#amber my wife my life

[radios-universe]

it’s been a whole decade since the life is strange storm took out arcadia bay…. (if u picked the Correct choice that is)

[spacecowboyhotch]

Okay here we go babes round 2, let’s see if this works? Loving u always and congratulations on ur big juicy Master’s degree I can’t think of anyone who deserves all the good things more!!

🧑‍🚒 tracing their finger over their lover’s tattoos/scars,

Trust

pairing: gn!reader x aaron hotchner

prompt: tracing their finger over their lover’s tattoos/scars

contents: making out, mention of canon-compliant assault, body insecurity, scars

an: hi my darling wife, i hope you enjoy this and i love you so so much <3

word count: 606

join my celebration here! 🔥

This is the first time it’s ever gotten this steamy. It’s your first time in his bed, the first time he’s let you kiss him this long. The first time he’s ever let your hands roam like this. You’re sitting in his lap and he’s propped against the headboard. One of your hands must travel out of acceptable territory when it begins to slide under his shirt because his hand comes to hold it in place. It’s a gentle redirect, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. He laces his fingers through yours as he smiles into your mouth before pulling away.

“Sorry, got a little carried away there,” You apologize, ducking your head.

“Don’t apologize, it’s alright. I want to go there with you, I do,” He reassures you, both hands cupping your face.

“Do you want to…talk about why you’re hesitant to?” His eyes fall to the space in between you and your hands come to rest over his, “You can tell me anything. You can trust me, I care about you so deeply, Aaron.”

“I care about you, too,” He hesitates for a moment and you lean in to rest your head on his chest, squeezing him in encouragement. He pulls in a deep breath and lets it out, “A few years ago I was assaulted in my apartment by an unsub. As a result, there’s some scarring, the one on my arm is just the beginning.”

“Aaron, I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve worked through a lot of it, I wouldn’t have started this with you if I hadn’t.”

“Maybe we could work through this together,” You offer, hovering your hand over the hem of his shirt.

His eyebrows knit together as he gives it some thought, wondering if he’s ready for this step. Finally, he gives a short nod, “I’m open to that.”

“We can leave your shirt on, I’ll just feel?” You look down at your hand and then back up at him for confirmation. His eyes are cautious but he nods once more, and then your fingers are underneath his shirt.

His scars are more raised than you anticipated and smoother than the rest of his skin. You use your other hand to keep his shirt down, your eyes watching your exploring hand under the fabric. His eyes are hooded as he watches your expression, how it’s soft, almost full of wonder, and something else he quite can’t place. His breathing hitches when you move further up his torso.

“Relax baby,” You murmur as you continue to trace his scars. Once your fingers climb his chest and make their way back down you withdraw your hand and lean in to give a kiss on the top of his nose. “How was that?”

“It was okay. I think we should keep doing it in the future.”

You take his ‘in the future’ as an indicator that today has been enough, “As long as you’re comfortable and feel safe.”

“I trust you,” He says firmly.

The smile that breaks across your face is worth all of the anxiety this conversation has given him, though he feels like he managed it well.

You move forward to treat him to a soft kiss, “Did you still want dessert? We kind of got sidetracked.”

“I’d love dessert.”

“Think you have everything for brownies?” The way his mouth twists in doubt is your answer. “Grocery store time!” You hop out of the bed, running out of his bedroom turning right towards the foyer.

Aaron lays in bed just a moment, thinking about how lucky he is to have bumped into you at the park all those months ago.

[bestial4ngel]

My god, the duel from great comet seriously has no right to be so good

[y2kuromi]

⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗠𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: yuuji sees a completely different side of gojo-sensei !

contents: tooth rotting fluff w a dash of angst! established relationship (married), second person & told from yuuji’s pov. extremely whipped satoru! petnames, suggestive dialogue

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

yuuji was initially ecstatic about the prospect of living with gojo-sensei. he’d imagined lazing around, gorging on sweets and watching cartoons on tv — maybe a few training sessions squeezed in with gojo-sensei — ideally it would’ve been just the two of them.

his fantasies came crashing down when realised gojo-sensei’s “house” was actually a “home”. the walls in the foyer were riddled with picture frames. he felt like he was intruding on gojo-sensei’s personal life, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures on the walls.

there was a woman beside gojo-sensei in most of the pictures. she had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair. a friend? or a girlfriend? — nah. according to fushiguro, gojo-sensei got zero play. though she had to mean something to him. it was evident in the way he looked at her.

his cerulean eyes entirely averted the camera lens, instead devoted to committing every inch of her to memory

“that’s my wife” gojo said softly,“she’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he laughed wryly as he stared lovingly at the smiling woman in the photo. yuuji nodded slowly, studying his teacher closely.

“is she okay with me hiding out here?” he asked tentatively, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“ahhh about that” gojo says sheepishly, “i haven’t had the time to mention it to her so you’ll have to wait here while i talk to her” he ran a hand through his hair, snowy white tendrils curling around his fingers.

classic gojo-sensei.

“oh” yuuji chuckled, the situation was amusing to him. he couldn’t wait to tell fushiguro — the sour reminder that he couldn’t had his laughter dying in his throat.

gojo-sensei shrugged off his shoes and patted yuuji’s shoulder, “don’t worry she’ll say yes , i’ve got her wrapped around my finger”

yuuji waited patiently in the foyer, amber eyes flickering over the expensive decor and woodsy frames of gojo-sensei’s family. he could faintly make out traces of your conversation

"oh? you're home early for once" you smiled, leaning into your husband as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "what's the special occasion 'toru?"

"do i need a reason to want to see my beautiful wife?”

“nope” you hummed, “‘m just surprised to see you” not that you were complaining. satoru was a busy man and you cherished the rare moments you spent alone together

“how was your day sweets?” he asked, taking your hand in his, his thumb stroked over knuckles, soft, loving.

“same old” you shrugged, “we’ve got some big case coming up next week, so i was pretty busy today. had a tonne of paperwork and meetings too"

"my busy bee" he smiles, "i missed you s'much, i hate going on these stupid business trips"

"you'd like them more if i came with you" you said teasingly, poking his rib with your free hand "i ran into kento the other day, you sure i shouldn't come back to jujutsu sorcery too?"

"nuh uh" he shook his head firmly, "stay at your law firm pretty, 'm gonna need someone to defend me when i kill all the higher ups"

"what have they done now?" you sigh exasperatedly, turning the knob on the gas cooker and reducing the heat. the faint clicking sound echoes in the kitchen as the orange-blue flames simmered quietly.

"what haven't they done" he grumbled, leaning against the counter. he gently tugged at his blindfold, lithe fingers unveiling the cerulean eyes that you loved so much. his snowy hair fell softly around his face, a curtain that failed to hide the anger he felt coursing through his veins.

"poor baby" you cooed, hands trailing up to his face and cupping his cheeks, your fingers smoothed over the frown etched on his face, pushing his lips together in a duck-lipped pout, "wanna tell me about it?"

"y'know yuuji? the new first year that's sukuna's vessel?"

you nod, allowing your hands to fall from his face and rest on the counter. his greedy hands make their way to your waist, rubbing circles on the soft flesh peeking out beneath your untucked dress shirt.

"well they sent the first years on a mission to rescue people from the detention center, after sending me on that stupid mission overseas mind you, and the kid had to fight a special grade curse"

"is he okay?" you ask, hands ghosting over satoru's bigger, veiny ones. he sighs, a look of mild irritation fleeting over his face at the memory. in retrospect, none of that mattered now. he was home.

"yeah he's fine" he shrugs, "sukuna ripped his heart out and he died, but he revived him eventually"

"your definition of fine is questionable satoru" you snicker, and he feels his heart melting at the sound of your laughter. "why'd they send them on that mission anyways?"

"they just want yuuji dead, he was supposed to be executed remember? and they're really scared of sukuna which is crazy 'cause he's kinda weak"

"someone needs to humble you" you say, amusement dripping from your words like honey, "pride comes before fall 'toru"

"you humble me all the time sweets" he grins, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"i'm just doing the universe a favour" you tease, "what do you want for dinner? rice? noodles? or we could order food from that thai joint you like if you want”

"i'll eat anything you cook sweets,” he murmurs, “though i have something else i wouldn’t mind eating”

“satoru” you gasped, “you just got home and you’re already trying to get between my legs” you smack his shoulder playfully

“i’ve missed her too” he shrugs, “i’ve missed all of you”

you shook your head, “can’t believe i married such a feen” a languid smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you could try all you wanted to resist his charms, but he’d always win in the end

"so...about yuuji" satoru starts, testing the waters, "the higher ups really want him gone, i can't keep him at jujutsu tech right now"

"i can see why you wouldn't" you hum, leaning on the tips of your toes to reach for the salt. satoru had a habit of placing the things you needed in places you couldn't reach just so he could have the honour of retrieving them for you

“need help with that sweets?” he asks eagerly, pushing himself off the counter and sifting through the wooden shelves. he easily brings the jar of salt down and hands it to you

"you have to stop doing this, it’s such an inconvenience" you sighed, but you were grateful nonetheless.“you’re insufferable i swear”

“‘m still yours” he says suavely. satoru’s smile is unwavering though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

you can tell the thing with yuuji is weighing heavily on his mind. he’s more restless than usual. his lithe fingers run up and down the counter as he stares into space

“‘toru?” you prompt, nudging him with your elbow, “i can hear you thinking”

“i don’t know where to keep him” he exhales, “i would ask shoko, or kento but then i’d risk getting them in trouble with the higher ups”

“what about the secret room we found in our third year?” you asked, “you could keep him there, unless they found out about it”

“i would keep him there.. but i just...don't want him to feel alone," he says softly. you didn’t think it was possible to fall even deeper in love with satoru, but he never failed to surprise you. “he's just a kid, so i— i want to look out for him.”

he knows it’s a big ask. you can hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out how to possibly convince you to let sukuna’s vessel stay in your home.

"can he stay?" he pleads, "can yuuji stay with us please? it’s only until the kyoto goodwill event" he's clasping his hands together, imploring you with his infinitely blue eyes. you raise an eyebrow. knowing satoru, yuuji was probably waiting around in the foyer

"he's already here isn't he?" you ask, shaking your head fondly as a guilty look flickers across his face. classic satoru. although you would've loved for him to give you a heads up, you didn't mind a bit. it would be nice to have some company when satoru went on his missions

 “i didn’t really have time to plan all the details before bringing him with me” he says, sheepishly rubbing a hand behind his neck, his fingers brushed against the soft strands of his undercut, "are you mad? don't be mad baby"

"no" you laugh, "i'm not mad 'toru, he can stay"

it’s the little things like this that make you realise just how much power you have over him. within seconds your husband is whirling you around, hands gripping your waist tightly and pressing chaste kisses on your face as he sets you down

"yuuji she said you can stay" a wide grin blooms across his face as he bounds into the foyer excitedly. the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, reduced to the faint resemblance of a child getting their first sleepover approved

you set the jar of salt down on the marbled counter. trailing after your husband. true to your suspicions, yuuji itadori had been standing awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs together in his hoodie pockets and silently taking in the intricacies of your home.

he couldn’t help but feel out of place.

there were pairs of everything — shoes neatly arranged on the coat rack. umbrellas tucked in a corner in the foyer. coats hung up next to each other on the wall.

the pale blue wallpaper hung row after row of framed photographs. their wooden mahogany panels reflected the warm lights. yuuji’s light brown eyes flickered on the pictures in all their glory and glossy sheen.

the ones that caught his eye captured a young fushiguro’s trademark scowl, the irritated quirk of his brow and the curled spikes of his hair that defied gravity.

he was standing beside a girl who looked just like him, except she was slightly taller with long bone-straight brown hair. yuuji’s eyes lingered on her smile as your beanstalk of a husband shook him excitedly

he wondered what fushiguro would say if he knew he’d seen pictures of him as a little kid. ( he’d probably summon his shikigami on him )

“really?” he beamed, eyes momentarily drawn away from the plethora of frames. you feel your heart melt into a sickly sweet puddle of happiness and warmth, as you watch satoru drape his arm over yuuji’s shoulder

“yes really” you laugh, “it’s nice to finally meet you yuuji, you’re a friend of megumi’s right?”

yuuji nods frantically, his mop of pink curls bouncing enthusiastically . his mannerisms were nervous and eager. he wanted to fit in. he wanted you to like him. you could tell — he reminded you oddly of your husband ( they were practically the same person in different fonts )

“speaking of megumi, he doesn’t know yuuji’s alive so please don’t let it slip when he calls you” satoru murmurs, taking slow steps towards you.

he knows he’s asking for too much now. you practically raised megumi and it would be nearly impossible for you to keep something like this from him. satoru can see the cogs spinning in your head, the subtle anger in your heart and for the first time in years he’s afraid.

“we’ll talk about this later” you say through gritted teeth. he pleads silently with his eyes and you swallow your protests, you exhale loudly before turning towards yuuji again “c’mon yuuji, i’ve just started on dinner”

yuuji kicks off his shoes and nudges them neatly beneath the shoe rack before padding after you. satoru isn’t far behind

“it smells really good mrs. gojo” yuuji says politely, as he takes a seat by the kitchen island, legs dangling as he drums on the smooth marbled counter.

“thank you yuuji” you beamed, “do you prefer rice or noodles?”

“ahh i’m not really picky” he says, “i like all kinds of food really, but i suppose rice? if it isn’t too much of a hassle, i really don’t want to be a bother-”

“slow down yuuji” you said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “i’m really glad to have you here, it gets kinda lonely when ‘toru’s away on business trips so make yourself at home okay?”

no wonder gojo-sensei was always happy, his wife was an angel. yuuji thought as he nodded fervently

“i can make the rice baby” satoru offers, his hands make their way around your waist, he doesn’t miss the way you stiffen under his touch. you’re mad at him, and he knows you have every right to be

“thank you” you said, putting as much feeling into the words as you could muster, “come with me yuuji, i’ll show you around”

yuuji was positive he was intruding now, standing in the middle of megumi’s room while you stripped navy blue pinstripe sheets off his bed and replaced them with canary dressings.

“are you sure i can sleep here?” he asks, “ i don’t mind taking the couch..”

you seemed horrified at the idea of yuuji sleeping alone on the couch. he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him here. he was so used to being unwanted

growing up with his grandpa was something he wouldn’t trade for the world, yet he’d always craved the warmth of a mother. a mother’s love was the purest, and there was nothing more blameless than the softness in your (e/c) eyes when you looked at him

“i mind yuuji” you frowned” and i want you to stay in gumi’s room, his clothes should fit you since you’re around the same height”

“thank you again for letting me crash here” yuuji didn’t think he could say it enough. he didn’t deserve such kindness, not when the king of curses lived rent free in his head

“don’t mention it yuuji” you said, “i meant what i said downstairs, i could really use the company”

you ruffled his hair softly before resuming your ministrations of making the bed. you tucked crisp sheets beneath the mattress and fluffed up pillows with ease.

“you’re a really good mom, why don’t you and gojo-sensei have any kids of your own?” yuuji only realises the question is slightly insensitive after the words hang in the air and an unreadable look fleets across your face, “i’m so sorry that was really rude of me-”

“you’re good yuuji” you laugh, you sit down on the freshly laid duvet and pat the space beside you. yuuji hesitates but he sits down eventually

“it just never happened y’know? we adopted tsu and gumi a few years back, plus toru’s always seen his students as his kids, he cares about you guys a lot”

“even me?” it doesn’t seem plausible to him. all he’s seemed to do is cause problems for gojo-sensei ever since he ate that gross finger

“especially you yuuji” you smiled, ruffling his hair, “you remind me of him funny enough, even though i used to hate him back in our school days”

“really?” he gawked, he was practically falling over megumi’s bed with anticipation.

“really” you affirmed , “he was a real piece of work back then, i bet he’s the reason yaga has so many grey hairs”

“how’d you fall in love with him then?” yuuji enquires, brown eyes sparkling with immense curiosity “and how’d you meet?”

“are you guys gossiping about me?” satoru gasps, peeking around the doorway, “how mean of you yuuji, i thought we were friends”

“ahhh we weren’t gossiping per-say, mrs. gojo was about to tell me how you met”

“can i tell him?” satoru’s eyes sparkle, “the way i remember it i walked into the common room and cherry blossoms started falling, classical piano was playing softly in the background and-”

“that didn’t happen” you said, “he’s finally going senile” you tried and failed to push satoru out the doorway but he stood his ground.

he stood almost toe to toe with you, a pleased grin blooming on his face as he towered over you. yuuji’s eye’s flickered between you and your husband, cheeks dusted a rosy pink as he stifled giggles

“it did happen!” satoru insisted, “i’m sure shoko has a recording of it somewhere, now as i was saying.. she took one look at me and fell head over heels in love”

“you’re deluded” you muttered, “i didn’t love you until our second year, get your facts right”

“so you did fall head over heels in love with me” he grinned, “so early too? i knew you couldn’t resist my charms — owww!”

satoru feigns as you finally manage to shove him out the door after hitting his shoulder. by now, yuuji is a spluttering mess on the soft tatami mats lining megumi’s floor

“i’ll tell you what really happened one of these days” you said over your shoulder, “you can shower and settle in, take as long as you need, we’ll wait for you to come downstairs before we start eating”

your smile falls the moment the door clicks shut behind you. satoru feels his heart shattering. he’s so sure he’s going to die because his wife is mad at him. the universe might as well combust into nothing but ashes

“baby-” satoru starts, catching your wrist in his palm. he grips the bone loosely, careful not to hurt you “‘m sorry, you know that, but megumi can’t know”

you trudge down the stairs in silence, opting only to speak when you’re seated beside satoru in the living room. your cat natsu watches you wearily from her cat post, slanted eyes shooting satoru a well meaning glare.

“you can’t ask me to keep this from him” you said, shaking your head, eyes looking everywhere but your husband’s piercing blue gaze. “you’re taking things too far now”

“i know” his voice is a mere whisper, the words barely speak themself into existence, “i’m being selfish again, but you’ve gotta understand (y/n)”

“i can’t” you splutter, you feel tears treading your waterline “put yourself in his shoes, c’mon satoru we’ve seen him at his worst, why would we do something that could hurt him?”

“i’m not doing this to hurt megumi, i’m doing this to protect yuuji”

“just think about it please” you frowned, “if instead of executing suguru they kept him alive and let us think he was dead, you’d never forgive them”

he doesn’t miss the way your voice catches over the three syllables. he doesn’t miss the way your fingers tremble against his forearm. he hates this — arguing with you, he could think of infinite things he’d rather do than this.

“that’s different” his voice is wavering now, “suguru made his choice, yuuji didn’t ask for any of this” he winces as the words fall from his lips. to think he’d stooped to speaking ill of the dead. he doesn’t believe that, not really.

“you still wouldn’t forgive them” you prompted, “and i don’t want ‘gumi to go through any more, tsumiki being in a coma is hard enough as it is”

“i know baby, i know” satoru says softly, he cups your trembling face in his hands and places the sweetest of kisses on the tears that threaten to stream down your cheeks, “trust me on this okay? he’ll be fine i promise”

“okay” you nod, letting your husband, your one and only, wipe away the tears spilling over your lashes.

satoru could really kill the higher ups for putting him in this position. one where he nearly sacrificed his wife’s happiness for something as insignificant as jujutsu sorcery. with his lips still pressed to the corners of yours, he makes a silent vow with himself

it would be you before everything. it was you before everything

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers, his thumb grazing your bottom lip “you. are. everything. to. me” he punctuates each word with a kiss. his lips committing every inch of you to memory

they ghost over your cheek, your quivering lip, your shoulder, your wrist, and finally the silver wedding band encasing your ring finger. and they linger on the cool silver for what seems to be eternity before satoru speaks up again

“dance with me?” he prompts, although he’s not really asking. he’s already whisking you onto your feet and starting up the record player. the vinyl spins on its axis, as constant as his infinite love for you.

