghwa bit his lip at the soft sound.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” His voice had slipped into a deeper octave, something more sensual. “I wanted you back in my bed. Don’t deny it anymore, you wanted it too, didn’t you?”

You bit your lip to stifle the rest of the noises that tumbled out of your mouth. The constant circles he was rubbing into your inner thigh, right next to where you needed him most, mixing with his voice, his confessions, you were a mess.

A mess just like he wanted.

“You wanted me too, jagiya. You thought about me, you wanted me. You wanted me to fuck you again just like I did before.”

Somehow, you were back at the house already. You hadn’t paid attention, how could you? Your brain was wrapped up in Seonghwa, all in him. Just him, and how badly you wanted him again. He was right, of course he was.

He turned to look at you, with his eyes half closed, his hand still on your thigh. He squeezed tighter than he had before.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you, jagiya. Tell me.”

Fuck it.

“I want you to fuck me, Mommy.”

“Good doll.”

You both quickly got out of the car and into the house. You pulled your shoes and coat off, and dropped it onto the couch. You turned to Seonghwa and choked on nothing as he stripped his coat off, tossing it aside, his eyes trained on you.

The only light in the room was a lamp by the door, making him look fucking angelic. An angel here for you.

He grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, his hands on your waist, his body pressed against yours. Your hands locked around his neck and pulled his lips to yours, beginning a messy, passionate kiss, all tongue and teeth.

Desperation clawed at you both like a frantic, wild animal. Seonghwa’s hands wander to your shirt, pulling it up and rubbing up against your skin, his lips traveling down your neck.

“You don’t want to go to bed?” You breathed, gripping onto his pretty silky hair.

“We’ll get there eventually, I need you now.” He gripped onto your waist again, pressing against you harder, almost pushing you up the wall.

Your legs fell open for him almost embarrassingly easily, but all pride had been thrown out the window.

Seonghwa’s hands ran down and grabbed onto your thighs, and you grabbed onto his shoulders, ready to jump into his arms.

Until you both heard the front door open.

You and Seonghwa both immediately jumped away from each other, trying to pretend that you weren’t just all over each other as Wooyoung came in the door.

Seonghwa had gone over to put his coat away, and flashed a fake smile to his son. They exchanged a brief “hi” before Seonghwa tried to cover up the sin you were about to commit.

“We just got home too! Did everything work out with your friend?”

“Oh, yeah.” Wooyoung took off his coat as well, and you couldn’t help but smirk when you saw his messy clothes. His shirt was untucked, his collar wasn’t properly fixed.

And oh, what’s that, just under his jaw? A little bruise. And how would Wooyoung get such a small bruise in a spot like that?

It took everything in you to not burst into giggles knowing exactly where Wooyoung had run off to.

All three of you agreed that everything worked out, everyone pretending they didn’t know anything about each other, before you headed up to your separate bedrooms. Not without you giving a little smirk to Wooyoung.

You’d give him shit in the morning about his dirty little secret. You knew you would.

But you were back in bed, laying awake, thinking about Seonghwa.

Fuck. This was a new level of desperation for you.

And realizing how badly you wanted to be back with him sucked any sexual energy out of you. You just wanted to be in his arms now.

As quietly as you could, you snuck out of your room and went to Seonghwa’s door. You didn’t bother to knock, you couldn’t risk waking up Wooyoung.

You slowly opened the door and slipped inside. Seonghwa was already waiting for you, and happily pulled his blankets back to let you into bed.

You crawled in and laid next to him, putting your head on his chest. He held you tight and close, and finally, what you craved was yours.

“Too risky to continue?” You whispered.

“Too risky,” he whispered back. And that was fine with you.

At least now you had him. You had his arms around you. You were in his bed. He was rubbing your back. Your head was on his chest. And everything felt right. Everything felt good.

Whatever your future held, you knew it would have Seonghwa in it. You would be sure of it. How could you ever let him go?

“Stay with me,” he whispered. “I really did miss you.”

“I missed you too,” you whispered back.

And you stayed.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

[mysweetlixe]

One more kiss

Words: 2.4k

Chan and Y/N strolled along the moonlit beach, waves gently crashing against the shore. Laughter filled the air as they shared stories under the twinkling stars. As the night unfolded, Chan couldn't resist the allure of Y/N's lips, which had already been graced with numerous kisses.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Chan turned to Y/N and said, "What do you say we make tonight unforgettable with just one more kiss?" His playful grin mirrored the joyous atmosphere surrounding them.

Y/N chuckled, "Chan, you've already stolen so many kisses tonight. Are you trying to break a record?"

"Maybe I am," Chan replied with a wink, his fingers gently tracing circles on Y/N's hand. "But this one will be special, I promise."

Intrigued, Y/N leaned in, meeting Chan halfway. Their lips brushed, a sweet fusion of warmth and affection. The salty breeze played with their hair as they shared a lingering, magical moment.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N teased, "You're right, that was special. But why stop at one more?"

Chan grinned, his eyes sparkling, "Well, I wanted to make sure each kiss was a chapter in our story, and tonight's chapter is all about playfulness and making memories."

As they continued their walk along the shore, the night unfolded, painting their love story with the hues of a moonlit canvas, each kiss etching a tale of joy, laughter, and endless love.

Minho couldn't shake off the nervous excitement that gripped him, in the bustling backstage chaos before his highly anticipated concert. The adrenaline rushed through his veins, but amidst the whirlwind of preparations, one thing remained constant – his desire for a good luck kiss from Y/N, his girlfriend.

As the final moments before taking the stage approached, Minho sought out Y/N in the midst of the frenetic energy backstage. Spotting her, he grinned, his eyes reflecting a mix of anticipation and affection. Y/N, aware of his pre-show ritual, met him with a smile that spoke volumes.

"Hey, beautiful," Minho greeted, pulling her into a warm embrace. The chaotic ambiance faded for a moment, leaving only the two of them in their world.

"You ready for this, Minho?" Y/N asked, her eyes mirroring his excitement.

"Absolutely, but I need something first," Minho replied with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He held Y/N at arm's length, his hands resting on her waist. "How about one more of your magical good luck kisses?"

Y/N chuckled, playing along. "Minho, you've had, like, a dozen already. Are you sure one more will make a difference?"

Minho feigned a pout, his puppy-dog eyes coming into play. "Come on, Y/N, just one more for the road. It's our secret weapon against stage jitters."

Rolling her eyes in mock exasperation, Y/N leaned in, meeting Minho's lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away as they shared that moment, lost in the world they created together.

Breaking the kiss, Minho grinned, a newfound confidence radiating from him. "Now I'm ready to rock that stage!"

Y/N laughed, giving him a playful shove. "You were ready before, but I'm glad I could contribute to the cause. Go out there and shine, Minho."

With one last affectionate glance, Minho headed towards the stage, fueled not just by the energy of the crowd but also by the love and support he found in Y/N's kiss. And as the music echoed through the venue, he knew that, no matter what, Y/N's kisses would always be his favorite pre-show ritual.

Changbin and Y/N sat on the couch, the room illuminated only by the soft glow of fairy lights. The clock on the wall ticked away, nearing the elusive hour of 3 am. They had spent the night sharing laughter, dreams, and countless kisses.

As they cuddled close, Changbin couldn't help but feel a mischievous spark. "Y/N," he whispered, his lips grazing her ear, "how about one more kiss before 3 am?"

Y/N giggled, her eyes reflecting the playful glint in his. "Changbin, we've already lost count of how many kisses we've shared tonight."

He grinned, his fingers tracing circles on her hand. "But there's something magical about a kiss right before the clock strikes 3, don't you think?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, pretending to ponder the idea. "Magical, huh? I suppose we could use a bit more magic in our night."

Changbin leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a lingering kiss. It was sweet and gentle, a perfect blend of affection and mischief. As they pulled away, he couldn't resist teasing, "See? Pure magic."

Y/N chuckled, nuzzling against him. "Okay, Changbin, you win. That was magical."

But Changbin wasn't done yet. With a sly grin, he added, "But what if the real magic happens with just one more kiss?"

Their laughter filled the room as they shared another kiss, sealing the enchantment of the night. As the clock finally struck 3 am, they embraced in a warm, contented cuddle, knowing that some nights were meant for creating magical memories that would last far beyond the midnight hour.

Hyunjin , a charismatic and playful soul, found himself swept away in a whirlwind of excitement on an Instagram live session. The air was buzzing with the virtual presence of fans as they joined to catch a glimpse of the young couple's endearing moments.

As Hyunjin interacted with the audience, his eyes sparkled with mischief. He decided to turn the live session into a playful escapade. With a sly grin, he glanced at the camera and shared stories of the delightful kisses he had received from his girlfriend Y/N earlier that day.

The comment section erupted with emojis and comments expressing adoration for the couple. Hyunjin, fueled by the positive energy, couldn't resist turning the spotlight on Y/N. He playfully called her into the frame, and she shyly appeared, laughter dancing in her eyes.

The couple exchanged banter and sweet nothings, creating an atmosphere charged with warmth. The audience was captivated as they witnessed the genuine connection between Hyunjin and Y/N. Amid the virtual cheers, Hyunjin, known for his playful nature, turned to Y/N with a mischievous glint.

"Y/N, you've been generous with your kisses today, but I can't help but crave one more. Care to indulge me?" he teased, a playful pout forming on his lips. Y/N, with a mock gasp, pretended to be taken aback before breaking into a smile.

The live chat exploded with anticipation as fans eagerly awaited Y/N's response. Without missing a beat, Y/N leaned in, planting a light and teasing kiss on Hyunjin's cheek. The audience erupted in virtual cheers, showering the couple with love and heart emojis.

Hyunjin, not one to back down, seized the moment. "Ah, Y/N, you know that wasn't the kiss I was aiming for. One more, just for good measure?" he requested, a twinkle in his eye. Y/N, with a playful glint, obliged, this time delivering a sweet kiss on his lips.

The Instagram live session continued with the couple's playful banter, leaving fans enchanted and eager for more glimpses into their adorable relationship. As the session came to an end, Hyunjin and Y/N bid their followers farewell, their laughter echoing in the virtual realm, leaving behind a trail of smiles and warm memories.

Jisung woke up to the soft sunlight filtering through the curtains, a warmth that matched the feeling in his heart. Beside him, Y/N lay peacefully, still lost in the realm of dreams. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he admired her serene expression.

Quietly slipping out of bed, Jisung tiptoed to the bathroom, intending to start his morning routine. As he turned on the faucet, he couldn't help but recall the sweet kisses they had exchanged the night before—each one a testament to their love.

Jisung after finishing his shower emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist, his tousled hair adding to the overall morning charm. He glanced at Y/N, who was now stirring awake.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Jisung approached her side of the bed. "Hey, Y/N," he whispered, his voice a gentle morning melody.

Y/N blinked, still adjusting to wakefulness. "Morning," she mumbled, a content smile playing on her lips.

Jisung leaned down, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "I was thinking," he began, a playful smirk forming, "how about one more kiss before I officially start my day?"

Y/N chuckled, her eyes meeting his. "One more? You already got plenty last night."

"But each one is special," Jisung insisted, feigning innocence. "And you know, it's like a morning ritual. Good luck for the day, you know?"

Rolling her eyes, Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his charm. "Alright, just one more, and then you have to let me get up too."

Jisung grinned, savoring the sweetness of the moment. As their lips met in a final morning kiss, he couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple joys they shared. It was a playful start to the day, setting the tone for the countless adventures they would embark on together.

Felix stood at the departure gate, his heart heavy with the impending separation from Y/N. The airport buzzed with the hurried footsteps of travelers, but in his world, time seemed to slow down.

As he embraced Y/N one last time before boarding his flight for the upcoming tour, he couldn't shake the desire for one more kiss. The taste of their shared laughter lingered on his lips, and he found himself playfully whispering, "What do you say to one more kiss for the road?"

Y/N grinned, her eyes reflecting a mixture of love and mischief. "Felix, you've already stolen a dozen kisses. Aren't you satisfied?"

Felix chuckled, his hand reaching up to gently caress her cheek. "I can never get enough of your kisses, especially when I'm about to be miles away. Humor me?"

Y/N's playful resistance melted, and she leaned in for a lingering kiss. The airport background noise faded away as their connection deepened. It was a sweet, bittersweet moment filled with unspoken promises.

They finally pulled away, both wearing smiles that masked the underlying sadness. Felix held her hands, his eyes searching hers. "I'll carry that kiss with me on tour, and every time I miss you, I'll replay it in my mind."

Y/N nodded, fighting back tears. "And I'll be waiting for the day you come back, ready to welcome you with more kisses than you can count."

As Felix boarded the plane, he couldn't shake the image of Y/N's smile and the taste of that last kiss. Little did he know that those memories would become his anchor during the long days and nights away, a source of comfort and warmth in the midst of the tour's chaos.

And so, the story of Felix and Y/N's playful request for one more kiss before parting ways became a cherished chapter in the book of their love, a tale to be revisited whenever the distance felt too great.

Seungmin and Y/N sat on the couch, basking in the warm glow of a lazy Saturday afternoon. The sun streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle light on their laughter-filled moments. Seungmin, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, turned to Y/N and said, "You know, I think I'm in serious need of just one more kiss."

Y/N chuckled, "Oh really? One more? I've lost count of how many I've given you today."

Seungmin flashed his signature grin, "Well, you know, each kiss feels like the first time. But I promise, just one more, and then I'll stop... maybe."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, "Fine, just one more." She leaned in, meeting his lips in a sweet exchange that spoke volumes of their affection.

As they pulled away, Seungmin couldn't resist a teasing remark, "That was nice, but I think I need a better one. A more passionate one, perhaps?"

Y/N laughed, "You're insatiable! Okay, one more, but then we're done."

Their playful banter continued as they found themselves in a light-hearted wrestling match on the living room floor. Giggles and laughter filled the room as they rolled around, each trying to pin the other down.

Seungmin managed to sneak in a tickle, causing Y/N to squirm. "Alright, alright! Truce!" she exclaimed, catching her breath.

Seungmin grinned triumphantly, "Truce only if I get one more kiss to seal the deal."

Y/N chuckled, "You drive a hard bargain, but fine." She leaned in, their lips meeting once again, sealing their playful afternoon with a final, sweet kiss. The echoes of their laughter lingered, turning the ordinary day into a cherished memory of love and joy.

Jeongin and Y/N settled into a cozy movie night, the room bathed in the soft glow of the television. As the film unfolded, their shared laughter and occasional whispers created a warm ambiance. The storyline of the movie, however, seemed to fade into the background as Jeongin's mind started to wander.

Feeling a mischievous spark, Jeongin turned to Y/N with a playful grin, "Hey, Y/N, how about one more kiss?" His eyes twinkled, reflecting the light from the screen.

Y/N chuckled, "One more? You've already got plenty today!" She teased, remembering the numerous stolen kisses exchanged throughout the day.

Undeterred, Jeongin leaned in, his lips brushing Y/N's cheek before he pulled away with a grin. "But can one ever have too many kisses?" he pondered, his playful tone hanging in the air.

Y/N rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. "Fine, just one more," she conceded, meeting his lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. The moment, though brief, spoke volumes in the language of their affection.

As the movie continued, the playful exchange set a lighthearted tone for the evening. Their hands found each other, fingers intertwined as they immersed themselves in the unfolding scenes on the screen. The movie became a backdrop to their shared moments, deepening their connection with every passing frame.

Through the laughter, the whispered conversations, and the gentle kisses, Jeongin and Y/N created a story of their own that surpassed any plot playing out on the television. The tale of their love unfolded in the dimly lit room, leaving imprints of warmth and affection that lingered long after the credits rolled.

[me-uglypretty]

on earth and valhalla 

Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: With the revelation of carrying a baby, Natasha finally realises what was true love than what she once had.

Warning: (18+), AU Vikings, fluff, mention of war, angst, pregnancy, smut, fingering | 2k words

| N.R. Masterlist | Notify | Navigation |

The trust of another, an outsider or a familiar friend, someone loved or hated severely, the kind that led your body to lay with a woman on a bed ensured for another. That person, unworthy and worthless, while your heart swells for her, the trust bestowed on you, the overwhelming journey of you and her. And where a bed housed two hearts with the utmost significance. Your heart pulses reassuringly with hers, resonating a sound that ensured of love. Even if a brutal war was predicted. Soon, they had asserted, and your heart fusses at the agony of something deathly, till peace reclaimed over your heart.

Natasha was there. Her hand grasped your own, swiftly leading you away from the rowdy crowd to where none would dare disturb their Queen. A petite house, constructed for a small family, not promised for someone of her power. But she doesn’t bother for such comforts, only enough to know it was a secreted space. It wasn’t her home or yours. This was, after all, a place for rest before continuing the significant journey.

“We can’t fight if the odds aren’t in our favour,” you expressed, burden carried your tone into the icy night. Natasha held your hand delicately in hers and it mends the ache in your chest, warming the cold that dared intrude.

She hummed, and slender fingers absently trace the scar that begin from your shoulder to where your elbow curved. Not a word was spoken in response to your whirling thoughts. Her head remained rested on your chest, wisps of auburn hair sprang from her extensive braid, and your own fingers combs through those strands. Natasha had always preferred this position with an established understanding that she preferred your body adjacent with her. It granted her the prospect of listening to your beating heart or the pulse in your wrist when your hand rested on her head, to feel the soft intake of breaths, to feel bodies together for her to know that you were real, and you were there.

