#I PINNED THIS BECAUSE MY WIFE DESERVES TO BE APPRECIATED

[navybrat817]

Anything special for Bucky's birthday?

Something small, nonnie.

For Years or for Hours

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is the love of your life and deserves to have a peaceful birthday.

Word Count: Almost 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, implied explicit sexual content, being in love, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I wanted to do something more, but today got away from me. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun had just risen outside of Bucky’s hut in Wakanda, the rays peeking in and beckoning you to wake up and venture out into the world. You weren't ready to rise and meet the day quite yet. Not when Bucky was beside you, holding you in his sleep like you he’d lose you if he loosened his grip. You wouldn't dare disturb his slumber. Not when he more than anyone deserved to rest peacefully.

So you decided to count the freckles on his nose.

“My beautiful man,” you whispered, placing your left hand on his cheek. “Love of my life.”

The wedding band on your ring finger matched his in design, symbols of the never ending love you had for each other. Time stood still and moved all at once when you said “I do”, but forever didn’t start with your wedding day. It began the day you met. Every moment after that paved a path that entwined, neither of you having to walk alone again.

“One,” you whispered, kissing a freckle on the tip of his nose. You’d never get over the sight of him. “Two…”

You didn’t know Bucky had freckles until he was in your face during a training session, the definition of up close and personal. It was right before you shared your first kiss, which was ages ago and felt like yesterday. He rolled on top of you and pinned your arms above your head, his breathing heavy and eyes stormy as you gazed up at him. Instead of trying to break free of his strong hold, you went lax underneath him and smiled.

“Are you yielding?” He asked, releasing one of your wrists when you made no attempt to move.

“Wow. You have freckles,” you exhaled, brushing his soft brown hair back that fell in his eyes. “I never noticed them before.”

It was as if Bucky removed an invisible mask and allowed you to see his true self for the first time before he pressed his lips to yours. It sparked a flame inside of you that no one could ever put out. And if being in love with him taught you anything, it was that masks hid your true selves and built walls to keep others out. You helped each other knock them down.

He was your partner in every sense of the word.

“Mmm. Tickles,” he mumbled as you kept kissing his nose, his voice throaty and low as he opened his eyes. His broad torso rolled as he arched his back and you had to suppress a shiver when he groaned. “Were you counting my freckles again?”

“You caught me,” you whispered, pecking his nose once more and not embarrassed in the slightest. “I can’t help it. You’re so pretty.”

Amusement filled his eyes as he slid a palm down your ribs to your hip. “I thought you were the pretty one in this relationship, Mrs. Barnes.”

Your cheeks warmed at the reminder that you were his wife. “We can both be pretty, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, tilting your head back so he could brush his scruff against your neck. You joked once that people called him the White Wolf because he liked to “scent” and leave his mark on you. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

“Why should I go back to sleep, hmm?” He asked, placing an open-mouthed kiss over your racing pulse. It was enough to make you whimper when you tried to find your words. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You menace,” you moaned, tugging on his hair for good measure, which only made him let out that lustful groan you loved. “Because it’s your birthday and you deserve to sleep in, old man.”

His first birthday as a married man.

“And we won't say how old I am today,” he said, his hair falling in his eyes as he pulled back and smirked. “And I was kind of hoping I'd wake up with my cock in your mouth.”

“Bucky,” you breathed out, fighting the urge to laugh at his admission as the tingle between your thighs grew. Whatever thought was in your mind went away. It didn't matter. All you could imagine were his eyes staring down at you in wonder and ecstasy as you took him in your throat. “You know what? Fine. Your wish is my command.”

You’d please him with whichever hole he wanted to use.

“But I’m awake,” he teased, chuckling when you silenced him with your lips. He didn't let you pull away, feeling as if the hut tilted on its axis as he deepened the kiss you started. It was like your first kiss all over again. The promise of something more.

A lifetime together.

“Pretend you're asleep,” you suggested when you grudgingly pulled away from his sinful lips. “But if Steve and Sam ask, we woke up to watch the sun rise.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed when you smiled, your heart rate picking up. “Don't talk about those punks when you're about to go down on me,” he half growled.

“Yes, White Wolf,” you teased. They would no doubt message him birthday wishes, along with Natasha and a few others, once they were awake. He deserved all the love today and every day.

Before you could kiss down Bucky's body, he stopped you with a gentle grip. “Wait,” he whispered, his eyes searching your face. You didn't know a gaze could be so soft until he looked upon you. This was a man who knew your hopes, dreams, fears.

And loved you all the while.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked when he reached for your left hand.

“I just love you so much, doll,” he said, running his thumb over the ring as your eyes filled with tears. You blinked them away quickly enough to catch his tender smile. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

When you got home, you’d celebrate his special day in regular fashion. You’d take him to the new science exhibit that he mentioned wanting to see. The two of you would cuddle up to watch his favorite movie after dinner with the gang. He’d eat the cake you baked just for him. And there would be a present or two for him to open before you went to bed.

But the gift he wanted most was to have a day without a reminder of the fight. Where he could breathe in the air, take in the quiet, and feel a sense of peace with the person he loved beside him. You knew the only way to give him that was to get him out of the city and back to his hut. Even if it was only for a short time.

In his sanctuary, he’d find tranquility on his special day and you’d show him how much you loved him. Memories the two of you would carry for a lifetime. Because he gave you the world by asking you to be his and you’d spend forever making him happy. Just like he deserved.

“I love you, too, Bucky Barnes,” you promised, kissing the freckle again on the tip of his nose. “Happy birthday.”

Oh, Bucky. We love him. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Peaches[*]

A/N: I have a request for some soft!dom Azriel in my inbox, so I’m kind of using this as a little bit of a practice run :)

Warnings: ass-eating and rimjob (m receiving), some light wing play, Az being a little mean in the beginning then softening out, slightly more sub!Az at the end

Word Count: 2,518

You can just imagine how good he would feel in your hands. And with the way he’s walking up the stairs, the plump and toned muscle of his ass wrapped up tight in leathers…

His wings twitch, shadows undulating and he stops at the top of the stairs, turning to look at you over his shoulder, two plates of food in his hands, leaving you to carry the drinks. “I can feel your eyes on me, you know,” he remarks with a raised brow. You flush, having been caught.

“Oops,” you say, grinning as you walk past him, “guess my gaze slipped.” He snorts, shadows pinching your ass as you strut by, making you yelp. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, wishing you had a free hand to rub the sore skin. He gives you a panty-dropping grin, pissing you off just enough to have you kicking the door shut on him once you get in your bedroom.

He chuckles from the other side, shadows reopening the door while you set the glasses down. “Someone in a poor mood because she got caught eyeing me up?” He drawls, the smirk clear in his voice.

“I was not eyeing you up!” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest in a way that plumps your tits. His attention drops appreciatively, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. When his eyes return to yours, they’re a little darker, and you know he marks the roll of your throat.

“Please,” he purrs, setting the plates down on the bedside table. “You were looking at me like how Cassian looks at beef jerky.” His grin turns a little feral, “like you wanted to sink your teeth into me.” Heat blossoms across your lower body as he pin points the exact intent with which you had been staring at him.

Still, you raise your chin, looking down your nose at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

————

You know you’ve been staring at his ass all day.

How could you not? It’s so plump, and—and round, and…you’re actually salivating.

He hasn’t been giving you a break, wearing those leathers first thing in the morning until the last thing at night. He has to know what it does to you. Which means, he’s teasing you. You grown inwardly, knowing how your mate can be when it comes to denying your wants for his own pleasure. He’s probably enjoying this opportunity to get back at you for that one time, and the objective side of your mind knows it’s well-deserved. Still.

“What’s going on in that dumb, little mind of yours, pet?”

Arousal slams into you, knees nearly buckling at the rough timbre of his voice. You manage to keep yourself strong, refusing to allow that whimper to slip from your lips. “Where did you sneak up from?” You ask, and even to your own ears, you sound a little hoarse. His lips twitch, pressing his front into your back as he tips your chin upward, so he can look down at you properly. His hand practically swallows your throat, just holding, lightly.

“I thought I’d check in on my wife,” he drawls, and you feel the male satisfaction as the title slips smoothly from his tongue. His wife. He’d been just as obnoxious when the two of you had accepted the mating bond, calling you nothing but his mate for months on end. “See how she’s faring with these miserable chores that her miserable husband is forcing her to do.” His eyes gleam as your spine arches almost imperceptibly, his hips pushing tighter into your rear.

“He is quite miserable, isn’t he?” You murmur back. “Always denying me my fun.”

Azriel’s hands settle at your waist, spinning you around so you’re attention is fully on him—not the cleaned laundry you were folding. “And what fun are you after, wife?” He asks, hands grazing up the sides of your body until he’s cupping your cheeks, squishing them ever so lightly.

Warmth flushes your skin, but you lean into him. Your eyes flutter shut, his heat seeping into you as you allow your fingers to brush his forearms, travelling to his biceps, settling on the muscled edge of his ribs before grazing down. Your hands move over his waist, snaking around his back, descending past his hips, and—

You yelp when shadows bat your hands away, so close to finally, finally feeling him. Your eyes fly open, immediately locking on his own heated gaze, colour dusting his cheeks, canines digging into his lower lip as he watches you with an intensity that makes your legs want to fall open.

“Has no one ever taught you manners, pet?” He asks, hand sliding down to your waist while the other tilts your jaw upwards. “Ask before you touch.”

“I need permission to touch what’s mine?” You retort quietly, hunger blazing in the pit of your belly. You can scent his own arousal grow in response, grip biting into your soft skin.

His grin turns feline as he drags you closer to him, mouth brushing over your own, forcing you up onto your tiptoes, “you want more than just to touch, though, don’t you?”

————

You’re so worn out. So tired, and so ready for bed.

Between Azriel’s teasing, your job, and your own damned mind, you think you might be going crazy. The few dreams you’ve managed to keep with waking from sleep have consisted mostly of fruits…phallic and…peachy. He would never let you live it down if he knew even your subconscious was goading you to him.

You think your knees might actually collapse when you make it to your shared bedroom.

He’s sprawled across the mattress, a thin sheet covering his lower half, wings splayed gorgeously over the bed. His hair’s slightly damp, curled at the ends from the shower, and his skin looks warm, and healthy, and delicious. Marvellously firm with muscle.

Azriel doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading as your bags drop to the floor and you make a soft sound of disbelief and hunger in the back of your throat. And then you’re clumsily stumbling forward, crawling onto the bed, easing yourself between his sheet-covered legs. Falling onto your front, pressing yourself onto his ass like it’s the comfiest pillow you’ve ever come across.

It’s only then he shifts, peering over his shoulder, and you can practically imagine the smug grin on his lovely mouth seeing you finally give in. You suppose it’s not like you made a secret of your desire, but still…

Arousal builds across your body, hunger finally breaking you as you lift, prowling up his figure. He looks like he’s about to get up, so you swing your legs over his hips, keeping him pinned to the mattress. You know he could easily lift you with him, but he settles back down, a sound like a purr rumbling from his chest.

“You’re being rather dominant, wife,” he drawls, shifting so he’s comfy. You snarl softly, fed up with his teasing, setting your hands between his shoulder blades, then running them lightly to the base of one of his wings. His muscles shift and contract beneath you, rippling as your fingers skate up lightly.

The tension seeps from him as you reach the dip beneath the first joint of the powerful limb. His skin heats and a quiet groan spills from his lips, needful and soft. It’s so rare something like this happens, but it seems he’s had a long day, too, and is ready to be taken care of. You couldn’t be more relieved. Dread to think how things would have gone if he’d had the energy or the will to deny you any longer. He seems to get off of refusing your pleasure, sometimes.

You shift closer, so you’re straddling his upper back, rolling your hips down languidly from time to time, basking in the slow build of warmth. Slow, because you both have the time to indulge. Slow, because you’re in no rush. Slow, because you have all the time in the world and right now, you want it with each other. To find pleasure in the other’s body.

Leaning forward, you attach your open mouth to the ridge of his wing and he shudders, a deep, drawn-out moan purring into the silence. The sound urges your hips to roll down a little harder, basking in the delicious and firm press of hot muscle beneath you. Teeth nip, and your fingers graze those spots you’ve had memorised since the first time he’d allowed you the pleasure of touching him like that. It’s rare enough he lets you look after him, rarer still he accepts direct comfort to his wings.

