#Luminous Establishment

[po-cky-o-o]

I present a very unnecessary analysis of the scaralumi talk before the big fight

First of all I love the way they both can see through each other. I think often times we overlook how good Lumi is at understanding the feelings of others - mostly because Paimon does most of the talking - but here we can see just how good she is at reading him since (I believe) this is the most she has ever talked in a quest. Scara believes he knows what he wants, but Lumi knows what he needs.

I like how he says this because it is true. We have been proven time and time again how Lumi cares about others, which is why despite her being enemies with Scara she can’t help but empathize with his situation.

But she’s not stupid, there’s where it comes the “almost” part. She is saying that as a way to try and stop his plans, not simply because she is worried about him and he knows that, but he still tries to convince her about him being, even though for a moment it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

Scara then moves on to say how his life has been meaningless up to this point, as if becoming a god is his only purpose and without it he is nothing. So he tried to understand why would Lumi bother going through such “futile errands” of protecting everyone.

But once again Lumi sees through him asking why then would he keep the connection with Haypasia (and consequently with Lumi herself). Even with his answer she is not convinced so he just deflects with his arrogance.

Not to mention how everything he says about Haypasia can also be applied to Lumine, since they both share a connection with him and saw his past. I find it interesting how he was able to sense Lumi and immediately entered her consciousness to observe her

Once again Lumi is able to figure him out and say what she needed to tick him off. He says how bad she is at sewing discord, but he still goes ahead and attacks the fatui calling it an “expression of affection”like he did for Haypasia, putting the two girls on the same wavelength

[ipcearn]

I wish the Traveller spoke more often

[angeltannis]

Microsoft buying Actiblizz, declaring they’ve surpassed 3 TRILLION DOLLARS in market value as a company, and then laying off 1900 devs and other little-guy positions is making me want to commit unspeakable acts

[bl4sphemy-archived]

hehe cheeky ship tags for my existing ships!

[hetacakes]

(Part 2 of white snake au)The moment is bittersweet because on one hand Xiao successfully rescued his wife and unborn child, on the other hand he ended up killing the very humans he’s supposed to protect including innocent civilians who got caught in the crossfire. Knowing Xiao he’ll accept any punishment from Zhongli, but Ying’s pleading with Zhongli has him decide to lock up Xiao in a pagoda instead. Xiao tells Ying to wait for him and he’s sorry he couldn’t watch their baby grow up together.

3/4

NOO I CAN ALREADY IMAGINE THIS PART

xiao and ying hugging and kissing for one last time before he gets locked away in the pagoda

ying not knowing if she'll ever see him again because she's all too aware of how insignificant her lifespan is compared to the eons and eons xiao and zhongli have seen

two lifetimes for her would be a minute for them

THE ANGST POTENTIAL I AM PERCEIVING 👁👁

[almonddirge]

Ever since the information at the end of the 3.2 archon quest that the Abyss twin is not classified as a Descender I’ve seen theories that perhaps they’re a clone of the original.

Broke: We have to choose which sibling is “the real one” and eliminate the other.

Woke: This is true and our sibling is dead, so we don’t have to ‘choose’ our real sibling and kill the other.

Bespoke: There is a clone and also the original is alive. Instead of fighting we just go “holy shit two siblings!” and become a merry group of three.

[tenebriism]

Been thinking about my Lumine's canon ending ( both for her Traveler Verse and her Abyss Princess Verse ), and as long as M/hyo doesn't swoop in and completely thrust everyone's canon projections into complete and utter disarray ( which, I'm sure they will, given their track record ), this is what I have so far :

In both verses, she will remain in Teyvat ( OR, if the Aether she is interacting with has a different plan, she will go with that one. ) Wherever Aether goes, she goes, basically.

If they remain in Teyvat, the teapot, obviously, will be her/their home.

Regardless of her verse, she will continue helping out all the realms with commissions, but she'll be way more involved post-Abyss Princess, compared to her Traveler Verse. Not only does she feel the need to make up for all the trouble she caused, but it's a good way of getting her acclimated to Teyvat-life.

Her CANON ROMANCE will be Xiao. Despite the many connections Lumine has made throughout her travels, Xiao is one of few who has come through for her multiple times, and one of even FEWER whom I heavily ship Lumine with. Given the Traveler is either immortal, or has an extremely long lifespan, I think Xiao would be the best fit given his own lengthy lifespan, even despite his karmic debt.

^ ^ ^ OBVIOUSLY, this will only apply if the mun of any Xiao blogs agree to this. Otherwise, it will not automatically apply. We don't do force shipping here.

I still haven't decided how old I want to make Lumine, so, for now, in her standalone verses with no outside Aether-esque influences, she'll be 18 in " human / Teyvat years " or whatever, lmao. Old enough to be considered a legal adult, but not quite old enough to get sloshed at Diluc's bar since M/hyo seems so . . . inconsistent with their ages. XD Just gonna play it safe until we get better information.

Will be edited as I see fit~

[roguelov]

Birthmark

Summary: Miguel discovered something he never noticed before on you: a birthmark, one specifically on your lower back side. At a single glance, a primal feeling started to burn inside of him. And there was only one way to satiate him.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used)

Warnings: SMUT (unprotected sex, doggy style, fingering, pull out/cumming on backside, voyeurism, manhandling, possessiveness, minor blood), some fluff, established relationship

MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY

The world drifted away, lost and nearly forgotten, as music poured out of your headphones. The soft luminance of the sun peered through the windows, wishing to greet everyone, to kiss their cheeks with its warm light on this early weekend morning. The simple apartment space was filled with an assortment of things - both the necessary to the unnecessary but well loved trinkets - to call it a shared home.

You weaved around the living room, delicately walking to not to disturb your sleeping partner in the bedroom a short distance away. It was one of those days, a day of waking up and wanting to clean the place. It wasn’t exactly dirty per se, but it was dusty and needed a little more care.

Off in the bedroom, behind the cracked door with the blinds still shut, a body laid sprawled out on the bed - the body of an overworked Miguel. The steady rise and fall of his chest stuttered. The even rhythm broke as consciousness slowly took hold. It wasn’t any noise that disturbed him. No. It was the lack of presence. It was the lack of your warmth, the lack of your arms wrapped around his waist, the lack of your soft breathing against his skin.

He craved it - needed it to always have a well rested night of sleep.

A low exhausted groan tumbled off his lips as he rolled over. He pushed himself up, and hunched forward on the edge of the bed. He sighed loudly. He rubbed the back of his neck at a small stiff ache. The world and all of its sensations slowly poured over him. The first to return was sound. His ears perked up. Out in the living room, you sang quietly under your breath.

A smile cracked onto his tired face.

Standing up, and stretching a bit, he shuffled out of the bedroom. He opened the door, and the world greeted him. Basking in the sunlight, you glowed this morning. He leaned into the doorway, watching you with a loving, tender gaze.