However, it wasn’t her tendency to remain silence for a long period of time. Natasha always spoke of something, even during horrendous hours of war, her lips would curl of a sweet smile and her eyes would declare of love, only for you. Words that warmth your cheeks would be spoken as secrets known to you and her, bashful as you fail to remember the sheer respect that awakened from your stern appearance.

The absent of that, made the night lonesome. It felt terribly wrong.

Natasha’s eyes were tired and glistering as she contemplates an answer. “I am with a child,” she confessed unexpectedly, appearing afraid as those words left from the safekeeping of her heart. Her hand rested thoughtfully above her stomach, as if, consciously feeling the child roaming unknowingly in her body.

A mother she was to be, meant, or entirely confused at the sudden knowledge.

Her husband had left months prior, amid winter and the fall of a neighbouring village. The pursuit of greed, blinded his sense in rage, seeming bloody and careless, thus, abandoning his wife to her lonesome. Others had spoken tales of his wits, that he had found another woman, supple and young, that he had slept with her and found her carrying his child. It was easier for him to leave Natasha, his wedded wife, as his desire for a child was fulfilled by another woman. Further on his cruel purpose, his new wife was birthed into a wealthy family and a daughter to heroic legends. He was offered more power and golden possessions. It was all the eternal luxury that aided his greed.

You hadn’t seen him, but if the Gods allowed, he would kneel for wounding her in such insolent ways.

Somehow, you encountered her instead. A frail woman she seemed at first, chaotically applying pressure to the wound on her palm, and she was crying dejectedly. If you hadn’t seen her palm, you would have assumed a dagger was lodged through her chest. Help was offered first, ruthless as you spoke to an outsider, unfamiliar of her face and origins, but you grasp her hand in yours, and felt the warmth that spread vehemently. It was quiet as your eyes gaze into hers, resting on emerald spheres that appeared blue at times, and grey. However, at that hour, her eyes were solemn and brimming with tears.

You hadn’t known of her as you treated her wound tenderly. Then she asked, “Do you not know who I am?” and was instantly followed by your answer, “You must be important. See, you are not crying anymore.”

Natasha had stared at you, astonished by your bluntness, and how easily you had diminished her famed introduction. It was later that your appearance as a new shieldmaiden and offering your allegiance to the Queen, did you realise who she was.

A legendary shield-maiden spoken for across chilling seas and countries. Natasha Romanova, the last of the Romanova. Loved and feared, a name that roused them from their seats and knees burrowed into the dirt. They worshiped her for the sheer bravery, a warrior that even enemies feared at the name, and rather surrender when proved that victory would remain hers. Despite of her husband’s disloyalty and abandoning their realm, and the hundreds of deaths ensued after an unexpected invasion which was evoked by his departure, Natasha continued fighting fervently. Sweat and blood of her own and her people, a spirt so unmatched and proven victorious as she carried them.

And there were times they had lost and faced devastation, but she stayed persisted for everyone’s safety with a brazen passion.

It happened hastily. A promised position by the Queen, and you were to fight with her, by her, for her.

Then, the horrid flash of war that occurred weeks after. Her silvery sword dribbles with blood of the enemies, she slashed through bodies and heads falling hastily on the ground. Death reeks an awful stench in the air. Your chest heaved at every strike, body far and unable to reach her. You feared for her too, as the enemy circles around her and she only smirked in response, such arrogance roused when facing possible death. You cared for her more, and not enough for those stood behind you or front, but for her, the quick shield-maiden, who’s reckless bravery or foolishness had left her to fend for herself.

And yet, she emerged bloody and yelling at their victory.

Cheers gushed through the masses while the enemies laid dead, drenched in blood, and some barely breathing. She spoke of their victory, unaffected by the blood that dribbles from her forehead, and her people listened, immensely treasuring her every word. The defeat of their enemy, soon to follow was the feast for triumph.

That, the untroubled expression on her face, as if, she hasn’t brushed the blades of death, and risked her life that was scarred, because she was Queen, and leader of this Kingdom. It wasn’t desirable as the reasons fell. Natasha should had known better, to fight was inevitable, but to ensure her safety was there.

It was your responsibility to protect her as any other would act for their Queen. The same reasoning that sufficient you into grabbing her hand, dragging the beloved Queen away from her praising people for your own interest. You heard the splutter of confusion from her mouth, aided by harsh alcohol, and still in trance for winning another battle.

In the state of silence, away from disruptive people, anger transpired in your wide eyes while hers bloom in worry, grey beneath the pale moon, and alike the erratic sea you once sailed. You hadn’t thought, as you pushed her against the wooden partition, she gasped at the sudden force and the breath of air was swallowed by your mouth pressed over hers. A kiss fuelled with retaliation, raging with anger and bleeding in fatigue.

Natasha pushed your chest first, cursing your name for acting in such ways, and she kissed you this time. The rush clash of mouth, of teeth, the feel of another tongue in your mouth, so wet and muddled. Kisses pulses of desired touch, and soon, love materialised at every smooth touch, bites, and moans.

The night beamed with the moon, beneath there where two bodies bonded in secrecy. A declaration of love evoked by touch, by sound you swore to remember forevermore, and by her.

“The greatest love,” Natasha had confessed, still huffing at the seconds before of relentless love. “My only one,” you whispered after, kissing her wholly and tasting the mix of you and her.

Then, this, the hour where silence weakens the happiness that stirred by her side.

“Look at me,” you plead first, before grasping her jaw to force her into facing you. “Natasha,” your voice softens at the sight of her trembling lips and glossy eyes, appearing as though the sea had spew in thunderous waves, surrounding green in grey, and woeful as she stared gloomily at you.

Her hand rest over yours. “I am with a child,” she whispered, raising herself to stare down at you. “There is a child and…” her eyes shut closed, a single tear trickles down her cheek, soon, a trail of water traced her cheeks with more tears.

Your thumb made the attempt of wiping her tears, unsuccessfully at that as it persists flowing dreadfully. “Don’t cry,” you murmured, slowly shifting her position to lay on the bed and cautiously climbing over her, straddling her waist as you continued, “I can’t see you sad.”

Natasha released a shuddered breath. “This child— this child would not have a father,” she expressed the most agitating thought. “What must I do?”

The sheer act of worry, emotions spiralling in her expression and body, would be perceived as weakness by the rest and something she avoided expressing. Natasha was the Queen, and the last remaining one of her royal lineages. You had only perceive a glimpse of her mournful state when her husband had left, where you found her weeping at the wound on her hand.

Your hand attentively trails a path from the curves of her jaw, to where both hands join to caress the tense muscles of her arms, faded scars tattered her skin and you kiss each one, tales of bravery and those of foolishness. The tip of your fingers traces those scars, leading to where her heart thumps distressingly in her chest, and your hands curls around her breast. Tender thumb pressed her nipples, feeling them rise proudly from the cold and your touch.

If Natasha wanted to say something, she doesn’t, but a wispy sigh left her parted mouth instead.

Your hands continue their voyage, drifting to where you felt warmth resurfacing from her bottom half. One hand grasps her curve of her waist, the other tracing a prominent scar at her lower abdomen. She had received that scar at the treatment of surviving the massacre of her family. Slowly, your hand positions over her cunt. You felt the warmth that emits when your thumb teased her buddle of nerves, fingers carefully prying her folds apart to grant access to the opening of her hole and your index finger prod teasingly, prolonging the whines in her throat.

Tears slithers down her cheeks, gracing full lips with a slight sheen, and compelled your mouth to hers, pressing tenderly on those lips that tasted salty and sweet. Natasha doesn’t hesitate to return her love, damp face pressed to yours, then she released a mellow gasp when your index finger slides into her hole. You kissed her intensely and suck her bottom lip, a simple act of aiding the cold of your finger into the warmth of her cunt.

You gave her a moment to savour your affectionate strokes, in and out, the tender brush of her clit, and the soft sounds that leaves her mouth. Ten second passed, another…

“Look at me,” you spoke, voice stern and clear. “Natasha,” you tried, abandoning her pleasure completely which stirred a hopeless whine from her mouth.

It takes her by surprise, a mix of a loud moan and a gasp, when your hand slapped over her cunt. A warning of some sort, her gaze finally meeting yours. A Queen obeying to her common people, a sight so delirious, that you had to kiss her mouth again, and watch her bleary eyes as you continued.

“I am to fuck you— like this is my child,” you declared, swiftly pushing two fingers into her warmth, and you found that spot which forced fervent pleas to fall from her sweet mouth.

Natasha was speechless at your sudden revelation, one that spoke from your heart, and acted upon with your touch on her body. Her hands expose her want further as she grasps your sturdy arms, nails pressing crescent dents on your skin. Hips bucks subconsciously into your ministration, wetness coats her thighs, the sound of slippering thrust, and the gasps from two.

Longing blossoms by how skilfully hands stimulated the other, bodies mending beautifully, and her legs locked habitual around your body. Sharp gasps were promised when your fingers grazed the spot that made her clenched around those skilful fingers while you, around nothing. Feverish lust slicks uncomfortably between your thighs, but your lust filled eyes was glued on her, those breasts you adored were bouncing at the friction of bodies, so breathless for you, her eyes misty with pleasure, and to witness her unravel was enough.

It was, and will always be something that he would never understand.

“He would never love you like this,” the sound slips into her ears, your mouth wide as you try formulating words than blows of moans. “Only I will love you, on earth and Valhalla. Understand?”

The melodious sounds of her moans expressed her nearing orgasm and her struggles of holding you closer than falling limp. While your free hand glides upwards and downward, aiding her release with your fingers working blissfully inside her. It takes another intense thrust of your fingers and thumb circling her clit that her legs shake. But you continued, thrusting into her to prolong her pleasure, to make her moan and whine, for her strength to unravel at the harsh grip of her hands over your arms.

It takes a moment, the sound of fire flickering, ember reflecting on your face and hers, and a dull throbbing, that you slowly hindered. Fingers sheens with her arousal, the savoury juice of her pleasure that you greedily pushed your fingers into your mouth and cleaning the last remaining taste of her.

“You are,” Natasha murmured, her hands softly caressing your arms as blurry eyes watch your body lowering to her wanting lips you delayed to kiss. “You are my child’s father,” she spoke, yielding a loud moan after at the feeling of your mouth pressing a kiss on her sensitive clit, and your tongue gliding through her folds just seconds after.

The promise presented in touch so tender and rough, the gasps that fell from her beautiful mouth and yours driven by her. An immediate reassurance that your declaration was honest at your display of affection, a warmth none had faced, and the exemption for her to remain so rigid for her people. It was just two people there, you and her, and another that waited patiently for when the precise time arrives.

A future was seen, perceived, and declared at each stroke. It would remain for you as for her, to care, to love, to remain by her side forevermore.

[charmedreincarnation]

A Simple 3 day manifesting challenge using Neville Goddard “isn’t it wonderful”

"Isn't it wonderful? This is the secret declared by the wise: I am what I want to be. And though outwardly I appear to be living in this world, inwardly I am what I want to be in the world of my own wonderful creating."

The words of Neville Goddard are so powerful because they remind us that we are limitless in our potential. We can become whatever we want to be, regardless of our external circumstances. All we need to do is start believing in ourselves and have faith in our unique capabilities.At the heart of Neville Goddard's message is the idea that we create our own realities. People often forget this and get bogged down in the day-to-day mundanity of life. But if we remain focused on our goals, we can manifest our dreams and craft our own destiny.

"Isn't it wonderful" reminds us of our divine nature, and our ability to create our own reality as God being a spark of the Supreme Being, and to live a happy and fulfilled life without feeling discouraged or hopeless. By believing and feeling positively, we can naturally manifest the life we want by using our own power of thoughts and beliefs.

we can attract more positive outcomes. "Change your conception of yourself and you will automatically change the world in which you live."

by Using"Isn't it wonderful," we align ourselves with the energy of our desires and attract them effortlessly. "Ask yourself, 'What would it feel like if my desire were fulfilled right now?'"

It encourages us to persist in our affirmations and trust in the truth. "Persist in your assumption, and it will harden into fact."

It will evoke gratitude and celebration for the things we have and the things we desire. "Always be thankful for what you already have as it means you are already blessed with abundance."

The challenge

Day 1:

To begin with, it's important to understand the power of belief. Whatever we believe, we manifest. Let go of any limiting beliefs and remind yourself that you have the power to create the life of your dreams.

* Start your day by saying, "Isn't it wonderful that my dream life is manifesting right before my eyes." The reason this is in present rather than past, is to concur the fact that most of you guys truly don’t believe you can manifest in a day. That is why this is a 3 day challenge and not a 24 hour one. Three days seems to be the magical realistic number for tumblr, and sometimes it benefits you to go with your beliefs rather than fight them. Regardless, repeat this affirmation throughout the day whenever you catch yourself thinking negatively or doubting yourself. To make it more fun, create a "Manifesting Vibes" playlist with empowering songs to keep you in a positive and uplifted mood.

Day 2:

* focus on improving your self-concept. When we view ourselves positively, we attract positivity into our lives. Take a few moments to reflect on your self-concept. If there are any limiting beliefs or negative self-talk that need to be addressed, it's time to release them.

* Start your day with the affirmation, "Isn't it wonderful that I love and accept my godly ability to choose my reality.”It does not have to be all day at all unless that is how you prefer. It is a one and said quote because it is the truth and it does not need to be repeated.

To make the process simpler and more enjoyable, create a vision board of your dream life. Add pictures, quotes, affirmations, and anything that represents the life you want. Look at it every day and imagine yourself living that reality.

At night listen to this (suggested by @majasuniverse )if you like affirmations, or this for a spiritual audio I prefer to use this by @reincarnatedempress1, or this by @kikispiritualservices for my friends who like normal subliminals. Any of them work very well in my experience so it is up to your preference. Use it all three nights or preferably just the night of day 2 because you are more powerful than any audio or subliminal on the internet. If you have a habit of using vid sources, feel free to use it all of the nights, it will not hurt or hinder you in this challenge.

Day 3:

* On the final day of our manifesting challenge, let's focus on gratitude. When we appreciate what we have, we attract even more abundance into our lives. Start your day by saying, "Isn't it wonderful that I have so much to be grateful for and my dream life has manifesting easily and effortlessly."

* Create a gratitude journal and write down everything you're thankful for, including the small things. Whenever you're feeling doubtful or negative, read your gratitude journal to remind yourself of all the blessings in your life and manufestion that have already accrued in your life. You are already greatful because it is done.

That phrase alone should be a reminder whenever doubt occurs that creation is finished. It is a reminder that no matter what situation you are in, you have the power to create your own reality. When you declare this phrase, "It's done," you are making a conscious decision to accept what is and move forward. You are claiming your right to be at peace within yourself and with the world.

Remember. "Man has not discovered a method of bringing into manifestation that which he desires. He has always had it; he need only believe it into being."

The present moment is the point of power and attention, and so you should use it wisely to create your own reality.

"What you are conscious of, you are creating in this very moment."have faith that your desires are already fulfilled and to trust in your godly abilities.

And most importantly "Everything in creation is but an extension of yourself." When we manifest, we're not changing anything outside of ourselves in the physical world. Instead, we're changing our inner world and the way we view our reality.that’s why it can be instant or in this case three days.

Our thoughts and beliefs are like a filter through which we view the world. When we manifest, we're changing the filter, which changes the way we see the world. This means that everything we experience outside of ourselves in the physical world is simply a reflection of our inner world.

So no questions, don’t ask for clarifications because you’re already falling the challenge before it starts! It will work, and you’re doing it just right I promise there is no special trick to it or step you’re misunderstanding.

Anyways That is all! I wanted to make this challenge because as it’s my finals week I’ll be a little more busy as I’m trying to make it all to all the end of the year events and be present in the beautiful world and the people around me! I also limit my media consumption and I have been using tumblr more than other social media…but I have some shows I want to watch, so I’ll now have to reduce tumblr to keep my hours balanced ! I’m not on break or anything and I will be active.. just not as active so I wanted to put something out! I’ll see you guys soon and per usual happy manifesting loves!

[vampgal202]

My Brothers Best Friend. (Dave Franco x Female reader.) P A R T O N E.

summary: When Y/n's brother's best friend comes to visit for a few nights, the ever-lasting attraction towards him only develops more. Little does she know the feeling might be mutual, leaving them both making bad decisions out of desire.

Warnings: smut, ?blood?

My hands carded through my hair as I looked at myself in my vanity mirror. Tonight my brother's best friend Dave was coming over for dinner. Nonetheless, I was excited. Ever since I was 10 years old I've always had a huge crush on Dave. I remember one time my brother scolded me for an hour straight after he caught me staring at Dave a little too hard. I was not a day over 12 when that happened, things are different now. But I can't lie and say that my attraction for him has only become stronger over the years.

"Quit looking at yourself, weirdo." I turn around to see my brother standing at my doorframe. "Ugh get out," I respond, annoyed and somewhat embarrassed. It wasn't much later until I heard the sound of the doorbell ring, indicating that Dave was there. I gave myself one last glance in the mirror and made my way downstairs to be met with my brother and Dave, giving each other their 'bro hug.'

"Dave it's so nice to see you!" I hear my mom say, perking up from her seat. After greeting everyone Dave made his way over to me, giving me a hug and quickly pulling back to say. "Wait, Y/n, is that... Lipstick." He jokingly says pretending to act shocked. "Screw off!" I say, creating a fit of laughter between us.

***

"Goodnight mom, I love you." I gave my mom a hug goodnight and made my way to my room. For the longest time, I could still hear Dave and my brother talking but now the house is silent. The silent house was a clear indication that everyone was asleep, so I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. My steps were soft and gentle, trying to avoid the sounds of the creaking floorboards. But when I made my way to the kitchen I was faced with a bareback, Dave. He was wearing plaid pajama pants low on his hips exposing his deep v-line. He was wearing no shirt, exposing me to his defined abs.