“what?” you sniffed slightly, “like we did in our first year?”

“like we did in our first year”

satoru’s hands were on your hip, drawing you closer, he felt your chest brush against his for a second as he leaned into you. you swayed gently side to side, keeping in time with the intricate melodies streaming from the gramophone

his six eyes tell him his student is watching, listening. curious doe eyes peeking from the stairwell. he doesn’t mind. satoru had never been one to hide his affection. you were his. and he was infinitely yours.

“can i tell you a secret?” satoru murmurs, as he twirls you back into his arms. he wishes he could stay like this forever. with you. he’d selfishly sacrifice the universe to keep having moments like this. he would kill for you. he’s positive he would. he’d do it without hesitation.

“i thought we didn’t have any of those” you quipped. satoru feels his heart melting. watching the sadness in your eyes fade into utter bliss was like watching the sun come out after a rainy day. maybe even better.

“it’s a good one i promise” he grins, you raise a brow sceptically but you’re listening “i was the one who fell head over heels in love with you. way back in our first year…and i didn’t even know what love was, i was so confused”

“when did you know?” you asked, “you always say you knew the moment you saw me, but you were an asshole then”

“it was the first time we snuck out together” he admits, “when we went to that night market. you were right, i was jealous of suguru but could you blame me? i wanted you all to myself”

“you’ve always been so greedy” you giggled. satoru doesn’t need the six eyes to see that you love him regardless. it’s evident in the tenderness of your tone and the way your (e/c) sparkle when you look at him

“cut me some slack baby” he groans “i’m trying to be romantic”

“you don’t need to try, i heard through the grapevine i can’t resist your charms” you hummed

satoru cracks a smile at the inside joke, a slow symphony of contentment.he kisses you again and it’s sweet and full of blind adoration. loving you is his religion. the only thing he’s wholly committed to. your hands looped around his neck, carefully avoiding the ever-so-sensitive scar that ran beneath his chin

your hands founds repose in the soft strands of his hair, carefully threading through the ivory curls. satoru could feel himself melting into you, he clung to you as if he was scared to let go and his calloused hands clutched at the warmth that radiated from your skin. he was so impossibly close you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

yuuji peered at the scene with stars in his eyes. he knew he should look away. that this moment was sacred, strictly for the two of you. but he’d never seen gojo like this before — completely vulnerable, completely himself in the confines of your embrace.

here he wasn’t the strongest, the richest, the one-man clan, the one whose mere existence shifted the balance of the world. here, he wasn't satoru gojo, he wasn't gojo-sensei, he was just 'toru.

© Y2KUROMI 2024. please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

[pellucid-constellations]

Set in Stone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst but just a little to start

a/n: hi 😌 please enjoy my random inspo after the mess that is my life happened. I plan to write more for these guys so consider this a prologue :)

Masterlist ♡

~~

Time moved slower in the library. 

People spoke quieter, the air stood still, dim sunlight stiffened in lines that cut across endless tables. 

There was no real reason for you to be here. 

None at all. 

You welcomed the faint buzzing in your ears anyway, relished in the quiet you couldn’t find elsewhere. Flipping the page and going to the next, you pretended you did belong. Maybe as a scholar or researcher. Maybe an acclaimed author. An inventor, entrepreneur, alchemist—anything but the bleak reality. 

You were stuck. So, incredibly stuck. 

The high lord was coming today. You knew if you weren't in the hall with your family upon his arrival you would get an earful, but it was difficult to pull away from your beautiful corner of the night court.

No one ever came in here, and if they did they were over a millennium old and cared only for the books on foreign policy and probably the torture of young children, if you had to take a guess. But there was plenty of enjoyable material lining the shelves. Sure, it wasn’t very joyful, but it was informative, and anything was better than listening to your father blab on about your marriage prospects—an uncomfortable conversation that was to come to fruition any day now. 

With any luck, your husband would be a merchant who traveled endlessly or a soldier whose life would come to a quick end, leaving you free of any wifely obligations. But luck was hardly on your side, and as the daughter of a noble you were expecting a husband of the same station. 

And dukes were the absolute worst, all self-important and stagnant.  

An unfamiliar echo sent your head whipping to the side before you could tame your reaction. The library door swung open with such force it sent dusty air flying past your face. Typically, the old men entered meekly, the hefty door difficult for them to open. The abruptness of this entry, the power that seeped across the threshold, had you standing and pressing yourself against the table in milliseconds. 

You weren’t a fighter. Women were not allowed to learn anything of the sort here. You briefly debated if your embroidery skills would be enough to pose a threat to this presence, but that thought wisped away with the flickering shadows twining around your ankles. 

You didn’t recognize him at first. The high lord and his circle didn’t come to court often, and even when they did, they stayed far away on the dais or slinked around in hallways threateningly. And this man especially—the spy—he was almost always cloaked in shadow. 

His shadows weren’t covering him now, instead opting to twist up your body in a terrifying display. Were they searching you? Attempting to suffocate you? Paralyze you? 

It didn’t matter much, not when the shadowsinger himself was standing before you, exposed and armed to the teeth, his amber eyes locked on your own widened gaze. 

Your breath came out in short pants, uncomfortable and hard to capture. Your knuckles went white against the table, and you were sure if you were stronger, fractures would have appeared in the wood. The edge dug into your back. Shadows continued to make paths up your skin. 

The spymaster didn’t look away. 

The trembling began. It started with your jaw, then your legs, and then your chest. Breathing became nearly impossible. 

“Take care of that.” 

The last time the high lord made his rounds in court, those words had been a death sentence. One the man before you had carried out. A simple flick of his wrist and shadows had encased the lowly merchant that had insulted the high lady. His screams still echoed in the hall. 

At least, they echoed for you. 

The merchant was not a good man. Most that resided in the night court were not good people. But death was easy to come by here, and the shadowsinger—with his glaring siphons only inches away—was an executioner. 

Your life was little, meaningless, no direction or purpose other than marriage and continuing a family line, but you wanted to live for the chance of more. For the hope that one day, you might be free of this dank palace. 

Something softened in the spymaster’s eyes, and then he took a step forward, edging his hand towards you, palm up. The screeching of the table at your back made him halt. Your knees were shaking, your book now toppled over to the floor, and the shadows had refused to answer the call from their master. But you stood your ground, expecting a bruise where the table connected to your skin. 

“I apologize,” the Illyrian spoke, causing you to flinch once again. His own features seemed to recoil, and he took half a step back. “I am here on business for the high lord. I only seek the artifact room.” 

If you answered him, perhaps he would spare you. 

Your mouth opened and closed several times before the first sounds left your lips. “In the back. B-by the archives.” 

He nodded, but the action seemed delayed, slowed. As if he was measuring your reactions, trying to anticipate them. When you didn’t flinch again, he sent his hand out once more, this time with more force. Your breath caught, but when the shadows retreated from your body, some of the tension left you. 

The shadowsinger sidestepped, taking the longest route possible around your table toward the artifact room. Once his back was turned, you scrambled. You left the book spine up on the floor, quickly gathering your belongings with shaking hands and trembling fingers. The echoing of the man’s heavy boots rang with each step he took, but it was reassuring—it meant he was getting further and further away. 

It wasn’t until your hand met the sturdy door that fear crept back along the edges of your chest. 

“Your name?” 

The words were powerful, gravelly, but they were soft somehow. Effortfully tamed. 

You gave him your name, but the sound was lost in the swinging of the door.

[buckyalpine]

My First and Only

Virgin Mob beefy Bucky x reader

So I'm taking my drabble and making into a one shot. Our beautiful, rugged mob boss whose glare make grown men cower is just a sweet shy thing on his wedding night. He has his wife to guide him poor Bucky is even more nervous because he doesn't want to disappoint his princess. Do keep in mind he's going to be a menace once he's well practiced.

-

"The right one will be worth it Jamie" Bucky's mothers words echoed in his ear as he sipped on a glass of whisky, the loud bass of the club music making the ice in his glass clink. "You'll know when it's the right time"

He was sixteen when she told him that, around the same time that he started working closer with his father, preparing to take over his families business. With money came power and with the money the Barnes' had, it was near limitless. The last thing Winifred wanted was for her son to go down the wrong path, one filled with greed, violence and lust.

She raised him to respect those around him and himself. To see beauty in living things, to love others and above all else, to value what it meant to share a life with someone you cared for. It was a sharp contrast to the way George ruled with an iron fist but it gave Bucky the balance he needed to be an excellent leader.

Under his mother's guidance, he followed the path that lead him to where he currently sat along with his two right hand men, Steve and Sam, the three men sipping on a dark amber liquid, ignoring the numerous girls that tried to fling themselves at their table.

"You'd think they'd get the hint after you said no to the first three" Steve chuckled while another woman slinked up only to have Bucky politely shake his head.

"Think you'll say yes to any of them?" Sam playfully shoved Bucky's shoulder already knowing the answer. Whenever they were out, plenty of women would approach the mob boss only to be turned away every single time.

"Not tonight" Bucky snorted, knowing he'd be ready when he found the right one. It was just a matter of time.

Looking at him, it was doubtful anyone would think or know Bucky was a virgin. He'd dated girls before but no one made him feel anything that also captured his heart. Of course, its not like he told anyone what he did or didn't do with those girls. He certainly didn't look like someone who lacked experience. He took care of himself when he needed to, after all he was still human. His right hand knew exactly what to do when necessary.

He met his pretty angel at a flower shop. He was there to get a bouquet for his ma's birthday and left with your number instead, quickly going back with a blush on his cheeks, realizing he didn't get what he initially came for. Bucky knew he'd found the one when the first thought that came to mind after his date was that he had to take you home. Not to his bed but to his family. To show everyone the sweet girl he knew he'd love for the rest of his life, the one he instantly knew was for him.

"You better protect her with all your heart" Was the only thing his father said before patting his shoulder whereas His mother didn't say a word about you after you'd both first met. She simply handed Bucky her wedding ring, already recognizing the lovestruck look on her sons face.

When he kissed your lips at the altar, he nearly fell to his knees, the soft warmth of your skin already making him woozy. He didn't leave your side the entire night, his arm protectively around your waist, so in love with the one person he got to call his for the rest of his life. Your first dance was filled with soft kisses, whispering sweet nothings to each others while your loved ones watched with teary eyes. When the SUV came to whisk you both away, Bucky still didn't let you go, holding you tightly in his lap, ready to start a together new chapter as husband and wife.

The very first one being in his bedroom.

-

Bucky didn't understand this feeling. It was brand new to him. He'd felt every emotion under the sun except this.

Shyness.

Pure, innocent shyness.

God, he'd never felt so shy in his entire life, it was almost embarrassing. He shook his head at himself; he was over 6 ft tall, covered in dark ink but the thought of going to bed with his sweet wife was what was going to take him down.

"Jamie, can you help me with the back please?" You stood in front of the dresser while his sucked in a breath, his fingers fidgeting with the delicate buttons down your back. He carefully undid them, letting his hand ghost down your spine, his breath catching in his throat when your dress fell and pooled around your feet. You stepped of it, left in your white lingerie and heels, bending over to unstrap them, only to have Bucky stop you.

"Let me, sweet heart" He got down on one knee, taking off the tiny strap wrapped around your ankle and slipping your heels off before standing up again, taking in the soft lace that barely covered your body.

You took off his blazer before you unbuttoned his shirt, smiling at the way he held onto your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles onto your hips. He didn't know where to focus, feeling your lips kiss his chest where he had tattooed your name over his heart to the way your soft breasts were now pressed against his body.

You let your hands caress over the thick planes of muscle while going down to his belt buckle, various pieces of art covering his body in the most beautiful way. Bucky's heart hammered against his chest as your hands trailed down to unbutton his pants, your nimble fingers brushing over his throbbing erection.

He hopes you don't realize how nervous he feels when you unzip his pants, letting it fall to his feet. He gives you a shaky nod when you look up at him for permission to pull down his brief's, letting you see all of him for the first time. Your fingers hook around the waistband, puling them down his thick thighs, till he's left perfectly bare in front of you. His thighs tense together at the soft gasp you let out, scared he'd disappoint you some how though the very thought is ridiculous.

You can't help but take a moment to admire you perfect husband in his all naked glory, his thick, heavy cock curved towards his tummy, heavy balls, achingly full. The blush on his cheeks deepen when your eyes flick down to his most intimate parts; no one else ever seen him like this before, not since he was a baby. You lean up to give him a reassuring kiss while he slips his hand into yours, taking you to bed. Every part of him wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and toss you on to the large mattress but not tonight. You lay down with him against the soft pillows, the silky sheets under you cool against your skin while he gently tugs on the straps of your lingerie.

"Can I?" He whispers, still to nervous to do anything while you move his hands to the clasps of the lace.

"M'your's Jamie" You nod, letting him take his time unhooking your bustier off, his eyes growing wide at your perfect bare breasts. You know its his first time and there's nothing more you want than for him to know you trust him completely and you're all his.

He doesn't waste any time slipping your panties off, his tongue darting out to lick his lips at the sight of you naked on his bed. It starts off slow and innocent. He doesn't rush to do anything, taking his time to hug you close to him, relishing on the feeling of your bare skin on his between soft kisses. He struggles to calm himself down with the way your soft body is pressed against his, your leg hitched over his waist, his cock itching to rut against your tummy for more friction. His wide, thick body engulphs you when he holds you close, his hands skimming up and down your waist before trailing up your spine.

His heart starts to hammer again when he starts to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck wanting to touch more of you. He wants to show you how much he loves you, gently taking a nipple into his mouth, moaning as soon as he starts to suckle. Your back arches, a gasp melting into a moan at the way his tongue flicks and moves in circles between his lips tugging and sucking your peaked bud.

Nothing compares to how warm and soft your breasts are in his mouth, his cock starting to leak. He so lost in kissing and sucking your breasts, precum smearing all over your tummy, where his cock rests against.

"Can I Touch you baby?" you whisper, kissing his forehead when he looks up at you with wide eyes. He quickly nods, pressing his hips against you showing you where he needed you most while refusing to take his mouth off your breasts.

You hand goes down to gently palm him to giving poor baby some relief. You wrap around his thick shaft, loving the needy muffled moan he lets out, his hips moving on their own when they thrust up into your fist. He doesn't even realize he's practically humping into your hand, your lips nipping down his neck.

"I-

"What is it James" You ask with your sweet doe eyes and he manages to blush more. He should be the one making you feel good and taking care of you but instead here he was, scared he'd cum before getting a chance to be inside you. You see his eyes trail down your body, darting down to between your legs, understanding he wants to touch you too. You pull away slightly, lying down on your back for him because fuck, you needed to feel him.

"Angel" His voice was breathless as you spread your thighs apart for him, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy and swollen button. He could feel precum starting to dribble from his tip; there was something so beautifully erotic about the way you were giving yourself to him despite how shy you were yourself. Displaying your most sacred and intimate parts to your husband so he'd take care of you.

He loves the way your face contorts with pleasure each time he rubs your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. He doesn't get a chance to toy with your for too long when you peck his pouty lips before trailing kisses down his body. His eyes grow wide when you get closer to his cock, his hips nearly lifting off the bed so you'd know where he needed you so badly but too shy to ask.

You take your time to clean off his slick precum that's beading from the tip, his swollen cockhead growing more sensitive each time you flick your tongue across his slit. He lets out soft, sweet babbles when you take him down your throat, his salty taste coating your tongue.

"You're making me leak" He whimpered, biting his lip to keep from letting more high pitched whines slip out, "dragă, st-stop, I'll c-cum"

He's never sounded more gone, gripping onto the sheets while you swirl your tongue around his head one last time before pulling off with a pop.

"oh-OH" His eyes grow wide when you drip down further to take his balls in your mouth instead, the sensation different that anything he's ever felt. A steady dribble of slippery arousal streams out of his cock while you nurse on suckle his heavy sac, addicted to your husbands distinct, sweet taste. You love how heavy he feels in your mouth, the smooth silky head of his pink cock begging to be sucked again.

He know's he'll cum if you keep on going which is why he pulls you up, kissing you deeply before settling you comfortably against the pillows again. He wants to make love to you so badly, even if it's not perfect the first time. He wants to give himself to you, nervously blushing when you spread your thighs for him while he pumps his cock.

"Are you ready?" He whispered against your cheek, the both of you nearly trembling with anticipation when you nod, letting him line his tip up with your fluttering entrance. He lets out the most desperate moan when he starts to push in, his body weight falling on top of you while his cock throbs, already close to cumming.

"Angel, I think m'gonna cum" He whimpers against you neck, knowing the slightest movement will make him blow his load. He hugs and clings onto you tightly, rutting himself into your cunt with the most gentle roll of his hips.

"Want you to feel good Jamie, it's okay" you hug him back while he pants harder trying to give you deeper strokes, he wants to make you feel good, feel how much he adores you by giving you pleasure but he just can't. You feel too good, pussy so warm, silky and soft.

"P-please cum for me angel" He pleads, his hand slipping between your bodies, finding your throbbing clit, rubbing quick circles with his thumb.

"J-James!" You hold onto him tighter, spots starting to cloud your vision with the way he's toying with your body as if he's touched you for years, his cock reaching depths you didn't know existed. "Fuck, fuck baby, feels so good" Your moans nearly turn into wails when he moves faster, his orgasm barreling towards him when you start to clench around his cock.

"Need you to feel good angel, don't wanna cum yet, wanna make love to you" He hides his face against your neck to try and muffle his moans but it's not use, a few sloppy stokes in and hes pumping you full of his seed, unable to stop as stream after stream burst from his cock.

"I-f-fuck, Swetheart, m'cumming- I-oh-hng princess-" He practically rolls over with you, still buried deep in your pussy, your mixed arousal soaking the sheets. His body shudders and he continued to thrust his hips up, grabbing your ass to keep you flush against him, moaning into the crook of your neck, "m'cumming so much for you, god I can't stop"

And he doesn't stop.

You gasp, feeling him still somehow rock hard, his sensitive cock still thrusting into you, his cum making it easy for him to slip in and out of you faster.

"Not done pretty girl, gonna keep my cock in you all night"

****

"Was I okay?" He whispers innocently while you cuddle into his chest, the both of you still naked, snuggling in the sheets. You giggle at his adorable expression, pecking his lips

"Of course baby" You reassure him again, your body still trembling from the way he pulled a second and third orgasm from you.

"Is everything okay for you?" You check in with him, loving that the question okay makes him shy again, the pink on his cheeks now moving to his neck and ears.

"M'happy I waited, that you're my first and only" He playfully shrugged, struggling to meet your gaze while you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. The both of you drift off to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, blindly reaching for each other again.

No words are said but you end up on top, dinking down on his cock, bouncing up and down, the lights turned off, only the glow of the moon illuminating your skin. He can't help himself, greedily pulling you down towards him when your breasts bounce in his face, desperately suckling on your nipples.

Between the way you ride him and the way your soft breasts in his mouth feel, he doesn't even realized he's whined mommy, eyes closed and clinging onto you like a baby.

Keep in mind, this was Bucky's first time. He's surprised at how needy and subby he can get for you, so desperate to please and pleasure you.

Until he starts to get more comfortable.

When he discovers his dom side the bedroom.

He learns he loves when you call him Sir and Daddy. On the rare occasion the house is empty, he becomes the most filthy fuck you'd meet, pulling his knife out whenever he wants to strip your clothes off and getting on his knees to eat you like a man starved. He'll bend you over anywhere; over the banister, over the kitchen counter, the table, the stairs, the floor when he wants.

If he's not nursing off of your clit, you're between his meaty thighs giving him the most sloppy head of life and he's never been more thankful for his sound proof walls.

He loves being a switch the most, alternating between begging to get a chance to taste you and then railing you with his cock till your crying and dripping with cum.