You’re not sure how comfortable he is with that vulnerability. You’re mated, married, and joined in every way that counts, but you’re not going to pretend that you share absolutely everything with one another. There are still times the two of you will just sit in silence, mentally recovering from whatever trials have gotten you down that day. Plenty of times where you’ll spend a few hours apart, just to get out of the house. And it’s wonderful that way. To be comfortable enough to trust and know someone will to come back to you even after you’ve put a line in the sand…

Your tongue flicks out, dragging up the dip of bone, grazing over the powerful muscle that flexes beneath your tongue. His breath catches softly, and you pull away. Groans roughly as he falls away from the edge, but doesn’t fight for it, content to enjoy the edge.

Pulling back, you brush your thumb once more over the sensitive skin of his wing, and a sharp breath exhales from his lips. You shuffle down his body, pushing away the sheets as you go, leaving him entirely bare for you. It takes every ounce of willpower he’s instilled in you over the years to keep from pushing his legs apart right then and there and moving your mouth to your pleasure—hopefully his, too.

Instead, you tap his hip twice, lightly, then grip his side, urging him to roll over. He sighs, but turns obediently, knowing it will benefit him in the long run, wings pulling in tight as he switches onto his back. Then your mouth is opening over him, tongue flicking over the bead of moisture nestled in the slit of his tip.

Azriel moans softly, back arching as colour dusts his cheeks, fingers gently threading through your hair, raising his hips. You press a kiss to his tip, licking up the underside of him, watching as his eyes flutter closed and those quiet sounds of pleasure start becoming more regular.

He tugs lightly on your hair, and you take him into your mouth, hand gripping his base as you pump what you can’t fit. He hisses with pleasure, brow furrowing then evening out as he rolls his hips upward, gasping softly when your throat contracts around him. Again, you pull up to his tip, hand stroking him firmly but not roughly—not this time. You flick your tongue once again over his slit, pressing another kiss down, before you’re urging his bent legs further apart.

A slightly startled moan slips from his lip as you press your mouth low on his inner thigh, working closer to where you want to please him from—giving him the chance to stop you if he doesn’t yet want to try it. But his skin is warm and clean, smelling distinctly of soap and himself, and your mouth is watering.

His spine arches as your tongue circles the tight ring of muscle, flicking over then pulling away to kiss the surrounding area. His hand has released your hair in favour of the bedsheets, fingers gripping hard as you continue pumping him. He twitches, and you pull up, giving more attention to his cock.

Azriel’s shadows have joined you, grazing over his inner wing with silky softness, helping you work him to the steadily budding orgasm that will leave him hot and trembling. The darkness flicks over his gleaming chest, swirling over his nipples, making him pant. His eyes are still closed, plush lower lip caught between his teeth and you again dip down, pleased with his reactions.

You circle the tight muscle again, pumping a little harder, moving in time with the gentle roll of his hips. Your tongue pushes inside, and you hear him inhale sharply, bucking into your hand. He’s close, and now that you’ve again gotten him to the edge, you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

How could you, knowing he’s receiving pleasure everywhere he can be? In all those intimate, sensitive areas?

Your tongue flicks over him again as you squeeze him deliciously, just the right side of painful. His shadows flick and swirl, and a deep, rich moan is pulled from between his lips, spine arching enough to tip his head back into the plush pillows. He twitches again before he releases, hips bucking in time with the waves of pleasure, hot cum spilling from his tip, spurting up onto the firm planes of his toned stomach. You keep pumping until his hips begin stuttering, and then you’re easing your pace, softening your grip as he becomes infinitely more sensitive.

When he’s done, thighs trembling, panting softly into the sex-tinted air, you raise from between his legs. Lick your lips when you see the mess he’s made of himself: hot, milky liquid gleaming on the sweat-slicked muscles of his stomach, shifting and glistening in the light with his breathing. The perfect dessert.

You crawl forward slowly, careful not to ruffle him too much, tongue lolling out as you begin lapping up the creamy liquid. His hand again finds your hair, stroking gently as you hum, drinking him up. It’s only when you’re certain you’ve licked up every drop of him that you prowl up his body, until you’re on top of him.

He’s still flushed, and offers you a lazy smile that sings songs of his satisfaction. “And here I had just gotten out of my shower,” he murmurs over your up-tilted lips. You smile gently, enjoying him being the one fully naked, for once, “I’ll change the covers tomorrow, husband.”

Azriel smiles up at you, lifting his head from the pillows as he brings your mouth down to his own, soft lips slanting over your own, tasting himself on you. He groans quietly, shadows and fingers already working deftly to remove your clothes. As soon as they’re gone, and you’re gloriously bare, he’s pulling you down on him, hot skin pressing flush together.

His shadows hook beneath the sheets, pulling them up and to cover once his wings have curled over you, keeping you tucked into his chest. The heat and warmth quickly lulls you to sleep, the two of you pulled under in a matter of minutes. Breathing deepening and evening out as you fall together, wrapped in each other’s scent and warmth.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

[rookiesbookies]

Soap’s Wedding under the cut

My masterlist is pinned on my account.

Tooth-aching Fluff

Soap’s wedding was a huge deal with 141. Price immediately stepped up as a father-in-law for Soap’s beloved Fiance. In reality, he had been waiting for this moment with no kids of his own and his group of strays he took on.

Soap sat at the feet of his fiance, his back to the couch she was sitting on as she played with his mohawk. While Price argued with them about being allowed to pay for part of the service. Of course, her family has offered to help pay for a large sum of it, they had been saving for it since she graduated college, however she didn’t want to burden the Captain with their wedding for any reason other then an invitation.

“Captain, while I appreciate the offer, are ya sure? I ain’t ya bloody kid.” Soap interjected, Price went a bit ridgid at the comment. A pang of sadness in the back of his mind at the thought.

The look in Price’s eyes gave Soap’s sweet fiance all she needed to know. She leaned forward to Johnny’s ear and whispered something as she rubbed his shoulder.

“John Mactavish-Price Jr at ya service!” Soap chirped up. Price let out a chuckle and shook his head as planning continued.

Gaz was ADAMANT about handling both the bachelorette and bachelor parties. For the fiance he rented the party room of nice restaurant. Something classy and what he felt the woman about the put up with the sargent for the rest of his life deserved. Gaz’s girlfriend insisted on decorating the bachelorette party as she didn’t trust Gaz to do it.

For Soap? They rented the pub next door. Declaring it the party and giving any poor lad who walked in a shot or a beer in them. He knew better than to get a drunk Soap far from his fiance because he’d just end up calling her the whole time.

Half way through the parties, Soap ended up calling his fiance, blabbering and slurring about how much he missed her. So she and the girls got to go food for the guys from the restaurant and headed over. She found Soap laying all over poor Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who was trying to nurse a whiskey in peace, as Soap cried about not having his lass with him.

Gaz and Simon enjoyed watching her console him, cooing about how she was right there. This Soap was a far cry from the vibrant celebration Soap they had seen an hour ago. At first he didn't even recognize her through his squinted eyes. Until she had gotten him to straighten up.

Price sat there the whole time chuckling. Soap had never been a sappy drinker until he had someone to miss, he nudged you with a laugh. “With how he’s acting I may be walking him down the aisle instead of your father walking you. Its bloody obvious who’s wearing the pants here.”

“Hope he picks a pretty dress when you take him shopping,” she retorted with her own giggle, Soap’s arms around her waist and his face content in her neck with a soft smile. He was blissfully unaware of their jokes.

Soap waited a long while to pick his groomsmen. Everyone knew who they would be.

Price was the easiest ask, Soap did it while holding your hand right before Price offered to help pay. His fiancé asked Price’s wife if she'd be a maid of honor a moment later when they were washing dishes from the dinner.

Gaz and his girlfriend were the next to ask. They had come over for drinks and Gaz had his arm slung around his girl’s shoulder and a beer lazily in the other. It had been a heated debate over soccer (or ‘football’) and Soap shouted, “I wasn’t expecting one of my groomsmen to be disagreeing with me like this!” Or something dumb like that and Gaz immediately shot up to give him a bro hug. Soap turned to his fiance, “I told you he’s see the right side eventually.” Soap’s fiance rolled her eyes.

Asking Ghost to be Best Man was going to be tough. Especially when Simon doesn’t do warm and fuzzy in the traditional warm and fuzzy way.

The original plan was to have dinner with him but when Soap realized Simon wasn’t on base or at his apartment this week. Which meant there was a GIRL.

Soap figured this out while drinking and getting touchy with his fiance, so obviously the next course of action was calling an uber and showing up at Simon’s location with a giant sign and a boombox. Right?

Soap was shirtless, his pants were unbuttoned but zipped. His fiance held the sign that read “BEST MAN?” painted in white on cardboard clearly torn from a large box. She was in her pajamas while Soap played SexyBack by Justin Timblerlake, when that at full volume didn't get Simon out, he played the Scottish National Anthem. He sang it as loud as he could until Ghost’s situationship came to the window and opened it giggling. Simon wasn’t has amused.

“JOHNNY. COULDNT YA HAVE WAITED TILL THE MORNING.”

“YOU HAVE A WOMAN AND YOU’RE GONNA NEED A DATE, SIMON.”

“IF THE MUSIC ISNT OFF WHY THE TIME IM DOWN THERE IM YANKING YA BLOODY HEAD OFF, JOHNNY.”

The music was indeed off why the time a shirtless Simon got down there and introduced his situationship to Soap’s fiance. Simon almost referred to her as his girlfriend but hesitated and just said a friend. Johnny and his Fiance knew better than that with how the way the girl awkwardly stood and was sweating told them that something rough and sweat had happened that night and it wasn’t sparing.

When the actual wedding itself rolled around, the two had done basically everything out of order. Soap need for detail oriented everything made somethings take too long, the adhd nature of his fiance made others go to fast. It took them a week to decide on a song for their first dance because Soap wanted Scotland forever and his fiance wasn’t having it.

Lot of things like that.

Honestly Soap panicked about her dress, worried even the littlest thing could be wrong and he couldn’t even see the dress. Believe it, though, he begged and pleaded to be allowed to check it for problems before the wedding.

When he saw her come down the aisle, it felt unreal. He felt as though he could pass away then and be content. Johnny almost realized the tears coming down his face. It was a beautiful blue and white dress, the colors you can both chosen and the Scottish flag colors he had slipped passed you. The most beautiful blue sash on the most perfect gown for his perfect girl. It was relief. True relief.

Even Simon let tears fall, his face not adorned by his mask for once as it was shoved in Price’s jacket pocket. Gaz whole heartedly sobbed with no remorse. Price wiped a single tear from his eyes before standing strong and putting his game face on.

As the night continued so did the festivities until it came time for the newlyweds to depart. They didn't make it to the hotel before Soap’s hands were up her skirt and she was holding his tie.

Let me know what you want to see more of, my asks are open. To basically everything.

[spiderfreedom]

Remember the guy who destroyed his girlfriend's blanket because she was knitting while watching TV and not giving him enough attention?

There was an anonymous poet in the 1800s who published a poem about how awful it is that women are knitting instead of sewing, because it means they spend all their time on themselves instead of mending buttons and embroidering towlettes for him :( and the women he's referring to are his mother and his sisters, not even his wife, the entitlement I-

My mother and my sisters four are clever in this way, They knit at morning, noon and night; they knit, in fact, all day; Their little bags, their pointed pins, are in their fingers ever; In short, I really do believe, they’ve got the knitting fever. And, after all, what good results, come from such industry? It is not comforters, or socks, they ever knit for me; But pence-jugs, purses, smoking-caps, while over chair and screen Are knitted clothes of every kind, and newest patterns seen. [...] Alas! Alas! each stitch of work I now must pay for doing My sisters they will knit for me, but cannot think of sewing. No buttons can I get put on; no gloves can I get mended, All little comforts of my home are now left unattended. I might get married, certainly — but I’ll not think of this — I know how much a knitting wife can marr domestic bliss; There are such things as knitted caps, and robes, and trimmings too, And many other pretty things the ladies now can do. No — I shall wait until I find a wife as wives should be — Who for all taste of fancy work of every kind is free; One who will gladly make, and mend, and every duty prize, Which may increase her loveliness in a fond husband’s eyes.

If your partner can't appreciate your hobbies because they feel entitled to all your time, you deserve better! Knit on!

[doodle-pops]

Marriage To Ecthelion Would Include...

Request: Headcanons for married life with Ecthelion? - Anon

A/N: Here you go anon, everyone's favourite water boy.

𑁍 Married life with Ecthelion is calm and serene especially when living in Gondolin. For the greater part of the time, you don’t have to worry about him riding off to war every few years.