He looks up from his phone noticing me."Shit, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" He says to me setting his half-empty glass of water and his phone down. "No, I just needed some water," I whisper back, now walking towards him. "Here." He says to me, holding out his glass of water for me to finish. "Thanks," I say, resting my hip against the countertop. Dave was now only a foot away from me, watching me finish his glass of water. The kitchen was dark, the moonlight from the windows make it visible to see.

He crosses his arms over his bare chest, a smirk appearing on his face. "You know, your brother was telling me your little secret." He says finally breaking the silence. "Oh yeah, what did he say?" I respond, setting the now empty glass beside me. "He said that you have a little crush on me." A full grin now appears on his face, but not on mine. I roll my eyes, using my arms to hop on the counter behind me, now level with Dave. "Not true," I say, biting back a smile. With every word, it seems like Dave is getting closer to me. "No?" He says to me, turning his head slightly, still smiling.

He was now only a couple inches away from me, and I could feel my cheeks heating up. Soon enough, Dave was standing right in front of me, my closed knees hitting against his chest, stopping him from coming towards me any further. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I was worried he could hear it too. Before I could even think another thought his lips were on mine.

"Sorry." He says pulling away. "Don't be," I said, wasting no time connecting our lips again. I felt his tongue enter my mouth, moving with my tongue. The kiss was intense and needy, it felt like we were finally doing the one thing we wanted all these years. My legs spread open to let him move between them, making us even closer. His hands caressed my thighs, hooking them around his waist. I could feel his hard dick pressing against me. He then pulled away, kissing down my neck, on my collarbone. "Is this okay?" he whispered to me, looking up at me. I nod my head, hoping for dear god he doesn't stop.

He brought his hand down between us, making his way down to the waistband of my shorts. I felt his fingers run through my slit, gathering the wetness on his fingers and thrusting them into me making me let out a gasp. "Shh baby we gotta be quiet." He says to me, now pumping his fingers in and out of me. My hands quickly grabbed onto his bare shoulders, needing some sort of stabilizer.

His pace started to quicken, thrusting fast and hard in and out of me. I was biting my lip trying to not let out the sounds of my whimpers and moans. He brought his thumb to my clit and started roughly massaging it as he fingered me. Making me claw at his shoulder, still biting back my moans. I was so turned on, I could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he fingered me, the obvious boner in his pants, and his reassuring looks. It wasn't long before I was coming undone all over him.

My vision felt hazy as I came all over his fingers. The feeling of wetness in my mouth hit me and brought my finger up to see blood coating it. I bit my lip so hard I made it bleed. Dave looked up at me, enclosing my lips in a kiss, smearing my blood on his lips. He broke the kiss, pulling his fingers out of me and licking my cum off his fingers. The sight had me going crazy. Grabbing his face and enclosing his lips in another kiss.

The kitchen was filled with the sounds of our smacking lips and heavy breathing. I pulled his body close to mine, grinding my clit on his bulge making him throw his head back. My wet, openmouthed kisses made their way down his jaw and neck while continuing to grind harder. I knew he couldn't take it anymore and neither could I. We both knew fucking on the kitchen counter was risky, but neither of us cared at that point.

My hand reached down at his waistband pulling out his hard throbbing cock. I looked back up at him, his pupils blown, lips parted. His hand made its way down to my shorts, moving them to the side exposing my pussy. I still had a hold of his cock. Holding it by the base I dragged it through my wet folds making his breathing become hitched and making him let out a small moan. He was thick, I lined his cock up to my entrance, letting him do the work and closing the proximity between us. He slowly started thrusting in and out of me. But even the slowest movements were causing shocks of pleasure all over my body.

He then started to quicken the pace, thrusting fast and hard out of me. He was letting out moans and whimpers in my ear making me wetter by the second. My tits bounced in my shirt as he fucked me roughly. "Fuck Dave, oh my god." I was whispering curse words and moans of pleasure under my breath, trying to be quiet. I could feel myself coming close to coming undone, and I could tell he was too. His face was screwed up in pleasure, I watched as his v-line and abs flexed as he fucked in and out of my pussy. It took no time before we were both coming. A loud whimper came out of my mouth, making Dave kiss me to shut me up. My hands grabbed at his shoulders yet again as we simultaneously came.

The kitchen was now silent. His body was on mine as we silently tried to catch our breaths. "You okay?" he says to me, looking me in the eyes. "Yeah," I respond, giving him a warm-hearted smile. He slowly pulls out of me, grabbing paper towels and cleaning him and me up. He put his hands on my waist helping me off the counter. When my feet hit the ground my legs felt like jello. "woah what the fuck." I say to myself, making Dave start laughing. "Shut up," I say, now laughing with him. "cmon' let's go," I whisper out, leading the way back to our rooms. Once I was in front of my door I turned back to face Dave. "Sweet dreams." He says quietly, kissing my lips delicately and walking off toward his room.

[apomaro-mellow]

Honestly I was thinking about the end of ofmd s1 and it evolved to this. Steddie; omegaverse

Uhhh, loosely set in the Regency era but not particularly important, trigger warnings for sexual assault, use of date rape drugs

He should have never met Edgar Munson. Society dictated that their paths should never cross. That there would always be at least five degrees of separation between them. But the hands of fate were a stronger force. One that saw fit to have Steve find himself making polite conversation with an alpha below his station. Polite conversation turned to familiarity, which then turned to scandalous flirting, which then became a secret courtship.

Steve received the gifts from his beloved under some sort of cover. No one could know about their relationship. Even the nest offering, the last gift before an official engagement, had to be hidden. Of course they couldn't be publicly wed, not with Steve's family name, not on this continent.

That was how Eddie filled his head with visions of the New World. A place where they could be free and make their own lives. A land where no one knew how different they were.

"Just imagine it", Eddie had said, one morning after a night of lovemaking. "You, me, a pup or two perhaps, and a little corner of our own."

"Mmm, you paint a pretty picture", Steve said while playing with Eddie's hair. And it was a lovely thought. "But how's about three or four? Or maybe even five? I always wanted a big family."

He imagined children frolicking in fields, perfect mixtures of his and Eddie's features. Blissful as they were unaware of the pressures of high society that their dame had come from. Steve would give up the extravagance for all the love Eddie was able to store in this cramped room in a bed that just barely fit them both.

"Whatever my love desires", Eddie kissed him. "Just promise me that you'll run away with me."

"To the ends of the earth", Steve promised, sealing it with a kiss.

As Steve got dressed, Eddie did his damndest to keep him here, where he had eyes laid on him.

"The boat will leave at sunrise tomorrow. You may as well stay."

"If I spend the whole day here, my father will send out a search party. We need to keep suspicion low if I am to be spirited away by you."

"'Spirited away'? By me? That's an odd way of saying you're taking us on a whirlwind trip across the ocean." Considering Steve put up the money for their passage and would be footing most of the bills until they were officially set up with jobs in America, it was more like Steve was taking Eddie on the trip.

"Either way, it would be prudent if I went home and treated today as if it were absolutely average." Meanwhile, an energy would buzz within Steve the whole time.

He was dressed and at the door while Eddie was still in his underthings, holding him tight. Steve was no better, loathe to let him go. How he wished for just one day the hours would pass faster so that they could start their new lives together.

"You have to let me go eventually, love."

"But what if I don't? Steve...my moon and my stars, why part when we will just see each other again?"

"You know why."

"I've got a bad feeling. I've read too many novels where lovers parted with a vow to meet again and they almost never do."

"You know novels rot the mind", Steve said. "And our lives are not fiction. You'll see. I'll go home, have some tea with mother, rebuff Sir Hagan yet again, and get through one last dinner before going off to bed."

Then, under guide of moonlight, he would meet Eddie at the docks just down the street. They could hear the gulls and sailors from here, it was so close they could both taste it.

Eddie's eyes were closed, giving a silent prayer that it would be so. A hope that the only hitch in their plan would be Steve getting seasick. Finally, Steve left and all Eddie had to do was double check what he was packing. There were a few clothes, a couple of items his parents owned before their passing that he was sure his uncle would want to see.

Wayne had gone to the New World just a few years ago, wanting to make the trip before 'his old bones gave out', or so he said. Eddie let out a wistful sigh, getting by as he imagined introducing Steve to his uncle. And hopefully, there would be a bundle of good news on the way. They would be at sea for a few months, after all.

------------------

Steve managed to sneak back into his room, no problem, but the moment he did, he could tell something was off. Steve's nest as usually immaculate, but he caught a whiff of something that shouldn't be there. Tossed right onto his pillow was a monogrammed handkerchief that stunk of Tommy.

He let out a scoff of disgust and picked it up, intending to put it away when he noticed one of his drawers was left open and had been rifled through. In a panic, Steve went towards it to confirm what he already knew. Eddie's nest offering had been a simple piece of cloth that he had scented. A small scrap that Steve imagined putting in a quilt one day.

Gone.

"Ah, there he is, the man of the hour."

Tommy came walking in from Steve's boudoir, right into his bedroom unannounced. Steve was knocked off his axis at the impropriety and even more so as he began to put the pieces together.

"What is this? Wh-why are you here? In my room? I don't understand."

"Don't be so anxious, Stevie. I was bound to find my way in here eventually. Your father was so kind to allow me in so that I could surprise you with my gift."

"My father?", Steve hissed, betrayed. It was all about being proper and following the right customs until doing the opposite suited one, wasn't it? The numerous times his father told him to stay on the straight and narrow, to never allow an alpha to skip steps with him. And now!?

"You haven't even giving me a single courting gift prior. I haven't even given you leave to court me." Then the open drawer came back to his attention. "Have you been going through my things?"

"Found something interesting while I was leaving my gift. Seems somebody snuck in a piece of trash", Tommy pulled Eddie's cloth from his pocket and Steve immediately lunged for it.

Tommy tried to move back but in his desperation Steve overpowered him and took it back, dropping the other handkerchief. Tommy watched as his own favor sat on the ground.

"You really are fucking a peasant, aren't you?"

"I think that's enough, Mr. Hagan", Steve's father, a Mr. Martin Harrington, entered the room.

"How could you let him into my room!?", Steve accused.

"Your room? Now I do believe this house is in my name. And I am within my rights to allow Mr. Hagan into any room I please. As for the courting, I have already given my permission for him to do so. And he has already given you all the gifts required. They're right their in your antechamber. You would have seen them, had you been in your room last night."

Steve held the cloth to his heart. He didn't like where this was going. What the last gift was supposed to mean. "You can't expect me to marry him."

"Oh you will, in about three days time."

"You don't think people will be suspicious about the short engagement?"

"Everyone knows that Mr. Hagan's had his eye on you. And you, of course, have not been entertaining any other suitors", Mr. Harrington's eyes narrowed on what Steve held. "Young love is so passionate these days. I highly doubt anyone will bat an eye at it. It's best you forget about all else and prepare for your wedding. Your mother wants it to be a grand affair."

"Father please-"

"As a matter of fact, I see no reason not to have you both live as newly weds now. Mr. Hagan can stay here until the wedding, where you will be housed in his estate. Keep my Steve out of trouble", he said to Tommy.

Tommy nodded. "Of course."

Steve wanted to cry out but knew it would do him no good. He spent the whole day, trying to plan some sort of escape. But there was always someone with him. That someone was usually Tommy, who looked like he was fine marrying Steve with a broken leg. Night fell and Tommy laid himself in Steve's nest. The one place he had felt safe besides Eddie's arms. Ruined.

Steve opted to sleep in the other room, on a couch most certainly not meant for sleeping. Tommy only urged him a little, seemingly assured that Steve would come around eventually. Steve checked the window and of course there was a man guarding down below. He didn't even have to check the hallway, hearing heavy boots pass over his door every few minutes, making sure no one was coming in or out.

Steve felt his heart clench as the hours pass and the first rays of sun began to shine.

-----------------

Eddie was waiting. The gangway was right behind him and the crew was ready to shove off. He knew only death would keep Steve from being here. Eddie was dreading something worse than death when he saw Jason Carver of all people stepping out of a carriage, looking smug as always.

"Waiting for someone, freak?"

"Where is Steve?", Eddie demanded, cutting through the bullshit.

"He has other more important things to attend to. Marriage can be quite time consuming business. I'm here to make sure you get on that boat."

"Like hell I'm leaving without him!"

Any fight Eddie put up was tamped down by the two lugs Carver had brought along, muscling him into a tight hold as they tied him up with rope and gagged him. Jason only put his hands on him to procure the boarding passes.

"He'll only be needing one of these", Jason said to the captain as Eddie was carried on board, struggling. "You can untie him once you're a good distance from the shore."

Eddie was screaming his lungs out from the gag in his mouth but it was anyone's guess as to what he was actually saying. The captain shook his head, sympathetic, but not enough to help Eddie out or get involved in any way. About an hour into the voyage, he was released and the first thing he did was try and jump overboard.

"Best to let go of whatever you just left behind", the captain said, patting his shoulder as a couple of sailors held him back from jumping into the sea.

"The love of my life is still there! He needs me! They're gonna...fuck...they're gonna..." Eddie knew what awaited Steve in his family had discovered them. He laid his head against the wood, determined to find his way back to him. He knew the captain wouldn't let him take any of the rowboats, and the crew kept watch on him like they expected him to steal it.

Their plan could still work. It didn't matter if they forced him into marriage, Steve would still love him. Eddie was just getting a headstart on building their new life.

-----------------------

The prospect of marrying Tommy under duress made him sick to his stomach but not knowing Eddie's fate made him feel worse. Steve didn't want to believe that Eddie would leave without him, but the alpha himself had admitted there wasn't anything left for him in this town. With him having an uncle overseas, Steve didn't think Eddie planned to stay much longer, even if they hadn't planned to elope.

But if he was still here, he would have shown his face by now, wouldn't he? He wouldn't leave Steve here all alone. Especially when the wedding announcement went out. Steve held out hope, even as his wedding day came, that Eddie would burst in like a blaze and whisk him away.

As if reading his thoughts, his mother brought it up while preparing him for the day. He had mostly tuned her out. She seemed determined to ignore the breach of courting customs in favor of the fact that her only child was finally being wed. A load off her shoulders apparently. But she started talking about her worries about whoever Steve had been running around with and that brought him back in.

"Well, thank the Lord, Mr. Carver put him on a boat. We won't need to worry about him anymore."

"He what?"

"Shipped him right off. Now you only have to think about keeping Mr. Hagan happy. And all the handsome pups you'll have of course."

Steve was a ghost at his own wedding and if anyone noticed, they didn't say anything. He didn't come back into himself until night fell and Tommy tried to make him perform his wifely duties. Steve smacked him across the face at the first slight and kicked him out of the bedroom.

He kept the cold shoulder up for about a week before both his mother and father reprimanded him. Told him that after marriage, his next task was to let his husband lay his seed and continue the family line. The last thing Steve wanted was Tommy's hands on him, much less his seed in him. But he supposed he could let the man sleep in his own bedroom.

Tommy made his favorite tea as a peace offering, placating Steve with sweet words.

"You are my wife, my partner in everything. I only want you to be happy."

Steve wanted to believe that, he really did. And he was tired of putting up a fight. So he drank the tea. It fogged his mind and the rest of the night seemed like a hazy dream. And not a good one. His suspicions were confirmed when he awoke with an ache in his lower body.

Steve started to pack a bag right then and there. He couldn't stay here. Not if this was to be his life. Tears were streaming down his face at the violation. Tommy was just standing to the side, looking at him like he was a petulant child.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Leaving! Like I should have done in the first place."

"And where the hell are you going to go? A runaway omega with no skills, probably with a pup on the way?"

Steve froze and Tommy grinned, advancing on him from behind. He put his chin on Steve's shoulder and the omega whirled around, trying to put space between them.

"I went in deep last night. I kept you knotted and filled. I know it took. You leave now and you'll have no one to help you with our son."

Steve put a hand to his stomach. He didn't want to imagine trying to make his way and raise a child at the same time. No one would want to take him in, an omega with nothing to his name.

"What would you even do anyway? You've got no skills to speak of. Unless you want to be hired based on your bedroom skills."

Steve was too stunned to speak. He hated agreeing to Tommy, so he stormed out. But out just meant out into another part of the Hagan estate. Just another wing of this gilded cage.

Months passed and Steve's belly grew and he didn't know whether or not he hoped this pup was Eddie's. If there was any doubt about it being Tommy's they might give it away, or worse. It wasn't supposed to be like this. His first child was to be met with nothing but glee in a land as big as their dreams. But now he was dreading every development.

Even as he went into labor, it felt like it was happening to someone else. It wasn't until the baby was in his arms, that he realized what he had to do. Regardless of the true parentage, this child deserved all the love in the world. And considering how Tommy was, it would all have to come from Steve. He gave birth to a beautiful girl, so he was able to escape Tommy trying to name their first child after himself.

And so she was christened Octavia Hagan. And Steve worked his hardest to do right by her. It was never easy, not when his heart was a thousand miles away. But by the time she was two, Steve was sure of it. The big brown eyes and the light curl to her hair was enough proof. She was Eddie's. But it was also just enough to deny any accusations that might come his way, not that there was any.

Steve scrounged what he could and hid the money in a bookcase in Octavia's nursery. He might not be able to guarantee her the best quality of life, but anything was worth freedom. And perhaps they might even find Eddie one day. It was this that had Steve holding out hope.