[loaksbitch]

imagine you’re too scared to tell neteyam you’re pregnant cause he’s not ready for a family but you’re so wrong yes? this is a little present until i’m done writing the finale of ‘i trusted you’ series — 1.2k wc

warnings - mention of vulgar language, none other than that! likes + reblogs are super appreciated and not pressured thank you sm &lt;3

“my baby in you?” — neteyam sully (✿)

you’re scared.

you’re so scared and mo’at’s voice dining in your head isn’t helping but making it worse. you knew this would happen, it would eventually come but not in a million life time you thought it would be now.

“you should tell him, my child.” mo’at had said to you. “he must know you’re carrying a fruit of love inside you.”

how can you randomly go and tell him, your mate, neteyam that you’re pregnant with his child? he clearly has told you he doesn’t want a family, at least not right now.

you both agreed to focus on yourself and each other and family would come later but here you are crying because of the child you’re carrying, scared neteyam won’t accept him or…her.

you haven’t noticed how you’re protectively covering your stomach until you had to bring your hands up to wipe your tears

hours have passed since you haven’t stopped crying or went to sleep unintentionally.

“princess, wake up.” a familiar voice echoes in your head and you open your amber eyes hardly since it was swollen and pretty puffed up.

once you recognize who the man in front of you is, you jump and scoot away from him. “shit, did i scare you?” he brings his hand close to you, “it’s me baby, neteyam i’m neteyam, your man.” the way he claims he’s yours makes your stomach even churn

what if he doesn’t want to be your man after this?

“that’s right, come here” he calls for you, taking your dainty hands to him and pulling you close for a hug. “you were crying while sleeping.” you’re both now hugging while neteyam is kneeling in front of you and you’re sat on the thick mat

“something bothering you?”

he feels you shake your head and licks his lips before pushing you back a little to scan your face.

“don’t lie to me, pretty girl” you feel him cup your cheeks and trace your blue stripes as he gives you a melting smile.

did this really need to happen, eywa? why was she making you suffer like this when neteyam was clearly strict over having a baby right now?

“princess,” you’re pulled from your thoughts when your mate calls for you. “talk to me, what is it?”

“it’s nothing.” you blurt out and push neteyam’s hand away from you before getting on your feet. neteyam watches you with a furrowed brows when you walk away from him

this time, he calls you by your name and no pet names to make you freeze at your spot. “what’s wrong with you?” he didn’t fail to notice how your moods kept changing this days

how you’re very argumentative or a crybaby with no reason.

“i said,” you take a deep breath “noth–“ neteyam had enough. “cut the crap and tell me, what’s wrong? you know i won’t leave you alone without knowing what’s bothering my wife.”

his wife, neteyam was also on his feet now, towering your small body. he knows how stubborn you can be and he’ll make sure to fight until the end to know what’s up with you

“i’m worried, okay? fuck i’m so worried i can’t even focus on my training”

right, his so-called training.

you bite your lips and look away, why is it hard just to tell him you’re carrying his baby huh? why does this argument need to happen?

“hey,” neteyam was close to you again, taking your face to his large palms. “please tell me baby, mhm?” he presses a soft kiss on your lips but you don’t kiss back nor smile

“what’re hurting you? let me hurt with you, yeah?”

you can’t even describe how much you love this man and just losing him scares you so much. but you’ve to tell him, sooner or later you have to let him know you’re gonna give birth to the fruit of love you both made after months

“nete’” at your call, your mate desperately hums and searches for your eyes that’s becoming very teary. “i’m sorry” you can feel how his face twists in confusion but he’s silent so you can talk farther

you’re finally opening up and he wasn't dating to interrupt you.

but then again you’re awfully silent, only tears trickling down your beautiful face. “why’re you sorry?” his heart is now picking up its race and neteyam swallow down his worry

“i know you never wanted it to be this soon, i know you’re not ready and i’m sorry i’m ruining everything.”

the way your voice quivers makes his plan sweat and chest tighten, he hates seeing you in pain. “baby, please tell me what it is, what am i not ready for?” you’re silent again but neteyam was patient with you

he can see how you’re debating with yourself if you should say what you’re going to say or no

his breath bitch when you look at him, your pretty and big amber eyes wet from tears, neteyam only wipes them off your cheeks.

“i’m…” you stop and take a deep breath, “i’m pregnant, neteyam.”

right there, you don’t miss how his fingers stop wiping your tears, how his eyes are slightly widened and his body completely going stiff.

you begin to panic and bring your hands to him which is holding your face warmly, “i-i know you’re not ready and i’m sorry i ke— i keep ruining things for you.” you’re fast to apologize but neteyam wasn’t budging that you’re thinking he’s having a stroke

“i’ll take care of it myself,” you say wanting to bring back neteyam to himself but no answer, “i’m so sorry, we should’ve neve—“

things were fast when neteyam suddenly clashed himself to you, teeth clashing to each other when he’s kissing you, your wet eyes are widen and neteyam is desperately tugging on your lower lips with his teeth

did he not get what you said? you literally told him what he doesn’t want to hear and he’s kissing you.

one hand on your cheek and the other slides down to your lower back and pulls you close to him, you close your eyes and kiss back.

warm touches and tongue licks your lower lip, neteyam whines to your lips. he breaks the contact and a string of saliva latches to both of you.

“you’re having little us.” he was pressing his forehead against yours. you’re somehow confused and open your mouth to speak. “you’re not mad?” you softly whisper and neteyam looks at you like you’re stupid.

“mad? baby, i’m the happiest na’vi alive.”

something in you finds relief and you start to smile.

you giggle when you’re swept away from your feet and neteyam twirls you while laughing happily. “neteyam!” you say in between your laugh but neteyam was too happy to even listen

once you’re back on your feet, neteyam searches for your eyes, “you have my baby in you?” his eyes were teary when you shyly nodded.

“don’t ever apologize for this, it’s not only you who’s in this but me too.” he tucks your braids behind your ears, “princess, you’ve no idea how scared i was to tell you i want a family with you sooner.”

neteyam takes a deep breath, “i regret telling you i’m not ready because i was from the start, i just didn’t want you to feel pressured.” he says and your lips curve for a smile.

“i’m so fucking ready you’ve no idea.” he places a feather light kiss on your forehead.

“i love you baby,” he pulls you for a hug and loves how you fit on his chest. “i love you too.” you hug him back, silently thanking eywa and apologizing at the same time.

i need a man like neteyam and it’s not even a joke, i hope you liked this one! thank you for reading — likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 i love each and everyone of you sm! mwah**

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Remind Me - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley Bradshaw is one hell of an aviator. He's one of the best at what he does. You only wish the same could be said of his performance as your husband.

A/N: this is my first real attempt at angst but I ended up making it smutty and fluffy as well so there's that. I was inspired and got a little carried away. Inspired by Remind Me by Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x wife!reader

content/warnings: angst, allusions to cheating, allusions to divorce, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), breeding kink if you squint, praise kink, Bradley being an unattentive husband bc he's clueless, fluffy ending.

word count: 4.6k

"Been so long that you'd forget, the way I used to kiss your neck Remind me, remind me So on fire, so in love, way back when we couldn't get enough Remind me, remind me"

You pulled into the driveway of your beachfront home, the salty Californian breeze encompassing you as you turned the key in the front door, a bag of groceries nestled on your hip as you pushed the door open. A deafening silence came over you as you walked through the entryway, and you noticed that your husband, Bradley, was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t unusual for Bradley to fall asleep in front of the tv on a Sunday afternoon, the drone of sports commentary providing a backdrop to his nap, a neglected bottle of beer warming on the coffee table, condensation tracing its descent down the amber glass. However, today, the usual harmonic sounds of Sportscenter and Bradley's gentle snores was conspicuously absent, replaced by an eerie quiet that settled around you like a heavy blanket, an empty couch, and a note on your kitchen counter - Bradley’s idea of conveying information that wasn’t life or death - scribbled in his distinct, masculine penmanship. 

“Hey beautiful, be back soon, out for golf and beers with the boys - B.” 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his predictable escapades, a mixture of annoyance and resignation washing over you. You let out a long huff as you set the groceries down on the counter, the rustle of paper bags echoing in the stillness of the kitchen. As you meticulously organized the contents into the fridge and pantry, your gaze fell upon the neglected stack of dirty dishes occupying the sink. Their number seemed to have multiplied since the previous night, despite Bradley’s assurances that he would take care of them. You had even reminded him earlier that morning, amidst sips of your morning coffee, only to receive a distracted hum and a vague nod as he scrolled through his phone, his attention elsewhere. This wasn’t anything new for you - Bradley often had a single tracked mind, unable to focus his attention on more than one thing at a time when he wasn’t in the cockpit of a plane, but lately, it felt like every conversation you tried to invoke was one-sided, with Bradley giving little more than a half-hearted “mhmm” in response, regardless of the topic.

As you closed the fridge, you noticed that your dry-erase calendar had a new date encircled in pink, with Bradley’s unmistakeable writing on display in the center. 

“Mission: 3 wks?” 

“Of course you have another fucking mission,” you grumbled to yourself, shaking your head.

The realization hit you like a freight train, slamming into your heart with a pang of unfairness. Bradley's profession demanded his constant departure and return, but the frequency of his missions seemed almost cruel, especially considering the fleeting moments of bliss you shared during his brief stints at home. Six weeks had barely passed since his last return, yet it felt as if his presence was unchanged from the way it had been when he was gone.

Between rigorous training sessions and endless briefings, Bradley sought solace in the camaraderie of his buddies – Jake, Reuben, and Mickey – the trio of bachelors who seemed to relish in their freedom. Their escapades ranged from impromptu drinks to leisurely rounds at the driving range, filled with a sense of masculinity and adventure that Bradley found himself longing to be a part of. Approaching the dreaded milestone of forty, he yearned for the carefree attitude he held in his youth, reminiscing about the exhilarating escapades of his twenties and earlier thirties - ending right around 36 years old when he met you.

In a bid to reclaim some form of that lost spontaneity, Bradley had tentatively ventured into his friends realm, seeking companionship in their revelries. Initially relegated to the role of designated driver, his latent talent for piano and penchant for serenading transformed him into the life of the party. What started as a sporadic outing soon morphed into a monthly ritual, then gradually escalated into a seemingly incessant cycle where every day not spent on base was dedicated to partying it up with "the boys"

As you sank into the welcoming embrace of the couch, enveloped by its plush cushions, a sense of desolation washed over you like a tidal wave. Clutching a pint-sized tub of ice cream to your chest, you sought solace in the flickering glow of the television, scanning through channels in a futile attempt to distract yourself from the gnawing ache within until Bradley came home. Settling on a marathon of romantic comedies on one of the dozens of channels that seem to play nothing but movies and reruns of old sitcoms, you blinked back tears as you watched the romance unfold on tv, all while feeling like your own was slowly dying.

It was three and a half hours later when Bradley finally came clattering through the door, a couple beers deep. You heard him clumsily kick his deck shoes off at the door, his bare feet slapping against the hardwood flooring as he walked down the hall with heavy steps. You did your best to ignore him, wanting to make it clear that you were upset, but not having the fight in you after three and a half hours of crying into a carton of chocolate peanut butter ice cream over Katherine Heigl and James Marsden and Reese Witherspoon and Josh Lucas and their romantic gestures, tender embraces and declarations of love and happily ever afters. You fixed your eyes on the tv as you caught sight of Bradley from the corner of your eye, his fluorescent pink golf shirt almost impossible to ignore. 

As Bradley's voice echoed through the living room, infused with a hint of playful banter, you felt a pang of resignation tugging at your heartstrings. His honeyed drawl, his sun-kissed glow and his almost blonde highlights cascading through his curls, created a striking contrast against the solemnity that enveloped the room. With sunglasses perched atop his head like a crown, Bradley sauntered into view, his caramel-colored eyes scanning the scene before him with a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Hey honey! When’d you get home? You watchin’ one of those chick flicks?”, he spoke with a playful tone, an underlying hint of apprehension lingering in the air. 

Ignoring his inquiry, you remained in your silence, your gaze fixed upon the flickering images on the television screen. Bradley's brow furrowed, the lines etching across his forehead as he searched for a clue amidst the sea of your emotions.

“Aw, I don’t mean chick flick in a bad way, baby, I’m just teasin’”, he continued, his voice laced with a soft plea for understanding. “Some of them aren’t so bad, you know, I like a couple of ‘em.” 

When he was once again met with silence, Bradley took a couple of steps closer to where you lay on the couch, moving his tall, six-foot-three, athletic frame into your line of view. You continued to focus on the tv, finding it nearly impossible to ignore the neon hue of Bradley’s polo shirt now, noticing how he’d paired it with a basic pair of khaki shorts and his Ray-Ban aviators that he never left home without. He knit his brows together as he watched you, his eyes wafting over to the now empty ice cream tub with a single spoon sitting inside, resting on the coffee table. He hummed softly - something he often did when he was trying to think, as a confused look started forming on his face.

“Baby, come on, what’s bothering ya?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, “Did I do somethin’? ‘Cause if I did, I’m sorry for whatever it is.”

“You aren’t,” you finally responded, not breaking eye contact with Ryan Gosling as he appeared on the tv. 

“I’m not what, babe?”

“Sorry. You’re not sorry. You never are sorry.”

“Honey, I’m not following ya.”

You huffed and shook your head as you sat up on the couch, wiping your eyes as you felt the hot tears stinging them once again as they threatened to make a return. A raw aching feeling built up within you as you took a deep breath, preparing to have the conversation you’d been dreading for who-knows-how-long. You looked down at your wedding band for a moment, the sight of it nearly enough to trigger painful sobs as you braced yourself for what was about to transpire between you and your husband.

“You’re not sorry. You’re never home because you choose to never be home. You’re not sorry for it. It’s like you don’t want to be around me, Bradley,” you started slowly, shaking your head as the tears began to fall.

“Baby, hang on-” Bradley begins before you cut him off. 

“Look, Bradley, if you’re unhappy-”

“Unhappy? Baby, no, I could never be unhappy with you, what are you talking about?” Bradley cooed, kneeling down beside the couch as he brushed your hair behind your ear in a tender gesture to ermphasize his point.

“Are you seeing other women when you go out with the guys?” You say bluntly, giving Bradley a stare that practically burns right through him.

“What?! Honey, I think you’re getting the wrong idea here.”

“It’s really not that far-fetched, Bradley. You’re always wanting to go out with your only single friends, you constantly go out to play wingman with them at bars to help them get laid, then when you’re home, you never listen to me, it’s like I may as well be talking to myself most of the time. I only seem to see you if you’re hungry or asleep and that’s only because you can’t boil water to save your life and our bed is the only one in the house that always has clean sheets on it.”

“Babe, I don’t know who the fuck you think you married-” Bradley protested.

“Oh, really? Mr. “Didn’t-get-married-until-he-was-38-because-he-liked-picking-up-girls-in-bars-better? Wasn’t it because that was more convenient for you? Because then you’d never have a “little lady back home to worry about” whenever you went away?”

“That was before I met you, the minute I met you, I stopped wanting to do any of that bullshit. Our first date, I knew I wanted to marry you, honey.”

“That doesn’t mean that’s how you feel now, does it?! I mean, Christ’s sake, Bradley, when was the last time you even kissed me?! Let alone had sex with me, for fuck’s sake. I thought you wanted to try having kids soon once you got your promotion settled,” you said as your voice cracked, shaking your head. 

“Honey, please,” Bradley began pleading, shaking his head. 

You abruptly stood up from the couch, walking away from him and heading towards the kitchen. You opened the fridge, conveniently using the door to block Bradley from your sight, your anger towards him boiling towards the edge now. You grabbed yourself a drink and cracked the top off with the bottle opener, slamming the fridge door shut. Bradley held his hands up in defense as he looked at you, an expression of complete astoundment on his face.

“Baby, I may not be the smartest man out there, but I’m not unfaithful, you know that. I know you know that deep down.” 

“Bradley, I don’t know what I know anymore. I used to know that you loved me too, but that doesn’t seem to hold true.”

“What are you talking about?! Honey, you know that I love you.”

“Do I?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Sweetheart, I’ve never loved anyone like I do you. I know showing it isn’t my strong suit - I never got to see much of an example other than pictures of my folks, but I know damn well that I look at you the same way my dad looked at my mom. And I know that I’ve never, in the four years since we started dating, ever, as much as entertained the idea of being with another woman. I married you. Remember? You were there. Better or worse, sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part, all that?”

“It’s pretty easy to vow to love someone for better or for worse when you’re never fucking around, isn’t it, Bradley?!”

“Well forgive me for fighting for our fucking country, Honey. What, you want me to just walk away from my duty?”

“Your country and your boys come before your wife, do you not see how fucked up that is?”

“You come first, always. I work as hard as I do at work for you. I try to work my ass off to get promotions and be leader on missions so I can make sure you’re taken care of. So that if anything ever happened to me, you’d be set, you’d never have to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t want that! I want you. You could pump gas for a living or be a lifeguard on the beach for all I fucking care. All I know is, the man I married isn’t here anymore, and I don’t know where he went or why.”

Bradley shook his head angrily and scoffed. His face began to turn red as he narrowed his eyes, beginning to talk with his hands. 

“I’m the same fucking guy! Babe, is this seriously because I went golfing this afternoon?”

“No, Bradley, it’s because you’ve been home for six weeks and you haven’t as much as kissed me since you got home off the last mission, and I just saw that you put a new three week one on the calendar. You leave in 10 days and you didn’t even tell me! What, were you just going to fuck off and go when it came and not say a word?”

An awkward hush fell over the two of you, echoing throughout the house. Bradley looked to his feet, remaining quiet as he shook his head. He sighed loudly and pressed his hand to his forehead before looking up at you again. 

“Honey, believe me, I only found out this morning, I was going to tell you…but,” He frowns as he realizes why he didn’t tell you. “But then Jake called, and I wanted to blow off steam about it, so I agreed to hit a few holes with him. But, Baby, I swear to you, I am the exact same Lieutenant Bradshaw who asked you out on a date four years ago. Remember? I almost missed a briefing just to talk to you. Nearly got my ass in trouble for it, but you were worth every second.”

You looked up at Bradley, sinking your top teeth into your bottom lip as you shook your head, almost in disbelief as you remembered how you and Bradley had met. 

You were visiting Coronado for the day, your first trip over the San Diego Bay since moving to the city from Colorado Springs. The sun had been shining as you strolled through the picturesque town on the Pacific coast. Bradley had been walking up to one of the dozens of restaurants that scattered the main strip for lunch with a couple of his comrades, dressed in his khaki uniform as he waited in line for his food, his tanned skin and broad shoulders catching your eye almost immediately. He flashed a smile at you, and in that moment, you’d managed to forget your own name, completely entranced by the man in front of you. 

From there, Bradley had asked you to sit with him for lunch, leaving his friends behind at a nearby picnic table. The two of you had so much fun simply talking that he didn’t realize the time, or that his friends had already left, and that he had to be back on base for a briefing in 10 minutes. He’d quickly exchanged numbers with you and practically sprinted back to his car - a 1972 Ford Bronco in pristine condition, something you remembered about him immediately, a detail you’d found yourself looking for on your outings in the downtown core of San Diego, in case he’d made the trip to your side of the bridge for some reason. 

A week later you were on a second date, and from there, your relationship became official soon after, with a marriage proposal happening on your first anniversary when Bradley arrived home from a mission. He saw you waiting for him on base, standing there in a pale blue sundress, looking even more beautiful than he’d remembered when he left a few weeks prior. He ran up to you, picking you up and swirling you around as he held you close, kissing you more passionately than he’d ever done before. No sooner than he put you back down, he dropped to one knee and asked you to be his wife, and you said yes, without an ounce of hesitation. 

“Bradley,” you sighed sadly, shaking your head as you looked up at him. 