𑁍 During his married years, he softens up a lot due to the realisation of being paired with the love of his life. He has the person he’s been pinning after for months as his spouse. This was the sweetest life could ever become for him.

𑁍 Mornings are filled with soft cuddling when he doesn’t have any boring meetings to attend or training with the other Lords. This is perhaps the most wonderful sight from the stoic Lord.

𑁍 Loving poetry and verses from songs he’s been stressing over writing would roll effortlessly off his tongue, accompanied by tender kisses and ‘I love you’ or ‘You make the happiest person in the world’. Ecthelion is not afraid to profess his unconditional adoration to you.

𑁍 There are moments when he’s in an extraordinary mood and he becomes quite the jokester with you. Making jokes in his unusual sense of humour, which is an odd sight for anyone, including you. He’s a lot more laid with his comical theatrics around you.

𑁍 Taking more days off than ever to bask in your honeymoon stage— he has the wish for wanting all the days of your married to be like the honeymoon stage (not sexual), sweet and new as though you are discovering each other for the first time.

𑁍 His acts of service only increase or deepen; you deserve to be continuously treated with respect and appreciation all the days of your life. But his acts of service increase more than ever.

𑁍 Now that you are living with him, this means that breakfast, lunch and dinner can be enjoyed together every day. More drinking wine and dancing in the living room or bedroom drunk and in love. Late nights staying up just staring at each other or conversing about life and your future.

𑁍 There are nights he will invite you for dinner with the other Lords and loves to introduce you as his spouse every single time. The others may have gotten annoyed at the gesture, but never Ecthelion. He finds it impossible to shake the idea that he’s married and because of this, he enjoys adding ‘my wife/husband’ at the end of his words.

𑁍 Let’s say for instance that you’re into gardening, during your courtship days he was very much invested in your interest, but now, there’s a difference to his admiration. Spending hours in the garden with you and even getting dirt on his clothes while replanting flowers. Even if he doesn’t wish to get dirt and you request for him to be a little more domesticated, he’ll bend the knee and assist (not everything he would do though).

𑁍 He’ll even spend time in the kitchen with you dancing away while the pot is bubbling and sharing a few glasses or bottles of wine. Laughing at each other’s left feet while you await your meal.

𑁍 When it comes to building a family with him, if it is a dream of yours to have offspring of your own, Ecthelion would love to sit down and discuss how big of a family you’d like and all the theatrics. I do believe like all elves; he does wish to have a little one of his own running around with some of his features.

𑁍 Should you not wish to have children but prefer to adopt or have none at all due to your reasons or circumstances, being the respectable and understanding person he is, Ecthelion with abide by your wishes and process the option you prefer.

𑁍 Either way, Ecthelion is more than happy living in the little happy bubble he created with you, and whether or not you have children, life with him will always be ecstatic and entertaining. He would never allow for a day in your marriage to be considered disappointed.  

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @floraroselaughter @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner

[xcinnamongirl]

walls have ears | fem!reader x Jake Hangman Seresin

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x wife!commander!mitchell!reader

Reader is higher rank than Jake, y/n has a rank of commander, while Jake is lieutenant commander. Reader and Jake are top gun instructors.

summary: a group of pilots in training disrespects y/n behind her back, unfortunately for them her husband Jake hears everything and confronts them about it.

Warnings: swearing, threating, sexism, mentions of body image, questioning authority, mentions of getting ranks through sexual actions, mentions of pregnancy (it's mentioned that reader is pregnant) I think that’s it, if I forgot about something, then comment about it, I’ll add it.

author's note: go easy on me english's not my native language, and i know shit about navy, so forgive me, feedback will be appreciated

After the uranium missions your actions were appreciated, every participant gain a rank, meaning that maverick finally became a captain, y/n a commander and others lieutenant commanders.

Jake was the proudest, he even asked admirals to let him pin your new badge for you, permission obviously was granted with no second thought. Your husband cried a little, but he would never admit that, although everybody saw but choose to ignore it and let you have your moment.

Now though your at the end of your first trimester of pregnancy, and you’re starting to show. At the beginning you needed to retreat form active duty, with that Jake asked for permission to retreat with you (we love a supporting hubby). Admiral Cain offered you a job at top gun academy.

While Jake was teaching air combat, you obviously couldn’t fly, so your job was to introduce them to the newest technologies, about enemy fighters fleet etc.

You loved your new job, it was fun to talk about planes, g-forces, technologies, but students didn’t wanted to share your enthusiasm.

Some of them was really rude to you, disrespecting even, but you tried to blame pregnancy hormones, you thought you’re overthinking it. But boy were you wrong.

Jake was walking down the hall, dismissed from his meeting early to take you to the doctor. At first he thought, he wasn’t hearing it right, he couldn’t think that someone can say such words about his wife, his y/n.

“wondering who she had to bang for this position”, “and her rank? Mate, a woman and commander, that’s a joke, this cancel itself”, “saw she’s pregnant, wondering who’s the father”, “this whole academy treats her like some fucking princess, everybody might be the possible father”, “what about the admirals, maybe Cain banged her”, “one thing about her being pregnant is cool, she’ll finally grow some tits”, ”that’s a joke that the whole squadron is a rank lower than that stupid whore”

In that moment Jake lost his shit, he was furious. “Good afternoon gentleman, I accidentally overheard your conversation, and I have to make some things clear. You don’t get to shit-talk about your instructor, your commander, she’s few ranks fucking higher than you, you should respect her, and remember to never talk like that about any instructor on academy ground, because the walls have ears”. Jake didn’t even care that he shouldn’t swear to his trainees.

“That ‘whore’ as you said gain the commander badge for saving lives of the whole squadron, without her everyone would be dead, she deserved it in the first place and you’re not the ones to question that decision” he took a couple of deep breaths to prepare for the worst part so far.

“Also I would appreciate not to call my wife names such as whore, challenge her authority by wonderings about how she has gotten this job, how she would have to bang someone, don’t disrespect my woman, both mine and yours commander, and the daughter of captain Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick.”

“Mate, your woman is higher than you, what a loser” one of the trainees said.

“When you’ll finally grow some balls, you’ll understand that a real man cherish his woman, I respect her dearly, for me it doesn’t matter if she’s higher or lower than me, it’s my job to stand beside her though everything.”

“And I’ll see you in Admiral Cain’s office to talk about your disgusting behavior, with the presence of me, my wife, her father, and her brother (Rooster).

Said trainees got expelled for academy for disrespecting the honor of commander y/n Seresin.

[violaceum-vitellina-viridis]

actually y'know what on the topic of my darling beloved @queerfictionwriter

i did fully intend to make a very gay post about her on our anniversary, but i was already in the trenches of migraine hell time by then and so all i managed was this, in case anyone missed it:

entangled really is the best description we've got for it, and we don't have time to really unpack all of the intricacies of all of that, but what i am here for is to wax extremely fucking gay about how much i love and appreciate twist

read more specifically so this is not a huge wall of text

look, i could go on for days about how much i adore twist. she's funny and she's sweet and she's petty and she's vicious and she's smart and she's loving and just -- i could go on, i really could. everything she is, even the "bad" things, i just. i love her so much. i've said similar before, but i lured her home a little over two years ago expecting i would get a new fandom friend, and i did! i absolutely got that!

but i also got a twin. a partner, my illegal wife. a cowriter and developmental editor. genuinely, i accidentally came across some kind of soulmate -- someone who has felt, from the beginning, like a home.

and the thing is, none of that has changed, it's only gotten more and more. and right now -- god, right now.

i mentioned in my last post, but i've suddenly developed chronic migraine. 60 out of the last 66 days have either been active migraine attack, or somewhere inside the symptoms. i haven't been a person, i've been a shambling pile of depressive episodes, emotional flashbacks, a whole lot of physical and emotional pain and ongoing crisis. my brain has been trying to self-cannibalize, and also eat anything and anyone i love in the process, and twist has not in any fashion been spared from that. during my worst moments, i have said some incredibly awful shit, implied even worse about her, and it's never been about her, it's always been my brain lashing out at the safest part of my life because i'm in crisis, but it doesn't remove the fact that it's happened. it's happened, and i feel incredibly bad about it, but the thing is that twist has gone nowhere.

there's been new boundaries, and limits, and changes, of course there has; she cannot be the only person dealing with me, when i'm like this, and when i have clarity (rare, for the last 66 days, but getting less so, in the world's tiniest increments) i know that. when i don't know that, well -- spiralling me is a lying whore and we're not trusting them on fuck all.

but twist has stuck around. she's had hard conversations with me, and she's helped me process a lot of what's happening, and she's encouraged me through the worst of the hopelessness about my health and situation. she's assured me again and again that being sick is not a crime, that she's not going anywhere no matter what my abandonment trauma thinks. she's helped me set up ways to cope -- a playlist of songs she's picked that are meant to remind me that she loves me (its title is literally Twist Loves You), pinned messages in discords, willingness to reassure me, tagging in our other loved ones, writing up a document so that they understand how best to care for me when i'm in this crisis. she's encouraged me to go to the ER, encouraged me to get therapy, let me whine very, very loudly and very, very much about everything.

she's been fucking incredible, the entire time, even when it's felt like everything is falling apart -- every time, she's there when i come back to the surface. and i don't genuinely think i can put into words how precious that is, how much it means to me, how much i love and adore her not just for what she does for me but everything she is -- someone who doesn't love in moderation, who is willing to love me like this, who is willing to love me even when the scared-animal part of me is convinced i don't deserve it. someone who loves like that at all, not just me but everyone she loves.

so yeah. idk how coherent this is, and i don't think it matters. i just. i love her so much, and i need to shout it from the goddamn rooftops because she deserves to hear it and everyone else should know how amazing, fantastic, perfect and wonderful she is. fantastic friend, fantastic partner, fantastic writer, fantastic editor, fantastic person overall and across the board.

[spoofymcgee]

i realized, a moment ago, that i'm no longer afraid of my queerness, and i don't know when that happened.

for the longest time i thought it meant i would be alone for the rest of my life, because the future i was imagining for myself was the future i'd been told to want (good, religious husband wife who's patriotic despite all the issues with our country, and not too 'out there' and who dresses respectably modestly etc)

before i realized i was queer, i thought I was an ally. in theory. because as much as i believed everyone else could have a happy ending and find love, the second i found myself among everyone, i immediately climbed into a box and then panicked when it turned out to be claustrophobic.

and that's not my fault. i didn't know how to handle it, or even how to ask for help. i was alone, and lonely, and i didn't know anyone else like me, and i had a crush on a girl in my class. i was told that i had to want something, and i clung to that shred of normalcy when it felt like my whole world was threatening to turn upside down.

since then, i've learnt that the jewish queer community is so much bigger and more diverse and accepting than i ever could have imagined. i've started building myself a real religious identity, rather than the shell of one given to me by my teachers. i've joint a local jewish queer community group and made real life friends who are like me. i've learnt that i don't, actually, want the 'perfect' marriage, just genderbent. i want more, and better, and i deserve it. i want a cat, and plants, and someone who'll make me laugh and who will let me pick them up and hold the doors and snuggle when i'm sad and tell me i look pretty and appreciate combat boots with chains and spikes with me. and i can have all of that.

it won't be easy. it won't be quick. the way there will be painful and hard.

but it will also be full of joys like hearing they/them pronouns used for the first time and getting a high five from another lesbian. exhilarating terrors like wearing a pride pin on your bag for the first time and chopping off three feet of hair. calm, quiet moments like reading fanfiction on the sofa and telling a friend about it without worrying that you're talking to much about how queer it is.

and somewhere along the way i stopped being afraid of the journey. i stopped imagining insurmountable obstacles in my path. and, without even noticing, i started believing that there's a future out there, waiting for me to come find it.

this is a love letter to twelve year old me, who once almost told someone that she liked thalia from percy jackson because she had a knife and a bow and she once pinned reyna to the ground and she joined the hunters of artemis because she didn't want to sit by and let life have its way with her.

this is a message to fourteen year old me, curled over her desk in december and realizing that she can't put crushes in a box for later anymore, and maybe she does like girls.

this is for sixteen year old me who cried in the dressing room of a clothes store because she didn't want to wear skirts, she wanted to try on the pants, and who told her mom that she didn't want to be a lady and cried herself to sleep that night when she wasn't believed because she wasn't thinking clearly. (she's fine with it now, because we all learn, and she didn't know how to handle it back then.)

this is for all of the me's i have ever been and am and will be.

for all you the you's out there and for all of them you have and are and will be.

i love you. you're beautiful. you're incredibly brave. and you have a future, even if it doesn't seem like it.