---------------------

It took five years, but Eddie returned. he was dressed in clothes much finer than he'd left in, disembarking a vessel in which he had voyaged in first class. Being a musician that sold out venues had its perks. He held the marriage announcement that had come to the shores years ago. The marriage of Thomas and Stephen Munson, nee Harrington, and then later the birth announcement.

Eddie was here to make good on a promise.

Steve was none the wiser. All he knew was that Tommy was taking him out to see a famed violinist Edgar Wainson for his final night before the man took his show to Paris. Tommy was only going for appearances. His opinion on culture was whatever everyone else thought.

Steve had an appreciation for it, remembering how Eddie would play his fiddle both when they were alone and to earn some extra coin on streets and in taverns. He instilled it in Octavia as well, teaching her piano and allowing her to toss some coins to the street musicians they passed when Tommy wasn't around to scold them about it.

So he brought her along. Where he went, his pup went. Even now, Steve thought if he took his eyes off her for too long, something bad would happen.

The show started and the violinist took the stage and Steve's jaw dropped. Like a man possessed, he stood from his seat, then went into the aisle. Eddie's playing slowed as he watched someone approach. He stopped altogether when he saw who it was. He ignored the gasps as he dropped the violin and jumped off the stage to meet Steve who had broke into a run to meet him.

"I'm sorry!", Steve exclaimed the moment their arms went around each other. "I'm sorry I wasn't there I was-"

"I know, I know my love. I'm sorry I wasn't back sooner I was-"

"I know. God in Heaven Eddie, I know. But you're here now."

"And I'm never letting you go", Eddie promised, kissing him so hard, Steve thought his lips might be bruised, but he didn't care.

"GET OFF!!", Tommy bellowed, struggling through the row of people to get to them.

Unbidden thanks to her smile size and thought to go around the other way where there were less people, Octavia ran up to them, grabbing at Steve's pant leg.

"Mother?"

"Oh, a little one?", Eddie looked down, clearing his throat.

Steve whispered in Eddie's ear. "Your little one."

Eddie's eyes got big as he looked back and forth between Steve and Octavia. He felt something swell in his chest.

"I'll see you hanged for this, you vagrant!", Tommy yelled, finally at them.

Eddie's eyes narrowed. He could only imagine what he'd put Steve through if he was still like this. He still had a promise to make good on.

"Stevie, my muse, my light, there is a vow I still intend to keep."

"Eddie...."

The was murmuring from the audience, unsure of what to make of any of this. It was certainly an odd night at the concert hall. Eddie held Steve's hands, then got down on his knees.

"Runaway with me. Tonight, right now, both of you."

They hadn't packed or prepared anything. There was hardly any money on him and wherever they went, there was sure to be a chase, at least for a while. It wouldn't be easy, but Steve had already missed his chance once. He wouldn't miss it again.

"On your feet", he ordered. "You've got to get me to an altar."

Tommy's protests were unheard, even as he chased after the three of them. Eddie took the first carriage they saw, barreling down the road. Steve was surprised when they came upon the Hagan home. But Eddie told him he wouldn't let Steve leave without taking anything important. He wanted a moment to assure Eddie that he was the most important thing, but Tommy would be hot on their heels the moment he got a carriage. Hopefully the confusion of the headliner running off would give them time.

Steve got things for both himself and Octavia, including directing her on where to find his stash of money. They then went right to the docks, finding a boat that was shoving off that night.

"Where are you headed?", Eddie asked.

"Spain", was the answer.

"Perfect", Steve said, giving enough money for all three and also to expedite the departure.

Tommy would either be expecting France or the Americas. Only when they were settled below deck and the shore was a tiny dot in the dark did Steve's nerves settle. Octavia was pressed to his side and he kissed the top of her head. It was probably even more of a whirlwind for her, running off with this man she had never met. Time to change that.

"Sweetheart, this is Eddie. In truth, he is your real father."

"Pleasure to meet you madame", Eddie gave a sweeping bow, making her giggle.

"Are we all going to live together now?", she asked.

"Til the end of our days", Eddie promised.

"What about father?", she asked Steve, referring to Tommy.

"God willing, we'll never see him again."

It took them the whole night, plus a day and a half to get to Spain. The sun was setting, but they managed to find a church. They were wary of how they might be received, but the man who saw to them had a milky eye with a scar over it, so he must've had a well lived life. Octavia was their very willing witness, and so they were wed in a port town that they didn't know the name of.

"Well, it took longer than we planned, but we're finally starting our lives together", Eddie said as they settled in the beds of an inn. Octavia was already deep in her own slumber in her own cot.

Eddie was laying in bed ready to snuff out the light as Steve got in next to him. When he did, only the moon from the window lit their features. Steve grabbed Eddie's face and pulled him in for a kiss. One that was slow and deep as his hand started drifting down.

"Here?", Eddie whispered, apprehensive but doing nothing to stop him. He glanced at the child on the other side of the room.

"She sleeps like the dead. Besides, you owe me a wedding night."

[helloescapist]

The Hashiras in a Relationship | Sanemi Shinazugawa

Word Count: 8314 (I believe it)

Setting: Sanemi Shinazugawa x gn!reader

Content Warning(s): mild suggestive, poilers for the Shinazugawa family.

Summary: love relationship headcanons for Sanemi Shinazugawa from attraction, dating, and in love.

A/N: The time has come, my dear, sweet Sanemi. I only hope I did him justice, but I feel like, for him, it just will never be enough. I will never be able to accurately depict a love he could give you. To release this is almost bittersweet. I have adored writing the Hashira headcanons, and thank each and everyone of you who has read them. Thank you for giving me a chance. <3

To be loved by the Wind Hashira is to know devotion and safety. His love is the fresh scent of rain, sooothing as comforting as the wind that meets the windows. Rattles your bones, and resignates within your heart. That soothes the edges of frayed nerves, echoes affections. A drizzle that meets the afternoon hours, rain that caresses the window panels of a greenhouse. The encasing of a garden aglow with candles, touched into the cozy nook of a chair. Your eyes only left to wander the glaucous gray, bask in the peaceful oasis embraced by the rain and ambience of tapping amongst the glass roof. The scent of fresh rain, intermingled with the rich earth, sweet as the fingers that graze your own. The roll of distant thunder that ignites your senses, thrills your being. Snuggled into his arms beneath dark clouds as urethral as charcoal portraits painted in the night. Tucked secrets of sentiments, whispered amongst hushed voices, ghosts of fresh wildflowers on the window ceil.  An amorous touch of tranquility that dares the chaos upon your fingertips, thunder and lightning that illuminate the graze of his touch. Devoted to committing the memory of this moment to his memories, depths of desire expressed to you alone To be loved Sanemi is to lay awake in the dead of night, long after you know you should be lulled to sleep. Defying the late hour just to hear the coo of howls against the window that falls in sync with the beat of his heart. To savor the distant rumble of thunder greeted the depths of his slumber, the security of his snore as you embrace his chest. Solace as the raindrops that cascade down the window panels in the dead of night. As refreshing as the ethereal as the trail of kisses beneath the rainfall. The touch of his lips as they meet yours; your senses alive beneath the touch of rain. The passion and heat of his lilac eyes as he proclaims you to his chest, secure and devoted. Never daring to part, just as his love.

to be loved by Shinazugawa means that you will need to be gentle. To be soft where others would callous, to love where others would shudder. Delicate where others would coarse. To sooth nightmares, whisper reassurance to broken pasts, to alleviate old wounds. To know that only those who are deemed worthy will know his scars, to trace their depths, and shelter their pain.

Endure the initial distance. To tread depths that he dare not reveal, to allow yourself to be carried away by the under toe. Dare to push where others would flee. Firm against his ushers, resolved in your ideals. Possessing the quiet humility that balances his boldness, complements his confidence.

Embraces his flaws, and offers a safe space if only for a moment. Mutual respect. To be willing to give as much as you take, and unyielding in the face of adversary.

Because truthfully, Sanemi is a conundrum wrapped in enigmas. A shattered soul with little choice but to bind his fractured pieces back together, and endure what remains.

On the surface, he’s a rather intolerant individual, or rather, he’s narrow minded. Often stiff to change, unbending despite how it may impact his partner. His reputation proceeds him. our rabid puppy stabbed himself in an attempt to expose Nezukos weakness.

Though the truth is that his own inflexibility is built on a foundation of a shattered child. His own loyalty the very reason why he was willing to mutilate himself, his dedication to the demon slayer corps clear cut. Heedless of the mangled flesh, or the threaten to his own health that such injuries could incur.

His thoughts are on the safety of those around him, of his peers, of those beneath his rank. Of civilians. At times, Sanemi follows a default, and is at risk of becoming judgmental.

In many ways, it’s a self-defense mechanism that he has built himself over the years. Frayed at the edges, and slow to trust, the Wind Hashira has survived a life that would have split others at the seams.

Due to his quick decisions, the swordsman if more often than not likely to become frustrated by a partner who defies certain expectations. such as bringing home a pet demon. It’s not that his counterpart is necessarily in the wrong, it’s that he truly, does not understand. Because of this, he can become critical, and disparaging of his companion.

 It doesn’t help that much like Obanai, Shinazugawa is firm believer in regulation and rules. Because of this, he has a rather scathing opinion of those who adhere to Demon Slayer ways.

It comes as no surprise that his reputation amongst the corps is anything but fragrant.

Though, for those who have had the opportunity to build a bond with the Hashira are aware that underneath his bossy nature, and rough façade. Have been gifted with a rare opportunity to peek beneath the surface.

Despite how it may seem, I mean, I get why you may have doubts  Shinazugawa is actually an expert problem solver for other people. Perhaps it’s an attribute brought on being an older brother to so many siblings, a caretaker in his own right.

However,  in his own life, has a tendency to take things at a rather pointblank approach. Which can often lead to a violent approach. The truth is, he is not one to express the patience of talking about problems for hours. Rather, he is intent on finding a solution, for the both of you.

He just doesn’t know how to admit it.  

There is no live and let live. If someone has wronged you, he will not just allow the insult to pass. He will stand for you, when you cannot find the strength. It is so important to note, he does not forget.

The good news is that, the swordsman is a direct communicator, and you will never be left guessing where you stand with him. although you may wish you did. His blunt approach to communication, while well intended can often rub others the wrong way, and border into being downright insensitive, but none of it is ever intended to inflict unnecessary injury.

Rather as pragmatic as the man is, he just forgets that those around him may not be as direct in their communication. He would sooner risk you despising him than jeopardize your life.

Just as the Wind Hashira sacrificed his own relationship for Genya’s survival, he will without hesitation, threaten to severe ties with you if he believes it is truly in your best interest. He just wants you to live a happy life.

Part of this is brought on by his sense of duty. As a victim of marechi blood, Sanemi believes that there is truthfully, no other way of survival that exists for him.

As long as he exists in this life, he feels that he is a bane on the existence of those that he cares for. Bestowed cursed blood by the gods, Sanemi is convinced that it is his obligation to distance himself from others.

To act as a harbinger of death for the nightmares of the night, never daring to touch upon the sunlight of a normal life.

The Wind Hashira prefers to keep his feet on the ground, and his grasp within reach of those that are obtainable. His heart may desire the warmth of a family, of what if, and daydreams, it is perhaps his fears of rejection that keep him grounded.

Rather than dream of what he can never acquire, the tenderness he will never know, he would rather focus on what is within his means.

The callous of his fingers earned through hours of practice, the sparing of blades against a trainee, the tug of fabric as he mends his own clothing, hush any dread that dares to seep in. skirting rejection before it meets him.

Stunned are the members who know of the hidden courteous of the Wind Hashira.

Respectful of his superiors, and his peers; Sanemi is rather polite, and considerate to those around him. Quick to inquire how those around him are faring, if their burdens have fruited hardships far too much for them to endure. If perhaps, is a way for him to shoulder some of their burden.

Shy in his approach, bristled should anyone draw attention to his kindness, but candid to offer any assistance. A spirit that does not yield, nor does it hesitate to shield those around him.

Though Sanemi may never readily reveal it, he is a caring man. One who consistently frets about the wellbeing of those around him. Whether it’s an old wound that is agitating a veteran member of the coprs, a new recruit he pushed far too far in training, or a peer who has seen horrors better left unspoken, Sanemi cares deeply for others.

He is the sort to happen upon someone struggling with their groceries, and initially… pass. He’ll opt to ignore it, the Wind Hashira will try to persuade himself that they’ll do just fine—they should have been more considerate of their buying and if they could carry it all.

But with each step his take, the defiant thought dissuades him. Gnaws at his gut until finally, he I left with little choice but to stomp back to the stranger, uttering every curse known to man before stopping before the individual.

Sanemi will just his hand out, and tuck his chin feigning annoyance rather than admit his courtesy. or the blush that has claimed his features.

He will mutter insult after insult on the way home, all while consistently peeking over his shoulder. Careful to maintain his pace at a comfortable stride, and to gauge if he needs to further lighten the load.

It is perhaps because of how naturally considerate he is, that you will often find that not only is Sanemi supportive, but has a talent for detail. The swords man is the type to notice the smallest of thing, the shift of your heel as your form is shifted. Slightly off, filtered far too favoring one leg over the other, the realization dawning upon him, and in the next moment, he is before you.

Crouched with his back exposed, his hands beckoning the burden of your weight. Never settling for any refusal on your part, rather, it is only when you are secured in a piggy back, does he confess his apologies for not having noticed sooner. In a gruff, grumbled voice,…

"You should have said something dumbass." "Your foot…. Does it hurt ?" " I should have noticed sooner."

He’ll take extra care for the time to come, always vigilant against your wound. Sanemi has a great memory. The Wind Hashira takes great care to be able to keep track of everyone under his wing. he to this day keeps tabs on the Kocho sisters in Kanae’s stead.

But, I also imagine that keeps track of little things. Such as dropping off Tororo-Konbu for Obanai when he is under the care of the Butterfly Estate because he remembers that Obanai has delicate eating habits, leaving Muichiro a selection of lovely kami, or the way he leaves his condolences upon the anniversary at Gyomei’s door step when work will not allow him to visit the grave site.  

As time goes on, you will discover the supportive gooey center of the Wind Hashira.

Shinazugawa values a stable relationship, and because of this, a partner who has his upmost trust is the only way he can build a bond. He needs that security, the safety of vulnerability, as such, someone who follows through on their word is quick to catch his attention.

A partner who if given a task such as delivering medicine to the Butterfly Estate, will chance every incline weather to ensure the medics have received their necessary panacea. I’ll be there, has to mean something.

Your word is your vow, and you will see your duty through to the very end. It’s essential for his partner, because for Shinazugawa, to be able to place faith in another person is an obstacle on his own.

To accept his weaknesses, to be embraced for his frailty, he needs the certainty that you will never falter nor retract your word. His trust is not easily attained, but it is very, very worthy it. as sweet as fresh, authentically crafted mochi.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that someone who is unreliable is not likely to fair well in a relationship with him. Cancelled date, and broken vows will severe any ground you have made. and likely ensured you will never have your zori in the door, again.

His fixed behavior borders on rigid, and if anything, your capricious behaviors will only reveal he has made a grave mistake in placing any value in your word. I dare say, he may treat you worse than Giyuu.

Being as strict as the Wind Hashira is by nature, I think he needs a light-hearted partner. Someone who will partake in light banter to ease the misery of the day, that sees the silver lining amongst the clouds on a rainy day.

Or truthfully, just dances in the rain. The first time he witness your carefree bliss, a giggle of amusement as the raindrops patter against your form as you splash through the puddles, heedless of any damage to your kimono… he was somewhere between befuddled, uttering a curse of dumbass at your expense, before lowly… that smile. THAT smile.

Paint across his features, softens his features, gives way from the pains of the past, and reveal the boy beneath the layers of scars. A lover who sees the opportunity to play, to build snow bunnies along the road following a successful mission, weaves flowers into crowns. Oh, he would so wear it if you gifted him one.

Sanemi is not blushing.

DAMN IT.  

Oh, someone who will eagerly greet him after so many days apart. Rush up to him, greeting him with the joy of a missed companion, a smile ear to ear as their hands fold over his own callous. He needs someone to sooth his sharp edges, to laugh, and to smile.

Your ability to accept things as they come, rather than resist will not only help ease his own heart, but it will greatly benefit your relationship.  

Someone who can balance his moods will go a long way in his own health as well. Soothing, and comforting like a warm beverage on a cold winter night.

Let’s be clear. Sanemi isn’t looking for a pushover. Gods above I suspect it would just worry piss him off.

No, he has no desire nor the energy for a relationship in which you’ll but heads all of the time, and yes, he does love taking charge.

However, that does not mean that Sanemi wants someone to be subservient to him either. Rather, he needs the reassurance that from time to time, you will meet him at his level. Reel him in when he goes to far.

When push to comes to shove, you will not lose your footing. You will stand your ground, and remain firm to your ideals, and desires. call him on his shit. The rare moment in which your laidback nature morphs, his soft squishy lover hardening beneath his gaze, meeting his sight head on.

Nose to nose, solid. He will huff and puff. And absolutely walk away from you. He has no desire to sink his relationship, but oh… his heart. Sanemi will retrace this moment over and over.

One because he wants to consider it over, but to the other effect, oh… he’s got it bad. real bad.

Now, let’s be clear, just as he doesn’t want someone who compliant without question, Sanemi has no desires for a partner that desires to control his movements. If it’s not mutual respect, he doesn’t want it.

Goals and ambitions are a turn on for Shinazugawa, he’s attracted to individuals with their own desires in life. It goes with his own desires for independence, built on mutual respect and trust. With his own desires for autonomy, it’s only right that your own needs are on equal grounds.