“Honey, I swear to you, from the day that I asked you to sit down for lunch with me, I have never even looked at another woman. All I ever do for the guys when we go out is offer to talk to a girl on Jake’s behalf after he fucks it up and I have to go explain that his brain stopped maturing once he hit about age 15 when it comes to women. He thinks with his dick sometimes and gets his dumbass in trouble. I just go smooth it over so he doesn’t get a kick to the nuts or arrested for something stupid, like fighting some girl’s boyfriend.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, Sweetheart, oh my God, you really thought I was cheating on you? What would any other woman have that you don’t? I’m just there babysitting Jake, and, I usually get a free beer and a plate of Buffalo wings out of the deal.”

“You...you do it for chicken wings?”

“I mean, I do it to hang out with my friends in situations where we’re not planning a mission or flying like our asses depend on it because we might not make it home otherwise.”

You nod your head slowly as everything suddenly starts making sense. It wasn’t that Bradley didn’t want to be with you, it was that he wanted some sense of normalcy with his friends, instead of what had become normal for them at work. You could appreciate it, even if Bradley was going about things the wrong way. 

“Can I show you something?” He said softly, cautiously reaching out to take you by the hand as you nodded your head.

Bradley pulled you in close to his body, wrapping you up in his strong arms and holding you in a passionate embrace as he kissed you with everything he had in him. His lips hungrily kissed at yours, his tongue flitting out to trace your bottom lip as you parted your mouth just so to allow him access. A soft, breathy moan escaped from your throat as you kissed Bradley, the passion overtaking you as he gently pulled away, still hovering above your mouth.

“I want to remind you how much I love you.”

Without another word, Bradley hoisted you up onto the counter, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pulled you towards him. He knelt down in front of you, gently tapping your inner thigh with his hand as you parted your legs for him. Bradley pulled your comfy shorts down off your waist, dragging them down your legs before dropping them to the floor. He ducked his head down between your thighs as his hands rested on you, pulling you ever so slightly in towards him. His tongue licked a long, slow trail up your slit, eliciting a loud, breathy gasp from your lips. 

Bradley’s tongue began to work at you, licking and sucking at your sensitive clit as you tilted your head back. Your fingers raked their way into his curls, tugging gently on them as you guided his head in to your center, a whine leaving your lips as you felt him encircling it with his tongue, his touch delicate, yet passionate, as if he was making this his life’s work. You felt his tongue tracing shapes on you - letters, almost, and Bradley’s muffled voice had a tone of seduction to it as he spoke, his lips vibrating against your swollen, puffy cunt, sending a whole new sensation through you.

“Bradley!” You cried out, throwing your head forward to watch what he was doing, “I-I’m getting close, honey.”

Bradley looked up at you from under hooded lids as he watched your facial expressions, loving how your body was reacting to his touch. There was a newfound look of determination in his eyes as he slipped two of his long, slender fingers inside of you without breaking contact with his mouth. The feeling of his fingertips pressing into your sweet spot and his combination of licking and sucking at your clit like a man starved was enough to push you over the edge. Your legs began to quiver as you felt yourself approach your climax, screaming out Bradley’s name, making it the only sound that could be heard echoing through your empty house.

“Gonna explain what the fuck that new technique of yours is?” You panted as you came down from your euphoria, your head spinning as you stared at Bradley, who was wiping his chin with the back of his hand and sporting a look of pure pride.

“My wedding vows,” He shrugged, as if this was the most obvious explanation in the world.

“Your vows? You recited your vows?”

“Sure did, babygirl. Had to show you I remembered them somehow, figured that was better than me reciting them while bending you over the countertop. I’m not done convincing you just yet though.” 

He smirked, taking you by the hand as he helped you down off the counter. Bradley turned you around, your back facing him as he placed his firm, strong hand on you, guiding you as you bent over and rested your hands on the cold marble surface in front of you. You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you realized your husband’s methods of making it up to you - he was never great with words, spoken apologies usually ended up coming out wrong, words getting tangled and twisted on his tongue, unable to string together a coherent sentence that held any meaning. However, what Bradley lacked in his communication, he made up for with his actions, doing whatever grandiose measure he could to make it up to you. 

Bradley’s broad hand stroked your back, running down to your ass as he gave it a playful squeeze. He let out a low groan as he undid his golf shorts, hurriedly kicking them off behind him. Bradley gave his cock a few quick strokes with his hand before running his tip along your dripping wet slit to tease you.

“Ready for me, Honey?” He purred, grinning as he watched you tense up as you felt him brush against your clit.

“Bradley, so help me, if you don’t stop teasing me-” your sentence was cut off abruptly as you felt Bradley buck his hips forward, pushing his length into your entrance. 

You whined as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate him, feeling full as he bottomed out inside of you, Bradley leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder as he gave you time to adjust. Bradley stood himself upright, lining his hips up with yours as he pulled back before giving a hard thrust forwards. He began pumping himself in and out of you, snapping his hips into a rhythm as he held your hips in place with his hands. Each thrust was sharp and calculated, hitting all the right places in perfect timing. There was one thing your husband prided himself on more than anything, and that was how well he made love to his wife. 

“That’s it, Honey, you look so pretty taking my cock like this,” Bradley hummed, his voice sultry and smooth as he praised you.

“Bradley, harder.” You commanded, whining as you felt an aching need for him to let you cum. 

Bradley began thrusting deeper into you, taking less care to be gentle with each movement. You felt your knees buckling with pleasure as he thrusted, and the sounds coming from both you and Bradley were beyond obscene, but in the best possible way. 

“Baby, I’m getting close,” He breathed, tilting his head back and panting. “Do you want me to pull out?”

“No!” You responded, clenching your thighs around him, in a more zealous response than you intended. “Need you, Bradley. I don’t care what happens. I need you.”

You could almost hear the change in tone from Bradley as soon as you spoke. Except, instead of killing the mood, like you’d anticipated, Bradley began fucking himself into you harder than before, almost desperate as he gripped your hips tightly. 

“You want me to fill you up, my pretty girl? Want me to cum in that tight little pussy of yours?” He husked, his body practically giving way to pleasure as he thought about it.

“Mhmm!” was all you could muster out of you as you nodded your head, feeling yourself reach your orgasm again, your walls clenching around him tightly.

“Fuck, Honey, you got it. Anything you want, Babygirl, I’ve got ya.” He babbled as he fell apart inside of you.

You placed your palms flat against the counter to hold yourself steady as Bradley’s thrusts became sloppier, slowing until they reached a gradual stop. He held his positon inside of you for a few moments while he caught his breath, almost too exhausted to move. As he pulled out, you let out a deep sigh, almost aching at the now emptiness in you. 

You finally got air back into your lungs as you stood upright, turning to face him as you leaned your back against the counter. Your gaze fell on Bradley, a blissful look of exhaustion on your face. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, his curls now slightly dampened from a mixture of the Californian humidity and the passionately wild sex you’d just had. Bradley gave you a crooked grin as he gently put his arms around your waist, pulling you in close to him. 

“How was that for my apology? Or do you need me to do it again? ‘Cause if you give me like, an hour, I’ll go grab one of those Body whatever drinks Jake always has after a workout and I’ll be good to go for another round,” Bradley chuckled, stroking your hair.

“It was good, you’re forgiven. But,” you paused, grinning up at him as he raised an eyebrow at you. “I’d appreciate it if you spent a little more time with me. Maybe we could catch a ball game together, go for a road trip or something.”

“You know what? That sounds like a great idea. I’ve got tomorrow and the next day off. We could drive up to Malibu or something. Hell, Vegas is only four hours. May as well check that off our bucket list while we still can.”

“While we still can?” You cocked your head to the side, giving him an incredulous look.

“Well, you just begged me not to pull out…and if it’s alright by you, I’d kinda like to see what happens if we kept doing that,” Bradley said with a playful grin, laughing as he stroked your cheek.

“Oh, is that so?” You smirked, shaking your head at him. 

“Well, this road trip will give us four hours and a lot of desert to pull over in. You’ll get lots of chances to see what happens.” 

[violet-eng]

Husband!Zhongli gets home and wants wife!reader to take care of him- NSFW🔞

summary: Zhongli gets home and wants wife!reader to take care of him.

warnings: smut, a little oral (fem! receiving), piv, some "adoration" kinks?, fangs because I like the hybrid idea of Zhongli/Morax. If I forgot something let me know.

Part 2 here

🎨 by SaiprinSK

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The feeling of Zhongli's teeth on the inside of your thighs makes you lift your head to meet his lust-filled amber gaze.

“Zhongli…” you whisper, stifling a moan when you feel his tongue slide between your folds.

“I’ve had a long day,” he whispers against your center, the waves sending vibrations to your clit. "Can't I enjoy my wife tonight?"

He says this by crawling over you, resting his hands on either side of your head and tilting his head to the side. For Zhongli, millennia had passed until he found a creature as magnificent as you, beautiful, and tasty in several ways.

"I have met several women throughout my life," he whispered into your neck, tracing circles with his finger around your nipple, "and you are one of the ones I liked the most," saying that, he leaves a slight bite on your skin, you feel the fangs of his hybrid form protrude.

"Is that supposed to make me feel flattered?" you ask, moving his head away from your neck, meeting the bright gaze of the Archon, who smiles, showing his extended canines.

"Indeed," he says with a low tone, voice raspy and grave, sending heat to the lower part of your belly. "They are all overshadowed by you, no name means anything when I have you here, beneath me."

"So I'll be just another of your lovers?" you ask, sitting up, although he doesn't move one bit, leaving his face just centimeters away.

"Of course not," he caresses your cheek and places a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. "When you die, I will go with you. There will be no woman after you. No one would be worth it, that's why I am going to take advantage of every second, every word that comes out of your mouth, every movement of your body and every moan that I manage to extract from you. "

"We have time," you say, kissing his neck, feeling his skin crawl under the touch of your lips, "I'm still young, I have a whole life to give to you."

You notice a hint of melancholy in his eyes for a moment, then a lopsided smile.

"At my age, time passes faster than it seems," he says, his mouth twisted into a grimace that tries to hide his misery.

"Then we don't have to waste a single second" you whisper, lowering your hand to the lowest part of his abdomen, feeling his masculinity harden.

You don't get used to the feeling of having him inside, big and thick compared to your tight pussy, his hands imprisoning yours against the silk sheets, his teeth abusing your reddened nipple, and above all the looks he gives you when you shudder because he hits that soft spot in your pussy, the one he knows so well.

It's not right, you know it's not right to meet the Archon of Liyue like this, how sacrilegious it is that your walls suck his masculinity with so much force. How disrespectful it is to repeat his name between whimpers and tears, begging for speed and strength.

"Zhongli", that leaves your lips like a scream. He is completely inside you, the frenzy of his movements makes you slip on the sheets, your hair a mess in your hands, which are still imprisoned by his, much larger in comparison.

"Look at you," he says, a smile spread across his face, "taking me so well, so devoted to your Archon. Good little creature, all mine, with that pretty tight pussy begging for more."

"Morax" you whisper, your voice no longer coming out, your throat burns from so many times he has managed to make you moan.

Zhongli tenses at your words, when you use his Archon name you push him to the limit, and you are aware of that.

He is fascinated when you act like a devoted creature, when you call him Morax and he is inside you, delving into your tightest spaces. He speeds up the thrusts, which become irregular, it's not Zhongli, it's not the funeral home consultant, no, it's Morax, the Archon of Liyue who is fucking his wife as if it were the last day of his life, tearing away every particle of pleasure he can. He hadn't felt this way in centuries...in fact...He'd say he hadn't felt this way ever.

He feels your orgasm on his cock and a delicate shiny ring forming around it. He continues until he reaches his own climax, hitting that spot that overstimulates you magnificently. He cums inside you, letting out an almost animalistic grunt as he squeezes your fingers between his. He didn't let go of you at any moment.

He lets his chest fall onto yours and hides his head in your neck. He likes your smell, especially after sex, because it is mixed with his own essence.

You stroke his hair, freeing yourself from his grip, and place a chaste kiss on his temple.

"I love you" you say.

He's still inside you, and you can feel the way he gets hard again.

"Zhongli, wait..."

"You yourself said not to waste a single second," he says. You know there's a long week ahead of you.

[rosie-writings]

Collapse Into Me

Request: anon— A honeymoon fic of Colby bringing his wife to Wales like he mentioned on Snapchat during their Europe trip

Summary: Wedding planning polarized you and your family, but it made you realize that Colby’s family is the one you were meant to be in.

Warnings: Colby x Reader smut, Dom/Sub dynamic, Bondage, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex, and all the warm fluffy feelings

Words: 9k

No Y/N Used

Title is from ‘Telomeres’ by Sleep Token

My hands were shaking, trembling to the bone, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to the cold in the air or that shrill in her voice.

“And so you think it’s a good idea, now?” My eyebrows pushed together at the sight of hers raising. “Of all times, now?”

”I mean, technically not-not now. In February.”

”February?” I didn’t think her voice reached that pitch, but of course it was me who could draw it out of her. “You’re giving yourself four months to plan a wedding? You’re so stupid.”

”Tell me why I’m stupid about this. You haven’t given me a valid reason; you’ve given me ridiculous reasons for why you think I’m stupid about other things, but not this.”

”Because,” she sighed with a twinge in her voice. My eyes grazed the stringy amber brown streaked blonde directionless curls at the end of her wavy hair. The last three inches of them should have been cut off months ago. “You of all people should know that it’s dumb behavior to have a ring on your finger three months into even entertaining the idea of being-of being stuck to someone.” My eyes fell flat.

I never liked the fact that I was five inches shorter than my cousin, but at this moment, I realized that she swung her height clunkily with those heels that used to be in my bedroom. My mom left them on my bed for me when she accidentally bought two sizes too big for herself. Of course I left them in my cousin’s car accidentally on purpose because why would a clan of near-six-foot-tall women leave a size ten shoe for the one who barely hit five foot four. 

“Okay,” my voice shook. “That kind of hurt actually.”

”Yeah; truth hurts. That’s how you know that this is the truth.” If that was the case, I could hurt her a lot right now. I would start with the fact that her eye color never really matched her beloved blue mascara, but that was neither here nor there.

”Well… I’d rather be stuck to him for the rest of my life than you guys.” I looked away and shoved down the burning in my throat. I continued the blame before she could gasp her pitiful response. “I mean, it’s true for you I suppose.”

”It’s true for anyone!”

”You-You hardly know what I want.” The scoff of her thick lips made mine push in a tight line.

”I’ve seen you under the sun enough to know that you’ve daydreamed about your honeymoon being at the beach.” Or maybe I simply day dreamed about a summer vacation without your squeaky voice cutting through the soothing sound of waves—

“I mean, you’re probably just projecting,” I sighed. “At least your skin keeps a tan. It’s just too much work for me to prioritize staying dark.”

“Yeah I know,” she said and I bit my tongue to conceal the roll of my eyes as if my eyes and tongue were connected. “Maybe I should just convince your mom to talk sense into you.”

”I mean, I’ve told her already and you’re the only one who’s given me this amount of shit about it.” Her eyes widened; they yielded a confrontation I wasn’t ready for. 

“Hm,” she sighed. Her eyes scanned me and it felt nice for her to be speechless if even for a second. “Well I still don’t like it.”

”And not everything’s about you.” This time her eyes rolled.

“Where are you even getting married? He has enough money to take you wherever you want and have it done.”

”Pf,” I scoffed because my stomach turned at the sound of her already expecting something from him. “Perhaps, but you damn well know I have enough money to bring all of us anywhere I want to go.” Her eyebrow rose. Only one of them.

”So you’re telling me he’s making you pay?”

”I don’t remember your opinion mattering when it comes to issues between a husband and wife, but go off I guess.” She audibly gasped.

”I’m telling your mom you said that.”

”Do it,” I challenged without blinking. She rolled her eyes. Her stupid car keys flicked over her hand. No one ever told her that the weight of all the senseless chains between far and few keys on the ring could ruin her ignition. She probably pumped her own gas once.

”I will.” She spun on her heel and walked over the edge of the curb. Her hand settled on the handle of that pristine Audi she bought last autumn. Well, she didn’t buy it; follow the money up the chain and it would come from YouTube into my bank account. “Also, I could never see you getting married in the dead of winter. You’d blend in with the snow and dead trees.”

I rolled my eyes because she didn’t know that it made me cry at night when my skin reddened from the unrelenting summer sun.

It didn’t even snow in Southern California.

”Hey,” he said, and the door of the car hardly opened all the way when the sweet sound hit my ears. Despite the tension in my throat, I stifled a wide smile.

”Hi,” I said as I sat down and closed the door. A flick of a millisecond long expression from him told me that I held my breath for too long when I said my greeting. 

“I’m guessing it went…”

”Yeah no,” I sighed as I released the tension in my throat. My fingers etched into the thick leather of his car. His hand found my thigh. My eyes still peeled out the window. “She’s an idiot. They all are.” He was quiet for a moment. Before a smile broke. God, I couldn’t look away from him even if I only drowned on half of his appearance. His eyes were on the road. 

“Sorry, but I anticipated that.” I shook my head.

It was September, and Colby and I got engaged almost a month ago. I waited to tell any of my family until now so that we could breathe and be excited by taking a break at work and partying with friends more than necessary. I knew that it would put yet another ringer between my women dominated family who each had expectations much higher than I did.

Well, my expectation of the actual person I was going to marry clearly was higher than theirs. Their primary focus was the wedding and who their bridesmaids were going to be and where the bachelorette parties would be and where the honeymoon—

Jesus Christ.

Maybe I was the second out of eleven of us getting married—I had three sisters and four first and three second cousins; all of us girls—because I wanted to get it over with. Maybe it sounded sad, and I kind of was, but this sadness was rooted in the stigma they inadvertently forced in me when I was young. I knew I didn’t meet their expectations when it came to the kind of dresses I liked.

Don’t get me wrong; I was no less materialistic than they were. I just liked making my own money and giving myself clothes and dresses devoid of color when I wanted to, unlike the ones their mothers and fathers threw at them in between whiny complaints. They dressed me up one time when I was sixteen; that was when the oldest was married at 25. I wasn’t a bridesmaid because there were too many of us, especially when combined with her two best friends. 

And I wasn’t the flower girl either because I wasn’t the youngest. But if she had asked me to be the flower girl, I would have dressed in a floor length black dress out of spite towards the embarrassment. 

The first time I would be in a wedding would be my own, and I was thoroughly happy about it.

I liked the way—that when Colby’s fingertips dragged up my leg to find my hand, and once found—his own rings clashed with the one he gave me. I also liked the fact that the first ring I ever accepted from someone was his, and also the fact that the first ring to be placed on his ring finger would be the one I would get him. Despite the dozens of rings that adorned his fingers at every second of the day, I knew he deliberately made vacant his ring finger, even if he never explicitly mentioned it. I noticed.

So now we were on the way back to his house. I suspected Sam was back from his morning responsibility and as were other friends considering the amount of food in the backseat. Colby must have picked it up right as he picked me up from the cafe I met my sisters at that morning.

We talked about the engagement at first, and I was smart enough to tell them in public so they couldn’t make too large of a scene. It was my sister who was the happiest. She was two years older than me; the oldest of us four. Two of the three cousins who decided to spend their time on me had to warm to the idea. It was my second oldest sister and the third cousin who stayed later after everyone else left to chew me out about it. 

I was saved by God herself when my sister said she was going to be late for work and left. My cousin didn’t get the memo and didn’t leave in her car until Colby’s had been sitting on the side of the road, since all the parking spaces were taken, for a solid minute. 

It felt like I could breathe everytime I stepped foot in their house. 

Once everything was settled, anyway.

Colby told me the night we were engaged, after the party and after we had been alone for two hours, that he would have proposed to me in the spring, but it took all those months to convince Sam that it was a good idea.