[sakee21]

SEVENTEEN - F*ck My Life MV

Oh my gosh... I really had to make a (long) post about this song and the MV because the MV references the movie called "The Truman Show" which is a touching classic movie, the message and the lyrics of the song really hit so hard, and the whole production of the MV is top-notch and SVT's acting in here deserves to be appreciated, like it was really like a short film or something. It was really amazing in my opinion.

So first, for the Truman Show references that I can remember (cuz it was fun to look for them haha).

(SOME SPOILERS FOR THE MOVIE AHEAD!)

Plot summary for those unfamiliar with it: the movie was about an ordinary man named Truman who has a stable job, a lovely wife and a loyal best friend. However, it seems that something was not right with his almost "perfect" life when he began to notice unusual things happening around him, such as a mysterious object falling from the sky

and rain pouring down on a certain spot only.

It turns out that the movie is set in the future and Truman is the star of a reality tv show that is being broadcast to the whole world.

His whole surroundings is just a giant tv set made with advanced technology, the people around him (including his family, friends, coworkers) are just actors hired to play certain roles, and since his birth he was living a fake life made by the show's creator/director.

However, this didn't mean that Truman's feelings, emotions, and experiences were fake because he once fell in love with an extra actor named Sylvia. But since she wasn't the intended love interest for Truman (and because she was trying to help him get out of his fake life), she was forcefully removed from the show.

The pin during Joshua's scene is a reference to the pin that Sylvia wore in the movie.

Becoming confused by what is real or fake and driven by his desire to find Sylvia (his true love), Truman began to go against the rules and goes missing. He decided to run away using a boat and crosses the ocean (which he is afraid of because of a trauma he had when he was young).

Of course the show's creator didn't want this to happen, so he made a storm happen to discourage Truman and change his mind.

The final part of the movie showed Truman fighting against his fears; him hitting the edge of his world, the "sky" (which is actually just a backdrop wall) and realizing that he was indeed living in a fake world; his desire for freedom; and him ultimately making the choice to open the door to the outside world and go live his own life.

I think the overall message of the movie (and especially the ending) fits really well with the message that SVT's wants to convey in the song, which is to fight for your own life and find your true self, just like Truman. In SVT's own words:

From now on I'll fight for my life

For my own good, fight for my life

We'rе so used to feeling numb in this life

Now I just wanna find myself

Now for some additional thoughts:

Though the overall message of "F*ck My Life" can be applied to almost any person's life, I also can't help but have a bit of comparison to Truman and the world of k-pop idols. We are familiar that k-pop idols broadcast a part of their lives to us, the viewers. And like the audience of Truman's show, fans learn to laugh with them, cry with them, grow with them. They share a lot of things to us and we develop an attachment to our idols. Though this isn't necessarily a bad thing, we have to remember that k-pop idols are still real people living in the real world, and like Truman, they have their own desires and happiness that they want to find and achieve. So as fans, the least we can do is give them the privacy and respect they deserve and let them live the lives they want to live. We don't have the right to tell them what they should do or how they should act or who they should only interact with. If we do so, we are no different from the creator of Truman's show, who wants to cage him inside the fictional world that he created. The idol life is already a f*cked up world as it is, hopefully we shouldn't make it more difficult.

Aaaaaand that's the end of this essay lol (I honestly don't know how to end this well 😅english is not easy). Tho this felt all over the place and the ending got kinda preachy, but idk SVT's song and mv just made me think of these thoughts. I'm glad they released a song and MV like this. I was already SUPER amazed by "Super" but I think I really became more of their fan because of "F*ck My Life". Hopefully the message they want to convey can reach a lot of people, and hopefully SVT themselves can find their true happiness just like Truman.

[severushed-toslytherin]

No everybody shut up and look at her 😤

[spikesbimbo]

Mood Swings

Summary: Daddy’s little girl always gets what she wants < 3

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Tags: babymaking ; ) neglected reader, daddy kink, size kink, hurt/ comfort

wc: 2.3k 

 a/n: this was very self indulgent, just like all my other works

this is a reupload from my old blog jaded--enigma

-

Closing the door behind you, feet dragging against the floor as you came home from a bad day at work, eyes glossy and red. Immediately going to your finance’s office, wanting him to coddle you and tell you everything would be alright, as he was great at. One of the reasons you admired him so much, being his biggest fan.

Opening the door to see him writing something on his papers, his blazer on the floor, only wearing his white button-down shirt fitting him perfectly. 

His arms barely fit the tight material as your eyes scrolled down to his glasses sitting on the table next to his hands, so pretty and big, instantly getting you worked up, even though that was the reason you came here. Wanting your daddy to make it all better.

Walking up to him making your way in his lap, sittin pretty. Mumbling out a “ken”, resting your head on his shoulder while gently kissing his neck. 

“Not now baby.” he said, gently moving his head away from yours before you could even wrap your arms around him, so why did that make you fall apart? Why were you so sensitive? Why were there tears forming in your eyes?

You gave him a fake soft smile pushing the tears back, saying “okay.” and hopped off of his lap, already missing his touch as you walked out of the room, feet still dragging as you took one last peek at him before you shut the door and started walking towards your own room, knowing he would work till late night, as always.

He was obviously stressed so you understood that he wanted to be alone, but you felt so burdensome, annoyingly needy, as you finally made it to your room. Laying on the bed that you two slept on, hugging the fluffy sheets.

Trying to get your mind off of it, you changed into your baby blue silk nightgown, finding it in your closet full of clothes he bought you. So much that you started using the guest room for extra storage for your shoes.

It fell just over your knees, the straps dainty as a pin, flowing as you walked towards your bed again, dimming the lights on the way.

Dirty thoughts getting to you, remembering that you had to wash them two days ago from him making a mess out of you after coming home from work, taking it out on you. Now covering your face with your hands, pain spreading throughout your body as you tried to subdue it, telling yourself you could wait… but you couldn’t.

Your legs spread open, no panties or bra on, just the gown. Shoving your fingers into your cunt, so wet and needy, making a mess but getting yourself nowhere. Crying softly, the last thing you want to do is make your daddy mad at you.

Fat tears falling from just wanting an ounce of his attention, so needy, so embarrassed; embarrassed over the fact that you couldn't even touch your clit right without getting tired. 

Embarrassed that he could get you off better than yourself, the fact that you were never dry around him; the fact that he had you this spoiled to the point of him doing everything for you made your heart break and flutter at the same time.

He loves how appreciated you made him feel, making him feel like you couldn't do anything without him. He loves to take care of you because he doesn't want to see you let go of your youth, in a way living his life through you. Not wanting to rush to ‘grow up’ like he had to,  you made him feel like he was living his life with no regrets.

Your fingers were so small in comparison to his, thinking about how just one would fill you up, and him simply curling it inside you would make you cum, so responsive to his touch. Trying your best to feel the feel same as his. 

You raised your legs slightly in the air, trying to reach deeper like he did. It somewhat working as you were now letting out held back moans along with “daddy and ken” falling there too, or maybe it was from the lewdness of it all, your messy little pussy all wet thinking ‘bout daddy and his fat cock, if only he knew.

You were so lost in your own world you didn't even hear the door open. He was met with your sticky tears falling down your pretty face as you struggled trying to get yourself off. His composed nature leaving him freezing for once in his life.

You finally gave your self a break, sobbing louder as you couldn't even feel anything looking up to wipe your tears with both hands, finally getting them dry enough to see as turned your head, shaking in place seeing your future husband stand in the doorway.

“K-ken” you startledly whispered loud enough for him to hear while he was making his way to you, loosening his tie, his stoic face staying the same. He got on the bed, hovering over you, his tie and shirt lying somewhere on the floor as he inched closer to you, his nose almost touching yours.

“You know I love you right? He said, taking your left hand into his, grabbing the diamond ring on your finger, stroking it with his finger as it gleamed in the moonlight. You looking at his sliver one in return, too shy to face him after what just happened.

“y-yes” you wept locking eyes with him, your vision being blurry but still seeing his handsome face above you “I know it's my fault daddy. M-m’sorry” 

“Shh, baby it's never your fault. Daddys sorry, he didn't know how needy you were, cmere.” he cooed bringing you closer to him. “Tell me what's on your mind. What's wrong honey?” 

“Everything daddy… everything.” you complained, reaching to wipe your eyes again. He already knew what happened just from you saying that. And as usual the only reason his baby would cry was because of their job or a sad movie. 

‘How about you just be my cute little wife and carry my babies; that's the only thing you'll ever have to do again, okay?” he said already having it in the back of his head ever since he first fell for you. After months of you sneaking him extra bread in his bag when he left the store, always smiling at him with your whole heart; it being the first time he's ever blushed, he was whipped.

“Mkay.” you sniffled, not even bothering or caring to fix your face. He was so kind. The idea sounding great in your head. Never having to see your mean boss again, always getting on you for the simplest things, leaving to go cry in the break room.

“There's my good girl.” he praised, kissing you forehead, dragging up your nightgown over your head, finally being bare for him, as his eyes took in your body. Loving every curve you had, kissing his way down your neck after staring with your eyes. Your salty tears being whisked away from his affection that he gave you, that you loved.

His lips met your chest, wrapping them around your nipple as he cupped that breast. Squeezing it gently while moving his hand from your thigh, his ring leaving an imprint there while grabbing your other breast. Flicking it with his finger, loving to hear the little whimpers you let out, so precious. 

“Ken” 

“You’re so wet” he said, attaching his lips to your puffy clit, sucking on it while shoving his long fingers into you soaking little cunt, curling them just like how you were daydreaming about earlier.

“Daddy- please.” you whined bucking into his mouth already so needy, not needing any prep, just wanting to be stuffed full.

“Gimme...”, you said, trying to form a sentence while  his fingers were knuckle deep, hitting your g spot with ease.

“I got you my love” he said, already unbuckling his pants, taking a break from abusing your poor clit as you watched his cock pop out of his boxers. Mouth already watering thinking about taking it into your mouth, but pushing that to the side, knowing that he wouldn't say yes to that right now.

He hasn't seen a prettier sight in his life; your ankles by your ears, pussy begging for him to breed, his mind foggy as ever as you tell him to fuck a baby into you. Freezing at the words coming out of your sweet little mouth. But how could he tell his angel no?

“Open up for me sweetheart.” he muttered, imagining you so full and needy, not even being able to get up without him making him harder than ever. Sliding into you with no condom, as always, only on birth control. But the thought of it not doing its job got you even more hot and bothered, you head flooding with the thought of him fucking his cum back into you.

“Relax” he says, observing your face attentively.

“Youre so big daddy” you breathed out, eyes locking on his cock doing its best to fit in your little hole, even though you were drenched he still had to take it slow.

“it hurt?” 

“No. just fuck me, please. I'll be a good girl, daddy please.” you whined already working your way to make him bottom out.

He puts his lips on yours to distract you, shoving his length all the way in. Catching your moans in his mouth, groaning into yours. Your sweet scent getting his mind hazy as you rested on the mattress, your greedy little hands placing themselves on his back as you grabbed him closer.

He pushed himself balls deep in you, not taking long for you tell him to move whining out for your “daddy to fuck you”. His cock nudging your cervix, slowly easing back and forth to ease the pain you didn't even notice.

You feel so full while trembling in his hold. Feeling so good to finally have him inside you. Knowing that he was doing his best to not just fuck into you, wanting to make you feel good like you deserved.

He breaks the kiss and buries his face in the mattress beside your head, leaving kisses on your neck, as your ankles were now on his shoulders, hips spread wide rough for him to abuse. Your lips brush against his arm while he's connecting his hands with yours. Your rings clashing while you accept, pulling him closer like it's possible.

He's kissing underneath your ear now he starts to move his hips. Moaning at the feeling of his fat cock finally stretching you out. Pulling all the way out except the tip before slamming his hips back into yours, both of you moaning at the feeling.

He continues fucking you deep and fast, knowing thats how you liked it. His big frame towering  over yours, the comfy feeling of his weight on you, the heat radiating from his body making you feel like you were in heaven

“k-ken,” you mouthed not letting a word out but he read your pretty swollen lips. “you feel s-so good. d-ont pull out.”.

“When have i ever.” he stated, his voice unwavering as he brought his face to yours, seeing your eyes glossy and red, knowing you couldn't think straight right now. The only thing being on your mind was him. “You wanna be a mommy?”

“Y-yeah want your babies, want daddies babies, daddy please, please ple-” you whimpered out, clinging onto his shoulders admiring his body before you met his eyes. Overcome with the feelings you had inside you, wanting him to know as much as you. “Daddy -hahh i lov-e you.” 