He does not want you to live a life waiting by the door for his return home. He adores you greeting him when he gets home, but… it isn’t much of a life.

You should do things you love, things that bring you joy. he loves to see your smile. For a happy, healthy relationship, Shinazugawa needs a relationship that is not built upon power dynamics, for either side.

Otherwise, things could just end up toxic. Really, if you have the time to give just a little bit of yourself, it will go a long way with him. Small tokens, little bits cheering him on.

Whether it’s a little note in his lunch, a kiss on the cheek as you part ways for the day, Sanemi just needs to know that you support his ambitions.

For the swordsman, intimacy is at the forefront of his desires. Because of this, a relationship that contains a lot of emotional turmoil will send him far from your grasp. For the most part, he is open to meeting misunderstandings and disputes as they surface, but a partner who is insisting on thrill seeking in the relationship stirring the pot.

He. Does. Not. Have. The. Patience.

He just doesn’t. It’s not who Sanemi, so if you wish for the relationship to continue, you may wish to adapt a more direct approach to communication. At the end of the day, Shinazugawa is just a do-er by nature.

He is the sort to find solutions, and approach things as soon as he can. A leaky roof, he’ll have it mended before the next rain. The garden has been invaded by pests, Sanemi will strengthen the barriers. I can just imagine him happily building a little bug habitat on the weekends.

For Sanemi, the moment of attraction would most likely the peace that you bring. It could be that you yourself are just a peaceful individual, one who allows life to flow without much resistance.

Finding solace in thunderstorms, joy in snow, and laughter on scalding summer days. The smile never leaving your face, or the way you just flow with those around you.

Comfortable within your own skin, into your own desires. Grateful for the clothing upon their back, and the meal in their tummy. It may be that you’ve a special aura in yourself. One that soothes the edges of others.

A tree that provides shade amongst the shifting weathers, a cozy spot to seek refuge to wait out a storm, or a pleasant place to slumber on a spring day. Tranquility that drew him to you, whispered sweet dreams to him.

Dared to fantasize a life he only touched upon in his slumber. a spouse, a house, a small garden.

There are two main scenarios in which I can imagine you meeting Sanemi. The first being that of a Demon Slayers.

Your initial meeting well… may not have been off to the best foot. In his defense, he was sort of feral running out there slaying demons by any means. Yet, there was something about the way he composed himself. As small children often do, his pestering had initially been a small annoyance, one you ignored, but that day… that day you had enough. The way his tongue got away from him, the bluntness of his approach that rubbed you the wrong way, and rather than allow the new recruit to cross your boundaries, you elected to meet him head on. The stance well practiced, sturdy in its resolve, and the perfection of your form met into the follow through as your fist landed squarely into his cheek. Sending him far to the side, and off center. Swept him off his feet, and squarely on his bum. Lilac eyes that swam through the ocean, caught upon the clouds, dazed as they appraised your smaller form. One hand to support him, while his spare found his cheek which begun to swell near immediately. The calm way your gaze met his.  Red, bruised. The lump he would garnish for quite some time. The affectionate regard Ubuyashiki acknowledged the bandages upon his peek. A small child who's pride had been afflicted a heavy blow, and how it had driven him. just imagine the Master seeing the wound upon his cheek with the smallest smile before asking if perhaps, Sanemi and [YN] had had a spat Years entangled in one another, light banter, sparing matches, the growing of missions at one another’s side, time that had bound your soul to his. The tranquility of your giggle, the relaxed manner of your presence--- your very existence a special place for you alone upon his heart.

The other scenario I can imagine Sanemi falling for you would be one of which you are just an ordinary person.

One who works as any other, such as the child of a restaurant owner. A small little hole barely bigger than a yatai vendor, a hole in the wall that survived from their own merits, and abilities. The warmth of smiles, dared to greet passerby with a smile despite how many scars adorned his features, never paying attention to the whispers of other patrons that depicted a troubled child. His passing always curious about the child no more a little older than himself that giggled through the noren. Harmonious and light, one that always planted a bulb of a small smile on his own, only given the rare opportunity to blossom one rare rain day in which your parents beckoned the youth in. Ushered comments of the chill claiming his bones, the warmth of your mother’s hands as she guided him from inside, the touch of whiskers on your father’s face as he set to work preparing a warm meal to fight off any would-be chills. The calm hours before opening, along the nonexistent foot traffic allocating family time to caring for him as though he were a stray. Lead him through the restaurant business portion of your home to the inner familial abode despite his open protest, and flaring. His despondency hushed upon being set before you. A combination of shocked, horrified, and confused as to the willingness of such an odd family to welcome him so openly. It was the first time he had ever gazed upon your face, the giggle he heard so often in passing greeting him with a cloth, doing your best to erase the droplets from his snow-kissed hair. Your own curiosity betraying you before allowing the tip of your finger to trace the jagged blemishes that decorated his face with a curious smile. Quickly scolded by your mother for rudeness, the roll of her sleeves prepared to right your attitude, only deterred by the meal before all of you. Shinazugawa had told himself that he would not be swayed, nor visit the establishment again, and your family humored him. Reassured him that if that were to be the case, very well while sharing dumplings and miso soup, an added scoop of rice for the stray. The following weeks the effort he had placed in his footing, avoided the path that led to your road. Unavoidable times spent dodging the greetings you would offer as he dashed pass. Until having witnessed a spat between you and a drunker on a grocery run. The audacity of the man having attempted to force himself upon you, defiance in the swing of a leek as you scolded him. Stubborn despite the way the man had a hold of your collar, nearly dragging your smaller form towards himself, only enraged at your protests and insults. Laid to rest by Sanemi’s own rage, no longer to deny the pull you had upon him. The way he found himself drifted to the establishment time after time.

The warmth of a home that was never his own.

In courting, I feel as though Shinazugawa may take a more considerable amount of time to mull the decision over than other Hashiras. Not nearly as studious as that of Kocho, nor bashful as Mitsuri, but not quite to the level of open pursuit as that of the Flame Hashira or retired shinobi.

I feel that if his life had taken an alternative route, one in which he had the opportunity to grow with his siblings, care for his mother in her old age, I imagine he may have been just as forthcoming as the later. Quick to declare his attentions, resolved and determined to win your heart amongst the suitors at your door, but life has taken an alternative route than initially planned.

The Sanemi we have is one who has been through heartbreak, experience loss, and punishments brought on by his birth. The one who adores scars for the sake of others, and because of this, I feel that Sanem is sort of a middle ground amongst the Hashiras. One who may not be as hesitant as Obanai, but still resistant to the way his heart pines for your own.

In courting, the Wind Hashira is a rather straightforward, shameless flirt. near Uzui levels. Open to express physical attraction, unambiguous in his approach. Not the sort to play games, or leave things up for interpretation.

Rather, quick to grab your wrist, to pull you within reach, uttering in a husky voice with need, “What are you doing tonight?”

Fairly confident in his approach, and not one to shy away from a physical fling should the desire touch upon him. it’s a great way to keep others at arms length.

He is assertive, subtility is not in his nature, and an expert at taking the lead, guiding the flirtations on his time. Tease suggestive comments, coo his attentions.

Upfront in delving that he is not craving something serious, or long term, Sanemi is not one to dip his toes in manipulation. Rather, any mind games is quick to deter even a one night stand. He just does not have the patience, nor the interest.

For the most part, Sanemi is not as likely to delve into casual relationships as much as one would think. Rather, he has a deep need for security, and assurance, and a relationship of this nature is rather unappealing to him, but don’t let that fool you.

He’s rather comfortable with a one-night stand from time to time, but it varies on the individual. If it’s one in which the interlude will be met with the proper emotional distance, such as an oiran, he’s likely to enjoy the experience, but should there be a hint of false intimacy one that tries to reflect upon a real relationship, or dares to stray into more idealistic means, it will not end well.

He’s well adapted at being able to separate physical pleasures from emotional intimacy, a master at engaging without attachments. loves using flirting to test the waters.

However, it is perhaps the desperate touch of his heart, and longing for a life he knows he cannot tread upon that prevents him from regularly engaging in such trivial moments. It’s not enough for him at his core, but as he is far too afraid to stray into such areas carelessly, he’ll often go without rather than risk more than he bargained for.

He’s open to admitting that he’s interested, but once the deafening realization hits him that he is smitten, he is quick to withdraw. Shatter in features, regardless of what he was doing in that moment that it crossed his mind that he has fallen, delved deeper than the occasional pursuit, he’s dropped everything.

Pulled himself from our touched, uncoiled his fingers from your hair, barely offering a half assed excuse before fleeing. Dodged interactions, quick to seek escape.

Unable to touch upon the depths he has submerged, panicked at the thoughts of loss. It is only when he has come to terms with the circumstances that he will move forward. He is not the type to jump in, nor will he ever truly be.

That being said, the swordsman is truly quick to fall heels over head for the right person. The moment he has caught feelings, there will be a shift in approach. Genuine notes of tenderness in regards, desiring your warmth, and providing patience to allow you to come to him with the passage of time.

Laughter, witty remarks, and forthcoming gifts and compliments as the air that he breathes. Any attempt to seize your attention. In fact, I firmly believe that Sanemi would delight in the more conventional courtship routines that others often overlook.

He would savor picking flowers for you and carry your belongings for you. he wants to show off his muscles.  Would ask you to visit a tea house with him, offer you his share of ohagi, and flutter at the nervous way you dust the rice flour from his lips.

 Once he has made up his mind, Sanemi will never detour from your love.

To have entered the dating stage with the Wind Hashira is no small feat, and one that will be approached with the utmost sincerity and earnestly. Allow him to take the lead, and you will more than be rewarded. Dates vary wildly in what you can expect.

Competition events such as a shooting game at a festival is sure to bring out his drive. He will get you that stuffy, at all costs. And while he thrives in such environments, it’s the dates he plans that will catch you off guard.

Shinazugawa loves any chance he must get to know you on a deeper level, one that you have never dared to share with another. In part, it’s because he wants to be as special to you as you are to him, but he also feels reassured knowing expectations, and a clear understanding of who you are beneath the facades you bear to others. Because of this, he will aim for intimate rendezvous free of distractions and wandering eyes.

Time spent wandering the markets, plucking produce, with the intention of cooking you a wonderful meal. He's an amazing cook, I won't be convinced otherwise.

Traditional dates such as dinner and drinks, recounting childhood memories. He’s open to trying new things, a new game together, or even a comedy show. Sweeter, more reminiscent dates that touch upon joyful memories. Walks through a park, skipping stones on a lake’s edge, even a zoo trip, to more adventurous dates if you have an interest like rock climbing, or a couple’s massage.

Maybe even taking lessons on how to offer you a sensual massage himself. I promise he has documented these dates somewhere for future grandchildren to giggle over.

The Wind Hashira in love is an enigma in a way. At times, he can appear to be serious and aloof, but it is little more than a barrier than admitting how his heart longs for your touch.  

Yet, the truth remains that if you have entered the dating zone, you will quickly realize that he has long since loved you. Whispered your name into the depths of his heart, a phantom amongst his dreams.

Beneath his tough exterior, Sanemi is romantic at his core, and desires a drowning connection to his lover. Warm and affectionate, quick to give himself more than he will ever request, his entire being belongs to you. In love, there is not a question of whether he will commit.

Rather, your bond is all he ever needed to conclude that he is committed. Sanemi would be hurt to discover you ever thought otherwise. However, he understands that others must progress at their own pace, and because of this, he will do his best to hide away the maddening depths of his devotion and mascaraed as aloof, attempting to give you all of the patience you need.

Though, should you pay attention, you will notice it in the way he cares for you. How he soothes your hair in comfort, warms your hands with his own. How openly he pursues quality time together or dotes upon you regardless of who may be watching. He already knows everyone else has caught on.

In fact, for all the ways that he will cherish you, you will discover that disposing of his feelings in a verbal manner is a challenge for him. It’s not that Sanemi doesn’t desire to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, it’s just that it’s not his strong suit. And he knows it.

He’s far more comfortable allowing his actions to speak of his adoration.

Because of this, Shinazugawa can and will seize every opportunity to put himself in your service. To give you peace, and ensure your life is easier with each passing day.

As he was with dating, but he approaches romance in a fairly traditional aspect as well. He adores classic outings, scheduled romance to ensure that the spark never leaves your senses.

You will be wooed throughout your life in a way that has you questioning if you have committed to the Love Hashira. That being said, Sanemi adores a good surprise.

The Wind Hashira is just as quick to place grand gestures at his disposal frequently, so much so that it is almost second nature to him. As a supportive individual, you will find that he prides himself on being able to offer a safe home free of worries and will do so through whatever means he can conjure.

Hour spent hanging the laundry, cooking meal after meal, and cleaning up after dinner with the biggest of grins as he mentally files away what dishes caught your attention with a smile. He will also accomplish this through more traditional routes, such as working tirelessly to ensure you never want for anything, and have a safe comfortable home always waiting for you. if his upbringing was not a clue.  

The Wind Hashira desires for you to have the life of your dreams between your fingertips, you need only grasp it. No really, any odd pursuit you may have, Sanemi will be the first to admit, it’s a little peculiar, but he will never hesitate to cheer you on.

Push you when you need it, make the big jump to pursue your dreams regardless of how small or enormous they may be. Truly, he wants a relationship built on mutual respect.

In many aspects, he is the ideal partner.

Commitment is not something to be taken lightly and is something he has already mulled over in his thoughts time and time again before pursuing you. Because the truth is, once he has made the decision, he has done so wholeheartedly.

Committed loyalty and fidelity into his pore, striving at all costs to make the relationship work. Bathed in resolve, Sanemi truly desires a relationship in which he feels secure.

One that you will never doubt his loyalty, and he never needs to question your own. But also, one in which he can confess fears, reveal vulnerabilities, accept your embrace without a second thought.

Seek your comfort, never doubting his own masculinity for doing so. Yes, in a committed and well-developed relationship, Sanemi’s eyes will never wander. It would never occur to him despite how his flirtatious nature may appear.

He would never forgive himself for straying and betraying your trust.

That being clear, Shinazugawa is a rather unorthodox, vengeful person at times, and if you have decided to play a game of tactics and manipulation… well, he will be direct in his rath.

Intentional planting seeds of doubts, actively pursuing your friend in an emotional affair, he is the sort to retaliate.

For all he will give to you, communication can either be a godsent, or a curse.

Sanemi prefers open, and direct dialect. Even at the risk of hurting feelings, he would rather be far to blunt than sugar coat a horrid truth. He is not one to live a lie, and truthfully, it’s not that it is ever his intention to inflict wounds.

Rather, he feels that to obscure truths would be disrespectful to his partner. His goal is truly, to be honest. However, as a naturally outspoken man, his communication style adds a level of aggression that he often doesn’t intend. He just really doesn’t see the point in beating around the bush.

He would much rather rip off the band aid and begin the process of healing rather than allow the wound to fester. That being said, Sanemi does have a bad habit of being one to judge others, and rather quick to criticize than acknowledge someone else’s needs.  

The Wind Hashira rather enjoys engaging in conversation as long as it is nothing too abstract. He’s not one for discussions about the universe, or why it is the stars align just so, but for more tangible concepts he’s quick to engage.

Share conversations about your dreams, about a future together. Engage him in discussions from serious politics to even casual banter about whether Sakura mochi or ohagi is the best dessert. savor how persuasive he can be when he sets his mind to it. His well-informed perspective combined with his confidence can be rather tantalizing convincing.

One would assume that confrontation would come naturally to Sanemi. It’s a fair jump of an assumption to make, but the truth remains that Sanemi does not wish to trade blows with those that he adores.

He’s the protector, not the assailant. The shield, never the sword. He desires safety, and stability in his relationship, and as such, fighting is not something he enjoys—it threatens the security of his relationship, leaving him with uneven footing.

This does not mean that he will allow slights to slide by the waste side, he hates being challenged, and his opinion distorted. Mixed words, or such tactics are sure to anger him. While he can be set in his ways, and slow to compromise, approaching a conversation or discussion with intentional conversation will always give you an edge.

Despite how confrontational Sanemi is, he would never, I mean never raise a hand to his partner. Under no circumstances. he will never be his father.

A stressor for the relationship will likely be his detachment to autonomy. It’s not that he intends to invade your space regularly, it’s that he does not quite understand why you have a need for space. Or perhaps it’s that he naturally feels anxious when you’re far away from him, as though a piece of him is missing.

For some people, this may not be a problem, but if it is for you, it’s important that you discuss it openly rather than attempt to dodge or force your opinion.

Just explain, you would be surprised how willing he is to see your perspective.

Sanemi is not one to enjoy an envious partner, one who doubts his fidelity rubs him the wrong way rather than excite him. The hint of your jealousy can be a backhanded slap rather than a compliment. Though, if the truth were to be revealed, Sanemi himself has a rather controlling tendency, and adores attention.

Because of this, I suspect that should you pay attention to another—even innocently, he’s likely to feel a prickle of jealousy. Should he have to fight for the monopolization of your attention that he feels entitled to as your spouse, I suspect he will be down right petty.

He’ll never truly act on it, he has the upmost faith in you, but he will pout from time to time. It’s illogical, and he knows it, but HE wanted to sit next to you, not be replaced by the pet dog.

He’s side eyeing the pupper as it receives the cuddles that were rightfully his own.

You should never be surprised to notice the fierce way in which he guards you. Dear. Gods. Above, he has no hesitation in becoming aggressive or confrontation in general, but if it is on your behalf, Sanemi can be practically feral.

resource guarding?