”I never expected you to be the one to convince Sam that marriage could be good; I thought it would be the other way around,” I told Colby when my thumb still twisted the engagement ring on my finger. He laughed.

”I don’t think it would have mattered who was getting married between us; the other one was bound to take months to come to terms with it.”

And I knew it had nothing to do with me. I love their friendship wholeheartedly; I had no complaints about it at all. 

“I really don’t hold any of that-that mess against you, you know?” I shook my head in faux annoyance.

”You don’t have to tell me that everytime I had a standoff with them about you,” I snapped. “I know you don’t. If you did, I wouldn’t be here.” 

“That’s a little much—“

”I mean, even though I fucking hate them sometimes—most of the time—I still couldn’t marry someone who seriously hates them. That’s for me and me only.”

”You take the brunt of them too much.”

”Yeah well,” I sighed as we got to the house, and thanked God for it. “Someone has to and at least I have the patience to not tear their family apart unlike our mothers.” He smiled, and I knew it had nothing to do with what I meant.

Their family, as in, I was already founded by another.

Wedding planning was nice when I was secluded with my friends and when I was with Colby; the anxiety of being without the rest of my family was forgotten. I knew I was different from them, but I didn’t realize how much I was until my own wedding planning turned into a mirror. I also couldn’t stop thinking about my oldest cousin’s wedding; maybe it was a blessing more than a curse that I didn’t have to wear one of those coral bridesmaid dresses that looked stuck in a 2015 Instagram feed.

I really didn’t look good in coral. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t chosen. Or maybe it was the fact that if I chose a dress that would cover my tattoos, it wouldn’t match her aesthetic.

It didn’t matter to me. None of them would be in my wedding.

I take that back; one would, and that was the one who cried when I FaceTimed her two weeks ago. Colby, even, invited her to a party of recent to which she declined but was thankful still for including her. She was a month younger than me. I threatened her to not tell the rest of our family. The fact that I told her was enough; I knew she wouldn’t. 

Maybe there was a certain decibel of venom on my tongue when I talked about my family to the boys, but I was too lethargic to say it to their faces. My family would expect yelling, arguing, and receipts, and at this point, I simply didn’t care enough.

I decided to save the energy for the week the world learned about who was in my ring of bridesmaids. 

“Good thing you only have a few months left of it,” Colby said a bit too happily. I smiled as we grabbed the food and walked into their full house. 

And a few months it was.

I dizzied at the sight of the makeup on my face. To be completely transparent, I tried this look on myself before and I thought I looked decent until a professional artist, obviously, made my version of the look more similar to a newborn digging through its mother’s makeup bag. Two days. Just two more days and it would be over. It guilted me that that was how I felt about wedding planning, but I just wanted to be alone. 

Alone with Colby; how was that different than being alone at this point?

Somehow, the weather caved as if it knew and obeyed the spite in my heart. Thick winterous clouds rolled in last night, and I couldn’t help but smile at them. No longer did I imagine a piercing blue sky over us in our wedding photos. I didn’t fully understand why it made me ecstatic to know that the weather would traditionally be not ideal for a wedding.

Maybe it was the fact that the earth gave me what I wanted.

My mother, three cousins, and one sister complained about how gross it was outside and how they wished the sky would clear up. I silently prayed it wouldn’t. I could have sworn the clouds turned grayer. I knew I wouldn’t get snow in Los Angeles, but my family was right about the fact that I wouldn’t have been able to handle the chill.

And I thought that fluke cool front in September was cold.

“What do you think?” I asked as my best friend walked in the room upon the makeup artist’s request.

”Stop,” she gasped and she smiled ear to ear until the burning I ever so hated coiled in my throat. “I fear I’m going to have to be a bitch to you tomorrow so that we won’t get all sentimental and cry it all off.”

”Good,” I snorted. “Because if I cry I’m punching you in the throat.” I held the mirror and looked at myself. It was the first time I wore makeup that mended with my skin tone. It didn’t look like I stole mud from the earth and rubbed in on my cool skin. I looked more alive and healthy than I did when my sister did my make up, and my heart sped at the idea that each of them would scowl at the eyeliner that might have been a millimeter thicker than the average wedding liner. I don’t know what it was; I didn’t do things out of spite all the time.

It simply looked like spite when I did things for myself.

I saved putting my dress on for tomorrow.

But when tomorrow came, my best friend tied it up for me. Or zipped it. Both, actually. 

The photographer snapped our intimate moments in the women’s getting ready room. My two other friends, my sister, and Colby’s sister including our moms who stopped by for no more than ten minutes accompanied. The silence was a blessing even though we were the furthest from actually staying quiet. I didn’t think I liked other human voices until I met my closest friends.

It ended before I convinced myself it started.

My stomach was in knots until I saw Colby that day, and then I remembered the rest. I blacked out when I was with him, always, and could only remember the things we kept between us. The rest of it didn’t matter. The morning mattered, but the nerves gnawed at them, and when we were together, who cared about the cousin gossiping rows away?

I heard his footsteps before his voice. He took his time, and I didn’t move.

I stood in the room that my bridesmaids and I readied ourselves in nearly an hour ago. 

My lips still buzzed from the feeling of his. We kissed far too many times to count, but it felt like this one counted more than the rest. 

He took more steps towards me.

I noticed my breath as my eyes still peeled out the window. The heavy winter clouds still hung low, and the trees around the venue were almost colorless aside from the nearly black bark that hung on through the stress of winter. The decorations took the place of snow, and I appreciated my best friend’s idea of having black and white be the colors for our wedding, because I couldn’t look away. The red roses displaced here and there warmed the ornate black iron chairs facing the altar, and I imagined what the semi outdoor and indoor reception space appeared like now that people and music filled it. 

He didn’t say anything by the time he stood behind me. His hands found my waist. I still didn’t move.

I knew he came to find me, primarily, but also prepared me for entering the reception hand in hand. I assumed all that was forgotten when he found me here, alone. I didn’t intend on being alone. After photos, my bridesmaids and I came up here to freshen up and they then went off to arrange our entrance. Colby did the same with his groomsmen.

“Fuck off; go find your wife we have business to attend to,” I read Sam’s lips. Colby laughed and didn’t question when a handful of them raced by with cans and markers in their hands. I watched them down below on the porch; butterflies filled me when Colby walked in the front door.

A breath dragged quickly between my teeth when Colby left a trail of slow kisses from my neck to my shoulder. The white lace of my sleeves hardly clung on my shoulder giving him much room. He didn’t take advantage of it for the sake of photos, but I knew he wanted to. I leaned back into his touch, but didn’t take my eyes off the window. 

The ceremony space was fully empty now; the last few guests made it to the reception space.

“As much as I’m contemplating taking you here and fucking you on every surface of this room, I’m not sure you would appreciate me messing up your makeup before we go to the reception.”

My face burned, oh it burned, I didn’t look at him or else his pestering smile would make it worse.

”Bring me downstairs then,” I laughed and turned to him finally. I hardly looked at him before his lips were on mine. My arms wrapped around his neck, ever pulling him tighter. I breathed him in as he tasted me.

Maybe my wine red lipstick was transfer proofed on purpose, but a tiny part of me wished it wasn’t because his new ring wouldn’t be the only symbol of claim on him.

”Come on,” he said, and his hand slipped in mine. 

I tasted him through the reception.

Through pictures, dances, cake, and conversations; I didn’t think a mouth could be so memorable.

”What?” I gasped when I butted in the boys’ conversation at the end. Sam looked at me with wide drunken eyes that buzzed from the thrill of the night.

”Uh—We were reminding Colby to just chill out and take a breath before seeing his car and probably have it washed before you do anything else or else he’d have to get a new paint job tomorrow.”

”Jesus Christ,” Colby laughed. 

And after we left the venue, we did just that. I didn’t know that shaving cream could eat away at car paint but there we were.

My ears rang after the car doors were shut, and my breathing caught in my chest.

We were alone. 

We had been alone and spent many nights sleepless and breathless, but none of them amounted to that night, that moment. I couldn’t pinpoint why, I just knew.

He didn’t say anything in the minutes it took to reach the freeway. My palm burned against his. His fingertips raced up my palm and invaded the lace that started at my wrist. Chills electrified up my arm from where his fingertips touched, and I didn’t move away from them. 

My head spun with every step, and before I knew it, we walked into the hotel suite booked if only for a handful of hours. Until our flight. I walked in, my breathing definitely not under control, and he haphazardly set our bags down. I felt his eyes on me, and before I could turn around, I heard his quick steps. I broke into a smile when his hands reached me, and he spun me around harshly for himself.

His hand held my face, and no longer was his touch filled with care for my appearance. No, it was filled with a vengeance to touch, to please, to get near. He licked into my mouth and I gave and gave, his hands didn’t leave any part of my body untouched, even as we stood there.

And then he fell to his knees.

My breath left me as he looked up darkly from where he descended. As I drew a breath to ask what he was doing, hands slowly snaked up my legs. 

“Colby,” I hummed his name. There wasn’t much of a skirt to my dress; it was more a-line than anything, but the thin layers of fabric were soft, durable. My skin crawled at the sound of it brushing against the sleeve of his thick jacket. He still hadn’t changed a thing about his appearance since the ceremony. Maybe his jacket came off at some point while dancing, but we could see our breaths in the air outside.

”Oh—“ I couldn’t contain my hums, moans, and noises as his fingertips trailed up my skin, and when he dove under my dress and used his mouth on me instead, I saw stars.

I couldn’t remember another word other than his name. I felt it too; the hum of his own moans against my thighs. What on earth took him so long? I was torn in two. A part of me needed to feel every part of him now, but the other wanted to stay here forever and let him touch and kiss every cell of my body.

The muscles in my stomach tensed the moment his fingers grabbed the top of one of the garters around my thigh and he snapped it back. My hand reflexively pushed his head and he laughed. I thought he would take it off, but no. His retaliation was shoving me by the hips to sit on the edge of the bed behind me. 

Instead, his lips and tongue dove right where I ached for him.

With a gasp, I tried to handle what I felt, but I couldn’t. He didn’t even move to take off the lace that was probably ruined with my arousal and had been for hours now. Then a few fingertips dipped behind the side of it and I preened at the feeling of his cool fingerprints in my unbearable heat.

“Colby—“ I gasped yet again, but he didn’t wait up. Two fingers dove into me. He knew how ready I was; he probably knew from the look in my eyes alone. Then he whispered something against me that I couldn’t make out. He shoved the lingerie out of his way, and I gasped at the tough stretch of the lace in my inner hip. His tongue was on me, his mouth worked me and sucked me sweetly as his fingers slowly moved in and out.

My head hit the bed as I gave up any power I had. 

Then he gasped and breathed heavily as he pushed my skirt up higher. It pooled across my hips, and I rose to my elbows so I could finally see his pretty face. It was flushed, and his eyes were dark and hazy.

Those hands grabbed my thighs, and the pressure fueled my lust must have left bruises in their wake. I yelled his name as he dove back down into me, and I finally was able to string my fingers through his messy hair. 

I chanted his name like a prayer and I felt moans and words in between my legs again. No part of me could find the mess he made of his mouth, my heat, repulsive in any way even though I know I would scrub us clean in a handful of time.

”Oh my god, I’ll come already,” I gasped. Of course this fueled his movements. My voice broke into higher whines, and he didn’t complain if I yanked on the roots of his hair too tightly.

He licked me through my orgasm even as I shook through violent aftershocks. 

He shot to his feet.

”Please—“ I gasped. His eyes didn’t come off mine as he unbuckled his belt. I did, though, I took my eyes off his eyes, and I launched forward. Even though it may have taken more time than if he did it, he allowed my excitement to fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. I felt his gaze on top of me, and his hand stroked in alignment with the currents of my hair. It was pinned behind me loosely where rivers of strands wound elegantly.

My heart raced at the feeling of his rough, and respectfully gentle hand warmly brushing and leading me without messing up my hair. I wanted him to, though. God, I wanted him to ruin my hair.

Ruin my makeup. 

I pulled him from his pants, and a river of uneven breaths flowed from him. He hummed my name when I took him in my mouth.

”Just-Just want inside you,” he whispered. I ignored him and laced my gaze with his as I went down on him over and over. His eyes rolled back and my body surged deeper around him when pleasure overcame him. I might have gone faster, might have gotten ahead of myself— “Alright, alright,” he gasped. He grabbed himself and pulled me by the hair. I gasped when I came off of him.

He shoved me down to the bed. 

I looked up at him, and he didn’t move us. He didn’t take another article of clothing off us.

I couldn’t speak, and from the look in his eyes, he clearly couldn’t either. His heart raced; I could tell by the way his breath escaped him in and out unevenly. He shoved my lingerie to the side again.

Like every time his body mended with mine, he filled me to the brim. 

“Love you—“ He gasped so lowly I hardly heard him. “Mine, you’re all mine.”

”And you’re mine,” I whined when he thrusted harshly. We didn’t leave room for teasing. He didn’t want to waste another second—not that any of the many seconds of the day were wasted—but what else was each glance we sent each other on this day other than teasing, foreplay.

God, I undressed him with my eyes dozens of times today alone.

His hands raced down my legs, pushed them back and spread them further apart. Eyes tore me to shreds. His face strained with pleasure, and I had to hold onto the duvet tightly since I couldn’t read what I wished to.

”God—fucking—in the way—“ He cut himself off with a tear.

He didn’t want to take off any of my clothes, no, he wanted to savor the sight of this day on my skin, so he tore the side lace of the lingerie slightly so that he didn’t catch on the tightness of it. I gasped some tension released, and he was able to find better leverage.

”I love you, I love you—holy shit—you’re mine.” This time he leaned forward with one of my legs hooked over his arm.

”I’m yours,” I repeated.

”I’m going to cum in you and you’re going to stay filled with it until the morning,” he said. I thought his hand wrapped around my throat, but that was just my visceral reaction. 

“Colby,” I gasped his name breathlessly. “Need you in me forever.”

It was quick, and I didn’t realize until later how calculated it was.

After he filled me, he recovered me with the tight white lingerie—albeit slightly ripped now—and his release couldn’t slip out. My body trembled under his touch, his gaze, and he kissed me like he meant it at the altar. He always did.

”Sit up,” he gasped. I obeyed and looked up at him for the next direction. Instead of making a command, he walked over and sat behind me on the bed. His hands were hot and sweaty, his breath still quick. 

Then, his hands started working on the laces and zipper of my dress. It took him a second, but he learned and released me from the dress slowly. A part of me wanted to rush him, but this was it. The first and the last time he would take this dress off of me. When it was undone, his fingers uncovered my shoulders; fingers grazing my inked skin behind the falling lace.

Colby stood in front of me as I too raised to my feet and he pushed down my dress. I stepped out of it. When he went to worship the rest of my body that he neglected, I cut him off. I grabbed his face and kissed him. I savored his moans against my tongue before I licked into his mouth. His hands were on me. They fell down my bare sides, ran over the roughness of the lace lingerie over my hips, and raced back up over my shoulders, my chest.

I pulled away. 

Without looking away from the eyes I swam in every day, I loosened his tie and pulled it off. Then his jacket. 

My fingers worked and unclasped the buttons of his button up. With each one I unbuttoned, I kissed down his skin. I felt the way he shuddered under my breath, my lips, and I was reminded all over again the real effect I had on him. His heart beat erratically, his breath wavered.

I kissed all the way down his body until I was on my knees. The shirt slipped from his shoulders. He pulled from his shoes and pushed them away. Then I pulled his pants off fully; obviously they were already unbuckled.

He moaned my name, and somehow this was more intimate than him putting his cum in me.

”Come here,” he said before I could take his underwear off. I stood. He kissed me again, but he pulled me. His lips pulled me, his hands.

I followed him into the bathroom.

Looking back on it, every decision he made was calculated. He always allowed me my fun, but he never skipped a step or a plan. 

Colby flicked the light in the bathroom on and he pulled the stool at the wide granite sink away for me. I sat and looked at myself in the mirror. 

A flush matched my messy makeup and painted my skin. For as dressed as my hair and face were, my body sat completely bare. Naturally I considered cowering away, but he would never allow that. I froze as he stood behind me and ever so gently, began pulling the hair pins from my hair and setting them on the sink.

Pretty sure I melted then and there as if nothing that had just happened, happened.

I watched his face as he focused. With every pin, a strand of hair cascaded down my skin. Goosebumps spread over the touches. He kept the hair down my back and didn’t allow it in front of me. I knew that was on purpose; I would have covered my nipples with the strands.

When my hair was completely free, he left the bathroom.

”Colb—“ He immediately returned with my bag. He opened it. He grabbed the smaller bag inside of it knowing my brush and makeup remover were in it.

I could have been shaking from the chill in the bathroom, but I think it was from the warmth that pooled in between my legs in my underwear. I knew my eyes were darkened with thoughts. I looked up at him in the mirror as he brushed my hair. 

The fact that his cum pooled in my underwear while he did the sweetest, gentlest thing he had ever done for me turned this into the filthiest memory I had.

He must have known that this memory would get me on his knees for him every day for the rest of our lives.

“Stop that,” he finally broke the very long silence. I don’t think we ever sat in such a long silence without one of us sleeping.

”Stop what?” My voice caught. We ignored it.

”Staring at me like you’re going to eat me or something.” I laughed.

”Obviously,” I mumbled as I rolled my eyes away. He laughed at the heated blush on my face.

”God, you’re so beautiful. Insane in my hands.” He left the brush on the counter. “Take off your makeup and we’ll go lay down, okay?”

”Okay,” I nodded.

I knew he wanted to shower, but he wanted me to sleep with his cum in me more.

After I was finished cleaning my face, he shoved me back down on the stool. I gasped when he got on his knees in between my thighs. Darkly, his eyes glanced up at me for a moment and then he looked at my skin where he touched me.

As his fingers drenched the skin of my legs, he tugged the garter on my thigh off with his teeth. His breath left hot chills trailed behind.

When the early sun woke me up, I realized he purposely didn’t draw the curtains so we could wake up without an alarm but still on time. We woke up very much so on time; we didn’t need to leave for the airport for another three hours. It was six am. I opened my eyes and rolled to him. His body was on fire, and my skin writhed at the feeling of his hard he was against me already. Before he choked out his first word, I straddled him. 

“Baby,” he moaned, hands rested on my hips. I still wore my underwear like he wanted. His eyes fell down my body and landed on my underwear. “Off. Need these off now,” he demanded as he played with the frayed edges of the tear he caused. I raised my hips and pulled them down. His refreshed eyes didn’t miss a second of my body that was revealed from under the white fabric.

”Holy shit—“ he gasped, and that was how I realized we mixed—our fluids mixed—in between my legs and still connected my underwear to me. He didn’t spend another word. He threw the lingerie aimlessly and grabbed my hips with a force, a dominance, he didn’t use last night. I squealed as he yanked me back down on his lap. 

My eyes rolled back when we both thrusted my hips across him; up and down.

And when he filled me, when he shoved me down on him, I rode him until we both neared tears and more of his cum stuffed inside of me. The sun had barely awakened the city.

He washed my hair and my body in the shower that morning, and I was glad I woke us up so early so that our third round in seven hours was under that hot shower rain. It was less the rain that washed clean our mess between my legs and more his tongue. More within this night had he fallen to his knees for me than I could remember. So, naturally, I fell on my knees for him after.

We stood at the wide mirror and talked as we got ready.

Our flight to Wales was in an hour and a half.

And my stomach was in knots.

It was difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that this was the true start of the rest of our lives together, and not only that, we were on our way to an entirely different country alone to stay alone for a week without distractions. We’ve traveled together before, but I knew that nothing was about to compare to this.

Only through TSA did he pull his hand away from mine.

I didn’t even think about it.

Not even a millisecond of time was spent worrying about anyone else. Not our families, our friends, or our work took up a second of space in my head. I was torn apart for choosing the honeymoon location. While discussing it with Colby, we realized that we both already wanted to come here. He had been here with Sam before once while on their Europe trip. This country was simply romanticized in my head by the books I enjoyed.