The living room was cluttered with cleaning supplies: a vacuum with its long cords snaking around, a duster tossed onto the table along with a rag and cleaning spray, and lastly an unlit candle for later to fill the air with such sweet aromas. Unaware of Miguel’s presence, you continued to sing softly and only a few words at a time. You moved around with a certain grace, you were guided by the music and bounced to the beat as you cleaned.

Miguel’s smile grew.

How did you become a part of his life? He almost didn’t deserve you, or so he believed. You were a beacon of light and life.

Of love.

He chuckled once, unable to contain his joy.

Still lost in your task, you bent forward, picking up a blanket randomly tossed onto the floor from the night before.

Instantly, Miguel’s laughter seized. Confusion, and something else, settled into his chest.

What -

You, however, stood upright again. His eyes narrowed trying to comprehend what he saw. He definitely saw something, he knew he did. But, what exactly was it? Well, technically he saw two things; two things which made his chest clench and his heart skip just a tad faster. Firstly, you weren’t wearing any underwear underneath your plain cotton shorts. But, there was something else. Something he never noticed before.

And he was intrigued and determined to know.

Walking up behind you, he placed a hand on your hip. You jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. Dropping the blanket, you spun around only for your minor panic to dissipate. You laughed and smiled at him. Your headphone slid off your head and dangled around your neck.

“Well, good morning to you too,” you cheekily said.

“What was that?”

Your face scrunched in confusion. “What was what?”

Miguel’s lips thinned. He turned his head, almost grumbling. His skin started to flush, and he strangely felt embarrassed. A little odd given the few months you had now been living together. “I … I saw something … like - like …”

You raised an eyebrow. Twisting your around, you searched over your body and clothes. “What? Is there a stain somewhere? A hole? A tear?”

“No,” he groaned, rolling his eyes more so at himself. Why couldn’t he say it? “Something here.”

He tentatively reached over. With a single finger, he very gently grazed over one of your bottom cheeks. Your eyes instantly dropped down to his finger. You blinked, still baffled by his odd behavior. You didn’t see a stain, it was just your shorts. Then it clicked. Realization flooded over your features, smoothing out the confused crease between your brows.

You cocked your head, trying to bite back your growing amusement, “Are you talking about my birthmark?”

“Birthmark?” He repeated, confused.

“Yeah, my birthmark.” You chuckled. “I thought you had seen it before, or I at least told you about it.”

Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. He couldn’t recall, but this certainly all felt like news to him.

“I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

“Well, yeah it’s always been there.” You picked up the blanket again. You kept your back to him as you refolded it. “I swore I told you before, it’s why I can’t wear certain things out. If I wear cotton shorts and they ride up, you’ll probably see it. The same goes for certain swimsuit bottoms. And if I wear white bottoms then there is a chance you’ll see it through depending on the fabric.”

As you started to move around again, placing the blanket into a basket beside the couch, Miguel’s eyes dropped. It was as if he was trying to burn a hole through your shorts to see it again - to see it properly.

Something was stirring inside of him, something he didn’t quite fully understand yet. He stepped forward. He wanted to see it, he needed to see it. His hands grabbed your hips, stopping you in place.

You jokingly rolled your eyes and smiled to yourself. He was certainly handsy this morning.

Was it handsy, or needy? Needy, yes. But, it wasn’t in the sweet innocent way you initially assumed. He wasn’t needy in the way he always wanted to close by, or comforted by having you in his grasp.

Oh no, you greatly miscalculated.

You snorted, “Can I help you -“

A gasp left your lips. Miguel had forcibly grabbed the bottom fabric of your shorts and yanked it up. His eyes immediately locked onto the birthmark - the very obvious birthmark that was nearly centered on your one cheek.

There it was. Plain as day.

You twisted your upper body, and quickly latched a hand around his wrist. Now, it was your turn to get flustered and embarrassed. “Okay, okay, you saw it, can you let go now?”

His eyes flickered up.

Oh. Oh no.

Your breath hitched, and your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.

His usual crimson eyes - the color of crisp ripe apples in the height of a chilly autumn, or the color of a bright lush rose given in secret to a lover - was gone. His pupils were blown wide, the darkness overtaking the lovely shade of red. They were black like the shirt of a priest who you should be praying with; they were black like the night where no one can see what sins were unfolding.

His thumb pressed firmly into your ass, into your birthmark.

“Miguel,” you whispered softly as your heart ticked faster and faster.

He dropped his head, nuzzling his face into your neck. His lips slowly brushed over your neck. You shivered. Ever so slowly, your initial surprise melted away. You lolled your head to the side, granting him more access. He always had this effect on you. One look, one touch, and soon you were putty in his hands.

Oh, he was losing himself. He didn’t know why, but this discovery riled him up. Maybe because this was like a secret, a secret only he was privy to.

His lovely little secret.

He groaned softly. His heart beat faster as he fell into this near animalistic passion - a primal frenzy. His talons slowly came out. He couldn’t - and wouldn’t - hold himself back any longer. One of his talons scraped over the birthmark.

You gasped at the minor spark of pain.

He smirked, and began to teasingly kiss your neck. A pepper of butterfly kisses that quickly shifted to heated opened mouth attacks as he bit and sucked on your now sensitive skin. He cupped your ass, giving it a rough, hard squeeze.

“Mine,” he murmured lowly into your neck.

One word.

One simple word.

And hell - all those forbidden yet heavenly sins locked away - was unleashed.

It happened all so quickly. He yanked you towards his chest. Lips collided. Tongues swirled together, drawing out beautiful sounds from each of you. Hands roamed over every curve and muscle. You were desperate for each other. You both always stoked such burning desires, such all consuming fires.

The next thing you knew, your shorts were pulled down and kicked aside along with Miguel’s sweatpants. You were immediately bent over the couch as Miguel finally slipped his cock inside your dripping folds.

You tried to hold back the obnoxiously loud cry of pleasure. Your forehead buried into your folded arms, which was supported by the backside of the couch. Your nails dug crescent shapes along your biceps.

Miguel sighed, tipping his head forward. He was panting heavily, unable to control him. God, you always drove him into such a state. He couldn’t think, he could only drown himself in the overwhelming and wondrous sensation of you. His hands happily - and downright couldn’t resist - kneaded and played with your ass. He squeezed harshly, and watched as your pliable fat pooled between his needy fingers.

Good lord.

He soon swore a string of curses under his breath in Spanish. He wanted to roll his eyes back. He wanted to completely lose himself. But, he also wanted to watch. So, he did. He watched hungrily as he pounded into you. Most importantly, he watched his thumb continue to dig fiercely into your birthmark.

A moan hummed in the back of your throat.