He will take any slight against you very, very deeply, and is quick to act on it. Which is why he needs someone to keep him on a leash. Not everyone is worthy your time, nor your lover’s. SIT boy!

For most of the Hashiras, the concept of family is one that varies from individual to individual, but for the most part, they are all willing to compromise with their partner.

However, in Sanemi’s case, I feel like, it is either one way, or the other.

In a world of demons, and terrors in the night, there is absolutely no way he would ever allow himself to father a child. He abandoned that life long ago and prayed for Genya to live his dreams. Sanemi would never forgive himself for bringing a child into the world knowing all too well what he deems to be its inevitable fate.

No, in a world in which Muzan and his fledglings wander the night, he would never willing allow it to come to pass. If he was unsuccessful and his lineage continued knowing all too well the dangers, it would break him.

That being said, if he were gifted the opportunity to raise a child in a world without fear of losing his child, or his family as he had in the past, Sanemi would jump at the opportunity.

A small home, one in which the sound of children’s laughter rang through every window. The patter of bare feet running across the wood, playful banter like music to his ears. Like his mother before him, Sanemi would have no set number of children he would desire but would welcome each one that entered the home with joy and cherish each one with all of his heart.

 I feel as though Sanemi by nature would be a very protective father. One who would fret over their child’s wellbeing: emotional, physical, mental, he worries about it all. 

Questioning if his decisions were the right one, if perhaps he shouldn’t have raised his voice. How could he have done better as a father. Every little scrapped knee, every bruised heart, he bares all of it on his soul.

All of this is with the best intentions, all he desires is for a future in which his children may know love, comfort, and peace. A solid foundation that he never had, nor could give to his siblings, and the way his hand always reaches for those of his child, knowing that he must let them go one day.

Please, just give him a little longer.

Sanemi is a practical demon. Almost all of his thought processes are logical, even though they may not always appear to be so initially.

Such as the way he attempted to snub out his own brother was truthfully proof of his own affections for Genya. if you do he emotional math.

If your love language is acts of service, your needs will be more than satisfied. Just as he was in his familial home, Sanemi is quick to make himself of service to his lover. He will massage aching bones, prepare morning tea, and pack bentos with the cutest little notes.  

To serve the household, to prove himself for you time and time ago; Shinazugawa lives by the moto, happy spouse, happy house. Securing lose threads as they reveal themselves, warming the bed, or starting a bath when he knows the hours have ran across your features.

Rush to greet you at the station with an umbrella on a rain day. If you are one to give love in this manner, note that every task, any attempt to express your affections will never be overlooked. Though he may never say anything, he will find himself smiling at the small treat you found for his beetles, or the added serving of ohagi in his bento. Or the way you mended his kimono after a wound, tucking a smile to his heart like a little secret.

Each token of love is treasured no matter how small. He’s so grateful to have you.

Gift giving is rather second nature to Shinazugawa, and it may be due to the fact that his thoughts never leave you. As a natural caretaker, he is likely to always keep you in his mind as he goes about the shopping, smiling at a cute little treat knowing all too well how you would adore it, or spending a little extra for the spicy snacks in the hopes of seeing your smile.

 Missions that send him far away, will have him gathering local treats. Little goodies made by the grannies, procuring a variety of scarves, regional flavors, all secured to his back with the intention of coming home to you with a variety of goodies.

Another area in which he will never struggle is quality time. In fact, the way he yearns to spend as much time with you as possible may have you pushing him out the door for quality time.

Again, Sanemi seizes every opportunity to bathe in your company. Whether it’s spiriting you away to dinner for the night, a hot springs trip, or gods help him if you decide you’d like to go on a beetle excursion. he has been hit with Cupid’s arrows all over again. He’s gushing.

Sanemi dreams only of you, but there are also the times in which, he doesn’t need some grand romantic gesture although he’s good at them. Rather, he really will seize any moment to just be near you.

Content to enjoy a quiet moment peeling daikon at your side, listening to the stillness of your breath as your eyes breath in the weather outside the veranda. To enjoy snuggles beneath the kotatsu with one another. Lay his head in your lap, allow our fingers to thread through his locks, or the way your fingers wander the lines of old wounds.

When you consider the way that Sanemi struggles with articulation, and placing his emotions into language, it may not come as much of a surprise that words of affirmation will be a struggle for him.

That’s not to say that he won’t try, he is as he has always been forth coming with his praise and adoration of you.

Shamelessly complimenting you regardless of the place, or the company that may overhear. hell, he would announce it in a microphone.  But, the fact remains that communication is not one that comes naturally to him. Blame his upbringing.

 At the same time, the way your face lights up adorably as his compliment paints your features. The blush that claims you nearly contagious in how it spreads to him, leaving him a stuttering mess desperate to regain himself. a-again! He’ll do it again!

Physical intimacy is an area that can run a risk for you. Let’s be clear, it’s not that Sanemi isn’t one for physical intimacy, in fact I feel strongly that he will leave you a panting mess desperately crying out for release as he worships you time and time again. he will ruin you I swear…

However, physical intimacy can mean different things to different people, and there lies the rub. For you, physical touch may be a means of expressing affections and trust. Allowing yourself to be vulnerable, and explore the depths of desires that you may hide away, but Sanemi was never one for being the touchy feely kind.

He’s an expert of separating and physical “needs” which may leave you feeling as though your emotional needs are not being satisfied, and that he relies too heavily on expressing his affections in the bedroom.

The truth is that in some ways, Sanemi can be touch starved himself. Rare moments in which he will graze upon your cheek without a second thought, how tenderly he holds you after time apart. It’s not that Sanemi does not savor your touch, rather it’s that he doesn’t know how to communicate his need to be treated gently.

Should you choose to initiate it, he will happily respond.

To be loved by Sanemi is to know sanctuary. To see refuge amongst the falling stars, to know the that your tears have found a gentle home. It’s to dance your fingers across his scars; whispered affections that claim your heart. It’s to have your hair soothed, the warmth of his head as he softly toys with your hair. It’s to know safety, a love that will give its life for your own. Always thinking of you, dreaming of you, yearning for the day when your hopes become reality. Rejoiced in truth, it is effort day in and day out, giving of himself for all that he has, but never asking of sacrifice. It’s safety, it’s snuggled by the fire, and a blanket to draw you to his heart. It is sweet as ohagi on a rainy day, the touch of cashmere blankets, and It is a flower nurtured with tender care. It is devotion etched into your skin; the promise sealed by the touch of his lips upon your flesh. Whispered devotion, and the strength to expose yourself for all that you are in the night air. Desperate cries, that plague of passions and yearning, it is a piece of your soul that you had never known was missing. To dream of the memories to come. To yearn for something, you never dared admit. A soft lullaby just as is his love.

It is… everything.

Everything.

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka x Narrator & Sam Kiszka x OC.

Chapter Three

Summary: The Jones Family are new additions to the sleepy community of Beech Run. A tight knit scattering of rural houses, where everyone knows everyone. Deeply religious and overbearingly strict, the daughters of the family are kept under lock & key by a fanatical Father and submissive Mother. They watch from bedroom windows as their neighbours, The Kiszkas, draw intense curiosity and desire to be free. Madness of youth , hope & obsession collide to bring the danger of forbidden love to poetic ends. (Era A/U)

Warnings: Religious/ Parental trauma. Penetrative p/v sex.

Summer 1984

The stones always hit the glass after midnight. In the hours where the world seemed to be at it's most quiet. And I would lie awake counting down the minutes, the ticking of the clock on the wall mocking me as it appeared to tick backwards. My hair braided in anticipation, a pair of linen shorts and a blouse under the covers where my pyjamas should have been.

I was a creature of the night, now. Nocturnal. Simmering during the day under a canvas of wanting, letting the sun paint my skin darker and my hair lighter. Staring at him from the front yard as he watered the plants which lined his driveway. I could have had everything taken from me. But not those stolen glances. Those were mine to keep and cherish and I'd have had my eyes gouged out before I ever stopped looking at him.

Ours was a quiet love. With a temperament much more muted than that which unfolded between my sister and Jake's brother. Theirs was unapologetic and a threat to every shred of my Father's control. It didn't wait until the midnight hours, it fornicated in the afternoon when they thought nobody was looking.

Catching kisses at the side of Sam's house as soon as Dad's car pulled out of the drive. My Mother fretting on the porch steps, wringing her hands in her pinafore as Jolene skipped across the gravel towards the Kiszka house. Every word of warning left unheeded.

The way that we loved them was like two sides of the same coin. Hers a tempest and mine a breeze, and yet I knew that somehow we were both locked in something we couldn't escape. And the way that they loved us in return was just as belligerent. Just as forthright and never sorry.

"You better hurry." I insisted, keeping the blanket tightly wrapped around me until Dad had done his nightly checks. "Or you'll be climbing out the window in your night gown."

Jolene was sitting up in bed. Her lamp glowing as she turned the page of a book I knew she wasn't really reading.

"I'm not coming with you tonight." She said soberly, without lifting her gaze.

Her usual impatience at winding down the hours until she could be with Sam again was usually a bubbling cauldron. I shot her a look of confusion from across the room, waiting for her to notice. And when she finally gave credence to it, she rolled her eyes.

"It's different for you and Jake." She sighed. "It's still a secret. Sam and I have to move differently."

"You do well to be more like Jake and I." I pointed out, falling to silence as our bedroom door clicked open.

He walked in as if our space had never been sacred. As if this room wasn't the graveyard of a young girl's hopes and dreams. Desecrating it just by stepping inside with his hands in his pockets and his collar neatly folded over his signature blue sweater.

"It's late, Jolene." He scolded. "Lights out."

"Yes, Dad." She replied without argument, placing her book page down on the nightstand before switching off her lamp.

I pretended to be asleep. Letting my chest rise and fall the way it did in slumber. Keeping my eyes clamped shut, hoping he would bypass me and just close the door behind him.

"I am the all seeing eye, remember that." He said prophetically, with an air of dominance that left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I was relieved when he plunged the room into darkness. Leaving only his tyrannical echo for me to let fester in my thoughts. I didn't know much about hate. But I knew that I hated him, in every way a person could hate. I knew that I wouldn't care if anything terrible happened to him. Nor would I stand and weep at his grave.

"The all seeing eye." I mocked, pushing off my blanket. "Can't see what's right under his nose."

She watched me construct my blanket and comforter into a make-shift image of myself asleep underneath. Careful not to turn her lamp back on too quickly, even though I could hear Dad's footsteps descend the stairs.

"You're really not coming with me?" I asked, the sound of gravel at the window breaking a mounting silence.

"It's different for me and him." She continued, a rueful smile on her face, something I would come to regret not questioning her further on. "Dad doesn't watch you like he watches me. He thinks your penance was done. He still thinks I am a whore for having the audacity to love the boy across the street."

I would have spoken but she lifted a hand to protest. "Go and be with Jake, Bonnie. I'm fine. Believe me. I'm just tired."

I wanted to believe her. And even as I began to climb out of the window I sensed that I should remain. A fleeting feeling that left almost as quickly as it had come to me. She smiled and watched me go, her eyes warm and comforting as she switched off the lamp again and snuggled down into her pillow.

He always helped me down from that last jump off the porch trellis. His hands snaking around my hips as he took my weight, always letting me fall back into his waiting arms. Spinning me around as if I were weightless, burying his lips into the crease of my neck as I giggled against the assault of his tickles. And I could finally breathe.

When my feet were planted firmly on the ground, we would always take a moment to admire each other. My arms around his neck, his around my waist. And I would take in the features that I'd yearned for from afar.

"It's just me and you tonight." He said, sweeping a palm over my coiled braids. "So I've got something special in mind."

Everything felt like an adventure with Jake. It didn't matter if we hid in his garage or went for midnight walks down by the creek. It all felt so magical, like I'd been plucked from my life and placed within somebody else's. The tenderness within which he showed me what life could be had me leaning further and further towards complete rebellion.

"Where are we going?" I asked wistfully, letting his eyes fall on me like his gaze was a blanket of nothing but the purest adoration.

He didn't tell me. Instead his smirk let me know that I would enjoy it, his hand taking mine as he led me towards the car waiting in the middle of the street. He opened the door for me like the perfect gentleman that he was, careful not to close it with too much force.

My heart was racing. I looked as the last light in my house went out, and Jake slid into the drivers seat. I knew that I didn't care anymore if I were caught. I was never giving this up.

I knew the direction we were heading in. The road into town was just one long dusty track dotted with houses until you reached the Welcome sign. I'd never seen it in the dead of night. All the shutters up and the roads empty. The street lights flickering and an eerie sense of calm in what was usually a bustling centre.

I'd walked past the Kiszka's music store before. It was the biggest plot on the main street stores, fronted by a row of parking spaces with little meters sitting on the side walk. In the window hung an array of electric and acoustic guitars, and in the shop front was a display of keyboards and saxophones. Vinyl records neatly sat on little holders, each time a new album was released the vinyl in the window was changed. As Jake fiddled with a set of keys to get the front door opened, I noticed the album cover of Purple Rain had been placed front and centre.

Once inside, I knew why he had brought me there. My breath caught in my chest as the overhead lights flickered on. Revealing an almost cave-like menagerie of music paraphernalia. The store was so vast that each section had it's own home. The counter was up front to the side, glass fronted with a selection of chrome harmonica's sat in little boxes on display beneath the cash register. The guitar section extended down the entire left side. Floor to ceiling, hanging on little hooks and sitting on stands between stools ready for potential buyers to come and try them out. There was a drum set in the corner, a selection of wind instruments and key based instruments all on display as if a band were ready to start playing at any moment. On the right side of the store there was row after row of vinyls. All of them coded and in their own genre sections. The wall was covered in posters. Prince and Michael Jackson, Bruce Springsteen and Van Halen. Some of the faces I didn't recognise, artists I'd never even heard of with music I'd never been given the opportunity to listen to. And in the back of the store there was a listening area. Three beaten up old arm chairs set out with record players and headphones attached. And behind was a booth, glass fronted with a cassette player inside.

He let me peer around the place for a moment. Standing behind me with the most pleased grin on his face, watching my reaction closely. His fingertips grazed the small of my back as he ushered me further inside, switching on a set of cool blue neon lights by the listening area and he waited for me to notice the little picnic he'd set up on one of the side tables.

"You did all this, for me?!" I exclaimed, turning to wrap my arms around him.

"It's just a few chocolate strawberries and cream soda." He replied, caressing my cheek with the swell of his lips.

It didn't matter how insignificant it felt to him. To me it was as if he'd pulled the stars down from the night sky and presented them to me in a crystal bowl and two candy pink glass bottles.

"It's perfect." I remarked, running palms up my arms as a cool chill breezed through from under the door.

He noticed immediately. "Yeah, it can get kinda cold in here. Let me find something."

He shuffled off towards a door at the back of the store with a "staff only" sign emblazoned on the front. It gave me a moment to drink it all in. Fingering the vinyls as they sat in their genre coded boxes, letting them fall forward one after the other. I traced lines across the guitar strings on display, giving the drum set a little flick on the cymbal. My heart warming the rest of my body by a couple of degrees as I looked over at the little arm chairs, his romantic gesture set out between the two which sat side by side beneath the wall light.

He appeared moments later, carrying a couple of knitted blankets and some cups of steaming hot tea. Looking so deliciously domestic, my stomach began to knot itself so tight I knew I'd never be able to pick it apart ever again.

"Reminds me of the night you took my virginity." I lamented, letting him lay the blankets out on the chair which looked the most comfortable, watching him set the needle to something soft and jazzy, getting seated before inviting me to curl up in his lap.

As his arms closed around me, so did the blanket. I felt like I'd been wrapped in a warm cocoon, his soft heart beating a melody against my ear as I laid against him. The blush of my cheeks as he pulled me up for a kiss was radiating almost instantly.

"Nothing will ever compare to that night." He replied, planting his lips against mine so carefully that I almost breathed a little too hard into his mouth.

A part of me would always belong to that night. When I looked at myself in the mirror, entirely changed, I would trace a line down my breasts and imagine that it was his touch. I'd recall the lines of his body on top of mine and my breathing would almost stop. Jake had burrowed his way beneath my skin and was as much a part of me as my own soul now.

"Our wedding night might." I offered, the words tumbling out of my mouth like a running faucet.

I immediately bristled in his arms. My body solidifying against the comfort of his chest and the blanket. The regret was palpable. And I blamed the sweetness of the moment for taking me so far ahead into the future that I hadn't dared to ask if marriage was something he had ever entertained.

He didn't say anything at first. And I didn't dare look up to investigate his expression. There was only a silence that was growing ever more unbearable as he continued to stroke my hair.

"Perhaps." He finally responded, a hopeful little word that was spoken in a pleasing tone.

It was as if he was agreeing with me. Without giving too much credence to the concept. Casual, almost. As if the subject of marriage was absolute and should have never been in doubt and I felt foolish for ever letting myself have a regret with him.

"Bonnie?"

I dared to look up at him. "Yes, Jake?"

There was a strange look in his eye. Serious, and yet I felt as if he was mocking me a little. With the corners of his mouth pulled up slightly, a smirk on the verge of forming.

"You are eighteen. You are free to marry whoever you choose." He said, conjuring a mixture of hope and dread in my stomach.

I didn't quite know what he meant. What his intentions were. I could feel myself begin to stutter, my mouth poised to speak but the words lost before they could make it out.

"Is that what you want?" He asked, that hint of a smirk fading. "If I marry you, he can't stop us being together. You would be my wife."

The rate in which my heart began to excelerate was unprecedented. For a moment we stared at each other. Both of us waiting for the other to say something. And then the needle jumped, sending the music into disarray until it fell to an excruciating silence.