“I know baby... i love you too” he returned, placing his lips on yours as he continued fucking into your sloppy little hole that he was the cause of.

He grabs your thighs, spreading them apart more, your hips giving away. Almost lifting you up, fucking into you deeper than before. Your screaming with no noise coming out except gasps because your daddy fucking you so good, making your head spin. And all you can think about is having his babies, wanting him to cum in you so much that it never comes out.

“More” you begged, wanting to feel his cum dripping out of you.

Your orgasm, collecting itself all this time, finally hits you like a shockwave. So unannounced that you completely let go and turn limp and he's still manhandling you, getting himself off.

You don't even feel him stop, just feeling his hot cum pouring inside you before you realize your not being thrusted into anymore. You cunt still clenching around him, milking him for everything he’s got as he tunes you over, not pulling out. You now resting on top of him, both of you breathing heavily as you cum for the nth time feeling it drip down your thighs and onto his balls.

“Are you okay my love?”

You cant even talk now, you voice long gone from crying earlier to him fucking you. You just snuggle into his side, wrapping your arms around his bicep as he strokes your forehead, kissing it before you grab his face.

“Kiss” you pouted using your remaining strength to point to your lips.

He lets out a laugh, leaning down to give you what you want, as always. Breaking the kiss when you let out a moan again; his cock was not hard anymore but still took up all the room in you, if you moved it would move it you. 

He repositions himself deep as he can inside without hurting you before noticing your swollen eyes starting to close. “Goodnight doll, love you.” he softly says kissing your forehead again

“Wait” You mummerd out, not opening your eyes but putting all your attention on him too. Wondering what you were gonna say as your soft sleepy smile appeared on your face. Cheeks all puffed out along with your lips. As you snuggled closer to his, mouth right up at his ear.

“G’night daddy, love you too”

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E129 (March 16, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Matt Mercer and Taliesin Jaffe!

Matt, on DMing Luc’s Revivify: “That was weird. It’s one thing when it happens because of player action and circumstances and the choices they make. When it’s entirely on me, unintentional, and just realizing different chess pieces you’ve set up, that’s rough.” It was especially rough since this was a child NPC related to a PC. “I was hoping somebody had a spell slot left.” He kept in mind that there are two clerics in the room and that they could resurrect the next day even if the Revivify went poorly. “A good chance, since it’s his first time. Okay, okay, okay, okay, I think we’ll be okay, we’ll see how this goes. It was really stressful in the moment! I did not set out to have that happen, but when I realized what was going to happen, I tried to see it through.” He wouldn’t have prevented a chance to bring him back. “There may have been an offshoot short-run series of games to find a way to bring him back. I would have found some way to correct the circumstance so the players could feel good about moving forward with the story and there was no undue punishment beyond their control.”

Taliesin on Cad’s response: “This is a big thing if you’re a cleric. It was very much coming in like an EMT. Everything should be fine... hopefully. Just focused in and got it done. The minute things started to go south it was like, okay, that’s the next problem.”

On Yeza’s feelings: “It is a very complicated situation. I think he, much like how Veth is trying to figure out what it is that she wants, I think he’s trying to help her find that while also figuring it out for himself. I think Yeza’s also noticing that because Veth’s the more active of the two of them she also takes the weight of the responsibility and the blame for things when they go wrong, unnecessarily. Especially when he himself acknowledges that he’s partially at fault for even dragging everyone in with the Conclave. As much as he’s appreciative for them coming back for him, there’s a lot of back and forth. He’s filled with a lot of regret, too, but he’s very much trying to convince Veth that it’s a burden that she doesn’t have to keep to herself, that they can share it and work through it together.” Matt mentions that, as an actor, he really loves exploring interactions between characters first and foremost. “Especially when you don’t know where it’s going to go.” He also praises Sam as a scene partner - “I really cherish that.”

How does Caduceus feel about Revivify and Speak with Dead? “Speak with Dead is an interesting middle ground, because he knows that it’s not actually speaking with the dead. It’s really just-- it’s almost medical, really. This is just reactivating a brain at a certain point. It’s practically just a muscle twitch at this point. That doesn’t really prod him in that direction. Revivify is interesting, because it had never really come up. At first I thought of it as bending the rules, but it’s not bending the rules. You knock over a plant, you replant it, you don’t stare at it and go ‘Well, that’s over.’ This is just doing the work. No, we can bring this thing back to health. This is all part of the circle of life, that sometimes we can save something. Especially given the stress that he’s put himself through over the past year of being with these people. He’s started to think of himself a bit as a battlefield medic, and triage is just part of the deal, and it’s completely acceptable.”

Did Trent really just want to talk? “Yeah, that circumstance, as it came together, Trent would never have arrived if there wasn’t an indication that there was some kind of infiltration or attack. Even beyond that, it was Jester breaking the concentration on her charm on that one guard when she created her duplicate.” The guards’ job is to inform a member of the Cerberus Assembly, and Trent lived the closest. “He didn’t know who it was, didn’t have any expectation necessarily. The minute he saw the illusion, he knew a powerful magic user was involved.” Seeing Caleb was an unexpected surprise. “I don’t think he wanted to throw down necessarily. He was more interested in figuring out exactly what the nature of this was.” Matt had multiple battlemaps that didn’t get used. “They managed to cleverly out-maneuver him in his surprise of seeing them.” The Nein rocketed up his priority list after that very quickly. Taliesin: “We’re so fucked.”

On Cad being “Uncle Caduceus” to Luc: “It’s the thing he misses most about home, is being a juvenile shit. It’s nice to be able to express that part of him again, as opposed to the serious, life-threatening, constant intensity. I’m very at home just being a little difficult.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Beau! (_rumor_king, photography by kourtyardproductions on Instagram)

On Marion: “Like a lot of people in this whole narrative from the beginning, getting swept up in things larger than her and trying to adapt. This is a circumstance she’s avoided for a long time. She’s having a rough time in some ways, but simultaneously, she’s enduring. Like a mother would. She’s adapting, she’s making it work. Without much of a choice, you just kind of do the best you can and lean on the people around you to help you where they can. Luckily she has a daughter there. She’s probably surprising herself at how well she’s doing given the circumstances.” Matt talks about how weird it is to feel proud of character he’s created. “Of the many things Marion is incredible at, she’s a studier of the human condition. She’s seen and heard the stories of so many. That gives her a very special perspective. She can see elements of that fractured individual within Caleb, and knowing the good that he’s brought to his friends, and knowing he’s possibly saved her life from bad circumstances, she couldn’t not speak up. She very easily falls into that role of maternal comforter, because it’s one of the many things she’s really good at, she enjoys it, and she can see well when people need it.” He’s been enjoying having Marion along for this (despite the difficult circumstances) because he was always a little sad that they only got to see her for short periods of time.

On the Blooming Grove’s safety: “He’s afraid that it’s a premonition. He’s not pinned it down, but he’s happy to let his imagination wander. He at the very least feels like there’s a reason he’s having these thoughts, and that there’s a reason to go there. He’s a big believer that these things don’t just happen. He’s more likely to think that there’s a good reason to go versus a danger to go. He’s had a couple of ominous warnings lately, and he’s not used to them and not a fan. He’s more likely to read something like that as, there is something there waiting for you that you have to discover. There is something that is going to be helpful to you, even if it hurts.”

On Astrid: “While maybe not as readable in overall personality as Trent is, I still want to be careful to not discuss things that are still being discussed within the game and tossed around as possibilities. Astrid is another complicated character, as anyone would be who’s been through the life she has. I can’t say too much. I can say she’s definitely legitimately happy to see Bren/Caleb after all this time.” His reemergence definitely caught her off guard. “We’ll have to see where it goes from there.”

On Cad’s successful Divine Intervention: “He’s definitely hit the ‘on a mission from god’ stage. He’s been that way for the entire campaign of, this, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Even when it sucks a lot, it’s been nice that those things have popped up to remind him, no, no, you’re doing it right, everything’s good. Probably not going to survive the next week, but you’re doing good! Not quite 1 in a 100 chance, but I forget so often to make that roll, and it’s such a great roleplaying roll. I don’t know how at level 20 you could deal with the fact that you can do that every day.” 

On Zeenoth getting his comeuppance: the kidnapping was a concept Marisha brought up for Beau’s backstory, and Matt went with it even though it was opposed to the Cobalt Soul’s philosophy because he knew rooting it out would make for an interesting story. “I felt it was an important beat to bring to her, because it was something that she was wronged by. And to show that there are still some good people out there who are trying to make things right.” After the tentative peace, dealing with this became Dairon’s next focus. “I was glad we finally got to it. So many people don’t have the opportunity in their lives to get that sort of justice and vindication, so if I can bring elements of that justice into our world, even for our own hope, I’m going to do that. Especially for my wife’s character, especially for a character that deserves that.” Taliesin points out that if it had come too early, Beau wouldn’t have believed it.

Cad’s thoughts on the Tomb Taker betrayal? “He knew it was gonna come at some point. There was no way that was gonna last. He was hoping it was gonna last a little longer. He was really hoping they had a vested interest in getting them all the way to the end. Nope, this is apparently as far as we go, and he was not prepared for that.” He was expecting the potential for de-escalation. “Caduceus is the only character in there that doesn’t have a history with Lucien. I think he sees him a little more clearly than everybody else does. They’re all looking for this person that Clay, at least, is of the opinion that he’s just not there. This is a very manipulative, very dangerous infernal human. Just smarter than all of them. Really aware that there is no calculating what the hell is going to happen. Conversation is the only way you can deal with someone like that.”

Fan Art of the Week: An amazing Caleb closeup! (rynn_birb on Twitter)

Taliesin on Lucien: “I’m excited he’s the one that’s going to kill us all. Poetic that this is how the game ends.” Matt was delighted when Taliesin handed him carte blanche to do what he wanted with Molly’s past. “I was like ‘shit... oh, wait!’ The character of Lucien was always intended to be an antagonist so that it would have been Molly being chased by the person who wanted their body back. But then it happened that he got his body back.” Taliesin: “He’s so much worse than I ever hoped.”

Matt, on the Holy Avenger: “I hadn’t thought to initially even give that sword.” The good roll was the only reason Kima handed that over. “Well, sure, you get the sword. It was very reactionary, it wasn’t my intent originally. I was like, well, I mean, there’s two avenues she can take with this.” Multiclass into Paladin, or lean into the fact that her subclass is essentially a barbarian paladin. “This really works out in a uniquely beautiful way. Let me see if I can lay out a path for her to earn it.”

On Cad’s attempt at lying blowing up in his face: “He was like that kid that had a really bad day in high school and was like, you know what? I’m going to let loose. This is it. I’m gonna dye a streak in my hair. And then tries to give himself a haircut and ends up with half bangs. Well, okay, obviously I’m not that person. I was feeling a little distraught and I didn’t handle it well. Maybe I’m going dark... no, I’m not going dark. Nope.” Matt mentions how much he relates to Caduceus.

Matt, on the Eyes: “What can I tell you? I’m enjoying the hell out of it. The moment they began to really push to read that book, I was like, okay, this is on you. I’m excited for the point in the narrative where the march continues back to Eiselcross. I am almost impatient - not really - because we’re on the cusp of getting to more of the meat. There’s so much to learn, so much to see, so much to explore. I love instilling my players with absolute terror.”

Thoughts on Jester’s Tarot reading? Taliesin cackles. “Molly made the cards, so. Did it to himself, he did, he did.” Matt: “Once again, another example of things working out unexpectedly and too perfectly for an improvised moment. Fuck.” Taliesin: “Bless the wisdom of chaos.” Matt: “I love that even at this point in the campaign, Molly continues to fuck with people. I’m just so proud. That deeply shook Lucien, for reasons.” Taliesin: “It’s the everlasting gobstopper smoke bomb.”

[babybluebex]

good doctor kreizler ch. 2: book of revelations

summary ↠ sequel to good doctor kreizler // the case of the murdered boys continues, and you're suddenly overcome with terrible emotions for seemingly no reason. but laszlo knows why. pairing ↠ laszlo kreizler x fem!reader (y/n) word count ↠ 3.3k warnings ↠ explicit language, mentions of menstruation, nausea, and pregnancy, descriptions of violence against children (yknow how the alienist works lmao) a/n ↠ enjoy! masterlist/taglist in bio!