His eyes sparkled with such sinful delight. It was like a secret button. His secret button. His talon teasingly traced the shape of it. Then his thumb pushed further into your birthmark, enjoying the sounds you were making. He shuddered. Fueled by your responsiveness, he felt his fangs elongate as he moaned. Oh, he wanted to bite it, he wanted to mark it. Dare he say, he wanted to carve his initial into it.

His.

All his.

He gripped your hips harshly, digging his talons into your skin. Small pricks of blood swelled up under his deathly grip. Bruises and sores would most definitely appear later. He picked up his pace. It was sloppy and ruthless. The sounds were so loud, and so delightful: his hips slapping into your ass, his thick cock pummeling into you, his low groans mixing with your more high pitched ones.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, letting out a muffled whine. You buried your face into your arms, trying to silence how loud you were becoming. Desperate and needy, you soon grinded back into him, meeting his pace.

Miguel hissed, “Ah, cariño, nuevamente. Again, do that again.”

You obeyed without hesitation. You pushed back into him, moaning as his cock stretched you further. Your walls greedily clamped around him, sending him into a frenzy.

He moaned, and nearly slumped forward. He paced one hand on the backside of the couch, keeping himself upright. While, his other hand wrapped firmly around your hips. His hot breath fanned over your sweaty neck. Growling, he was furiously humping into you.

Your eyes rolled back. Fuck. You loved when he was like this, when he used you. You loved when he let himself go. And the best and worst thing was you wouldn’t last much longer. He was deliciously relentless.

You moaned, “Miguel -“

“I know,” he gritted his teeth. His voice rumbled near your ear. You shivered. Your walls fluttered around him. You were quickly nearing your end. And he knew it. “Let go, please. Oh, please, let me feel it.”

He uprighted himself, and gripped your hips again. You tried to match his pace, you tried to keep up, but you couldn’t. He mercilessly pounded into you. He moved your hips for you, he knew what you wanted and needed.

And that was it.

In a few more thrust, you cried out, gushing around him. Miguel swiftly pulled out. You whined. Yet, two of his fingers quickly plunged back inside. Your disappointment melted away as you moaned out again. Your mind went fuzzy in absolute pleasure. He kept pumping into you, overworking you. You squirmed as your legs began to shake.

“Miguel,” you mumbled, almost like a sob.

“Shhh, I know, I got you.”

With his other hand, he started to pump himself. Feeling you around his fingers, hearing your whines and delightful wet noises of his fingers slipping in and out of you, seeing your body shake with overstimulation, he spilled all over your backside.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you weakly hissed out.

He laughed once, a short breathy laugh. He pulled out his fingers. He paused for a moment, admiring your juices covering his fingers: the way it dripped down, the way it glistened in the light, and oh the way could feel his mouth water at the thought of tasting it.

And he had a little idea. An idea which had been stirring since the beginning.

He wiped his fingers clean over your ass, directly over your birthmark.

You groaned softly, still slumped forward over the couch. You focused more on trying to catch your fleeting breath. Your body still buzzed from the wondrous aftermath. Sighing deeply, you closed your eyes, thinking it was finally over.

Until something swiped across your ass. Specifically, Miguel’s tongue. Miguel licked up once, and cleaned up yours and his cum over your birthmark. He moaned at the taste. And, for an extra measure he teasingly, and gentle as he fangs would let him, nipped the birthmark.

Your body jolted at the sensation. A loud, almost pornographic, moan fell over your lips. “Jesus Christ,” you hissed.

He chuckled.

Miguel carefully stood you up, and turned you around. With still shaky legs, you completely fell into his chest exhausted. He wrapped an arm around your waist to support you. His smile softened, seeing the state he had brought you to. With his free hand, he gently cupped your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

You hummed softly, and gave him a tired lopsided smile.

“Let’s clean you up,” Miguel whispered. His finger traced down your cheek, and along your jaw. He tipped your chin up. His lips brushed over yours again. His sweetness then vanished. A devious smirk crossed on his lips. His hand fell from your waist, and squeezed your ass again. “I’m still not done with you yet.”

[ataliagold]

Flowers In Your Hair

For @astrangersummer week 3 prompt 'flowers'. Title from Flowers In Your Hair by The Lumineers.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1249

Tags: Post Series 4 Volume 2, Everyone Lives, Established Steddie, Fluff, Soft Steve Harrington, Steve Loves Yellow Flowers, Eddie Loves Steve, El and Max are best friends, summer, this is just softness

Summary: Eddie enlists some help to find the perfect flowers for Steve. Despite his own insecurities, Eddie is learning that his boyfriend loves soft things.

___

“Robin, what kind of flowers does Steve like?”

Eddie was draped over the Family Video counter, having stolen the barely-working desk fan air flow for himself.

Robin paused where she was rifling through the box of returned tapes to give him a confused look. “Flowers? Really?”

Eddie threw up a hand, then regretted it, because that had taken far too much effort in the stifling heat. “What? You think a man can’t buy flowers for another man? You judging me, Buckley?”

Robin scoffed. “No. Just…why flowers?”

“It’s romantic!” Eddie whined. “We have a date tonight and Steve loves that stuff. He might not say it, but he does. On Valentine’s Day I got him chocolates and roses and you should’ve seen his face, honestly if we hadn’t been in public I probably would’ve got on my knees there and then -”

Robin leaned over and slapped a hand across his mouth. “Jesus, enough.”

Eddie grinned behind her hand, and poked his tongue out to touch Robin’s palm.

She snatched it away with a shout, fake gagging behind the counter. “Munson, that was disgusting.”

Eddie shrugged. “You love me, though.”

“Steve loves you,” Robin corrected. “And so, by extension, I’m unfortunately forced to too.” She smiled a little, taking any sting out of her words. “Seriously though, the kids are over there, watch your mouth.” She dipped her head towards the sci-fi section, where Dustin and Mike were loudly arguing over which tape to rent for their next movie night. Max and El were hanging back, Max eagerly trying to explain a movie synopsis to El. Whatever it was, it sounded violent, and El looked confused.

Eddie leaned further over the counter, letting the weak breeze from the fan flick his hair around. “Help me?” he asked, batting his eyes at Robin.

She screwed up her nose a little before responding. “Honestly, I don’t know. You said you got him roses before, right? Did he like those?”

“Well, yeah, but I think he liked the gesture more than anything else.”

Robin shrugged. “Just get him anything, then. It’s from you, so he’ll love it.”

“But I want to get his favourite,” Eddie lamented. “He deserves the best.”

“Well, I agree with you there.”

“Eddie?”

A small voice sounded behind him, and Eddie summoned the energy to turn his head. El was standing behind him, looking a little shy.

“Yeah, supergirl?”

“You wanted to know Steve’s favourite flowers?”

Eddie slid off the counter a bit, straightening up. “Yeah, I do.”

El glanced between him and Robin for a moment. “Steve used to help me and Max with our hair. When mine was longer, we would make daisy chains and Steve braided them into my hair, he even let us put them in his sometimes. We tried to use other flowers sometimes but they did not stay together very well. But Steve’s favourites are yellow ones.”