I took my opportunity to break to tension by opening up our warm little cocoon. I slipped off his lap, him keeping his eyes firmly on me as I went over to the record player and lifted the needle. Carefully placing it back on it's little bracket. I picked up the nearest vinyl, not caring to check the cover. Absently, I placed it on the deck and soon the room was filled with the dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald.

Let's do it... Let's fall in love...

He rose from his seat. Pulling me into a slow dance. Letting my erratic heart fall into the pattern of the song. I felt his arms come around my waist. My head forever at home against his shoulder, my hand coming to rest against his chest as the other pressed against his back. We swayed in silence, neither of us wanting to break the spell.

I allowed myself to imagine it, though. A wedding in secret, the church far enough away that word would never reach my Father. A simple white dress and a posy of locally picked flowers, our guests only a mere handful of Jake's family who wanted to witness it. The haste in which it would happen. All of us on tenterhooks until the paperwork was signed. I knew how this story unfolded. And it wasn't satisfying. But was is necessary? I didn't want to think about it.

"Forgive me." He whispered, "I didn't mean to suggest something like that..."

My forgiveness was not what he needed. I placed my finger at his lips and let myself fall into a kiss so deep that I moaned salaciously against it. His tongue sliding so deep that the arousal travelled the length of my body and struck lightening at my core. The churn of butterflies ignited, the raw ache of wanting him even when I was in his arms burned.

Sometimes it was like that. When the need was greater than the desire. He could have lit a thousand candles and I would have swept my panties to the side for him in darkness. When time was against us, it felt as if I would have sat upon the window ledge itself and let him suck and tease at me before even climbing out of it.

"I don't want to hurt you, because I love you." He explained, lingering on the precipice of something dark. "But if I don't hurt you while fucking...You'll never know how much I do..."

He drove his tongue back into my mouth, setting off another shattering moan. To him, I was a mere instrument to play. When the fever took hold. The urge to fuck surpassing all reason. When it was like this, that was when I felt the most alive. He didn't need to marry me in moments like these. I would have gone anywhere with him.

The raw intensity of his tongue drew me to the edges of despair. He made me sing the most glorious songs, delicious noises escaping my lips as he sank his teeth into my jawline. I grabbed his hair and pulled him into me closer. The wordless begging forcing his fingertips to dig into my hips. Without any thought behind it, he pushed me back into the arm chair behind us.

"Show me how much you love me." I sinfully requested, hedging my bets on his previous statement that it had to hurt for me to know.

He came and took his place on top of me, reclining the chair slowly until it was almost horizontal. Scrambling to tear off our clothes. The moment would not wait nor did it call for careful romance. We had known these moments in summer fields down by the creek and in candle lit evenings on the pull out sofa bed in his parent's garage.

I ached for penetration. And he was already leaking by the time he ripped off his boxer shorts. I called to him with my legs spread wide, leaning against the arms of the chair. My braids already somewhat falling out as he crawled above. He took the tentative step to uncoil them. Letting the waves out, my hair fall around my face as he leaned down to steal a kiss.

"I fought for this..." He murmured, sweeping his fingertips against the wetness of my labia. "And I'll fight for it until the day I die."

He didn't waste time with his fingers. I was already set to the highest peak of arousal. He took a firm grip of himself, making a few strokes as he centred himself between my thighs. He plunged inside me with such delicious intention that I gasped.

"You feel that?" He asked, motioning back before shooting his hips forward.

"I feel it." I confirmed, my walls stretching against his shaft with each daring thrust. "I feel you inside me..."

My virginity belonged to the past. I'd long since given it to him. I felt like a woman now. My need was slaked only by his caress. The way he pulled out my breast and laid his mouth over the bud of my nipple. The way he licked the curve of it, holding it between his thumb and index finger. The way he sucked hungrily at the flesh until it was dappled pink and almost blood shot. My senses were at odds.

"Still so tight..." He breathed between beating thrusts, his commentary sometimes the thing I hung on to most.

Sex, I had discovered, was not just a feast for the eyes but for the ears too. I often drifted away to the sound of his voice as he made love to me. The way in which he liked to give praise to my body. To the way it made him feel. The incandesce of his gaze like wild flames burning my flesh with each touch.

"Shit, Bonnie..."

Oh, the curses were what I lived for. I knew, always, when the curses slipped out that he was too far gone. About to step off the precipice into orgasm.

He fucked me so hard in that reclined arm chair that I could hear the springs about to break. The hinges about to come apart. I didn't care. Let it crash beneath us, I just needed him to give me that stinging ache I had come to know after he'd fucked me a little too brutally. When he'd let the intrusive thoughts take over.

His hair was saturated in sweat. Tiny droplets of it brushing against my chest. We didn't kiss, it was more like our tongues were dancing and our mouths perpetually open. The kind of sex only experience could bring. The sort of experience I was slowly painting every night with Jake.

"Tell me it feels good." He instructed, pulling away to look at the flush in my face, evening out his pace a little.

"Feels so good." I moaned, still finding my voice a little. "I promise Jake, it's good."

The growl that came afterwards made me almost giggle in satisfaction. He buried his face into my sweat drenched neck. Pounding against my thighs relentlessly. I could hear the sloppy sounds of how wet he'd made me. His careful nature lost, he wasn't making love to me. He was fucking me, hard. The way he liked to, the way he'd been too afraid to before. The way I'd suspected he could that night he had spanked me in the church.

"I love the way you fuck me, oh God..." My voice trailed off into a singular note of pitch.

It was the first time I had ever said anything unprompted. Undiluted and completely catching him off guard. The look of pure unadulterated devotion was enough to complete me. His thumb pressed against my drenched clit. Guiding me closer and closer. He didn't take his eyes off me in that moment. And it felt, for the first time, that we trusted each other to have the kind of sex we could only dream of.

"There's no God here..." He whispered, "Only me."

I knew it was true as he spilled inside me. That shock only a man could feel when he realised his woman was no longer someone he had to covet so gently. That she wasn't a girl anymore. It was like he couldn't believe it. Seeing me beneath him like that. Hot and sweaty from the beast that had bared it's teeth between us.

It took a few moments for us to catch our breath. He remained inside me, slowly softening and swallowing hard as he rested his forehead against mine. Truthfully, I didn't want him to pull away. I was still getting used to the residue, the way I had to navigate myself so that it didn't drip down the inside of my leg. The things nobody talks about when the moment has passed and there is nothing left but his cum nestled away inside you.

"Here." He offered, throwing me the tea towel he'd brought in with the hot cups that were now assuredly luke warm, teasing a smile as he watched me clean up. "If only you could see what a beautiful mess you make."

"You make." I replied, watching him tuck himself back into his pants.

"No." He insisted, taking back the tea towel so that I could dress. "It's not just that you're full of my cum. It's that your hair's all fucked up. And your cheeks are pink. And your flesh is all covered in sweat. Never seen anything more beautiful."

The rhythm of my breathing was still shallow as he pulled me up out of the chair. He placed a chocolate strawberry at my lips and we slow danced a little more. My hips ached and my thighs were raw. And that feeling that could only come after being fucked hard was lingering inside me.

"I meant what I said." He reiterated, "I will marry you, Bonnie. And you'll never have to live under your Dad's control ever again."

It would have been easy to say yes for that reason alone. But I didn't want that.

"I want to marry you, I do." I replied softly, letting him kiss my temple. "But I want you to ask me on a day where nothing else is at stake."

I could hear his chest fall in disappointment. "I'm not asking you to save you. I'm asking you because I love you."

His eyes met mine. I'd never seen him look so serious.

"I know..." I would have said more, but the moment was stolen from us.

The bell which tinkled whenever the front door opened drew us from this reverie. My stomach immediately churned into a sickness as I drew my gaze away from Jake, and dropped him from my embrace.

There was nothing I could do to reverse that night. Not the things Jake and I had said to each other that would have to go unfinished, nor the things I had done to set the wheels in motion that had brought Sam to the store in what I could only describe as a blind panic.

He fell through the door, breathing erratic. Pulling strands of his hair back as he tried to speak. Leaning over the counter, trying to catch his breath. Moaning in pain. Or was it despair? His panic was suddenly mine.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Jake asked, rushing over to his brother. "You're not supposed to be here, Sam."

I sensed that perhaps Jake knew where Sam was supposed to be. But the line of questioning would have to wait. As I approached, I realised the level of trauma already lined in his face would stay with him forever. He was bereft. And I knew, somehow, that Jolene wasn't where she was supposed to be, either.

"Calm down." I tried, placing my palms on either side of his grief stricken face. "And tell me what happened."

I guided him over to the listening area. He didn't want to move. He didn't know what to do. He pulled away at first, scared of my touch. His eyes wide and apologetic. I could see that he wanted to follow, but there was a fear clutching at him that made every step just hard to take.

Once I got him sat in one of the arm chairs, I offered him a swig of cream soda. He declined, pushing it away like I'd offered him poison. Jake pulled out a hip flask and shoved it into his brother's face, forcing him to take a drink.

"You better start talking." Jake said dominantly, not as an older brother, but as somebody who naturally had more power. "Where's Jolene?"

I slumped down onto the arm of the chair, offering my hand at his shoulder for comfort. Jake stood in front, tipping the flask into his mouth until it was drained.

"We were... " He began, his body shaking and his voice unsteady. "You know? We almost made it...and then I realised we were being followed... I sped up and then they sped up...and then Jolene she said we should stop and I didn't listen to her... "

I instinctively moved away. "What do you mean? You didn't listen to her? She's in bed at home. That's where I left her."

Sam shook his head. "No, no... that's what she wanted you to believe. She wanted you to think that she was staying home. She didn't want you to worry. But... we had it all planned out. We were going to drive down to my Aunt's place down in Grand Rapids. They got a farm down there, we were going to help out and get enough money to get our own place. Somewhere your Dad could never get to us."

I couldn't help but steer my attention towards Jake. He was biting his lip nervously. Tapping his heel. Hands on his hips as he stared down at his brother.

"Did you know about this?" I asked. "Is that what bringing me here tonight was all about? A distraction?!"

He looked offended. "No! Fuck, no. I wanted to bring you here because I thought you'd like it!"

The place reeked of sex. The undeniable scent of what we had done lingered, the music was still playing something soft and sexy but the tone of it felt all wrong now. Sam didn't seem to notice, fresh tears streaming down his face as he stared into the void.

"Sam, where is my sister?" I asked bluntly.

I'll never forget the way he looked at me. I never wanted anyone to ever look at me like that ever again. Desperate for forgiveness. On the edge of losing his mind. If he spoke the words out loud that would make it all real. He would cling on to those wasted seconds for as long as he could, before he had to speak it into existence.

"I don't know." He swallowed harshly, "That's the truth. I don't know where she is. But... I think she's dead."

The engine fell silent. The gentle tinkle of Jakes car keys as he pulled them out drew me from my thoughts.

"No." I stopped him, "Don't wait for me."

He began to protest immediately, just as I thought he might. I'd already prepared a speech for him, but it seemed to fall flat as I tried to get the words out without bursting into unwanted tears.

"Of course I'll wait for you." He replied, knuckles against my cheek as he swept my hair back, strands of it sticking to my damp face. "I'd go in there with you if I thought it would do any good."

I tried to imagine it. His hand in mine as we navigated the hospital corridors. Feeling a little more calm than I would have without him. A part of me wanted to walk in there with him by my side. But the other part of me, and it screamed so much more loudly, told me not to bear that cross quite yet.

"No, my Dad will be there. And I'm not ready to face him with all this yet." I sighed, watching the clock on the dash as it turned 4 am. "Will you please tell Sam that she's not dead?"

He nodded gravely. "I love you, you know that, right?"

If nothing else, I knew that. It was hard to get out of the car, to even walk through the hospital doors knowing he'd be out there waiting for me. Even if I got in the car with my parents, he would stay there until he knew I was going home. It gave me some small comfort. The immeasurable toll of seeing my sister laid up in that bed attached to all the beeping wires was something I was not prepared for.

It was like walking into a court room and I was the one on trial. My mother was sat at Jolene's bedside, her hand wrapped around my sisters, holding it tight as she laid there limply. My Dad was standing in the corner of the room like a sentinel, resting his chin against a tightly curled fist with his arms folded neatly across his chest. Staring at her lifeless body as the chest rose and fell with each beep.

"Whore." He grunted, eyes immediately flaring hot like sulphur. "Just like your sister!"

"Not now, please" My Mother begged, using her voice for what felt like the first time.

The wave of emotion that flooded me was overwhelming. The sight of Jolene there like that, so helpless and lifeless. My Mother, in this tentative moment, speaking against my Father for the first time. And him, choosing to use it like some vehicle for his hatred of me.

"I suppose you spoke to your brother." He surmised, "Once you saw fit to come home."

It was strange. Like looking at a stranger.

"You know that Sam thinks that she's dead, don't you?" I almost spat the words out. "Why didn't you just let them go? It's because of you that this happened!"

The blasphemy caught him off guard. The accusation and the way in which I had thrown it at him. All I had to do was stand there and not flinch. To let the wave of anger that was assuredly coursing through his veins wash through him until it was permanently marked on his flesh.

"You've got the devil in you!" He said pointedly, standing close to Jolene's bed side as if I would contaminate her.

He had no power over me anymore. In one brief, fleeting moment I had eradicated eighteen years of oppression. Eighteen years of fear and doubt. I wasn't certain I could uphold it, against whatever he would do next, but I knew that if I just stood there I stood a fighting chance.

"You chased them down in your car. You think that God wanted this? Look at her... she's your daughter. You're supposed to love her and cherish her! Not run her into the ground until the car crashes and she's clinging on to her life!"

My Mom began to sob quietly. Holding Jolene's hand to her cheek. Perhaps it was the most affection she had ever shown, and Jolene would never know.

It was in stark contrast to my Father, who couldn't bear my defiance. When his hand struck my cheek, I tasted blood. But I welcomed it. Blood meant sacrifice. And I would make the ultimate one. When I turned my face, there wasn't a hint of remorse in his. Only a vexation that knew no limit. And yet, somehow, I had managed to exceed it.

I looked him directly in the eye. "Enough."

She would languish there until her injuries were healed. I didn't say it out loud, but I made a promise to come back for her. To never let another moment pass where she or I would live under this scrutiny and melancholic repression. And when I walked out of that room I didn't look at my Mother, or my Father again.

I ran out into the early morning light. Jake was leaning against his car in the parking lot smoking a cigarette. He looked tired. But when he caught sight of me standing there, something shifted. And I knew that everything was about to change.

To be Continued...

.

.

.

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher @wetkleenex-gvf @jazzyfigz @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 29)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Birth, Complications, Infertility

Note: This is just another little gap-filler.

The following morning, there was an unusual silence inside the bedroom when you woke up.  

Cillian was gone, leaving behind a note on the bedside table saying that he was going to drop by the pharmacy and pick up some supplies for you and Mara. He had taken Mara with him, which gave you some time to shower and freshen up, to prepare for the day ahead.

You took your time, enjoying the solitude and the rare opportunity to pamper yourself, knowing that the days ahead would likely be filled with sleepless nights and constant care for Mara again especially when Cillian was headed off to America for work. This was a welcome respite.

Afterward, you put on your favorite pair of yoga pants and a soft tank top, stepping out onto the porch to breathe in the fresh morning air. The sun cast rays of brilliant light upon the small garden at the back of your house, illuminating the beauty of nature around you. You took a seat on an outdoor bench, savoring the tranquility and the serenity of the moment just before Cillian returned with your babygirl.

"Thank you for taking her," you told him sincerely. "I appreciate the rest."

His face softened, his blue eyes glistening with concern as he held Mara close to his chest. He looked so tender, caring and protective that a lump formed in your throat.

"Don't mention it," he replied gruffly, his gaze flickering between you and his babygirl before bringing up his two week trip, worrying that you might not manage alone.

"I'll be alright," you assured him confidently, patting his hand reassuringly as you rose from the bench, feeling revitalized by the fresh air and the quiet moments of peace. "My stomach feels much better now. I can move around again and, really, I do need to learn how to be on my own with Mara. It's good practice," you explained, grasping his hands reassuringly. "I'll be fine, trust me; it's just a couple of weeks, right?" you smiled, determined to make the best of your circumstances.

Cillian hesitated before agreeing, his blue eyes glistening with concern as he held Mara close to his chest. His fingers brushed against your hand, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You both looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between you. 

"Although maybe it is you who cannot cope on your own," you teased, still sensing his apprehension. 

Cillian glanced at you, his brows furrowing slightly. "You might be right," he agreed, a mischievous sparkle dancing in his eyes.

He handed Mara over to you delicately, his touch featherlight, as if afraid to disrupt the peaceful balance you had achieved in your lives. You could sense the undercurrent of desire simmering beneath his surface, a flame burning brighter with each passing day. Yet, the timing was wrong, for now.

"I will miss you," he then said before correcting himself. "I mean, I will miss Mara and, I don't know," he quickly added nervously, averting his gaze from you quickly before meeting your gaze once more. "I guess, I will miss you too," he confessed quietly, his voice barely rising above a whisper.

You looked at him, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "I will miss you too, Cillian," you chuckled before spending another hour with him and then sending him on the way. He still had his clothes to pack and a flight to catch later that afternoon.

Over the next two weeks, you slowly found your feet, living with Mara on your own. Of course, you had some harrowing nights and many challenging moments, but you knew that it was all part of the learning curve of parenthood.