You sighed heavily and pressed your palm to your diaphragm. Your corset was causing more discomfort than usual, but you could look past it. There were deeds that needed to be done. You stood up from your chair and moved to the telephone on the wall, and you caught the side-long glance that an officer gave you. Perhaps it was some sort of confidence that being with Laszlo gave you, but you found yourself saying, “Can I help you, sir?”

“D’ya need help with that telephone?” the man asked, puffing at a cigarette. The smell of it made you feel ill, especially the way he blew it nearly directly at you. “It can be awfully difficult for a lady.”

You gave him a plantative smile, and you said, “I can manage. Thank you, though.”

“You sure?” he asked. “Because I’d be more than happy to oblige you.”

“Really,” you said, taking up the end of the telephone. “I can do it.”

The man took a step closer, and he placed a hand on your waist. “You think, because you work for the police, you can be a bitch?” he hissed. “If a gentleman offers you help, you take it.”

The door to the room swung open, and you turned to see your lover there, wearing your favorite emerald-green suit and black coat. Laszlo was a gift from the gods, for sure. He made sure you knew that you were worthy of what you were given in the world, and he strived to give you more. Every time he presented you with a new dress or necklace, you always kissed him to show your gratitude, but reminded him that such gifts were not necessary. “You’re the only thing I ask for,” you would remind him. You knew that the thought of it troubled the good doctor, that he was worried that he wasn’t enough, but, every night, you kissed his shoulder and arm and assured him that he was more than what you deserved. You trusted Laszlo with your body, soul, mind, and heart, and he did the same of you.

Which is why you were thankful for the little fibs he would tell every so often to save face. “I would greatly appreciate it if you removed your hand from my wife,” Laszlo said firmly, his accent stronger than usual; his German gravel was intimidating to those who only knew him from stories in the newspaper. “New York’s finest and all…”

The officer took a step back from you, and Laszlo moved closer to you. “What do I owe this visit, sweetheart?” you asked, pressing your hands to his chest. Laszlo bent down and swiped his lips along your cheek, and you felt yourself grow warm at his unusual display of public affection.

“You left a file at home,” Laszlo said. “I remember you talking about transcribing it.”

You cooed softly, and Laszlo reached into his coat and extracted the file folder for you. “You’re so good,” you told him. “What can I do to repay you? I’m sure I’m making you late to the Institute.”

Laszlo tilted his head as he thought, and he put his hand on your waist, right where the officer had put his. Laszlo was hardly a jealous man, but the moments where his mood matched his suit made you giggle. He was a world-renowned alienist, but he was truly just a teenage boy in mind and matter. “Let me take you to dinner tonight,” Laszlo said, and you groaned. “And the opera. Please, my beloved, just one night.”

“Las, I told you, I don’t like when you spend your money on me,” you grumbled. “Just, please. I’m perfectly happy taking dinner at home. In fact, I prefer it more!”

“More than Delmonico’s?” Laszlo asked. “What if I invited John and Sara and the Isaacsons?”

“No, Laszlo,” you giggled, and you pressed your thumb into the little dimple in his chin. “The problem certainly will not be solved by adding more people. Can we just stay home tonight and listen to an opera on the gramophone? We’ve both been working very hard lately, I’d just like a simple night with you.”

“A simple night,” Laszlo said softly, pulling the words around in his mouth. “My beloved, I am not a simple man.”

“Boy, that’s the truth,” you chuckled, and you moved from his grip to return to your desk. “Maybe next week, we can go to the opera. Alright?”

Laszlo chuckled lightly, and he tugged you close and laid a kiss on your forehead. “Whatever you’d like, my beloved,” he told you. “When can I expect you at the Institute?”

You pulled Laszlo’s left arm up to your face and looked at his watch, ticking away at half noon, and you said, “Around three or so. Would you mind having some tea ready for when I get there? I’m feeling plain awful today.”

“What’s wrong?” Laszlo asked, and you smiled at the sudden emergence of Dr. Kreizler. While his degree wasn’t exactly in physical medicine, he always liked to be the first to examine you for maladies if they arose.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed, waving your hand dismissively. “Just a bit of a stomach ache. I assume it’s nearing that time of the month for me, Las, you know how I get.”

“Of course,” Laszlo said softly. “You know, you could have just told me that’s why you didn’t want to eat at Delmonico’s tonight.”

You looked around quickly, finding the small space empty void for you and your lover, and you carefully took the furred lapel of Laszlo’s coat between your fingers and tugged him close, close enough for you to smell the lavender pastile that he liked so much. “Truly, my reason was more than that,” you whispered. “I wanted you to ravage me tonight, for as long as we both can bear.”

You almost missed the way that Laszlo’s breath hitched in his throat, but you were glad you noticed it. “It is getting to be that time, isn’t it?” he said carefully. “Increase in libido is a common side effect of menstruation.”

You hummed softly and pressed your fingers to his cheek. “I love it when you talk like that,” you said. “You’re so wonderfully smart, Las, I wish you wouldn’t be ashamed to show it.”

“I’m not,” Laszlo said. “You just choose to ignore my intelligence.”

“Now, why in the world would I do that?” you laughed. “You ought to be getting to the Institute. I’ll see you shortly.”

Laszlo gave you a warm smile and kissed your cheek, and you felt yourself shiver at his lips. God, you could hardly believe how much you loved him. You felt your stomach flutter, and you heaved a sigh. “I love you,” Laszlo said softly, and he brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll see you soon, my beloved.”

You fixed your jaw and swallowed down the ungodly feeling in your throat. Something was wrong, you could tell. The usual air of the parlor was not there, the cheerful if slightly remorseful lightness. Instead, the parlor was overtaken with a heady sadness that completely outweighed the macabre curiosity.

“Laslzo,” you said quickly, dropping your briefcase by the table, and you joined your lover at the window. He was smoking his pipe, something you had only ever seen him do a handful of times before, and you immediately ran your hand soothingly down his back. “What’s happened?”

“Another body,” Laszlo mumbled. “Another child.”

You bristled. “But-But I thought we had figured it out? The murderer followed Catholic holy days?”

“That was a suitable theory at the time,” Laszlo said. His gaze was fixed to the outside world through the murky glass, and you looked around the room. John was sitting at the long table, absently sketching something, and Sara was studying the chalkboard that was covered in Laszlo’s neat script. “But he’s gone off schedule, and we might as well be back where we started.”

“Not really,” you said softly. “I mean, so he jumped ahead a few days. If the body bears the same marks, if the victim is the same as the others, I don’t see why a change in date--”

“Of course you don’t,” Laszlo scoffed, and he stepped away from you.

You were stunned silent, and you watched Laszlo move back to the table with the heaps of paperwork. “What does that mean?” you asked.

“You’re not looking at the entire picture,” Laszlo said sharply. “You’re only focused on the way he changed the date, not the why. Why did he change his schedule, why is there another body weeks ahead of the next holy day? Now we have to be concerned if it’s even the same murderer. Is it a copycat murderer that hasn’t pinned down the schedule as we have? There are many moving parts to this that you don’t seem to comprehend.”

“Las, I do see that,” you countered. The way he doubted you stung your chest, but that was Laszlo. When he was angry, he lashed out. You had come to accept him, even if the words he said truly hurt. You saw Sara turn to look at you, a hint of pity in her blue eyes, and you sighed. “Look, do we have records of the new victim’s body? Perhaps that will give us insight.”

“Yes,” John said quickly, not even giving Laslzo a chance to answer and cut your feelings even deeper. Why had his admonitions hurt so much more than usual? You were afraid that, if he spoke to you like that again, you would start crying. And then they would be right, everybody would be right: a woman was too delicate to handle crimes like this. “I visited the morgue as soon as I heard. I sketched what I could manage, and took notes of everything else.”

You moved around to join John at the other side of the table, choosing to ignore Laszlo. You could feel his eyes follow you as you bent towards John to look at his sketches, and your eyes followed the charcoal lines of a young boy. Like the others, his eyes were plucked out, his throat slit, and his hand cut off, but a few errant marks on the boy’s stomach made you tilt your head. “What’s this?” you asked, gently tracing the lines with your finger. Soot of the charcoal came off on your fingertip, but you paid little attention to it.

“Our murderer made gashes in the boy’s stomach,” John said. “This one--” he pointed to a particular line, “Was deep enough to view the intestines. Four in total, but they don’t seem to follow a pattern.”

“Everything follows a pattern, John,” Laszlo said quickly. “We just haven’t found it yet.”

“Four…” you mumbled. “And this sketch is accurate to scale?” John nodded, and your eyes studied it for a moment longer. Four of them, two of them a bit shorter than the others. Those two were situated at the bottom of the boy’s belly, right where the V of his hip bones would be, and the one of them was at the top, just under his breastbone. The fourth, the biggest, longest, deepest, was straight down the middle, bisecting the boy’s navel.

Your vision became blurred. Your breath came in gasps, and you felt dizzy. A terrible sickness crawled up your throat, and you pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to stop the flow of vomit. Vomit. You never vomited, not even when you had viewed past victims’ bodies in person. The smell of corpses wasn’t even enough to make you ill, but your heart quickened when you cast another glance to the sketch.

You fell into a chair besides John, and you gasped, “I think I’m gonna be sick--”

Sara came to clutch your hand in an instant, and John hurried to hide the sketch. “Las,” you mumbled. “Can you get me some water, sweetheart?”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” Laszlo said quickly. Your other hand was filled by his, and you cast a glance upwards at him. Now, instead of the tepid malice that he had had in his eyes, he had complete worry.

“I’ll get you some water,” John said. “Laszlo, watch over her. I’ll be back.”

“What happened?” Sara asked. “You started to sway and turned a ghostly pale. Did you see something?”

“J-Just those gashes,” you mumbled. “They-They looked like scars my mother had.”

“Scars?” Laszlo asked. “What do you mean?”

You sniffled, and took your hands from both grasps to wring in your lap. “I was born via Cesarean section,” you said. “M-My mother had been sick and fragile since before she was pregnant with me, and her doctor advised against natural childbirth. She had a scar right down the middle of her stomach in the same fashion as the body… A-And, when I was still in school, a doctor found a series of tumors in her ovaries. It had spread through the rest of her, but the doctor tried to combat it by removing the original tumors, and… The scars on his waist match the ones my mother had. I-I just-- Why would the murderer give this poor boy a woman’s scars?”

Laszlo bristled at this. You hardly ever mentioned your family, or him his, and he knelt down in front of you. “There’s something more than that,” he said softly. “My beloved, please speak to me. What’s troubling you?”

You chewed your bottom lip, and you gave a gasp as you tried to steady your breathing. “Sara,” you mumbled. “Can you give us a moment?”

Sara squeezed your hand and nodded, and she quickly excused herself. You waited until the door closed fully before sobbing and leaning forward to rest your head against your knees. “I’m sorry, Las,” you mumbled. “I-I just-- I can’t bear the sight of that today. I’ve felt ill all day, and now all of this, it’s far too much for me right now.”

You had nearly forgotten that you had requested tea earlier in the day, and you watched Laszlo rise from his knee and retrieve the tea cup. He quickly took note of your quivering hands, and he lifted the porcelain tea cup to your mouth. You sipped at it, hoping that it might soothe you, and you wiped your tears from your cheeks. “Laszlo, what’s wrong with me?” you sniffled. “I-I’ve never done this before, why now?”

“You already said that you feel ill,” Laszlo said carefully. “Maybe the sight of the body and the state of it was a shock to your system. Has the nausea passed?”

You shook your head quickly. The ugly feeling of it still sat in the very back of your throat, and you reached out for him. Laszlo set the tea cup aside and came to you, and you buried your face in his stomach from where you sat. Your arms circled his waist and you held him tightly, and you keened up into his hand as he began to stroke your hair.

Suddenly, Laszlo began to move with quickness, pulling you to your feet. You hardly had time to ask what he was doing before his fingers began to undo the back of your blouse. “Laszlo!” you cried. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Trust me, my beloved,” Laszlo said quickly. With his one arm tight to his body, he pulled your blouse off of you, then started at your corset. That sick feeling back came, and you reached forward and braced yourself against the table. Your head hung as you tried to control your nausea, and you whimpered, “Laszlo, what is this?”

Your lover gave a growl, one of deep frustration, and he grabbed your corset by the bottom hem and shoved it down your body, past your waist, to expose your breasts and stomach. You couldn’t help but sigh at the release of pressure on your middle, and Laszlo turned you around to see your bare skin. He knelt down in front of you and pressed his forehead against your stomach, and you watched him close his eyes and take a deep breath. You hardly understood what he was doing, but, if the half year courting him was any indication, he knew what was best. “When was the last time you menstruated?” Laszlo asked, next pressing his cheek to your bare stomach.