And that…made sense, Eddie supposed. Yellow was Steve’s favourite colour, after all, but Eddie wasn’t sure where to find yellow flowers. He couldn’t afford much at the florist, and what flowers were yellow, anyway? Sunflowers? Where the hell would he get those?

Robin tugged his sleeve, pulled Eddie back to the counter so she could lean over and whisper, “The Klines have yellow roses growing by their fence.”

“The old Mayor?” Eddie asked with a frown.

“Yup.”

A smile slowly spread across his face.

“There are marigolds by the school field,” El added. “And yellow violas and tulips by the cabin. I can show you.”

And that was how, a short time later, Eddie was snapping off fragrant yellow roses at the stalk where they were poking out between the stark white pickets of Larry Kline’s fence. Max and El were standing further down the footpath, acting as lookouts while Eddie huddled by the fence and took his quarry as quickly as he could.

At the first surprised shout from inside the fence, he darted away, collecting the girls with a grin as he ran past them.

He threw back his head and laughed, roses clutched in his warm hand, Max beaming beside him.

“That guy’s an asshole,” she told Eddie as they jogged away from the house. “Serves him right.”

They couldn’t move too quickly – Max’s bones had healed, but she wasn’t exactly up to a sprint across town just yet. But they made it to Eddie’s van parked around the corner, and moved on to their next stop.

Just like that, Eddie spent the afternoon traipsing along with the two girls. El showed him where to find all sorts of different flowers, and Max went along because where El went, she went. It was hot, the sun baking them from above in a cloudless sky, but Eddie didn’t care – this was for Steve.

By the time they were finished, Eddie had gathered a large handful of flowers in all different shades of yellow and orange, and the girls had wrapped them in some plastic procured from Hopper’s cabin and poured some water into the bottom to keep them fresh in the summer heat.

“There,” El told him proudly, handing over the bouquet while Max tried to find some ribbon in a drawer to tie around it. “They’re pretty. Like Steve.”

Eddie spluttered a little at El’s directness. “Oh…yeah. Yeah, they are. He is.”

El nodded. “Max often says so, too.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Max yelled from El’s room.

Eddie smirked, because the girl’s little crush on his boyfriend was no secret. “It’s ok Max, I agree with you.”

Max stomped back towards them, slapped a length of gold ribbon into Eddie’s hands, and then took El’s arm and pulled her back towards the room.

Effectively dismissed, Eddie returned to his trailer to rush through a shower and getting changed, barely with enough time left to get to Steve’s before their dinner plans.

Waiting in front of his boyfriend’s door, Eddie passed the bouquet from hand to hand, a little nervous.

This is stupid.

Steve Harrington, former jock supreme, once-captain of the basketball team, nail-bat wielding badass wasn’t going to appreciate some yellow flowers.

Eddie almost turned tail. Almost tossed the flowers into the back of his van to be dealt with later, almost gave in to the nerves in his stomach.

Almost.

Because there was a softness to Steve that Eddie was learning to know and love. It was in the way he treated the kids, the way he gently held Eddie’s hand, the way he baked cookies when his friends were coming over and apparently braided flowers into the girls’ hair.

Eddie took a deep breath, clutched his yellow flowers, and knocked on the door.

It opened after a moment.

“Eds, hey, sorry I just gotta get my shoes on -” Steve trailed off as he took in the sight of Eddie standing there, flowers gripped in shaky hands.

Eddie cleared his throat, held out the bouquet. “For you. If, um…if you want them. Sorry if it’s stupid, I wanted to get you something but I couldn’t afford much and El told me you liked yellow flowers so I spent the afternoon going around town and finding them, and the roses actually involved some petty theft but -”

Steve took the flowers with one hand, and pulled Eddie through the door with the other, lips seeking his mouth and swallowing the rest of his sentence.

When they finally pulled apart, Eddie smiled shyly. “You like them, then?”

“I love them, Eds.”

___

[willowbelle]

Silver Coin

law & showering together

❤︎ trafalgar law x reader ❤︎ (no pronouns mentioned) 𖤐₊˚.༄ (fluff, suggestive, 18+ only) 𖤐₊˚.༄

cw/summary: law helps you shower after an exhausting day. established relationship. showering together, law washes you, kissing, reassurance, suggestive, fluff, fluff, fluff. poetic. sweet law.

word count: 1,200

tagging: @bby-deerling @risenwrites @strawheart-pirate @uchihabbynic @nina-ya @mandiemegatron@shamblespirate@eelnoise@maddddstuff @lowkeycasanova @stuckinthewrongworld @laylaloves-ed @leftladyluminary

Silver Coin

Beneath the starlit sky, the balcony atop the Polar Tang becomes your silent sanctuary, a haven of tranquility amidst the vastness of the frigid ocean. Exhaustion weighs heavy upon your shoulders, like lead on your limbs. Yet, as you stand beneath the soft glow of the moon, its luminous presence brings a unexpected comfort that eases the weariness from your bones.

The sound of the sub slicing through the icy waters below is a constant murmur; the gentle rhythm of waves lulling your weary heart to a state of calm.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his warmth enveloping you like some sort of protective cloak. He wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you close, and together you gaze up at the moon, its soft glow casting a gentle light upon your faces.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he whispers, his breath warm against your ear, “That silver coin in the sky?”

You nod in agreement, a small smile gracing your lips as you lean back into his embrace.

Soon enough, the exhaustion comes, heavy and relentless. Your limbs ache and your eyelids droop with weariness; even the simple act of standing becomes a herculean task. 

If he weren’t there, you feel as though you’d fall. 

"Are you okay?" he murmurs, his voice filled with concern as he senses your fatigue.

You manage a weak nod, your voice barely a whisper as you reply, "Just tired. It's been a long day."

He tightens his embrace, offering silent reassurance as you lean more heavily into him, seeking refuge from the overwhelming exhaustion that threatens to consume you.

"I understand," he whispers softly, “Would you like me to help you wash up before bed?”

You manage a tired smile, "That would be wonderful.”

With gentle hands, he guides you towards the bathroom, his touch a comforting anchor in the sea of your weariness. 

----

Law takes a moment to light a few candles, their flickering flames casting a soft, golden glow across the bathroom. He reaches over to turn off the harsh overhead lights, leaving only the warm illumination of the vanilla wax to guide your way.

The warmth of the shower beckons, promising relief from the ache in your bones and the fog in your mind. With a gentle touch, Law turns on the water, adjusting the temperature until it's just right. 

Stepping in together, you shed the burdens of the day.

As the warm water cascades over your tired form, you feel the weight of exhaustion begin to melt away, replaced by a soothing sense of comfort. You lean into Law, grateful for his strong arms that encircle you, offering support and solace in equal measure.