Still, you missed Cillian. Not only did you crave his presence physically, but you also yearned for his companionship and shared laughter. He was the source of comfort and stability in your life, a steadfast pillar in the stormy seas of life.

You began to wonder what he was doing over there in Los Angeles, thousands of miles away from you, but your thoughts were interrupted by the soft whimpers coming from Mara's crib.

She wanted your attention, and you gladly obliged, shuffling across the room to pick her up and bring her close to your chest. You rocked her gently, swaying in time with her delicate heartbeat, humming a soft melody to soothe her.

"It's okay, baby girl," you crooned, your voice low and comforting. "I know you miss your daddy, but he will be back in a few days," you murmured, kissing her forehead gently as she nestled her head against your neck, snuggling closer to you.

Mara was an absolute delight, a bundle of joy and laughter that lifted your spirits every day.

Her giggles and infectious smiles brought happiness into your life. You spent countless hours reading books, playing games, and engaging in playful conversations with her. You adored her, nurturing and caring for her and, over time, you became increasingly attached to her. 

Motherhood suited you was what Cillian's sister said when she came to check up on you and, whilst you appreciated her support, you felt a little strange about the fact that his family became more involved in your life than your own. 

Just last week for example you received a call from Cillian's mother, inviting you and Mara to come along for her 70th birthday in Cork. 

It was a special occasion that she simply couldn't bear to celebrate without her granddaughter. And, of course, you accepted the invitation without hesitation even despite the fact that your mother and Cillian's brother Frank were attending the party as well.

According to Cillian's mother, you would all be staying at her house and when she told you that she had already bought a basinet and other necessities for Mara, you felt quite touched and simply couldn't say no.

With that, the days leading up to Cillian's mother's birthday went quickly with a newborn in the house and Cillian returned earlier than expected due to the SAG strike. 

Unsurprisingly though, he did not seem to mind that his trip was being cut short. After all, he hated giving interviews and engaging in social events for the sake of promoting his movies. It was something that he considered to be absurd and he much rather wanted to spend time with his babygirl.

As such, he came straight to your house after having landed in Dublin following his eight-hour flight from LAX before spending the next few days with you, Mara and Max.

Max was coming to Cork with you too, visiting his grandmother for her 70th birthday celebration. Although you weren't particularly excited about the prospect of spending a weekend with your mother and Frank, who would undoubtedly throw passive-aggressive remarks your way every chance he got, you were willing to endure his company for the sake of celebrating this milestone.

It was important to Cillian's mother to see her whole family together again, and you understood that you should set aside your personal feelings and focus on creating happy memories for Mara.

To be continued...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

[minispidey]

The Duke and The Wildflower.

Leto Atreides x f!reader

Miniseries Masterlist.

II. Dancing with Our Hands Tied.

3.2k words

Summary: Leto and you start your secret love affair. After a meeting, your father notices the way you looked at Leto. You started to question your feelings towards Leto.

Warnings: not beta read, some wrong grammar, garden seggs, timeskip, oral on table f!receiving, almost caught, smut, a lil angst at the end.

Leto felt the ghost of your touch that night. Your father arranged a room for him to stay in your home. He's never felt so comfortable in a planet he's never been in, and his mind was clouded by thoughts of you.

Your whimpers as he thrusted into you a few hours earlier in the library, the way you felt around his cock. He wanted you.

He left the guests' quarters and walked through the dark and empty halls, spotting you in your nightgown as you knocked on the walls to open the secret garden.

"My Lady."

His voice startles you, making you face him and backing away against the entrance of the secret garden but tripping down and sitting on the grass.

"Your grace, you frightened me." you breathed out, holding your chest.

"My apologies." Leto helps you up, entering the garden as well before it shuts close. The moon illuminates the sunroof of the garden, showing your beauty in a different light.

"What are you doing up late?"

"I could ask you the same thing, my lady."

"Well... I couldn't sleep." You said, walking towards the large tree in the middle of the garden, your bare feet touched the grass despite your previous insistence to avoid the grass "How about you, your grace?"

"I can't stop thinking about you..." he whispers.

You exhaled "It... It mustn't happen again. It was... just a pleasurable escapade. I still despise you, yet I force myself to tolerate you."

"Is that how you truly feel?"

"Yes."

"Yet you tighten your cunt around me when I first thrusted into you."

"Your grace-" your eyes widened at his boldness.

"Leto." he says "Call me Leto."

"Your grace, it is inappropriate-"

"Call me Leto." he repeated.

You took a deep breath in before letting out a sigh of defeat "Leto."

The way you said his name made him melt, his tense shoulders relaxing. He looked at you with desire and you looked back at him with your chin up and serious focused eye contact.

"Please... say it again..."

"Leto."

He slowly made his way to you. His hand was cupped and hovered your face but doesn't make contact with your skin.

He didn't have his gloves on. He didn't want to touch you that way.

But you two had sex, so he might as well, right?

"Can I... Can I touch you?"

Did he ask for permission to touch you? A Duke? Permission? It was indeed a scandalous, but they were alone

"You may."

His rough palm rested on the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Your skin was so soft, it made him weak.

"Can I kiss you...?"

"Leto, it was just..."

"Please." Leto leaned in and whispered softly in her ear "I need your lips." he murmured, sliding his hand up your nightgown, feeling your thigh through the silk fabric.

"You've driven me mad." he breathed, his voice a low croon as his lips hovered over hers once more "Please... let me kiss you..."

As if hypnotized by the way his eyes stared at yours, you nodded.

Leto continues to explore your body with a heady mix of reverence and hunger, his touch igniting a fire within you. His hands glide over your skin, caressing and teasing, his fingertips leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.

He breaks the kiss, his dark eyes burning with desire as he gazes down at you "I want this." he breathed, his voice barely a whisper "I want you."

Lowering his head, Leto starts to lavish attention upon your neck, trailing a line of kisses along the sensitive skin. His lips move with purpose, alternating between gentle nips and lingering caresses, each touch leaving you yearning for more. Your hand rested on the nape of his neck, pushing him towards you "Leto..." you moaned.

His hand slides down your body, hiking up your silk nightgown and finding its way to the apex of your thighs. With skilled fingers, he begins to explore the depths of your desire, eliciting moans of pleasure from your lips. Leto continued to nip on your neck, leaving marks.

Leto rubs your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you squirm against him. His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and coaxing pleasure from your sensitive bud.

"Feels good, huh?" he murmurs seductively, his voice low and husky. "Have you ever been pleasured this way before?" he asks, his fingers never ceasing their gentle movements.

"No..." you breathed out "Never. I-It feels too good..." his fingers continue their persistent movements, driving you closer to the edge. He can feel the tension building within you, the telltale signs of your impending release. And as his own desire grows, he's determined to make sure you reach your peak before he allows himself to. Your stomach twists, reaching your high, moaning out loud.

"You're beautiful...." he placed a kiss on your breast before licking his fingers. He removes his pants, taking out his hardened cock and positioning himself at your entrance, his gaze locked with yours, seeking permission for the final act of surrender, for your pleasure "Leto..." you say as an answer. It was a yes.

Leto's lips curl into a devilish smirk as he hears your breathless admission. He hooks one of your legs around his waist "I can't forget the way you felt around me..." he whispers "Your warmth... your voice..."

With a controlled yet powerful movement, Leto enters you slowly, filling you completely. His eyes roll back, feeling you once again. The air is thick with the sounds of your shared pleasure, the symphony of moans and gasps filling the secluded garden.

"Leto... oh my..." you breathed out, arching your back. Your head rested against the tree, hitting it with each thrust Leto delivers. He noticed it and placed a hand on the back of your head and he continued thrusting into your warm cavern "More..."

His grip on your hips tighten, his fingers digging into your flesh as he increases the force of his thrusts.

Leto thrusted into you with a raw, unrestrained power, his movements becoming more forceful and demanding. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mingling with the symphony of your moans and gasps. He pushed you more against the tree with each powerful thrust.

Finally, with a shuddering release, you both succumb to the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your bodies. Breathing heavily, Leto held you close, his body pressed against yours as you both catch your breath. You still had your leg hooked around him, pressing your forehead against his.

"Your grace... you've gone mad..." you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"Indeed. And I would prefer to stay this way." Leto kisses you again with overwhelming passion. He's addicted to your taste.

He pulls away before laying your body down on the grass, and resting your head on the tree trunk. Leto lies down next to you, staring at you lovingly.

"I've never wanted someone so badly until I met you..."

"How charming."

"I've read books of greek gods and goddesses— Aphrodite to be exact..."

"What about her? Let me guess, you think that she created me?"

"Not at all." he shook his head "In fact, the description of her beauty pales in comparison to you."

Your gaze softens, looking at him "I fear you have angered the goddess with your compliment."

Leto let out a small laugh "If I had angered Aphrodite, I certainly didn't mean to. It's truly her fault for blessing you with such beauty."

The two looked at each other in silence. Your voice shuddered "You... You have rendered me speechless, your grace." you turned your head away from him but his finger rested under your chin, turning you back to face him.

"Are you flustered?"

"Yes." you replied with no hesitation.

Leto only smiled and pressed a kiss on your temple "Allow me to court you..."

"You have already had sex with me. Why would you want to court me?"

"Because I want you..."

You let out a sigh "You can't."

"Why?"

"My father will not allow it. Imagine the scandal."

"I see..." Leto's eyes shifted down to your lips and back to your eyes again "But... if given the chance, would you let me court you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I refuse."

You got up, straightening your nightgown before walking over to the fountain, taking water to splash your face.

Leto watches as the water drips down to your chest, making him gulp. He walks towards you, pressing his chest against your back "Please..."

"Leto..." you looked at him "We mustn't..."

"But we could." he rests his nose on your scalp, smelling your intoxicating fragrance "Allow me to love every inch of you."

You slightly smiled, looking at him "Here's uh, a peace offering." you handed him a small potted flower nearby "Father said it stood out from the garden too much and it's greedy when it comes to the sun. It just needs an inch of water a week, so I hope it's not a bother when you take it back to your planet."

Leto looked at the ivory flower. It had a strong smell, very zesty. It smelled like...

"It smells like you." he says, looking at you.

Your eyes lit up "It does?"

"Yes."

"What a coincidence."

You walked back to the tree, noticing wildflowers started growing on the grass. You started to pick them out one by one.

"Poor flowers. Lives cut short."

"In my father's garden, everything must be in order. That means absolutely no flower must stand out."

Leto only stared at you. Because in his opinion, you were that flower.

Months passed since your love affair started. For every meeting with your father, he'd stay the night and make love to you in secret. The garden and the library were your safe haven as he helped you reach the heights of pleasure.

"I heard you have concubines... you're unmarried."

"Yes. Political reasons."

"Keep telling yourself that..." you were cut off as he pressed his lips against yours.

Each interaction when your father is around consisted of longing stares and impatience. As you sat in the meeting room, your father hasn't arrived and Leto stared at you. It was just the two of you.

"My lady."

"Your grace."

You two greeted each other.

You wore your usual chiffon attire, your hair was decorated with small flowers from the garden. Silence filled the room. Leto continued to stare at you, but now with a familiar look on his face. You shook your head.

"My world."

"Leto." you sighed, clearly flustered by the endearment. He started calling you that more often during your previous private meetings.

A soft smile graces his lips as he moves closer, his hands gently caressing your face.

Leto guides you to lie back on the table, his hands roaming your body with a gentle yet possessive intent. His lips find yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue teasingly exploring your mouth.

As the kiss deepens, his hands roam lower, tracing the contours of your body, igniting sparks of pleasure with each touch. He breaks away from the kiss, resting his face in the crook of your neck.

"You're too beautiful." he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. You shift a bit on the table, hiking your dress up "We must be hurry... father could enter any time soon."

Leto's fingers glide over your skin, his touch leaving a trail of tingling sensations. He takes his time, savoring every moment, his mouth finding its way to your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses. His fingers stopped on your clit, rubbing it in circles, making you moan softly.

His voice is a low, seductive rumble as he murmurs "Be patient, my world... I assure you he won't know a thing."

Leto's control remains steadfast, his hands and lips working in perfect harmony to bring you pleasure. He takes his time, exploring your body with a mix of gentle caresses and more demanding touches, his voice filled with praise and dirty talk.

"I won't rush. Your pleasure takes time." he murmurs "This arouses you, doesn't it? Going painfully slow..."

You suddenly hear footsteps approaching the meeting room. You snapped back up and Leto fixes himself, making himself presentable.

Some of the flowers from your hair fell, but you gathered them in your hand and took your place near the end.

Your father enters the room, smiling "I apologize for my tardiness. My garden needed some care." he laughed, taking his seat "Leto, my friend. I wish to not waste your time anymore."

Oh no.

"But we cannot continue with the trade. Our winery would have limited stocks after taking a thousand. We only make so little a year. Our vineyard has gotten smaller. We've recently planted new seeds yet we do not have enough workers to care for everything."

"I hope you could reconsider-"

"I cannot." your father cuts him off "The vineyard is what made us... decent for a minor house. Without it, major houses won't acknowledge the Alaak house." he chuckles.

"If we circle around a thousand of your wine, your house would be much known.

"And if it did, where will I get the wine to sell?"

Leto fell silent. His eyes flickered towards you from across the table, but you only looked at your father as he talked.

"I understand..."

"It was a good run while it lasted, Duke Atreides. I apologize for your constant visits and revisions of the trade."

Your father noticed a small flower stuck on Leto's beard, but ignored it. Leto stood up from his seat, doing a small bow "It is alright. Good day, Duke Alaak."

Then he faces you "My lady."

Your father noticed the way you looked at Leto. Your eyes were soft, pitiful. Then he noticed the flowers on your head... was the same as the one on Leto's beard.

Your father wasn't as stupid as he shows himself to be. But surely, he wasn't angry and stood silent.

Leto leaves the meeting room, walking off into the hallway in defeat while you and your father stayed seated.

"Beauty. Is there something you wish to tell me?" he says your nickname as he looked at you. Maybe you would tell him yourself what's with you and Leto.

"Father..."

"Daughter."

"Alright." you let out a groan "It may not be the best idea, but I do think it's a fair trade. He's offered us materials, alliance, and more. Though I do agree a thousand is too much, perhaps half could work."

Oh. So it wasn't that.

"Brains, we can't afford so much loss from our stocks. The Atreides house is indeed powerful yet they won't fool me."

"Father, it's not just about their materials. This is about our exposure as the Alaak house. Imagine if we grew. The vineyard would be cared for."

Your father let out a long childish groan "Alright then... it's going to be your vineyard anyways."

As the celebration commenced, your father walked towards Leto with one of the bottles of wine "You know, my daughter was the one to convince me. Not you. So, take it as you will." clearly as you were as prideful as your father.

Leto chuckled, extremely surprised "She did? That's very kind of the lady to do."

"I trust my daughter's judgement. She sees the truth in everyone." he hands him the wine "Besides, it's rare for her to like someone. I don't know where she got that from. Probably her mother."

"I heard her mother tried to kill you."

"When we first met, yes. She definitely got her personality from her mother. My daughter is a perfect mix of me and her mother, she knows what she wants and what she's worth. I'm not letting her settle for any less."

Leto's eyes made it's way to you. Watching how your dress flows as you walk across the room, instructing staff. You were aware of his gaze, but the burning desire in your heart let him be.

"I have another proposal."

"What is it?"

"I prefer it we talk about it in private." Leto says. Your father nodded before slipping out and into the meeting room.

You were curious what they were talking about, but you kept quiet and grabbed yourself a glass of wine.

"Dearest," your father held your hand "You've been unmarried for years. I'm getting older. Your beauty is indeed like a flower, but flowers don't last."

"Father, please. I know."

"I can't let you die without experiencing the beauty of love. The same thing me and your mother had." he smiles at you "I care for you, Beauty. I wish nothing but your happiness and power."

"Father. Where exactly are you going with this?" You looked at him, skeptical.

"Brains, I hope you understand that I'm doing this out of a feeling. I think you may be in love with Duke Atreides."

You pull your hand away from his grasp, eyes widening "That is non sense. Why would I be in love with that-" your eyes shake, you couldn't find a reason "Never mind that. What do you mean I may be in love with him?"

"I see the way you look at him. The same way your mother used to look at me." your father smiled "It isn't a gut feeling anymore. I know you're in love with him."

"Father." You started tearing up "I can't be."

"Why not?"

"Because I..." you tried to find a reason. You knew there wasn't one. You knew you loved him "He doesn't wish to be married. Political reasoning."

"Dearest, he asked to buy half of our vineyard to help with the process of our wine."

"Oh how surprising..." you mumbled.

"I agreed upon one condition." your father let out a sigh "Only if he marries you."

"You did what? Father-"

"Beauty, you know I want nothing else but the best future for you. Being in love with Duke Atreides, marrying him and being in a Major House will guarantee you a better future than I could ever offer you. The vineyard is indeed keeping us rich, but it might not last to ensure you a life of luxury."

"I do not need a life of luxury. I could live here until the day that I die. I do not want to be parted from you, father."

"You did inherit my arrogance." he chuckles "But for sake of you, and the children you bare for the continuation of the Alaak family, please marry him." he took both of your hands and kissed them "Brains, I want nothing but the best. But you are better than any diamond or gold that I own, you are a wildflower... you don't deserve what I could only give you."

In a garden where all potted flowers have a picture perfect role, only one thing truly stood out: The wildflowers.

"Though..." he sighed "I can't force you. It's just what I thought was best... goodnight, dearest." your father kissed your forehead before leaving your quarters. You looked out the window, thinking about your feelings.

Did you love Leto? Not including the secret sessions in the library or the garden...

Did you?