Your hand instinctively went to cradle his cheek, and you shrugged. “Several months ago,” you said. “I… They come and go, I suppose. Is that normal?”

“And your breasts?” Laszlo asked next, and you grimaced.

“What’re you getting at?” you asked.

“My beloved,” Laszlo said carefully, and he looked up at you from his place on the floor. His dark eyes were glistening with tears, and your heart sank and adrenaline rushed bitterly into your mouth.

“Stop,” you whispered. “Laszlo, no, I-I’m not-- I can’t be--”

“I think you are, beloved,” Laszlo said. He stood up and shucked off his suit jacket, and he laid it across your shoulders to hide your body from the cold room. “I think that you’re pregnant, my beloved. That would explain every malady you have: the aches, the irritability, the nausea, the delicateness, the increase in libido. Pregnancy offers an explanation for all of these.”

Your eyes filled with tears again, but a smile came with them. “You…” you started, and you sent a weak punch to Laszlo’s firm chest. “You absolute bastard!”

Laszlo laughed and tugged you into him, and you hugged him tightly. Laszlo, your wonderful Las, the father of your child. “Oh, my beloved,” he sighed, kissing the side of your head. “How did I not see it before?”

“Men can tend to be blind to such things,” you said. “But I feel as if a special blockade is up for you when it concerns me.”

“I agree,” Laszlo said. His hand came up to rest against your face, and you leaned into his touch. “My dearest girl…” he hummed, and he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours. You pressed back, letting a smile grace your lips. “Marry me, my beloved.”

It was hardly even a question. “Of course, Las,” you said softly. “How could I say no to you? It would ruin your reputation, having a child out of wedlock.”

“Thta's true,” Laszlo shrugged. “But I think you would want to marry me regardless.”

“How dare you act as if you know what I want,” you said, but you kissed the tip of his nose anyway. “But, yes, Laszlo. I would love to marry you. Mrs. Kreizler… Is that something you ever thought you’d hear?”

“Not from you,” Laszlo chuckled. “I never thought that you would want the burdens of marriage. In fact, I distinctly remember you telling me that upon our first meeting.”

“How could you manage any thought during that interaction?” you giggled. “If what you told me was true, you were quite distracted that day.”

Laszlo gave a soft little grunt, and he snuffled his face into your neck. “Yes, well, a man has to learn to multitask,” he said. “Oh my God, I cannot begin--”

The door to the parlor banged open, and you hurried to cover yourself. “Marcus,” Laszlo said firmly. “Give us a moment, will you?”

“Doc, this is pretty important--”

“I am having a private conversation with my fiancée, Mr. Isaacson,” Laszlo said, his voice rising just a bit. “You can tell me whatever you wish as soon as I finish this conversation.”

You looked over your shoulder to the younger Isaacson twin, and your face grew hot when your shoulder slipped from the jacket. Marcus’s eyes went wide for a moment, then he put his hands up in a plantation gesture. “Right,” he said quickly. “Um, sorry, Doc. I’ll be--”

“Do hurry it up, Marcus,” you said, pulling your fiancé’s jacket tight around you. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return.”

You watched Marcus leave the room and shut the heavy door behind him, and you scoffed and dissolved into giggles. You buried your face into Laslzo’s warm chest and kissed just over his heart, and you sighed. “I’d love to speak more about this at home,” you said. “I love you to absolute death, Laszlo.”

“And I love you more,” Laszlo said softly.

[noforkingclue]

Hi! Could I request a soulmate fic with a dark!Zemo?

Of course you can! I do love a good soulmate fic! This turned out a lot longer than I was planning so I hope you enjoy it!

Title: No Escape

MCU tag list: @geocookie21, @greeneyedblondie44

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @imjustassaneasyou

When you opened your eyes you realised that you weren’t in your room. Panic settled in the pit of your stomach and you tried to move but with a sickening realisation you found that you couldn’t. You were locked in your body, in a strange place with no hope of escape. That last fact was solidified when your eyes flicked to the side.

Glass. A thick panel of glass blocked any chance of escape. Guards walked around and occasionally looked into your cell as you tried to struggle free. You closed your eyes and tried to take several deep breaths but this body wasn’t cooperating. When you opened your eyes again you saw it, the thing that replaced the panic with something far, far worse- dread.

You weren’t in your body, a strangers face was reflected in the glass. A sickening smile spread across his face as you realised with increasing horror whose body you were in. Your soulmate, the person you were destined to be with, was a criminal.

“So we finally meet.”

You woke up with a gasp, your sheets soaked in your sweat. On weak legs you stumbled out of bed and turned on your light. You looked at yourself in your mirror and touched your face. You were back in your own body, it was just a nightmare.

“A nightmare? You wound me, my dear.”

A just like that your life changed forever.

*

The second time you met your soulmate was in a dream. He stalked around you as you wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed in your summer pyjamas. He looked you up and down as you avoided eye contact.

“So young,” he said, “What have I done to deserve you?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, “You’re the one in prison. I’m just wondering what I did in a past life to be stuck with you.”

“Don’t be rude,” he stopped in front of you, “You’ll find me more agreeable if you behave.”

“Agreeable,” you looked up sharply, “I don’t even want a soulmate.”

He was handsome, that fact you couldn’t deny. His brown eyes hardened at your words and a hand moved to cup your cheek.

“It would be wise not to test my patience,” he said coldly, “I wouldn’t like our meeting to be soured by your disobedience.”

“Disobedience?” you spat, “I’m a person not a dog.”

He looked at you in amusement but you could see a flash of displeasure run across his eyes. His grip tightened for a second before he quickly let go of you. You stumbled back and almost fell over before you glared back at him.

“How interesting,” he said, “You aren’t afraid.”

“You’re in prison,” you said, “You can’t hurt me.”

“I have no intention of ever hurting you.”

*

You gritted you teeth as your saw your soulmate again. This time you were out of the prison and walking along the streets of Vienna. You stuck your hands in your pockets as you looked around the city, fond memories emerging as you looked around. You and your ex used to visit the city regularly.

“I would appreciate it if you did not think of other men.”

You spun around and saw him sitting down by a café. He took a sip from his coffee and pointed to the seat opposite him. After a moment’s hesitation you reluctantly took the seat.

“You can’t control my thoughts,” you said, “What are you, the thought police.”

He just gave you a sharp smile before turning back to his coffee.

“I’ll admit,” he said, “You mind is a much more pleasant place than mine. I’m going to enjoy visiting it more often.”

“Unlikely.”

“You think those books you’ve been reading will prevent me?”

“How did-“

“We’re soulmates,” he said, “Our minds are linked.”

“Then why can’t I see into yours? Why can’t I see your memories?”

He gave you a soft smile and for some reason you found it oddly sad. You shifted in your seat and looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You also can’t prevent me from thinking about people I cared about,” you said bitterly, “You’re older than me. Surely you hadn’t been saving yourself for your soulmate.”

You didn’t expect your words to have had any effect of him. You heard the clink of the coffee cup being put down before a strong hand reach over and grabbed your arm. You let out a cry as you were yanked to your feet and pulled roughly against his chest. You raised a hand to try and free yourself but it was no use.

“You’d be wise to watch your tongue,” he warned quietly, “Or when I finally have you I won’t be gentle.”

“You’ll never have me,” you spat, “You’re in prison.”

“We’ll just have to see about that then won’t we?”

*

“You know,” you leant against the wall as you looked out at the prison, “I don’t even know your name.”

This caused your soulmate to look up at you curiously.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Why, have you forgotten?”

“Helmut Zemo.” He said

“Y/n l/n.” you said

Zemo looked at you over the top of his book before looking away again. You just clicked you tongue in annoyance before walking around.

“Did I say you can leave?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Zemo moved and tapped the space next to him on the bed. You just snorted and shook your head.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? You’re going to have to get used to me once I finally have you in my arms.”

“Like that’ll happen any time soon.”

Zemo’s smile sent chills down your spin but you still refused to move. He stood up slowly and closed his book as he walked towards you. You stood your ground and held your head up high as he stopped directly in front of you. Even though this was just a dream you were becoming increasingly uneasy under his intense stare. This time you were in his dream so you knew that you couldn’t escape until he woke up.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” he said, “As long as you behave you’ll find our time together most pleasurable.”

“And if I don’t behave.”

“Well than,” he smiled, “I’m going to have fun breaking you in.”

*

“I had a wife.”

You looked over at Zemo in shock. He was looking outside your bedroom window and you had a feeling that he was deliberately avoiding your gaze.

“And a son.” He continued

“Had?”

“They’re gone.”

“Gone?”

“They were killed.”

“Oh,” you swung your legs off of your bed, “I’m sorry.”

Zemo looked over at you, a sad smile on his face. You looked at him but quickly averted your gaze. You could see the pain and love for them etched in his face. You weren’t jealous, that was his wife and child that he was telling you about. You couldn’t replace the love he held for them, soulmate or not.

“You mean that,” he said, “You genuinely mean that.”

“Of course.”

“Even though we are destined to be together.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You will.”

You shook your head. You had no desire of ever getting to know Zemo and his eyes narrowed at your thoughts. You felt awkward having him inside your room even if this was just a dream. You were thankful that the view from your windows was just a white space. You didn’t want to give him any more clues on where you lived. If you did you might have to move.

“I’ll find you.”

“Huh?”

“Whether you go I will find you. I’ve already lost one woman I loved I do not plan on losing you.”

“I cannot and will not replace your wife.”

“You’re not going to have a choice.”

You stood up quickly and marched towards him. Zemo looked up calmly at you, a sharp contrast to the rage coursing through your veins.

“I’ll fight you.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

“And you’re still going through with this? Why?”

“Because,” Zemo stood up, “You are mine. You will be mine. I have no desire to break you but if you continue to resist me,” he leant towards you, “You’ll give me no choice.”

Before you had a chance to answer Zemo cupped your face and pressed a gently kiss against your lips. It was a brief kiss but you felt the intention behind it. The dark promise that you’ll never escape, his true plans for you and the certainty that one day he was going to escape and then there’ll be no place for you to run.

“Soon my dear,” he said as he rested his forehead against you, “We’re going to be very happy.”

*

You should’ve seen this coming. Ever since Zemo kissed you in your dream his had become a lot bolder. He openly stared at you, touched your more and always kissed you. He was never rough with you, he was always a gentleman, but tonight his demeanour changed.

As soon as you appeared in his dream he had grabbed your shoulders and pressed you against the wall of the grand house. You barely had a chance to look around before he had pulled you into a bruising kiss. You let out a gasp of surprise which allowed him to utterly dominate the kiss, harshly biting your lips when you tried to resist. Eventually he broke the kiss, the two of you gasping for air.

“Do you know how hard it’s been to resist you,” he said, “Seeing you in my dreams, my soulmate, so close and yet so far away. I’ve been patient for you to come around and now I need you.”

“Zemo, wait-“

“I’ve been waiting,” he said, “I’ve been waiting for long enough. Please don’t make it any harder.”

He hands grasped your wrists and pinned then next to your head as he delved back in. He was a skilled kisser and you found it harder and harder to resist. You felt him smile against your lips as he stepped in closer, trapping you firmly against the wall and his body. You moaned softly as you felt yourself melt against him.

“That’s it,” Zemo said as he broke the kiss, “Give in and I will give you everything.”

You whimpered softly as he trailed kisses down your neck before one again capturing you in a dizzyingly gently kiss. He let go of your wrists and held your hips in place. If wasn’t until he grinded his hips against yours that you realised the position you were in. Without hesitation you bit Zemo’s tongue causing him to let out a cry of shock and jump away. You slipped out from under his arms and took off running down the halls. You heard Zemo’s laugh echo after you. You weren’t going to give in.

“Do you think you can hide?” he asked, “In my house? I look forward to our games of cat and mouse. Although I should warn you, I rarely lose.”

You turned a corner and came face to face with a long corridor. You tried to open some of the doors but to your increasing dread they were all locked. You heard soft whistling follow you and you became increasingly desperate to try and find a place to hide. The soft click of shoes at the end of the corridor showed you that the game was up sooner than you wanted. You looked over your shoulder and Zemo just shook his head in disappointment.

“This is my dream,” he said, “I have control here and, if you don’t behave yourself, when you’re eventually mine.”

He walked towards you and you looked around for a place to run to. Zemo gave you a pitying look and when he was directly in front of you trailed a hand down your cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have been so rough with you. I should’ve remembered that you are so young. Forgive me?”

He pressed a kiss against your shoulder as he pressed you against the door.