"I've got you," he murmurs softly, his voice a gentle reassurance in the quiet of the bathroom.

Feeling his arms around you, and the reassurance in his tone, you let out a small sigh of relief, "Thank you.”

As the tension in your muscles begins to loosen, the cares of your troubles fade into the background, trading places with something new--intimacy, vulnerability.

With a silent invitation, you tilt your head back slightly, drawing Law closer to you. Responding to your unspoken request, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

You respond equal fervor, your lips moving in sync like a silent dance.

“Mm, Law,” you whine softly.

You’re so close its as if your hearts are beating as one--allconsuming, intertwined.

His hands roam gently over your skin, tracing the contours of your body with a foreign tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. 

Beneath the gentle spray of the shower, his touch ignites a fire within you, melting away any remnants of fatigue.

"I love you," Law whispers against your lips, his voice filled with sincerity.

As the kiss deepens, you find yourself lost in the moment, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his lips on yours. In the quiet intimacy of the bathroom, surrounded by the soothing sound of water cascading around you, there is nothing else left to say but,

“I love you,” you smile against his mouth.

Moments later, he takes a sponge in his tattooed hand, lathering it with soap before trailing it over your skin. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he washes away the dirt and fatigue of the day, his movements slow and deliberate.

"You're so tense," he murmurs.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself to relax into his touch, the tension in your muscles melting away beneath his ministrations. Each stroke of the sponge is like a gentle caress, igniting a spark of warmth deep within your soul.

As he reaches up to wash your back, you feel a shiver run down your spine, the sensation both soothing and electrifying. His touch is intimate, yet reverent, a silent declaration of his love for you.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Law.”

“I’m not done, yet,” he chuckles softly against your nape, “Need to wash that hair of yours.”

With gentle hands, he guides you under the spray of the water, his fingers massaging shampoo into your hair with a new type of tenderness. 

As his fingers work through your hair, you feel the knots and tangles begin to loosen, the sensation of his touch both soothing and invigorating. 

You lean into his touch, relishing in the intimacy of the moment as he tends to you with such care and attention. His hands move with a practiced ease, each movement deliberate and precise, and it makes you chuckle to yourself; his meticulous doctor title never falters. 

You hum softly, melting into him, “That feels good, Law.”

He smiles in response, his eyes filled with affection as he continues to work the shampoo through your hair. "I'm glad," he replies softly.

As he rinses away the suds, you feel a sense of lightness wash over you, as if that lead weight has been lifted from your shoulders. It’s a simple pleasure, but one you wouldn’t trade for anything; being cared for by the man you love. 

With a gentle beckon, Law guides you out from beneath the showerhead, the warmth of the water gradually subsiding as he wraps you in a fluffy towel. 

You lean into his touch, relishing in the tenderness of his embrace. "That shower was exactly what I needed," you admit.

He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

"Anything for you," he replies softly.

----

Law gently helps you into your pajamas before taking your hand and leading you back to your shared bedroom. As you settle into the sheets, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.

"Just close your eyes and relax. I'll hold you all night," he whispers softly.

With his comforting words, you allow yourself to surrender to the embrace of sleep, the gentle swaying of the sub lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Despite the aches,

the pains that weigh heavy,

And the days that won’t end,

You find solace in knowing you will always have Law,

To wash away your burdens,

And love you for all that you are

under the watchful gaze of the silver moon.

[wonders-of-the-cosmos]

Webb Reveals Colors of Earendel, Most Distant Star Ever Detected

Discovered by Hubble, Earendel is the farthest star ever detected. It existed in the first billion years after the big bang! The James Webb Space Telescope now shows it to be a massive B-type star, more than twice as hot as our Sun and about a million times more luminous. It’s only detectable thanks to its alignment with a galaxy cluster between Earendel and us. The cluster’s gravity bends light, magnifying what is behind it — in the case of a star-sized object like Earendel, by a factor of at least 4000. Based on the colors of the light of Earendel, astronomers think it may have a cooler companion star. 

Webb is also able to see other details in Earendel’s host galaxy, the Sunrise Arc — the most highly magnified galaxy yet detected in the universe’s first billion years. Those features include both young star-forming regions and older, established star clusters as small as 10 light-years across.

Credit: NASA

[oepionie]

— "HIS COMPLETE DEVOTION" malleus draconia

SYNOPSIS: "Don't touch me! I have a lover!" - After accidentally getting hit in the head with a powerful spell, Malleus is left delirious and confused. You try to help him but he doesn't seem to recognize you.

Character/s: Malleus Draconia x GN! Reader

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Malleus is a loyal dragon, Reader is part of the gargoyle appreciation club, Mentions of nausea, He keeps a locket of you aww

A/N: This prompt/idea was requested by a friend!

WordCount: 800+ | 💌Masterlist | PART II HERE

Green lightning began to strike and forsake the grey sky. Every student on campus could hear the wind howling through the thick dripping rain, a sinking feeling of dread permanating through the atmosphere.

The aged concrete walls shook from a shrill scream, the anguished cry echoing out through the hundred chambers in the castle.

"YOUNG MASTER!" Sebek drove his fingers into his scalp, screaming as thick tears dribbled down his flushed face. From his reaction, you'd think he was the one who got hurt instead.

Lilia tutted and carefully inspected Malleus' head. The young prince was laying on the ground writhing in pain. Lillia pressed his thumb against the dragon's temple, examining the Fae's reaction.

Sebek and Silver surrounded the two, ensuring that no one could get past them. Malleus was in a vulnerable state right now, he had to be protected at all costs.

"The spell was quite powerful however it's not serious. Other than some temporary mental confusion, he should be fine." Lilia muttered, helping Malleus stand up. The young prince stumbled around for a bit, almost as if he was intoxicated.

"Malleus!" You threw the doors to the dorm open, running over to the group. It's only when you got closer did you notice your lover's spinning eyes, glazed over as he blinks at the blank concrete floors. Worried out of your mind, you rushed over to him.

"Tsunotarou! I heard what happened…are you okay?" The fae appeared a little puzzled. You stood before him and he fixed his gaze on you, confused and...disgusted?

With a hint of hesitance, you reached your hands up to cup his cheeks. Only to gasp when Malleus glowered and grasped onto your wrists, ripping your hands off of his face.

Silence fell over the room as he dropped his grip on your arms, allowing them to hang limply by your sides. Everyone gawked at Malleus as if he had just grown two heads.

Malleus? Malleus rejected your affection? The Malleus who waits outside your dorm an hour before classes just to walk you to school? The Malleus who once caused a week-long storm just because he couldn't sit next to you in class? Your Malleus?

You felt your heart sink. They say drunk words were sober thoughts. Did Malleus secretly despise you?

"Listen here-" Malleus snarled, his unfocused eyes flashing a luminous emerald green. The radiance and illumination hypnotizes you for a while. A kaleidoscope of green and blue swirling around the gems that were his eyes.

