#but I was purposely trying to make this as imperfect as I could so that I could just get it out there

[lothbats9000]

Take my super quick 2am speed paint Leo that I did to practice colors and test a couple brushes! (I say speed paint but this still took like 2 hours heheh)

[tonythr]

Quick Slash is even cooler from a narrative perspective, and why I think the Nailsmith's story parallels the Pale King's

Cold take: Quick Slash is the best charm in Hollow Knight.

Slightly Warmer take: Quick Slash is the only S-tier charm that is great from both gameplay and lore perspective (aside from maybe Spell Twister).

The reason for this is that its existence is actually a

metaphor

Here, look at this.

So, Quick Slash is something that was created from a relatively big number of objects that were discarded and deemed imperfect, and that possess a collective will of wanting to fulfill their purpose.

You know what that reminds me of?

A large amount of creations: check.

Discarded as imperfect: check.

Still possessing a will to find closure: check.

Being a part of a larger, more powerful thing: check.

Having a common creator who is responsible for their creation and rejection: check.

So yeah, I think that Quick Slash's lore (or at least its description) is meant to parallel that of the Vessels'.

But I wanna talk about that last point: the creator.

It is heavily implied that the person who created and then later discarded those nails was the Ancient Nailsmith we see in the room where we get Quick Slash.

(Oh by the way I just realized that this stone ring thing on the right of that room is actually the furnace, neat.)

Judging from their Dreamnail dialogue, this Ancient Nailsmith was trying to achieve the same goal as the other, more famous Nailsmith we all know and love: creating a Pure Nail.

And you know who else was trying to create a perfect, Pure thing while discarding many other similar things that later gained a collective will?

That's right - it's the guy who is also responsible for creating those other discarded things we discussed earlier!

Ok, but what I really wanted to talk about here is how all of what I just said ties back to that other, more famous guy - The Nailsmith.

We don't know for sure how the story of the Ancient Nailsmith ended, but it feels like it exists there mainly to put an emphasis on the City's Nailsmith's story; to convey that his struggle is an important theme in this narrative (because ancient means important, ok?) And, I mean, the City's Nailsmith's story also parallels that of the Pale King's in the same manner, right?

The thing is, we already know how PK's story ended.

In trying to achieve perfection, to create an eternal Kingdom by making a Pure Vessel devoid of mind, voice and will, the Pale King doomed himself to be taken over by his regrets, by the vast emptiness of the futility of his struggles. But was it because he failed, or because that was where his story was headed all along?

What if PK succeeded? What if the Radiance was sealed forever? What if his Kingdom actually stood eternal, never to change, never to end? What if he realized he achieved his only goal in life?

And that's the part where we get to a story the ending of which is up to the player's choice.

To quote White Lady, only two obvious outcomes there are from such a thing.

The first is an honorable death by the fruits of his labor.

If we choose to kill the Nailsmith with the Pure Nail, he dies happy, knowing that his life's goal is accomplished and having gained all the satisfaction he could from it.

The second I find preferable, a new passion.

If the Nailsmith doesn't feel the finishing blow of the Pure Nail, he is left unsatisfied. But, while trying to resolve that unsatisfaction, he eventually finds something (and someone) that gives him a new calling, a new thing to create, a new reason to live.

And, while those are both equally valuable, equally canonic outcomes, don't you think the second one is just... better? I mean, not only does it include the achievement of the Nailsmith's goal, but it lets him live AND gives two lonely souls a partner in life! I feel like that's the thing this narrative is trying to convey. What it's trying to say about the meaning of life, about our dreams.

Maybe that was the ultimate folly of the Pale King - the inability to change. His story would've ended in the same way, regardless of whether Hallownest lasted eternally or not. He would be dead, if not by the hands of the Void, but by his own - but ultimately, by the hands of that vast emptiness of realizing that you achieved your only goal and that now all there is for you is this eternal satisfaction that slowly fades away, leaving you with nothing.

TL;DR: Quick Slash is the best because it's a metaphor for discarded vessels; perfection is overrated, try to get laid instead.

[zhongrin]

cw. selfships, fluff, established marriage

thinking about...

zhongli, who's conflicted over where to wear our engraved wedding ring. over the gloves so he can glance at it whenever we're apart? under the gloves so it can be protected whenever he has to take care of a few rouge hilichurls as he runs another errand for hu tao in the wilderness? chained and stored in his breast pocket so it could be as close to his heart as possible? hmm, what to do....

al haitham who thought wedding bands would be troublesome to wear prior to even thinking of getting married himself. and yet after our wedding, the man wastes no time to commission a special jewelry box to be made for the purpose of storing the ring every night and promptly switches his drawing gloves' style to highlight the wedding band on his ring finger more prominently <3

wriothesley who's utterly devastated when he discovered that his wedding ring had cracked after taking care of a criminal trying to run away. who apologizes profusely on his knees and gives the wettest puppy eyes because he is tearing up. who gets it fixed immediately right after at the best jeweler and wears it as a necklace. who almost cries again when i grab onto the ring to kiss the very subtle imperfection where it cracked and tell him i love how it looks, because it looks even more beautiful now ー just like how his scars just makes him look even more gorgeous <3

[sunkendreams]

Can I ask for a Vincent Sinclair smut PLZZZ🛐🛐 (I love him sm)

redamancy.