The grass was infinitely greener than I anticipated considering the chilling weather. When I touched the grasses and blades of bristles that show from the soft earth, they weren’t soft or warm, and I snapped my hand back with a smile. 

The room was blue, I think; more windows spanned the walls of the bedroom than an actual expanse of drywall. The spindles of the bed were high and came together only a hair from the ceiling with white satin draped past the plush duvet. My fingers grazed the stitches in the duvet cover. He was behind me. 

I figured we would get accustomed to this house in a few hours. 

We would get accustomed to each others’ bodies again in the meantime.

First, his hands raised to my waist like they did so often.

Then he spun me around violently; that same gentleness must have run thin from our hours of travel. The sun set behind the horizon already and orange bands through the winter clouds were the only light in the dim room.

He kissed me again and without being able to see, my sense of touch was heightened to the max.

My back hit the bed and my pants slid down; I wasn’t sure which came first. The next thing I knew, he was over me, and his hand supported himself next to my head. I only made out his silhouette as my hands touched every part of it. 

“Oh fuck—“ he gasped when my hands harshly invaded the top of his pants before he could remove them himself. I couldn’t not say his name; at this point it was a habitual moan for me.

He kissed my neck and shoved my arms to the bed on either side of me. I didn’t even try to stop the embarrassing sounds that poured from me when he harshly fucked his hips into me at the same time that his teeth hooked on my skin. Now he could leave his mark. I knew he suffered the past month not being able to leave his love marks all over my body for people to see for the sake of photos. I yanked his shirt off forcefully before he dove back into tasting my skin.

He needed to make it up to me. There was a month of aggression, possession and need to touch, to claim. 

“Fuck me,” I demanded. His breath hitched in his throat and the pressure from his hips doubled. “Fuck me so hard, Colby. I swear to God—“

I screamed when he suddenly pushed into me and didn’t give me a second to process.

”No need to beg, baby,” he hummed; his voice darkly quiet in my hair. I didn’t remember when he pulled himself from his underwear or when he moved mine. It was all too fast. He fucked the moans out of me. I thought my vision went blurry.

He raised to his feet and I realized that this was the second time we hardly made it to the bed since being married. 

“Feel so good,” I whispered with moans broken by his thrusts.  

“Get up,” he demanded. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t. It was all too much. “Get up,” Colby spat and his hand linked around my neck and he yanked me up. I gasped and open mouthed kisses shared between our panting breaths. I rolled my hips into him and his eyes shut tightly.

”Turn over.”

Shaking gasps poured from me from the fire lit butterflies that those simply words shoved down my throat. I turned over. My knees almost fell to the floor, but he hoisted me up and shoved back into me.

”Oh my god, Colby!” And a loud lengthen moan streamed from him. I balled the blankets in my fists when he raised one of my knees onto the edge of the bed for a better angle. 

I didn’t just see blurry, stars and colors swirled behind my eyes as well.

”Holy shit, my pretty wife, taking me so well.” I could have passed out from his words alone. Then his fingers grabbed me by the roots of my hair.

He yanked. My back bent backwards and I felt him push kisses and moans against my head, my neck. God, it was so rough too. It had only been a month since the last time he fucked me with that desperation of wanting to leave a piece of him inside, but it felt like the first. His other hand left bruises and purple crescent moons in my hips, my ass.

”Fucking hell—Get up, lay on the bed,” he finally broke and pulled out of me. So of course I scrambled to lay my head on the pillows naturally if it meant he wouldn’t be inside of me again until I obeyed. I watched as he grabbed things from his bag. “Will you give me your wrists?”

”Fuck,” I gasped and my hands shot above my head. “Yes, yes, yes.” And he laughed at my enthusiasm. He tugged my shirt off. 

A gasp sucked through his teeth fast enough that I knew they burned from the chill.

Even in the dark, his eyes devoured the way my fair skin contrasted with the dark lingerie that laced over my chest. He yanked my pants off the rest of the way and his eyes fell lower.

”You wore this all day?” He gasped.

”I put it on when I went to the bathroom in the airport.” A deep breath slowly left him. Then he leaned over and clicked on the lamp that sat on the table next to the bed.

The orange glow drenched my body, and I writhed under his intense gaze. I knew he ripped the thick lace apart in his mind. I waited and waited for him to actually do it.

Instead, he grabbed something he laid on the bed a second ago. The world stopped spinning when he lifted his wine red tie and wrapped it around my hands and a portion of the frame of the bed below the headboard. My heart was in my throat; the same tie he wore when he sealed our marriage with a kiss in front of our closest friends and family was now the fabric that tied me down to his bed. Our bed. It didn’t matter what physical bed we were in; it was ours.

”Pull, baby,” he sighed. The way his voice was smooth like he talked me to sleep as if he wasn’t tying me down thinking of all the ways he could rip my clothes off. I tested the makeshift cuffs but we knew it didn’t matter; he was entirely proficient in tying me down.

Fingers started at my throat and they painfully slowly dragged down my skin. Chills waved down my cold skin in their wake, and he rounded my heat and followed the band of lace that dipped an inch lower down my rib cage. The strap of matching lace around my waist that hooked onto my matching underwear were what his eyes drowned on next. He tugged on one of the stretchy bands that connected them and snapped it back. I winced.

”You’re going to kill me,” he simply said. I nodded like that’s what I intended. 

I held my breath when he picked up my vibrator from the bed.

”Colby—“

”Sh,” he said with finality. The vibrator hummed to life. “You’re not about to tell me what to do, right?” I shook my head furiously.

He shoved it against me over the lace.

I gasped and my back arched. His hand held my side; thumb stroked across the lace.

”So fucking hot, holy shit,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

”Why-Why are you holding back?” I moaned.

”You don’t want me to? I won’t be nice.”

”Tear me apart, Colby.” His eyes darkened, unblinking. “Do you not want to use me? Claim your wife?” His nails jutted into my skin and I gasped a moan.

He turned the vibrator onto the highest setting.

I screamed. My eyes rolled to black as the pleasure washed over me—more so drowned me under tons of ocean weight—and he firmly held my hips down and pressed it tighter against me.

”You want me to use you?” My skin crawled. His voice still hardly trespassed a whisper. “How could I expect anything else from my slutty wife, hm? Tied to my bed, dressed like a whore, and begging for me and teasing me with that filthy mouth?” 

“Colby—“ I gasped with a shaking seriousness.

”What? Realizing you bit off more than you could chew?”

”Colby—“ I warned him, loudly this time.

”Cum,” he demanded. “You wanna act like my slut? Then cum for me.” 

That’s what I warned him about; I was too glad that he demanded from me what I couldn’t control.

My climax blinded me and the pleasure only lasted for a breath before overstimulation stung me. He didn’t budge though. Not as I writhed, kicked, and tried to twist away from him.

”You fucking kick me again and I’m tying your legs down too.” I couldn’t even respond to that jeer. His voice picked up now and a sick part of me couldn’t get enough of it.

“Please,” I begged. “Can’t breathe—“

”You know our safe word,” he teased. My mouth closed. He scoffed. “What I fucking thought. Just a dumb slut who wants me to ruin her.”

“I’ll be so-be so good for you, please! Your fingers—Give me your fingers, please!”

”God you sound so pretty crying for me to fill you,” he sighed as his head lulled to the side. Completely enthralled; his eyes only blinked as much as necessary.

Moving my underwear to the side just enough for his fingers, Colby’s lips parted as he teased my slick entrance.

”Plea—“ He pushed three inside of me. “Oh shit,” I gasped. “Oh shit, yes, yes please.”

”You love it, hm? Love it when I fill you? Fuck you senseless?”

”Yes! I love it, I love it so much.” I tightened around him when the waves of pleasure built again. He shook his head quickly before the words even started.

”Don’t cum.”

”What?” I gasped. “Col—“

“No, I said don’t cum. You told me you wanted me to fill you and fuck you, so how about you take it first? Then maybe I’ll be nice if you cry hard enough.”

He wasn’t wrong. Tears already flooded my eyes.

Colby leaned over me. His lips hovered just out of reach. They parted as if he breathed too heavily to contain himself, and a parted smile shined down at me when I couldn’t gather myself. I whined when I couldn’t kiss him or touch him or reach him. I could only feel him the way he wanted me to.

”Please,” I gasped quietly.

”Please what?” His soft voice whispered. My eyes shut tightly, a tear fell. I wouldn’t be able to see that cute smile and listen to that gentle tone without imagining his fingers fucking me harshly and his other hand pinning a violent vibrator against me.

”Let me cum.”

”You’re not demanding me to let you cum, are you?” He asked as his eyebrows furrowed with question.

”N-No, please, Colby, please let me cum on your fingers, please.”

“Aw you sound so sweet, baby, trying to sound like my good girl?” The teasing made it unbearable. Yes, the vibrator made me lose my sense of self, but that venomous teasing gave it to Colby. Everything that I am was in his hands, his control.

“Yes! Been so good for you let me-let me cum already I can’t-I can’t control it—“

”Good thing you’re not supposed to,” he said. “I’m the one who tells you when to cum, okay?”

”Yes-Yes Sir, you-you—Please! I’m so good for you, wait-wait for you—“ I lost control of my voice.

The pain from the overstimulation dissipated.

My hands didn’t pull on the restraint anymore.

Colby kissed me sweetly. His lips and tongue left soft kisses down my neck.

”Yeah, that’s right, good girl,” he whispered calmly. He moaned and looked down in between us before he rose to his knees again. “You’re so good for me, so beautiful, so perfect. Fucking cum—oh my god—cum for me, baby,” he finally told me. And I let go.

I moaned his name and I fully relaxed into it, into the pain and the pleasure, and everything he gave me. I knew I drenched him. I added to our mess. I couldn’t tell if he lost control of himself or if I blacked out, but the next thing I knew, he finally filled me again.

”Holy shit—Colby—“ I cried. Finally his moans met my ears, and I almost crashed into that pool of pleasure all over again.

He fucked me as harshly as his fingers just had, and I watched his sweaty face twist in pleasure through blurry tears. 

His free hand moved to my throat; his forearm rested on my chest for support. I whispered his name. Another warning.

”You going to cum one more time for me, my love?” He gasped breathlessly. “I’m so close, will you cum with me?” I nodded quickly even though I didn’t want this to end. I lost track of time when his body made itself home in mine. ”Oh shit!” He finally broke and raised himself to his knees. 

I watched as he raced a hand through his hair; fingers tugging at the roots as his eyes watched where he entered me.

”Cumming—“ I cried and his eyes flicked to mine for a moment.

The height of my orgasm hit me then he pulled out. I rode it out on the vibrator as his moans became music in my ears. He finished himself off; painted me with his release.

It took work for me to hold my eyes open. Between the pleasure and the way he looked painting me with his cum, I couldn’t really believe there was a heaven better than this one.

And he turned the vibrator off.

He sat on his knees in between my useless legs and panted. 

I didn’t object when he grabbed his phone from his pants pocket and took a flashed photo high enough to capture his chest down to my ruined body and my hands tied up to the bed. I opened my eyes when the flash was over and he fell over me; hand supported him next to my head. He showed me the photo with bated breath.

My throat coiled in on itself at the disgusting filth he captured. He was still enticingly hard, flushed pink, and I couldn’t tear my eyes from the sight of his cum ruining my lingerie. My mouth watered at the pearly streaks of white that contrasted on the black lace and black ink on my fair skin under the lingerie. The red of his tie only enhanced the flush over my skin. Thin faintly black tears raced down my face.

I was a mess.

A disgusting mess that somehow made my knees weak all over again.

”You’re such a good artist, husband.” The phone fell to the blanket under us as he burst out laughing.

His thumb linked under my chin when he kissed the life out of me.

”Needed to at least put my signature on my work, yeah?” I laughed back at him and he planted more kisses on me. Then he untied my hands. 

They fell to the bed and my eyes widened. I still hadn’t gained much control over my body.

”It’s okay,” he whispered and brushed my hair, my sides.

”I know,” I sighed as I rose from my subspace. 

“I’m right here, love. Always right here.” He kissed my skin as I came to.

”Is it gross that I don’t really want to shower?” Colby laughed again.

”I’m not sure,” he teased and sat back to his knees to look at my body again. “I mean, if you take a shower with me I’ll wash you for you.”

”Yeah, with your tongue like you did this morning?” A fond smile.

”I’ll wash you, I’ll touch you, and I’ll make you feel good however you want, my wife.” I smiled. We both couldn’t get used to—get over—the titles.

”Fine, then carry me to the bathroom, my husband.” 

✧˖*°࿐

Taglist (Comment to be added):

@a-random-google-user

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Glenn is the goofiest sexiest character there is and I will die on this hill! I will ride into battle for him! what Dndads created is truly unique and Glenn is a key part of that and for that he deserves to win. I said it before and I'll say it again - GLENN SWEEEEEP

Can we talk about how he says ‘baby’ casually? Like he just calls people that?? That’s HOT. THAT IS HOT!! He’s also bilingual and knows Japanese!!!! He’s a big dumb idiot with a lot of charisma!!!!!! HE WORKED AT A BDSM PLACE FOR TWO SEPARATE ONE SHOTS. HES SO SAD BUT PLAYS IT OFF LIKE HE’S CHILL ALL THE TIME!! HE DOESN’T THINK OF HIMSELF AS SINGLE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T DIVORCE HIS DEAD WIFE!!! He’s like.. the perfect guy. We need this win.

I’d also like to add the fact I made this. Which is the first 11 episodes edited to (almost) only have Glenn in them <3 which is a level of insanity I hope to reiterate. These took hours to make. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea):

Middle aged woman who punches sharks to death. My hero

If you love me you'll vote for amber gris I swear to everything holy on earth amen

Amber is butch, instant win

Amber Gris has a negative charisma modifier and she pissed her pants on purpose in order to trick a guard and knock him out. She tied up a dude. She once killed an evil magic shark (they're out for murder. not like real sharks) by punching it and then picked it up and smashed it into another shark, also killing it. She talks in a southern accent. She calls people guppy because it indicates a lack of respect. She has a big pair of magical green arms that come from her stomach. She got a fancy jacket and immediately ripped its sleeves off. She has a gay thing going on with one of the political leaders in the city. She gets in fights with people and doesnt do vulnerability and tries to lay low and not get in any social trouble she doesn't have to. She jumped through a portal into a new world because she could. She's now the god of said world, alone with only afformentioned political leader, who was previously possessed and she had to fight. She spends her time in a bar called the Cloaca. She calls people she doesn't like claspers, because it means shark penis. She and her friend, an old man named Uncle Joshy, sneak attack each other and yell VIBE CHECK! She tries to talk fancy to impress people and she's really bad at it (verily).

She’s everything and more. She’s irreverent. She punches sharks for a living. She becomes God. What more do you need in a butch.

amber gris propaganda: she is straightup the physical embodiment of "women want me, fish fear me." also she's an appalachian post apocalyptic sea captain. that's just objectively cool.

AMBER GRIS IS PUNCHES SHARKS AND IS (one of) THE MOST BADASS BLACK WOMEN PCS IN DND SHOWS IVE EVER SEEN. SHES INCREDIBLE AND A WIN FOR DYKES EVERYWHERE

amber's creator said she was based off of the type of working-class woman you commonly see in appalachia where "this is the sort of woman that you see walking past CVS, and you know that a truck could hit her and it would just split around her as she continued to go pick up whatever she had to do that day." and that's pretty hot

guys Amber becomes lesbian god of the new world with her childhood “”friend””

#amber gris is LITERALLY a middle-aged butch #she would win this entire tournament in a just world

Last time Amber got horny was when she killed that shark

"it was a savage bummer though, don't-- trust me, there's nothing that great about a history. You know? I got one. What did I do, killed a bunch of sharks? Last time I got horny, god and christ I can't even tell you-- well, it was when I killed that shark. But! Hey. We're all just kinda figuring it out."

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia):

She's a hot elf with mushrooms growing on her. She has 1 level of barbarian. She's bisexual. She shapeshifted into a dragon and ate a god.

how tf does the post not mention Moonshine’s giant boobs her greatest asset

Moonshine has canonically gone down on a woman for a solid hour without asking for anything in return. Moonshine edged a dryad just by kissing them. Moonshine faced down someone being controlled to kill everyone in his path and told him if he still wanted to hurt her, she would take his blows as a friend. Moonshine makes jambalaya for her family and friends. Moonshine mispronounced someone’s name for a month and that woman still wanted to hook up with Moonshine. These are just a few of the reasons why Moonshine is sexy.

shes illiterate

canonically huffs dirty water from a bong

has big tatas

wears a belly chain with a demon trapped in it

almost became the queen of hell

ate a god

turned into a pregnant moose & gave birth

The woman she went down on for an hour asking nothing in return is still hung up on her, 200 years later. Moonshine is unmatched

To be clear the woman whose name Moonshine mispronounced for a month and then hooked up with is the same woman she went down on for an hour, and the same woman who is still flustered over her 200 years later. The rizz is unparalleled. She’s also incredibly kind and accepting of others, and goes out of her way to bolster her friends. The party always requests one big bed.

moonshine cybin is a druid who learned counterspell through sheer force of will. moonshine cybin turned one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse into a dolphin, flew him 60 feet up into the air, dropped him on the ground, and then spit spores into his face to kill him. moonshine cybin turned into a dragon and bit the head off of a double god. moonshine cybin was willing to confine herself to an eternal hell to save the world. moonshine cybin is a dragon rider. you know what you must do.

Amber and Moonshine Together

Look at them. They should not have to fight when they could be gay instead. Imagine the power they would have combined... Every lesbian in a hundred mile radius of the post would swoon. It may be an odd alliance, but from an Ethersea fan to Bahumia fans, i believe this will strengthen both our odds. I have always been insane about Amber Gris but through this poll I have also learned about Moonshine and come to love her too. Take my hand... We can do this together...

OKAY HEAR ME OUT MOONSHINE AND AMBER WOULD GET ALONG SO WELL

appalachian sapphic solidarity!

Art of Amber and Moonshine from @pirateknight.

[artethyst]

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister! OC/Reader

Little Silas Vanserra had Eris vowing to never have anymore children.

He thanked the Mother that his daughter was a little angel- still at the age where she wanted to be carried everywhere, snuggled peacefully in an adult’s arms.

Her pale hair and violet ringed autumnal eyes reminding him so much of the woman he loved.

Her older brother was the complete opposite.

He wondered if this was his punishment, a cruel joke played upon him by the Gods for having such a carefree life since his father died and reminding him that he needed to keep his faltered guard up.

And that’s how he felt in the early hours of the morning, with little hands patting at his face and excited little feet hopping on the oak floors of his bedroom.

Tired.

He cracked one amber eye open- unceremoniously meeting a matching golden flecked iris, one full of wonder and guiltlessness, as he supposed his own once were.

He closed it as quickly as it had opened, letting a wry smirk take over his ostensibly lazed features.

“Daddyyyy I know you’re awake-“ the little boy began incredulously before shrieking in glee as Eris swooped him onto his chest with ease, tickling his son mercilessly as his Mate softly slept beside him.

After the boy had relented, his rounded cheek flushed with the childish mirth of giggles, Eris couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the boy’s wild red locks.

As expected the boy’s mother was still soundly asleep, Eris had always been a light sleeper, in fact having his Mate beside him and children down the hall only worsened the fact, even though his father was no longer a threat- to him or his loved ones, simply having them in such a place always had him on high alert.

Even though he had done his very best to rid the Autumn Court of longtime Advisors, the types of men that would love nothing more than to see the Night Court Princess with a Fae bane arrow through her much too large heart, he knew there was no good in him-undeserved of him in ever feeling content.