"No matter how alluring you look-you can't tempt me. I-" Malleus lurched forward, nearly falling over. You ran to catch him but he pushed you away, stepping back blindly. He raised a finger at you. "I-I already have a lover!"

"Yes-That's…me?" You blinked, confused out of your mind.

Malleus only scoffs at you, shakily taking a few steps towards the entrance. It was clear that his head still shook and ached from the spell's blow. Sebek was quick to stop him, holding Malleus steady. "Young Master! Where are you going?!"

"To my-my treasure. My darling prefect." Malleus slurred, leaning against Sebek for support. He continued his rambling. "It's Thursday- We have a club meeting."

"Tsuno-I mean-Malleus, today is Tuesday." You piped up, pressing a hand against his back. With shaky legs, he pushed Sebek off and turned to glare at you.

"Silence. It is not."

Lilia laughs hysterically, doubling over and grabbing onto his knees. Oh, this was comedy gold for him. Shaking his head at his father, Silver strode up to Malleus and placed his hand on the young prince's shoulder.

"Malleus, you're still delirious. Why don't you sit down."

Both Silver and Sebek started to guide the woozy fae onto the couch. You followed suit, taking a pillow and placing it under his head. He turned to face you, his head spinning, a loopy snarl and glare on his face.

"I...I already told you- I have a lover." He groans into his hands, nausea washing over him like waves.

The fae begins frantically rummaging through his pocket. He yanks out a little locket in the form of a heart, holding it up for you to look at. He hands it to you with an arrogant smirk on his face.

"See?"

"O-Oh?"Gently taking it into your hands, you flipped the metal cover over to see a picture of you inside.

It was a photo from your very first anniversary. You were wearing a flower crown made with roses Malleus grew himself, it was one of the many gifts he gave you that day.

Though only your head and neck could be seen in the picture since his coat had almost completely engulfed you. It was a chilly day and Malleus graciously lent you his coat after you had forgotten to wear one.

You stared at the photo fondly, shutting it close before handing the necklace back to the fae.

"Your partner must be lovely." You whisper softly and Malleus sighs, lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling lovingly.

"Oh. They are much more than that."

PART II | Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

[flawseer]

Jade Mountain Academy students

#1 - Seawing chapter

Part one of my attempt to draw all the students of Jade Mountain Academy. Keep in mind that a lot of these have virtually no usable character information available beyond one or two short quotes, especially the poor sods in the copper and quartz winglets. That means some of this data is going to be made up and will likely conflict with any established popular headcanons. Just trying to make sense of this for myself.

With that out of the way:

Turtle, Prince

Tribe - Seawing

Winglet - Jade

Color - Jade green

Relatives - Princess Tsunami (sister), Princess Anemone (sister)

Clawmate(s) - Umber (Mudwing)

Favorite subject - Literacy

Least fav. subject - Exercise

Physical characteristics - luminous markings: large, polygonal, interlocking; royal wing markings; average size, slightly overweight

Other characteristics - socially subdued, low confidence

Pike

Tribe - Seawing

Winglet - Gold

Color - Lapis blue

Relatives - Barracuda (cousin)

Clawmate(s) - Bigtail (Nightwing), Flame (Skywing)

Favorite subject - Cultural Exchange

Least fav. subject - Science

Physical characteristics - luminous markings: small to medium size, jagged; minor scarring; unusually small stature, lean and wiry

Other characteristics - unusual attachment to Princess Anemone, socially aggressive (suggest counseling), prone to self-injury (suggest monitoring)

Anemone, Princess

Tribe - Seawing

Winglet - Silver

Color - Baby blue

Relatives - Princess Tsunami (sister), Prince Turtle (brother)

Clawmate(s) - Ostrich (Sandwing)

Favorite subject - Exercise

Least fav. subject - History

Physical characteristics - rings of petal-shaped patches around eyes; royal wing markings; pink accents in wings and webs; small stature, average weight

Other characteristics - animus wielder (necessitates close behavioral monitoring), socially domineering (possible maladaptive coping response, suggest counseling)

Snail

Tribe - Seawing

Winglet - Copper

Color - Seafoam green

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Alba (Icewing), Mindreader (Nightwing)

Favorite subject - Exercise

Least fav. subject - History

Physical characteristics - curly horns; luminous markings sharp and vibrant; strong hindlegs, stature and build otherwise average

Other characteristics - fastest swimmer

Barracuda

Tribe - Seawing

Winglet - Quartz

Color - Violet blue

Relatives - Pike (cousin)

Clawmate(s) - Mightyclaws (Nightwing)

Favorite subject - did not disclose

Least fav. subject - did not disclose

Physical characteristics - luminous markings sharp and jagged; dark stripe patterns on neck scales; large stature

Other characteristics - socially outgoing, most enigmatic

[hana-no-seiiki]

ARDENT EXALTATION, ETERNAL DAMNATION

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere worshipper! x secret god! reader (ft. yan! god oc)

inspired by my bootiful @sagesskies n baldur’s gate shar/shadowheart

synopsis: if there was one main rule under your creed, it was for your name and titles thereof to never be spoken. but for this worshipper, it’s all that leaves his lips.

tw/cw: yandere & religious themes. yun sadist hours writing. reader calls oc their child but it’s not incest yall ples. character deaths.

TO WORSHIP YOU WAS THE GREATEST HONOR ONE COULD RECEIVE. An honor never to be shared nor declared. Selfishness and secrecy were the traits you valued in your followers. You simply felt that flaunting your presence to be superfluous, if not arrogant — thoughtless. A flaw you often saw in other gods that you wished not to have in yourself.

But of course, you were not perfect. No matter how much you may wished to be, even gods had their failures and oversights.

Once such oversight was Ynaël. The Prodigy, Priest of the Night, and your favorite.

He was immaculate. A perfect example of what it meant to worship you. He dedicated his voice, body, and soul only to you. No one knew his name but yourself. No one else knew he even existed. Those that did were sundered from existence, or lived in the afterlife.

You had only the highest of expectations for your child. He had an outstanding beginning. Unprecedented in your long, well hidden line of followers. You called for his name often. Assisted him in the ways you could as a deity in his adventures. Even allowing him to lay with you underneath the stars as mortals and your more carnal siblings did with their creations.

But as mortal beings and gods alike were, when faced with such high praise, it was inevitable for hubris to fester and slowly creep up on him.

He overstepped.

Sharing his devout adoration to his companions. Showering you with praise as he fought. Spreading your transcendent name throughout the very soil he stepped upon, and the crevices of bodies he’d desecrate.

What more was that he was proud of his accomplishments. You deserved to be known. To be remembered and immortalized. To share the spotlight your fellow celestial beings had. Was it not only right that you praise him even more?

But then, he could feel your presence slowly dimming in its luminance.