“I’ll be patient,” he said, “It won’t be long now until I can hold you properly.”

*

You woke up with a gasp, your sheets soaked in your sweat. Rain pounded against your window and you ran a hand through your hair. Another dream about Zemo but this time it wasn’t your typical soulmate dream. It unnerved you, you hadn’t had a dream with him in several weeks and you were becoming nervous. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness then you saw it, the figure by the door. For a moment time stood still then you both lunged at the same time.

“Go effort,” said a smooth voice, “But not quick enough.”

Zemo held your wrists in one hand as he switched on your bedside lamp with his other. He was just as handsome in real life as he was in your dreams. He smiled down at you as he took your position in. You felt the blush creep up your neck. He sighed and rest his head against your shoulder.

“I told you it wouldn’t be long. Have you missed me?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie.”

“That’s the truth.”

“Hmm.”

He looked up at you as his gaze darkened.

“Now then,” he said, “Shall we continue from where we left off? I don’t like leaving things half finished.”

[filmmies-writing]

Past, Present & Future

pairing : ex!avengers reader x Zemo

word count : 1.3k

warning : mention of death

summary : you used to visit Zemo at the prison after the event of civil war but then he cut you off because he started to have feelings for you. Now that Bucky’s going to break him out, he needs your help babysitting this bad guy.

a/n : hello guyssssss <3 It's been quite a while since I posted my debut one shot. I really do appreciate every like, reblog and comment from my previous work (for anyone who hasn't checked it out yet, here you go!)THANK YOU🥺 At first I was thinking of making a short fanfiction, 3 parts was the first thought that came to my mind but I really enjoy writing this so maybe it’ll be more than 3 parts I suppose. You can also leave your ideas for the next part in the comment or what you think of this chapter, I’d really love to read them :) And fyi, your likes, reblogs and comments are what keep me going so pls 🥺🥺😂😂 Sorry if there’s any mistakes, English is not my first language. Also I’ll pin my masterlist on this blog as soon as I finish making it :))))) 

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“And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me” 

(I Found - Amber Run)                                     

“Do you still visit him?” Bucky asked through the phone, his voice steady and calm, like he already made a decision in his mind.

“After I’d blipped back I might have been there once or twice, but the last time was last year I guess” you said and you shrugged your shoulders as you walked around your apartment trying to find a chocolate you just bought but forgot where you put it at.

Yes, you’ve visited this criminal several times and some of your teammates know it. After you were informed about why he started all of his demeanors, about his motivation, as a person who doesn’t have any family left and witnessed everything that happened at the battle of Sokovia with your own eyes, you strongly have sympathy for him. 

You see him as a man who let his emotions and anger take over his intelligent-self and just tried to do what he thought was right, what he thought it’ll make him feel better after he achieved it. And now that he succeeded his plan, deep down he still feels pretty empty. You can tell just  from looking at him in the eyes, even there’s a thick glass between. And you bet he had taken some steps back to see his work and spent some time with himself, thinking. And you know he could see it too. Nothing changed, his family is still gone. Only thing new to him is that he now has to spend years after years rotting in German prison, which allows him to have more time to think about his family and his past actions. He was about to go insane.

But thank god you went to visit him.

You started to visit him for the very first time after six months of the airport battle. Bringing him some books considering how boring he would feel behind bars. But you were quite confused when you saw that his cell is more superior than the others. Even though it may seem dark and lifeless like the other cells, his cell is a lot bigger compared to others. He also has privileges to read all the up-to-date newspapers and books given from the guards that he seems to  be paying extra for.

In the beginning, it was him who always started a conversation by questioning you. According to his genius mind’s calculation, he never expected any Avengers to visit him and especially to be this nice to him after what he had done, what he had caused. And clearly he was wrong, so he needed to know why you’re doing all of this since he thought he can never be wrong. Maybe you want to take revenge at him? Or could it be that you’re just really nice? 

“Why being so nice to me?” he asked directly, wanting to see your reaction to his action.

“I just feel bad for what happened to you” you didn’t lie but kept looking down to the ground to avoid his gaze on you. You’ve heard about his reputation, how good he is at manipulating and you didn’t want to be his another victim.

It took only a few more times of visiting him for you to realize that you unexpectedly bonded with your friends’ greatest enemy and surprisingly enjoy spending your time with him, he would always tell you stories from his many journeys, but still not the private ones. He never wanted to share any of his family’s memories with anyone and he intended to keep it that way.

After getting to know him a lot more than you should, you soon realized that he’s a Baron after all, a royalty, which answered your curiosity perfectly about why he can still access so many privileges even behind the bars. 

In return, you shared with him how you feel to be an Avengers, pressures and expectations you had received during that time. A hard decision you made that still haunts you in your sleep every night. 

You two sometimes share your opinion on books you bring to him. You went back to the prison countless times with a handful of snacks, sweets and books. That’s why he thinks you’re too nice, too good for him. 

Although he’s in prison, he still manages to spoil you with many presents that have been sent to your door time after time on  special days such as your birthday and Christmas. 

For Helmut, at first, these acts were only to return your kindness. At least that’s what he convinced himself since he doesn’t want to admit that he started to have feelings for you. He keeps telling himself he’ll never love again, but you make it hard for him.

And for you, no one has ever cared about you as much as he did. But still, you persuaded yourself he’s just a friend, a good friend. 

But when it came to the point that Zemo cannot lie to himself anymore, he decided to face the truth and deal with it in a very definitive way. He cut you off. Completely.

He added your name to the list of people he prohibited to visit him. You were heartbroken when you first found out but maybe it’s for the best that things didn’t go any further than this, you cajoled yourself. In the first few months, it was hard for you not to think of him, but now that it has been almost a year, you’re finally doing fine.

To clarify his action, his mind keeps telling him that after what he had done to you, he doesn’t deserve you. You deserve to be happy, to live your life with someone that’s not stuck in a prison like him. Someone as good as you. Not a state-criminal like him. Another reason for him would be because he doesn’t want anyone to replace his wife. Even after so many years she has passed away, she still holds a very special place in his heart and he would never want any memories with someone else to replace those precious memories he has left of her.

“And do you think it’s gonna be fine if he’s out of the prison?” Your eyes automatically blinked, starting to feel terrified by what Bucky just asked you.

“I... I... I don’t know, I can’t reassure you anything, I mean I believe that he’ll be useful to your case but he can be very manipulative so you must be careful when he’s out” You said what you could think of at that moment. You can never think straight when it comes to the Baron.

Bucky replied with silence for a moment but not too long until he continued the conversation and said “Wanna do your old friends a favor?” 

You know he wants you with them in case things go wrong with Zemo since you seem to be the one who knows him best compared to them. Also in Bucky and Sam’s aspect, your fighting and investigating skills would be really helpful to the team. And who knows what the new cap is about? So it’s clearly better to have you included in this little team.

“Sure..” To be honest, you’re quite afraid to face the Baron again but you can never say no to your friends and plus you want to do something in return for them since they always taking a good care of you, they’re like older brothers to you and you couldn’t let they go out there on their own knowing that you can help them.

“See you at the prison tomorrow then, I believe you know your way there already” Bucky replied before hanging up.

This is going to be a hell of a journey!

[stiltonbasket]

For the Age reversal AU: hey, what about the shit-show of the Jin Zixuan and Qin Su's engagement?

brief a/n: please consider reblogging if you like this ficlet, since the Age Reversal AU is entirely based on reader prompts!

Qin Su's mother never wanted her to marry Jin Zixuan.

In fact, that dubious honor was once meant to go to the first daughter of the Jiang sect, whenever one arrived. But Yu Ziyuan gave birth to a son not long after Jin-furen had hers, and the two boys took an oath of sworn brotherhood when Jiang Wanyin was five years old, still so small and shy that his mother had to bribe him to make him let go of his own brother and stand next to Jin Zixuan.

Even so, Madam Jin would have insisted her husband wait for Jiang Wanyin’s sister before betrothing her son. She would have, and she did; but that year Qin Cangye discovered a new gold mine within his territory, and Jin Guangshan came to visit his old friend, with his lips dripping with sympathy for the one fellow zongzhu that had no male heir to succeed him.

Qin Su’s father had no son, could never have a son, because he loved Qin Su’s muqin dearly, and she died delivering their only child and begged her husband never to consider a marriage alliance with Lanling before she drew her last breath. Qin Cangye upheld her wishes, dodging around all of Jin Guangshan’s veiled hints about uniting their two houses through their children--but then Jin Guangshan offered an amendment to a trading law that limited advantages for subsidiary sects with less reliance on the Jin clan, and Qin Su was engaged to Jin Zixuan on the latter’s sixth birthday.

There was no reason Mother could have had to be against such a thing, her father told her. Apparently Mother didn’t like Jin Guangshan very much--he had something of a reputation when it came to women--but surely that was stuff and nonsense, Father said. If he were, there would be claims of illegitimate children all through the Jianghu, and Qin Cangye has never heard of his best friend having a bastard child. And he had enough sway with Jin Guangshan to ensure that his daughter could come back to her natal home as often as she liked, so she could even live separately from her husband until he succeeded the current Jin-zongzhu.

And hence, Qin Su grew up as Jin Zixuan’s intended wife, trained and molded into the kind of bride a Jin man would like regardless of her own wishes in the matter. She has never been out in the sun without a parasol at formal events, never been allowed to hunt save at night to safeguard her lily-white skin, never allowed to appear in public without being draped in robes of more gold than cloth, bedecked with stitched peonies instead of the pink Laoling rose; and in the same vein, she was taught how to paint and dance and sing and host gatherings of varying sizes by the time she was twelve years old. She cultivates at Jin-furen’s insistence because Jin-furen wants a strong wife for her son, one who won’t die after giving birth to a daughter and leaving her husband without a legitimate heir like Mother did--for Qin Su is meant to continue Jin-furen’s own bloodline, and keep one of Jin Guangshan’s many nephews from becoming Jin Zixuan’s heir.

It would have been better if you engaged him to Ziyuan’s next child! Jin-furen roared, when Yu Ziyuan became pregnant with a daughter not long after the betrothal. There was no vigor in Tang Xia. In ten years of marriage, she had no children, and when she finally managed to bear a child it killed her! If the same happens with Zixuan--you should have waited for Ziyuan to have a girl, for she would have been as strong as her mother, and you would have secured your son’s future along with your own!

Qin Su still wonders if she was meant to hear that, though she supposes it hardly matters. Jin-furen approves of how well she cultivates, and grudgingly admits that she is as beautiful as her late mother, so perhaps they can live harmoniously as mother-in-law and daughter-in-law someday.

Jin Zixuan is nothing but awkward around her, but that hardly matters either. The moment he fathers a son with Qin Su, he is well within his rights to have nothing more to do with her.

“What are you saying, Qin-guniang? That--that’s horrible!”

Qin Su glances up, startled. She’s still not quite sure how she ended up telling Wen Qionglin all this, though he sensed her discomfort when the subject of her engagement came up in conversation and demanded to know the reason behind it.

Damn, she thinks, as Wen-gongzi leaps off the rock he was sitting on and wrings his hands, distraught. Why didn’t I leave it at saying I hated to flout my mother’s last wishes?

There was just something about Wen Qionglin--something that made her want to lay her deepest fears bare to him, and somehow made her so desperately proud of what power she has, since they are equals when they hunt together and no one, no Jin Zixuan nor Lan Wangji nor Jiang Wanyin can rival them. Qin Su is swift where Qionglin is steady, agile where he is strong enough to break stone where his bare hands, and their minds have worked in unison right from that very first night-hunt, when Qin Su sent an arrow through his guan in the dark and pinned the poor boy to a tree.

“It’s all right, Wen-gongzi,” she says, heart twinging at the anguish in her friend’s face. “I’ve had a lifetime to get used to it.”

“You deserve better!” he cries. “Maiden Su, you deserve so much better! Not--not that Zixuan is a bad sort, he’s not--but your in-laws don’t appreciate you, and he doesn’t love you, and you deserve--Su-guniang, you--”

Qin Su reaches out and takes his hand. It’s much bigger than hers, dry as paper, and suddenly she wonders--if only very briefly--what it might be like if she never had to let go.

“It’s all right,” she soothes. “I can hold my own with my in-laws, and Zixuan and I don’t dislike each other. It’ll be a much more...straightforward marriage than most.”

He meets her eyes, wet amber glaring into placid brown, and for a moment she thinks that his look like coals glowing in the heart of a bonfire.

“No, it won’t,” Wen Ning says at last. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”