It had the opposite effect on his wife, who admittedly had never slept better than when she was in the comforting arms of her husband- the natural warmth emanating from him lulling her into such ecstasy she wished she never had to be cruelly ripped away from by the chill of the Autumn morning.

She had never really slept well in the Night Court, the pain of living there without her mother sister always too much to bear.

Eris was her new home.

Since having children- her body still not quite having recovered from their second and Eris insisting she get as much rest at she could, even the joyous squeals of her firstborn still wouldn’t- couldn’t make her budge.

“Daddy Uncle Lulu said you p-pwomised-“

“Promised,”

“Promised to show me m-my fire againnn!”

The boy was practically trembling with excitement, his father’s hands coming to steady him as his little body wriggled with joy, perched on his father’s raised knees who raised a slim digit to his smaller lips, reminding him to remain quiet as possible.

Not that it would have made a difference to the blissfully knocked out woman beside them.

“Did he now?” Eris withered, the thought of his brother- knowing just how much he treasured the few late mornings a High Lord might have, had told his son- who’s adorable little face noone could deny, that those small, valuable hours were reserved for “magic time”.

It took only a brief moment, a fleeting fall of Silas’ dimpled grin- his mother’s grin, to have the High Lord swinging his legs from the refuge of his silken sheets, his boy held firmly in his strong hands.

“Then I think it is best we get dressed appropriately, what do you say Little Flame?”

The boy simply cheered in response and Eris couldn’t help the grin on his own face at the feel of chubby hands around his neck in a makeshift embrace, carrying him down the hall as his son rattled on in half nonsensical toddler speak about how he was going to ‘beat his Uncle Lulu in a duel’.

~

The Maids cooed as the little Prince raced down the hall in his teeny tiny Autumnal uniform- gifted to him by his Aunty Elain who thought they were the cutest thing ever.

The boy stopped when he reached the top of the grand staircase, skidding to a halt with a nervous expression on his little face.

The same staircase his Mummy always carried him down, the same staircase he had been told to scoot down on his bottom in case he tripped, the same staircase she had been slowly helping him descend himself (holding his hand tightly and giving up halfway as he took nearly a whole minute per ten steps)

Eris watched him amusedly- a miserable jutted lip and a coy flush on his baby cheeks.

“Umm Daddy, M-Mummy said I am not s’pose to go down m-myself in case of ouchies…”

That was not what she had said.

“I thought you were a big boy now, hmm?” Eris teased as his son pouted, just as his mother would have.

“I-I am…” Silas’ point was refuted with the small grabby motions his little arms made to his father who looked down at him with a smirk.

“Do big boys get carried down the stairs?”

“Ummm…Yes?” The boy widened his glimmering autumnal eyes, “pleasies?”

And so with a roll of his eyes, all in good humour, Eris fastened his excitable son against his chest as they began to exit the grand estate, heading into the vast, luscious gardens where they would begin their training.

~

Lucien could only laugh when found his brother- sincere and unbridled joy dancing in his otherwise piercing gaze, watching his son chase after the little flames he made for him.

“Uncle Lulu!” The boy squealed, barrelling into the male who swung him atop his shoulders with ease.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Eris warned, “he has quickly figured out how to control his magic, you might end up with that treasured hair of your singed at the root.”

Silas nodded furiously, his little feet hitting the floor as he flexed his small palm as proof, and to his pure wonder, delicate embers- faint as they were, twinkled at his will.

“Look Daddy! I did it! I did it!” Eris couldn’t help but chuckle softly as his son danced with not only with the little flicker he had mustered with his father’s help, but larger wistful wisps that flowed around him with delicate care.

Eris couldn’t help but feel his heart constrict, wishing nothing more than to give his children the childhood he had wanted- deserved.

He took one look at his son and wondered how anyone could ever hurt him, let alone do it himself.

He wondered what he had done to make his own father hate him so, vowing to never once make his own offspring feel even a fraction of the way he had.

For what seemed like hours Lucien and Eris entertained the little boy, sometimes engaging in a silent battle between one another who could impress the young heir the most.

Lucien eventually was called away and Eris wondered if his years were finally catching up to him, small burn marks littering his clothes from his son’s inexperienced hands and an ache in his legs from chasing after him.

After Silas’ giggles had dissipated along with his energy, Eris suggested they head back, the boy agreed sleepily, the thrum of magic still alive in his little body as Eris made a mental note to keep an eye on his budding powers.

“T-Thank you for giving me my fire,” Silas mumbled, stumbling over to his father “love you Daddy…”And as a pair of all too familiar amber eyes met the High Lord’s blurring own, he bent down and received his greatest gift in his trembling arms.

A reminder he would never be the man who had damned him, a reminder that he was a good man- a good man that was loved.

[spacecowboyhotch]

goodbye????? @munsons-curls

[oddlittlestories]

Look I’ve been seeing it go around and I gotta come out in defense of gay Wilson as an engaging headcanon. A man so immersed in compulsory heterosexuality that he can’t see the forest for the trees?

This is so interesting to me.

Bouncing from radically different wife to radically different wife because maybe you’ll get it right and find your type this time. Without realizing that you don’t HAVE a ‘type’ of woman.

So unsure of who you are in a heterosexual relationship that all you can do is don a hyped-up Prince Charming role of masculinity that eventually degrades and fails you.

Mistaking affection for romantic love and never understanding why you always reach a point where your relationship makes your skin itch. You love her, so why can’t you do right by her? Asking yourself what’s wrong with you and never finding the answer.

Comp!het Wilson is so so interesting to me. The Wilson who played the game his whole life. Who loves winning at social roles and is terrified at the idea of stepping outside of them—of failing to fit. Just like with the furniture. Who is he if he steps outside of convention? And how can he navigate the social expectations of that? He grew up as the golden boy into someone who should have been the golden man.

When you read Wilson as gay, his navigation of social roles and expectations through the lens of comp!het can be so extremely interesting. And House is still the only person he’s willing to threaten his social roles (board member, oncologist, Perfect Doctor) for.

If it’s not your vibe I hear you, but personally I just think gay Wilson is so interesting.

Edit: here’s the reblog w my take on Amber.

[r0-boat]

May I request Zhongli X fem-reader ?

Because last one you did with Zhongli was fricking amazing!

Hi! Thank you so much I liked doing that one as well I did a lot of experimenting with that one so I thought I would do it again for this post as well

Morax's Wife

'the Dreaded Dragon of Geo and his mate'

Cw: hurt/comfort

Dragon Sovereign!Zhongli x Reader

You gazed down upon the village of Liyue, a small town, a far cry from what it will be in the future. And a place you once called your home, looking out from the mountain where you reside now—a temple-like castle carved from the very rock of the mountains. Eyes red and stinging, lost in your thoughts, your mind repeating the words of the same people you had known just days before, their friendly smiles warming your day as they would greet you with enthusiasm now those same faces twisted with hate, disgust, slinging hurtful words; those people were your friends, people you had known all your life looking at you with such disdain as if i had forgotten how you were.

And all because you had fallen in love with The Sovereign of Geo, a known rival of Celestia.

Having been out there for so long you had momentarily forgotten that time had passed.

"Mate, are you ok?" A deep, rumbling voice Like an earthquake trembled behind you as your husband concerned for how how long you had sat there watching the carts going in and out of the city walls. The Dragon came to join you by your side, changing its form to its human appearance, the wind tosling his hair and white robes as he sat beside you.

" You have been out here for quite a while beloved."

When Morax followed your gaze, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at the tiny Kingdom, his brows furrowing with worry, for he had known how its people betrayed you. Watching them draw their swords that the woman he loves still remembers, your pleads and cries for your loved ones to see reason; all the while, he attempts to protect his mate; his wife grabs your arm to pull you behind him.

The crowd grew as onlookers heard what was happening from a distance. Grabbing on to the robes of your mate, your eyes dart frantically, feeling your chest become tighter and tighter as it becomes harder to breathe. Looking among the crowd your heart practically stops in the very back was the familiar faces of your own family looking at you with worry but they didn't do anything they just stayed there silently refusing when they saw that you've noticed they just turned away their eyes shifting to the floor looking anywhere else but you...

Why?

And that moment your family had to sound you and you knew that, and it hurt clenching your teeth trying to stop the tears not now... not in front of Morax...

But he had already sensed your sadness. Your husband having live with you for a while and being attentive and taking pride in knowing every little piece of you including the little hair on your head noticed those tells immediately to the slight quiver of your lip to the way you would refuse to look at him refuse to look at your husband with those big beautiful eyes of yours. His eyes growing soft and see gently caress your cheek tilting your head to look up at him.

Those amber eyes gaze into your red puffy ones. "Oh, my sweet mate, are you thinking of that day again?"

Your eyes had widened feeling your paper thin facade already tearing in two. Your voice breaks when only his name Falls from your lips. His heart breaks along with it, scooping you up into his arms before getting up onto his feet with you tucked protectively gently against his chest. Morax was as gentle as he was feared, but that gentleness was only reserved for you, his mate. Morax kissed you on the forehead before whispering, "That day they have failed you my beloved you need not think of them anymore. They are nothing but vile creatures worth far less than the dirt on the very ground they stand on. You are nothing like them."

He nuzzled into your neck bringing you back home in his cave as he continued.

" you are far more than that, my sweet beloved, gentle, and beautiful Wife. You are a precious gem sticking out from the rest of the rubble." The dragon knew, but you felt it was something he could not fix, but he could be there to make you smile, that same smile he fell in love with. He couldn't make that whole town disappear, for it would sadden you even more, but he could tell you that you are worth far more to him than the rest of your kin were stupid and vile creatures to do what they've done. He could spoil you like a husband should.

The dragon gently lays you back in his nest with the finest silk sheets and mattresses, along with stuffed toys and anything else he had gotten for you over the years that he had been with you. And Morax not wanting to part from you for a single moment snakes his arm underneath you to pull you closer laying right beside you where he belonged his brown and gold draconic tail wrapping around your leg wanting to be as close to you as possible. His eyes only had a room for one as they were trained and focused taking in every little thing you do even now as you cry and whimper he only saw the beautiful bride he had taken still as beautiful as you were when he had married you. That beautiful white and gold glittering dress to match his robes he made sure to pick out the finest treasures and gems from his horde decking you out in glittering gold and other delicacies from the earth please his little dragon mind greatly. Your family couldn't be there but the other sovereigns were the dragons of the other six elements congratulating him. Despite him marrying a human, they lovingly accepted you as one of them, far more than They could have ever done.

Your smile will shine like gold in his memories just as brightly as the gold and glittering ring he had made for the both of you. He had carved it himself with the raw Elemental energy of Geo. He had even so much as carved the innards of the band with each other's names as if it was a signature on parchment.

Marriage was a human tradition, and he cared little for humans except for, well, you, but the idea of a contract of love and binding two mates as one intrigued him. Now, he was obsessed with the titles that came with husband and wife. He was happy to call himself your husband and was eager to call you his wife.

As he reminisced on the contract ceremony 'Wedding' all the while playing with your delicate human hand, his eyes trained on that glittering band signifying your title as his wife and forever mate, his clawed hand threading through your head of hair, practically purring in delight at the warmth sharing with you, hoping this would have calmed you down from your sadness. Oh, how your husband wished to ease you of your pain forever, but he knows he could not wipe your precious memories as much as he regrets. As much as your memory hurts you, human memory is fragile and precious. Even the moments of hurt will be tied to moments of happiness, and he never wants for you to lose those.

His heart squeezed feeling your hand clench his robes your fingers grazing against his bare chest. He whispered your name only to be met with quiet snoozing. He couldn't help but chuckle you were so cute.

"Good night, my dear. Have good dreams, only for you to wake in my arms again; I love you, my wife."

[fanaticsnail]

Sapsorrow Chapter 4

Series Masterlist here, Main Masterlist here.

Word Count: 5,917

Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope. Slow-slow-slow burn. Series Inspiration link: The Storyteller Episode 8

Song Suggestion: Harry and Hermione - Je Suis Parte

(Image Source: Here)

Although the words spoken to him through the den-den-mushi were what he truly needed to hear, Dracule Mihawk couldn’t help the small quake in his fingertips. He shut his eyes, focussing on the words spoken through the distortion in the earpiece, the purr of his crocodilian acquaintance rumbling with his raspy vocals.

“Dracule, I have the moon for you.”

“Swordsman,” the voice uttered with a small jesting lilt in his tone, “Did you not hear me, or are you actively choosing to not respond?” Mihawk’s eyes widened, his chest becoming tight while his heart choked within his ribcage.

Mihawk drew in a lengthy breath through his nose, attempting to stifle his anxiety through a brief meditation. Upon refocusing, he opened his amber eyes and fixed his reduced pupils down onto the parchment in front of him.

“And it’s-,” his voice halted in his throat, feeling the familiar strangulation of pressure on his heart, “-it’s to the appropriate specifications? It’s a dress that is as radiant as the moon? A dress that glows with a hue so majestic, it eclipses all else with its mastery?”

“Mihawk. Calm yourself,” the cold bark of the Crocodile ordered him, “I know what I risk if I am negligent to follow through with your exact words. Rest assured-,” a rumbled chuckle erupted from the Crocodile, “-I aim to collect a debt of equal value in return. Of what, I am yet to determine. What would equate to your life, hm?”

Mihawk sucked in another exasperated breath through his nose, opting to not grace his acquaintance with a response. 

“Judging from your engagement announcement; she is very easy on the eyes,” Crocodile complimented, sucking in another deep breath of smoke from his thick cigar, “Perhaps I should claim the right of Prima Nocta with your bride on your wedding night-.”

“-You are no longer a Warlord, Crocodile,” Mihawk’s tone cut through the air like a guillotine decapitating Crocodile’s words where they stood. Sir Crocodile allowed another sinister chuckle to rise throughout the phone in response, to which Mihawk’s frown deepened as his words began to sizzle as acid through cloth, “You would have no such right for that act, nor would I ever permit you to touch her at the risk of losing your other hand.” After a momentary pause, Sir Crocodile responded to Mihawk's words of warning. 

“I will spend some time mulling over my payment,” Crocodile’s smirk was tangible through the vocal distortion. Mihawk could almost taste the flavor of Crocodile’s lit cigar blowing tufts of nicotine-laden smoke through the earpiece of the den-den-mushi; all sour, strangling and as sharp as the golden hook adorning his left wrist. 

“You will have your payment, Crocodile,” Mihawk curtly spat into the microphone, his lip curling upwards into a snarl, “You may ask anything of me, but you will leave my bride out of the equation.”

At that, the hum of contemplation fell into the earpiece of the den-den-mushi before the receiver went dead; call concluded at the singular hand of the Crocodile. Mihawk sighed, feeling lighter in his chest, but continuing to hold such grappling urgency over him.

Time was running out, he could feel the clawing at his chest. The cruel teeth of fate continued to sink into his soul, his mortality tested under the curse of the Sapsorrow ring. He reached into his desk, removing a leatherbound book and running his palms over the emerald cover. The golden inked title set in wax remained slightly elevated, its ridges brushing against his fingertips. He opened to its latest tabbed page, the golden streak of ribbon pulled from the fold and his mind welcomed the words and committed their prose to memory.

“Two were forged, Two were made, One was lost, One was saved,” He muttered aloud, “Two were gifted, One was lifted-,” he narrowed his yellow eyes, unblinking at the final depiction on the page, “-The last not cast in molten bone; but lay dormant and waiting in moss-coloured stone.”

He heard the echoing voice of Shank’s laughter in his mind, recalling his light-hearted warning: “Mihawk, you should’ve cast the cursed thing into the seas. Mine was at least swallowed by the sea-beast while I protected the boy.” Shaking his head and focussing down at the words, he skimmed the pages bringing him to the final chapter. 

He closed his eyes, his mind becoming overwhelmed with the thoughts and conversations engaged with you, his governess; who was called as an aid and subordinate to rear his wards with skill and eloquence required to steer them into the correct path.

“These rings were made specifically to hold a particular covenant, none were the same,” your voice echoed in his mind, his brow continuing to lower as his anger rose, “each attuned specifically to the individual who purchased or claimed it. Why would you have such a thing, my lord? You do not seem the type to desire marriage or courtship.”

He snapped his eyes open, recalling how your lips brushed the band of the ring as you laid out your impossible demands for him to follow. He remembered the shock in your face at the knowledge he had one of the objects, the information you poured out regarding your memory of several others of its likeness. What else did you know? Did you know that should he not follow your requests, his soul would be claimed by the haunted specter of the Sapsorrow Queen? 

Suddenly his chest was rid of the anxiety he felt earlier, no longer fearing the haunt at the completion of the initial request. In its stead was the rise of anger and fury, his body rigid and tense with a violent rage. 

What more did you know? Why were you doing this to him? Why had you felt the need of punishing him, torturing his mortal soul in such a way? Did it bring you some sick and sadistic joy to know you had such a hold over him, your employer? These questions spiraled within his mind, his existentialism holding on by a thread as he focussed on your face.

No. No, that was not you. He saw your eyes filled with deep kindness and compassion; pools within flooded with apprehension and hesitancy; perhaps holding a crisis within your own soul. Why did you not tell him what you knew already? Why would you not trust him with such a departure of knowledge? His thoughts continued to whirl within his cocktail of murky thoughts.

If you were not going to disclose such information to the lord of Kuraigana; perhaps he could try his might at pulling truth from your lips as a simple Farm-Hand. 

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A gentle rap of the joint of a knuckle colliding with your wooden door arose you from your dreamless slumber; a welcome experience considering the thoughts that plagued you of late. You immediately hoisted yourself up from your bed, wrapping your negligee around your chemise and feet slotting easily into your slippers.

Upon arriving and opening you wooden door by all but an inch, your eyes were immediately greeted by the sight of fresh flowers. Vines of sweet jasmine, sprigs of pastel lavender flowers and the deep magenta and lilac trumpets of morning glory were interwoven within the small, wild small, blue flowers: held together by a woven string of hessian and twine.  

“Lost-Lady,” the voice uttered in a hushed tone, “I have brought your flowers.” A warm smile rose to bless your cheeks at witnessing such a presentation of florals, although confusion eclipsed over its growing trajectory. 

“Farm-Hand,” you paused, your voice holding a firm warning within it, “You have caught me once more in my nightdress, although this time it seems almost intentional.” The man hidden behind the flowers chuckled slightly, although masking it with a small, dry cough. You shook your head at him, looking at the collection he held before you and tilting your head to the side. 

“Where do the grounds grow lavender?” you quizzed him. The more you peered into the arrangement he laid in front of you, the more perplexed you became, “And where are there fields of myosotis alpestris’? I’ve promenaded the grounds with Perona often enough at this stage, and I am yet to see any.”

“I scaled a wall for them,” the man stated, as offhanded and nonchalant as one could possibly muster. You rolled your eyes at his confession, but before you could utter another quip; he interrupted your thoughts, “Would you like to see it?” A small air of thickened silence fell between you in the doorframe. Should he have viewed your expression, he may have seen your smile falter into momentary anger at such a suggestion.

“I am betrothed,” your warning tone remaining held within your cadence, “Whether I truly desired the unity or not, I find myself betrothed regardless. It is not an appropriate suggestion, sir. Particularly not at this hour.” The man behind the flowers sighed a sharp and exasperated breath, almost airing on frustration.

“I have acquired adequate permission from the lord of Kuraigana,” He huffed out in a dismissive tone. He straightened his shoulders, the flowers in his hands dropping for you to almost meet his eyes beneath the straw hat atop his head. You swore you saw two amber irises staring back at you beneath its broad brim, akin to your liege. 

You took a moment to study him: his head covered with a wide, straw hat and his nose and lips concealed with a pale piece of cloth. The shirt he was wearing was beige, lengthy sleeves pooling at his wrists after ballooning out at the elbows. He was adorning tan pants, dark leather boots hidden beneath the ankle line. 