You never had a temple built to your name, so he could only ponder at night when everyone else had gone off to sleep or have fun underneath the sheets to wonder why you’ve seemingly left him. Was he too harsh? You were known for valuing mercy and forgiveness, the ability to show compassion even to the most tainted beings. Besides, you would never just leave him behind.

Frustrated with your lack of response to his calls, he sets upon a goal to build you a place for worship. One that was overdue in its establishment, in his opinion.

It took many, many agonizing years without a single word from you, but it was finally complete.

He takes a moment to gaze at the statue of your magnificent form he place behind the altar, soon to be covered with sacrifices and blessings. Anything you’d ask for, just as long as you bless him once more with yourself.

But instead, he is greeted by another presence.

A presence very similar to yours. Yet much, much more powerful.

Their voice almost tore Ynaël’s ears wide open in its magnitude.

“You killed them, you — a worthless scum of a mortal.”

Killed whom? Throughout his years working on your temple he had taken no life. He wanted everything to be completed as soon as possible. He had no time for any sorts of conquests.

“Meet your maker.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

— to be continued

[sprout-fics]

Whumptober Day Four: Shock

(Captain John Price x GN! Reader)

(Whumptober Masterlist TBA)

Rating: PG-13 Wordcount: 1.2k Tags: Blood/Injury, Whump, Established Relationship, Near Death Experiences, Hurt/Comfort, Shock, Blood Loss, Medical Inaccuracies Likely Warnings: Explicit Mention of Injury/Gore

The world is still ringing in your ears when you open your eyes. The searing, scorching Uzbekistan sun burns against the inside of your eyelids, and you try to raise a hand to blot out the brightness, only to discover a horrible, aching heaviness that weighs it down. There’s noise all around you, gunfire, distant explosions that shake the earth, and in your mouth you taste dirt, grit, smoke, iron. 

A voice breaks through the fog, and you dazedly turn your head towards it, body too heavy, senses desperately trying to clear. It’s familiar, you think, and as you search for the moments before this, the voice of your captain thunders through your thoughts and robs you of all remaining bewilderment.

“GET DOWN!!”

The whistle of an incoming mortar, your hands stretching as they shoved him clear, the thud against your senses that paved the way to darkness. 

You lift your head now that you're awake, and it takes almost all your strength to do so. Gaze turning, your focus on your arm, take in the mangled, horrible mess of your flesh laden with shrapnel. Red oozes out along your side, decorates your uniform in sickening scarlet. 

It’s only then that the pain sets in. 

You scream at the sudden whiplash of it, voice garbled with your confusion and fear. There’s a horrible, icy wash across your limbs, one that feels so at war with the afternoon summer heat above you.

A hand seizes your vest strap, and you choke out a sobbing, broken cry as you’re dragged through the dirt, leaving an abstract smear behind your mangled arm. 

“Stay with me, soldier!” A voice above you bellows, and you try to crane your head to see him, your captain. There’s a veil of dust and smoke that shields him, but it parts for just a moment so you can see his face. There, you see the tight draw of his brow, the thin line of his mouth, and the glint in his eyes that speaks of fury, fear.

The pain is blinding, and you feel tears already threaten to overfill your gaze, trapping Price behind a watery filter that obscures his expression of dread. Your free arm reaches up to grasp at his sleeve, further anchoring you as he drags you through the dirt and sand to behind a small rise that shelters you from the ongoing battle. 

There’s a broken sort of whimper that bubbles up your throat when Price allows you to lay back flat on the ground- one that startles into a scream as he hoists your arms up into his lap.

“I know, I know, love.” He rasps, balancing your arm across his leg and hands working quickly to secure a tourniquet across your upper bicep. “We have to stop the bleeding. Try to stay still.”

How can you? It hurts. It hurts like nothing else you’ve ever experienced before. You can’t stand it, can’t stand the festering taste of iron, the horrific peirce of metal in your skin, the slow churning of your guts that rise quickly to the overwhelming agony of your arm being flayed open. The world spins dizzy around you, a luminous haze of sensation and color with only the face and voice of Price to keep you steady. 

It’s so hot. The sun blazes down from the pale blue sky, seems to provide a nauseating imbalance to the chilled grip of primordial fear that seizes you at the sight of your own blood seeping gluttonously into the soil. There’s a tickle of memory in your mind at the sensation, at a mission to the Arctic circle aboard a U.S. submarine. You’d gotten seasick, and Price had stroked your spine as you emptied the contents of your stomach into one of the sub’s tiny toilets. 

You tell him as much, or at least you think you do, lips moving but words slurred. Price snaps his attention to your, and your vision wavers to reveal the pinch of confusion across his face before his gaze sharpens suddenly. You see it for all a moment before you can no longer keep your eyes open, head lolling limply into the dirt. 

A hand seizes your shoulder in a rough grip, and the shake he gives you is enough to clear the growing haze from your brain, make you realize how violently you’re shaking. 

“Eyes OPEN.” He growls, dark and furious in a way that betrays his fear. You force your eyes open, and realize for the first time that Price looks pale.

“Talk to me, love.” He snaps at you as he works on your arm, reaching for the medkit in his pack. 

“About?” You manage somehow, brow scrunching in confusion.

“Anything.” He replies gruffly. “You’re going into shock. You need to stay awake.”

Shock. That would explain a lot. It’s a dull realization hidden behind layers of pain and confusion. You try to fight your way through it, like trying to move against a riptide that tries to force you out to sea.

“I still haven’t seen that movie.” You try, biting down on a groan as Price jabs a morphine shot into your shoulder. “The one with the…the cheesy love story you hate.”

Price huffs, and you turn your head just a bit to see a tense, odd sort of smile that splays across his lips, under his beard.

“The one with the love triangle.” He tells you, shushes you when you yelp as he turns your arm over to inspect the other side. “And the bloke with the pub.”

“Y-yeah. That one.” You slur back, muscles tense as the morphine shot slowly works through you. It does nothing to quell the tremor in your limbs, and you wonder for a moment if it’s an earthquake, if somehow these mountains will tremble and crack down onto you both. 

Your eyes shutter, the cool relief of morphine soothing your veins and making your head loll limply. 

“Love. Love, look at me.”

Price’s bloody glove settles under your jaw, forces you to look at his face hovering above your own. His eyes mirror the pale blue sky above. You didn’t realize until now what a beautiful day it is. 

“We’re going to get out of here.” He breathes to you. “We’re going to get out and I’m going to take you home. We’ll watch whatever you want. Anything. Just stay awake, yeah?”

It’s an anchor. A rope. A tether to hold fast to even as the world pulses with agony and a sickening, feverish haze. You hold to it, hold to him, to the image of falling asleep on his shoulder as the TV hums forgotten in the background.

You nod, and when it doesn’t feel like enough you force yourself to speak. “Yeah. Yeah, John. I’m awake. I’m with you.”

“There you go.” He smiles, and the tenderness in his eyes is so strangely departed from the ongoing firefight beyond you both. 

He kisses you then, a small peck to your sweaty brow, and you force a wavering smile, hold fast to that too, in the midst of violence that colors both your lives. 

[prowlingz]

ღ Atta' Girl ღ

⚜ Captain John Price x AFAB Reader ⚜ - No use of y/n | Second Person Perspective | ღ - wc - 1.3k | ღ - ✪ WARNINGS: porn slight plot, established relationship, degration kink, praise kink, spitting, smut 18+ ✪

You reclined on your stomach, engrossed in the pages of "Narnia." The clock had long struck past 11 pm, and drowsiness began to wash over you. Switching off your bedside lamp, you welcomed the gentle moonlight that bathed your room. Remaining in your prone position, you turned your head toward the window, fixing your gaze on the luminous orb in the night sky.

As slumber gradually enveloped you, an unexpected sound—a clearing of the throat—jolted you awake. Your eyes widened, yet your body seemed immobilized by fear. Darting your eyes around the room, you found no one in sight.

As you lay there, the notion that it might have all been a product of your imagination began to creep into your mind. However, that perception vanished in an instant when a familiar voice, with a distinct raspiness to it, reverberated through the room, asking, "Miss me?" Your heart skipped a beat as you turned, and there, standing before you, was none other than your boyfriend, John Price.

Your face erupted into a radiant smile, so wide it could rival the moon itself. Without a second thought, you hurled yourself into his strong embrace, the comforter tangled up with your excited leap. He held you tightly and guided you both back onto the bed, your legs still firmly entwined around him.

Playfully, you nibbled at his neck and exclaimed, "I missed you so fucking much," the excitement in your voice palpable.

In response, he let out his signature hearty chuckle, his beard gently tickling your neck as he reciprocated with a flurry of affectionate kisses. "Not a day went by," he declared, the kisses never ceasing.

"Guess what? I just finished writing you a heartfelt letter, bummer" you giggled sarcastically, disappointment feigning in your tone as he finally pulled back, his gaze locked onto you as though you were the most beautiful sight in the world.

His eyes remained fixated on yours, unwavering and full of adoration. Soon your legs lazily descended, he deftly raised them over his broad shoulders, pulling you closer to him, the subtle firmness beneath his clothing pressing against you.

Your gaze descended along the path of his neck, lingering on the tender love bites you had planted just moments ago. Your eyes continued their journey, tracing down to his chest, which was already rising and falling with intense desire, and further down to his clearly aroused member. It was evident from the way his pants seemed to constrict around that particular area.

With a wordless understanding, he drew you even closer, his eyes widening with desire and a sly smirk playing on his lips. You cautiously shifted your hips, a subtle movement that drew a low, almost primal groan from deep within him. Your mouth fell slightly agape as you continued to roll your hips, doing your best to maintain control despite the overwhelming sensations, and he willingly yielded to your advances.

"So fucking pretty," he whispered huskily under his breath, his words laden with longing. "How long has it been, my love? Four long months?" his voice raspy with want-no-need.

As his words hung in the air, a rush of emotions surged through you, mixing desire with the depth of your connection. You nodded, your eyes locked onto his with an intensity that needed no words to convey. Four months had felt like an eternity, and the desire that had built during that time was now igniting with an irresistible force.

He lowered his head, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that left no doubt about his longing. Your mouths moved together with a passionate urgency, tongues entwined as if trying to make up for every second lost. His hands roamed over your body, fingers tracing patterns of desire along your skin, igniting a fiery longing within you.

The room seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of you, entangled in a dance of yearning and affection. Clothes became discarded remnants of anticipation, revealing the contours of your bodies, which had become so achingly familiar yet tantalizingly new in this moment of reunion.

His hands cupped your face as he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes locked onto yours. "I've missed you more than words can say," he confessed, his voice a husky whisper, before guiding you into an embrace that promised to erase the months of separation with every touch and kiss.

He deftly flips you onto your stomach, prompting a surprised gasp to escape your lips as you bury your face into the pillow, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His strong hands explore your curves, gently spreading them apart, and you can sense his intense focus on your most intimate area, accompanied by a low, appreciative whistle.

"All mine," he declares in a husky tone, and you lift your head from the pillow, turning your neck to catch a glimpse of his self-assured smirk. He guides his throbbing desire towards your eager entrance, teasingly circling it as he studies your reactions intently. You bite your lip, your eyes half-lidded as you whimper, "Johnnn... please."

Normally, he might savor your pleas a bit longer, but the pent-up desire from four long months of separation overwhelms him, and he immediately obliges. With a swift, possessive thrust, he enters you deeply, causing you to arch your back and release a muffled scream of ecstasy into the pillow before you.

Your eyes feel like they cross as he continues ravaging your seeping hole.

"So fucking tight, played with yourself while I was gone, hmm, princess?" he hums to you. You close your eyes and continuing to arch your back, almost helping him fuck you as you buck your hips back into him.

"Answer me, slut. Tell me you played with yourself while I was away" he restates in between huffed breaths.

You lift your head from the soaked pillow, "Fuck..Ah- I..I.." the lewd noises filling the room, you begin to not be able to think straight.

He hums at your lack of response, and pushes a hand onto the small of your back before he slams into you faster and harder, "Be a good girl and answer me".

You take a moment before responding. You open your mouth to tell him you did indeed touch yourself, so, so, so, so much while he was gone, but before you can..

"AH!" you scream as he slaps your ass with so much force, almost guarunteeing a bruise and a swollen ass in the morning.

"I said tell me", he speaks primally.

"I touched myself..ah..f-fuck..So much, John.. So fuck-FUCKING much!" your voice crackling with pleasure as his fucking becomes almost unbearable.

A pause of vocal silence, other than your moans and lewd noises filling the room.

"How much?" he finally speaks, his pace becoming irregular and off rythm.

Not wanting another smack on your ass, you swiftly reply with honesty, "Every fucKIng day!" you scream as he begins to twitch inside of you, feeling his balls hitting your bundle of nerves with each pound.

You begin to see white as your orgasm soon takes over. You feel him groan as your walls pulse around him, milking him of his seed.

"Fuck.." he groans as he pulls out from you, watching his seed dribble down your coated thighs. You lay, out of breath with your head hanging onto the pillow in front of you.

You soon find hands gripping onto your hips lightly, and rolling you over to face him. You stare into him, eyes drooping from depravity and mouth still slightly agape to help you catch your breath.

Not even realising he has a polaroid film in his hand, he lifts your left leg up for a better view of your abused cunt, and snaps a photo; capturing both you and his seed leaking from you.

"Taking that with me on my next mission" he mumbles, bending over to kiss you. "You did so good baby, so fucking good" his beard scratching your face.

"Let's run you a bath, hm?" he hums, causing a smile to grow onto your face.

"Only if you join me" you snarkly reply.