His lips shifted beneath the fabric atop his face to either smile or grimace at you while he watched your eyes dance in deep thought. Choosing the kinder of the two options regarding that small shift in fabric, you opened the door fully to him and stepping aside to allow him entrance into your bedchambers.

“I will replace your flowers while you change,” he declared, gesturing for you to retreat into your changing screen, “I would suggest you wear trousers and a blouse.” Your brows fell into a confused frown while you pursed your lips at the suggestion. Opting to do as you were directed, you hastily removed your sleep clothes behind the screen and found some tan coloured pants and a white blouse. 

After placing the items atop your body, you revealed yourself to the man you knew as Farm-Hand. Opting to ignore his stare, you elevated one of your feet atop the wooden chest at the end of your bed and hiked a sock over your foot and inched it slowly up your calf. The small snap of elastic meeting skin sliced through the air before you rotated your feet and raked the cotton material over your other foot. 

“Where are we going?�� you asked him over your shoulder, placing your feet back firmly onto the ground before finding leather boots beneath your bed, “I need to be back to begin lessons with Perona after the morning meal-.”

“-The lord of Kuraigana has dismissed all lessons today,” he uttered in return, prompting you to twist your head immediately to meet his covered face. You placed your feet in your boots and hastily walked over to meet with him, a strict dominance and challenge swelling in your heart at such an order.

“Why would lord Mihawk dismiss my lessons with my-... -our wards?” you asked him, this time there was no doubt that his eyes were indeed a similar hue to your boss. He closed his eyes, the corners of his darkened eyelashes bunching in aggravation before reopening them once more to meet yours. Softness. Such deep and somber softness falling over this Farm-Hand as he gazed into your eyes.

“He-,” his voice fluttered and choked around the words, “-He desired for you to be relaxed for the evening that is to come,” his yellow gaze searched your face, darting from focussing on each of your eyes and looking over your parted lips before rising back to your intense irises. 

“He wanted you to have a day for only yourself, while he had the manor made ready for the celebration tonight. Your engagement tonight,” he confirmed with a curt nod, “Hence the flowers, and the suggestion to see more of the grounds while the decorations were laid and placed.” 

You shook your head at his words, sighing out a defeated air from your lungs as you huffed out an exasperated breath, “Show me then, Farm-Hand.” You collected your sun hat from its place on the vanity and fastened it to your head as you gestured him onwards. 

“As you wish it, Lost-Lady,” he spoke in return, holding the crook of his left elbow for you to lace your arm into. You paused for a moment before reaching out and weaving your arm within his and allowing him to chaperone you throughout the grounds. 

Upon exiting the cobblestone walls and polished marble within the manor walls, you noticed the hum of hushed excitement from the staff who dared be awake and buzzing at this hour. The buzz would halt as you sauntered past the ladies in waiting and the footmen, noting they splayed themselves against the walls and nodded to you within the arm of the Farm-Hand; a nod to which you and the man at your side returned yourselves. 

The day was barely broken in by the morning call of crows and ravens, their serenade yet to be sung while dew clung to the crystalline grass in the fields below. Upon the vines hung an assortment of dark crimson fruit in several rows, but the prominent percentage were amber-coloured grapes of larger stature. 

“Farm-Hand?” you asked the man beside you, angling your eyes up to him and away from the meadows that were displayed in front of you. He nodded with his response of, “Lost-Lady?” You continued to permit him to guide you through the grounds and along a forgotten track. The willow trees brushed their hanging vines against your shoulders in a slow caress as Farm-Hand moved their curtain away and chaperoned you through their shield. 

“This is not a well-beaten track,” you laughed, prompting him to chuckle at your comment, “You made this journey this morning? In the dark?” He unlaced his hand from yours as he first stepped down a rocky incline, offering his hand out in an invitation for you to use him to steady yourself. 

“That I did,” he admitted. You placed your hand within his, allowing him to guide you along the stones that wobbled beneath your feet. A small, childish giggle threatened to spill from your lips as you stumbled your footing on the rocks. You allowed yourself to lean further against his arm for balance, noticing he wove himself closer to you to shepherd you to safety.

“What a strange thing to do at such an hour,” you again almost giggled as you took a small pause in your movements to steady yourself against him, “Do you not sleep?” He sucked in a small breath from behind the material of his mask, his hat doing little to conceal his surprise. 

“I have had much to ponder of late,” his tone holding a slight sassiness to it you were not expecting from someone in servitude. 

“And what does a Farm-Hand have to ponder, hm?” you sassed back, eyes narrow and lips in a playful smirk. His honey-coloured eyes widened at your return of attitude before looking down to where your hands were still joined at the palms. 

“Everything,” he uttered bringing his unoccupied hand to cover your knuckles and soothed over the skin with his thumb, “One which perplexes me is the curse of the Sapsorrow Queen.” He released your hand from within his and continued to guide you off the beaten track and into the unknown; the wall of the keep continuing to hold you within its guarded safety. 

“I see,” you nodded, brows furrowing at the thought, “I’m sure it would be quite the buzz amongst the staff. I can already hear it myself: The lord of Kuraigana accidentally engaging himself with someone so low-” 

“-Do not dare to do yourself the disservice of calling yourself low,” he spat in a gruff tone, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes, “I have-... -Lord Mihawk has always held you in the highest regard.” You halted your steps, taken aback at the statement, before again stuttering your footing forward to follow Farm-Hand closer to the edge of the wall.

“Forgive me for offending you,” you offered your apology to him in a hushed whisper, following behind him dutifully. He laughed heartily at that comment, the cloth covering his face doing a poor job at stifling his joy. 

“Oh, my lady,” he turned back to face you once more and offered you his hand to guide you up the small incline of grass and dew, “you can make it up to me by aiding my bewilderment.” You smiled softly at him, taking his hand once more and allowing him to tug you as you stepped up the side of the hill. You were ever thankful you paid mind to his warning of wearing trousers as the mud from your boots sprayed their hem with its sludge. 

“I will try as I might, Farm-Hand,” you smiled before your eyes widened in partial panic at the small slip of your boot. Immediately, the man above you reached down and grasped beneath your arms and hoisted you up to the top of the hill. He fell his hands to your waist as you steadied yourself atop the ground. You finally allowed a small giggle to spill from your lips at this motion, placing your hands on his wrists and gently prying his hands away from you. 

“This is a fair hike,” you confirmed with him, “I haven’t been on its equal since childhood. The grounds here are beautiful.” You turned to glance at the distance you’d covered, only barely making out the manor from the great distance. 

“Allow me the luxury of taking you higher,” Farm-Hand again smirked his hidden lips at you, voice dripping with arrogant sass as he gestured to the wall beside you. Your eyes widened at the height of such a wall, looking to the cobblestones protruding from the ridge in cement. 

“I am assuming there are some stairs closeby,” you asked him your pointed question, arching up your brow at his suggestion. He again dryly chuckled at your statement, shaking his head.

“But where would be the challenge in that?” his tone sassed within his hidden lips, prompting you to shake your head at him.You looked around at the wide wall, starting at the lowest lows before reaching to the heights above. 

“Are you expecting me to climb, Farm-Hand?” you shook your head at him, turning your gaze back towards him and noticed he had rolled his long pale sleeves up to the elbow, and was now shifting his pants to tuck their ankles into his leather boots. 

“I have had the challenge placed on me to bring you to the wall and show you where I collected your flowers,” he informed you, standing to meet your gaze, “And while you’re clinging to me, perhaps you could inform me all you know about the Sapsorrow curse?” You gasped at him, gawking as he gestured for you to walk over to him and bring yourself beside him. He readied himself by tying a dual-knotted rope, two loops within its length.

“Who challenged you to do such a thing?” you narrowed your eyes, suspicion overtaking you as you drew yourself behind the Farm-Hand. 

“You did, when you told me to show you,” he sassed, his eyebrow arching up as you apprehensively placed your hands onto his shoulders. He flung the rope into the air, the circlets falling over your heads, down your torso and halting at your hips as he pulled sharply on the end. You immediately became flush beside him and watched as he flung the end over a loop at the top of the wall, collecting the descending length back into his hand with a quick catch.

“You’ve done this before,” you smirked at him, eyes raking over his face with suggestive challenge laced within your tone.

He stooped down to you, the brims of your hats touching as he cooed down in a mocking tone, “I did this, this morning.”

You laughed, slapping his chest and mirrored his foot pressing against the wall. He began stepping his hands within the grasp of the rope, levering you towards the top of the wall and walking his feet against the stone ever so often to balance against it. You began to feel a little helpless as he hoisted you both upwards, a small air of panic rising in your chest the further you rose from the ground. 

“Whatever you are thinking, don’t,” He commented, his voice remaining steady as he continued flexing his arms and elevating you towards the top of the large wall, “I won’t let you fall, nor am I bothered by your presence beside me.”

“Are you sure? My additional weight is-,” you began, only to have his sharp reprimand catch you off guard with his tone. 

“-You are perfect as you are, and not encumbering me in the slightest,” he warned you. As a small display of his words, he looped his right arm within the rope and let go with his left. Looking directly into your eyes, he jumped his right hand upwards. He was jolting the two of you in a slower rise, but raising you all the same with only one arm. 

“Shall I keep doing it this way, or would you prefer it to be smoother, Lost-Lady?” He taunted you, keeping his eyes boring into yours with an intense sassiness. 

“Smoother is preferable,” you lulled your head to the side, rolling your eyes at this arrogant display, “But if you are not done with your peacocking; by all means, continue.” 

“As you wish, Lost-Lady,” he smirked, bringing his left hand back up to the rope and smoothing out the elevation between you, “Now, tell me about-.”

“-The Sapsorrow Rings? Yes. I can tangibly feel how interested you are in my knowledge on the matter, Farm-Hand,” you taunted him, again rolling your eyes at him. He growled lowly at you, but elected to say nothing as you approached the top of the wall. He wrapped his left arm around your waist, placing his right hand against the flat of the top and pushed upwards with his forearm. He ensured your safety first, placing you against the stone base and then falling himself beside you.

Dangling your legs off the ledge, you were overwhelmed by the sights laid out before you. Beholding the entirety of the keep belonging to your betrothed, you could see everything from here. The Manor, the vineyards with their white rose markers, the barrel room with steel vats, the hedge-end mazes and checkered flooring, the courtyards and workers frolicking - everything. 

“Turn around,” Farm-Hand commanded you with a soft tone. You felt his fingertips graze your chin, turning you to view a sight held completely secret and secluded from the rest of Kuraigana’s lands. This view had no equal; the expanding variety of flowers spanning the area was breathtaking. Some were wild, some were painstakingly cared for with hard work and persistence. Rivers of coloured petals and softened greens peppered the area, a small hanging swing fell from a heavy branch of a purple Jacaranda tree. 

Your jaw slackened, looking to the small field of blue stemmed flowers, to the back of the assortment. 

“You found the myosotis alpestris’?” Farm-Hand’s tone smiled at you. Without uttering a word, you slowly nodded your head, allowing your jaw to remain slackened at the sights. 

It was beautiful. Everything was so beautiful, and so private. Secluded, separate - secret.

“Did you hear the legend of how they got their common name?” He brushed his index finger over your jaw towards your ear, tucking a loose strand behind it before moving down to begin unloosening the knots at your waists. 

“It was said there was a knight who died on the quest to retrieve the blue flowers for his lover the night before they announced their intention to wed,” he continued picking at the knots to loosen them at your hip, “He called out with his final breath: ‘forget me not’ as he perished on the field, the blue flowers fisted in his palm.”

“What a horrible story,” you whispered, still not baring to take your eyes away from the enchantment below you. The shrouded man beside you chuckled at your candor, finally releasing the rope from the both of you and rolling it within his palm and forearm.

“A fitting flower for you, considering your predicament,” he smiled with his voice, nudging you with his shoulder. You finally broke free from the enchantment at that nudge, nudging him in return with your own shoulder. “Speaking on legends of old-,” he began, before you immediately elevated your tone above his.

“-Sapsorrow, I know. I did give you my word,” you sighed, a final small nudge of your shoulder brushing with his and a small smile later; you apprehensively began to relay your knowledge onto your new friend.

“I didn’t know there were ten of them, nor there was poetry crafted for them,” you shrugged your shoulders, “My betrothed was kind enough to inform me the warlords and higher ups in the world government had them, although I had my suspicions there were more than one in the midst.” You sucked in a deep breath of air before hissing it out. 

“The only mention I had heard was a story from my childhood. My father-,” your words choked in your throat, causing you a small rise in bittersweet melancholy at the memories, “...-My father used to read it to me. A funny tale, if not for its tragic origins. I adored the happy ending the most, but the beginning? That is what held my attention: probably why I made the insidious requests. Very self-indulgent, in that regard.”

Farm-Hand chuckled at your side, urging you to keep relaying your thoughts. 

“Sapsorrow, as she was known, was cursed to marry her father by placing a hereditary ring onto her unity finger - much akin to how I placed this,” you looked down at the green gemmed ring sparkling up at you, “on my own. Her father was widowed, like my own. She didn’t realize the moment she placed it on her finger, she was set to marry the ruling monarch in that area: her father.”

You shuddered at the thought, a smile rising to your lips as you heard your own father’s voice retelling the story with the vocal emphasis on each of the elements. He was such a wonderful storyteller, you could hear him talk for hours on end and never tire. 

“So what does she do? She makes it impossible for them to wed. She cannot marry her father, of course she cannot,” passion elevated in your voice, hearing the way your own father spoke the prose with enthusiasm, “but she also cannot dishonor the king, nor oppose the law. As each task grew more and more impossible, she forms a plan to escape from her kingdom and away from her destiny.”

Mihawk’s voice hitched in his throat, the material almost shifting from his nose and revealing his face to her at the notion. You continued to relay the fantastical tale of woe and romance, Sapsorrow being championed now as a servant to a prince. 

“So as the tale progresses; Princess Sapsorrow meets a prince and woos him with the three dresses she commissioned her father to make for her. They fall in love twice: her as his servant, and her as the princess-.” Farm-Boy leaned into you, halting your words with his voice overlapping your own.

“-Are you going to run?” He asked you suddenly, “Will you run from me-... -from Mihawk?” He quickly corrected himself, a momentary lapse he prayed you did not catch. You sighed, closing your eyes and taking a moment to collect yourself. You then allowed yourself another moment to look at the garden below you, you breathed in their deep and complex smell of deep florals and spiced undertones.

“To be candid with you, Farm-Hand,” you confessed in a voice above a whisper, “I had thought on it. I desired nothing more than to flee- to run and leave everything behind. I am terrified, Farm-Hand. I am-.” Shutting your eyes once more, you heard the first chitter of birds calling to the morning at the rise of the dawn. 

“I have always felt the need for control,” you continued your confession, “There were so many, many things outside of my control. I wanted to make a life for myself, a life that was mine. I never wanted to marry, to love. To shepherd others to create that life for themselves? Absolutely.”

“Are you planning on running?” Farm-Hand held a stern and unwavering tone to it, prompting you to meet his yellow eyes. You raked your eyes over his shielded face, noticing how his eyes particularly held a familiarity within them; a hue you deduced was endemic to Kuraigana. 

“I desired to. That was until,” you paused, looking to your knees and holding your firm gaze affixed upon them, “until his eyes-... until his voice-.” You shook your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts regarding your betrothed.

“Yes?” Farm-Hand questioned you, hypnotizing you to welcome back those enchanting thoughts you had dwelling on him, “His eyes?” 

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, eyelashes fluttering as the swell of your heart grew. The small breeze atop the wall carried the warm scent of the flowers below up to meet you. 

“And his voice?” he whispered, bringing himself ever closer to you. 

“It’s perfect,” you uttered your confession to the man beside you, held in a moment of utter awe at picturing your betrothed. The way he held you, the way his forehead touched yours as he cared for you. His hands were always ever guiding, always suggesting; never dictating. 

“It’s not what he can offer me, nor the bonds of fate that join us together,” you continued, baring your soul out to your coworker who so dutifully escorted you to the castle walls, “I just cannot allow myself to give into such feelings. Not when I know he is only doing it as honor commands it.” After a moment of brief pause, silence shrouding your presence together above the gardens, Farm-Hand spoke up.

“I have a problem much like your own,” he spoke slowly, prompting you to seek out his gaze. His yellowed hues held firm to the gardens as he continued, “When I think about her, it makes my skin tingle.” He absentmindedly began drawing patterns against the cobblestone wall, tracing invisible lines with the tip of his index finger. 

“My heart swells when she walks into the room,” he continued, continuing to hold his gaze firm in front of him, “Especially when she looks at me like she’d rather me struck by lightning. Her eyes, her voice. You said it first: perfect.”

You hummed in response, both dwelling in an air of unspoken desire and a lover's melancholy. Farm-Hand rose his palm in front of his eyes, staring at the small creases formed within them as he added, “The softest brush of her fingertips could have me fall to my knees if I remain uncareful.” You laughed a dry and humorless laugh.

“Ah, yes. We’re in love,” you continued to laugh, teetering off to add to your declaration, “how tragic.”

“A tragedy indeed,” Farm-Hand uttered with an undertone of purring sass. He tugged at his hat, ensuring it was placed firmly atop his head before standing atop the wall. He grasped the rope and began looping it as he had done before and extended his hand in aid for you to stand. 

“This will remain confidential, yes?” you uttered as you placed your palm in his, “I can’t let this confession get back to my wards, nor my betrothed.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” Farm-Hand affirmed to you with a curt nod, “Under the condition you will not relay anything I told you here today, including knowledge on this area.” You took a final look at the garden, cocking your head to the side as you quizzed him.

“Is this area not common knowledge to those who live here?” you inquired, looking deep into his amber irises. 

“You are the first eyes to see it, aside from the lord of Kuraigana,” he uttered a final confession, “and I wanted so desperately for you to see what I have crafted with my hands. After all this secrecy, you deserved to see it in its prime.” Your eyes softened as he tied the ropes secured to your hips and hooked it over the metal hook. 

“Thank you for advocating for me to see this,” you smiled at him, soft and sweet as one would do their friend, “I have thoroughly enjoyed this adventure, and learning what you have managed to foster from the earth. I am proud to call you my friend.”

“As I am proud to call you mine,” he smiled with his eyes, his brows softening as he guided you to the edge of the wall. You looked over the edge and immediately found yourself unnerved at the prospect of a decline.

“Let’s call this a leap of faith, Lost-Lady,” Farm-Hand cooed down at you, “Taking a leap before you take the leap.” You stiffened in your tracks, prompting him to hold himself a little closer to you. 

“I’m here by your side, I will not drop you,” he confirmed, lacing his left hand around your waist and holding you against him, “Now let’s get you back to the manor. You’ll be needing a rest before the celebration tonight.” 

“I don’t think I can do this-,” you began, just at the moment Farm-Hand jumped with you firmly held against his side. You shrieked as you plummeted to the bottom of the wall, slowed only by the fibers of the rope fizzing within the firm grip of your friend. You held your eyes shut, even when you felt the air no longer blowing over your body at your descent. 

“You can open your eyes, Lost-Lady,” the man beside you cooed, voice dripping in cheek. You apprehensively unsqueezed one eye, followed by the other as you noticed your feet were placed firmly on the ground. The arm of Farm-Hand was continuing to hold you stable as you caught your barings, only unweaving around you as you gestured slowly for him to do so.

“Thank you, Farm-Hand. I have thoroughly enjoyed my morning,” you nodded, extending your right hand out for him to shake it, an air of professionalism once again returning to you. Albeit, the glimmer of humor in your eye and the pull of sass on your lips seemed to indicate you were toying with him.

“You’re welcome, Lost-Lady. I have thoroughly enjoyed mine,” He took your hand within his, shaking it briefly before stooping to press his forehead against your knuckles. After he rose, he uttered, “Let’s get you ready for what’s to come next.”

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