➾ pairing ; vincent sinclair x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 4.4K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), fingering (f!receiving), dry humping, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, making out, scratching, rough sex, slight breeding kink, vincent is pretty obsessive/possessive, darker vincent, choking

author’s note: I haven’t written for vincent in a hot minute but boy, this was a perfect way to get back into it! I plan on writing another bo/reader/vincent thing at some point and more bo/reader. Trying to ease myself back into all of this! Thank you all so much for your love and support!

Hot pearls of pale wax trickled from the numerous candles littered throughout the basement, basked within an orange glow. It only served to add to the warmth of the underbelly of the House of Wax, temperatures maintained to prevent any form of melting. Vincent had learned to temper it all over time — control the heat, master the atmosphere.

A silver scalpel idly shaped a column of wax, something that would soon join the displays up above. His movements were methodical, purposeful — he was a perfectionist. Every stroke had to mean something, appear flawless and without any imperfections.

He’d been making up for imperfections all his life — even still, Vincent was continuing to work himself ragged, to further his mother’s work. Perhaps, someday, it would make him more worthy in her eyes.

Footsteps reverberated throughout his underground mausoleum of wax, and he knew that it was you. Bo rarely, if ever, came downstairs, and his gait was often far more purposeful and aggressive than yours could ever be. He was hunched over his desk, guiding the flickering flame toward the wax, letting it melt and bend.

Vincent carefully began to mold the wax, shape it to whatever he pleased. It was a statuette, meant to resemble that of a serpent. Using the edge of the scalpel, he quickly carved in intricate designs as the surface began to cool, brushing off any excess with the pad of his thumb.

You quietly crept through the basement, making your way toward Vincent’s coiled frame, perched within his rickety chair. You always enjoyed watching him work — his artistic talent was mesmerizing to behold. With a light shrug, you tugged your robe around you, feet absorbing the warmth from the concrete floor.

It was common for him to wake up sometime in the night, leaving the space beside you to work. Sometimes, it was the only thing that could quell the raging thoughts inside of him, or the one activity that took his mind off of everything. Vincent could think of other activities to distract himself, but you needed to agree to it, too.

The cold dusk of Louisiana couldn’t reach either of you — not here, not in the warmth of the basement. It was akin to a sanctuary for you, this wax cathedral built to destroy and to create anew. There was something so fascinating about this place, something hauntingly beautiful and macabre all rolled into one.

“Hey,” You murmured, lazily rubbing at the back of your neck. His shirt clumsily hung from your frame, the robe haphazardly tossed over the garment. Vincent regarded you with a tender look in his eye, countenance shrouded by that familiar waxy veil. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Vincent shook his head, dark tresses idly brushing across the back of the woolen sweater he wore. You were often amazed at his heat tolerance, wearing thicker garments in a sweltering basement. He turned slightly within his seat, an open invitation for you to come and inspect his work.

There was a point in time where he had little desire for you to see any of his projects, but that sentiment had drastically changed. Vincent valued your admiration above all else. He turned the partially-finished serpent over, noticing your look of recognition and delight.

“That’s a basilisk, isn’t it? It’s beautiful so far.” You gently traced your index finger along some of the scales Vincent had carved into the surface. The initial grogginess of slumber was beginning to wear off as you stood at his side, gaze flickering toward the assortment of art tools, wax, and glowing candles.

“It’s for you.” Vincent’s hands moved sluggishly as he signed, feeling your fingertips grace his shoulder, nails idly raking across his back. He shivered, enjoying the light sensation of your touch, knowing that it was bound to contort and twist into a different sort of feeling.

Your lips curled into a smitten smile, teeth absentmindedly toying with your lower lip. “For me? Are you sure?” It belonged in the House of Wax, amongst all of his other sculptures and pieces of art. However, you weren’t about to stop him from his sentimental gesture. You loved everything he’d made for you.

With a brief nod, Vincent placed the statuette back down onto the debris-laden desk, swiping at a fine layer of wax flecks with his hand. Along the mantle situated above his workbench, you noticed a weathered photograph, partially obscured by a series of half-destroyed wax masks that he’d worn at one point or another.

Admittedly, you hadn’t seen the picture before — and you had memorized every square inch of this place by now. “Hey,” You motioned toward it, pointing at the obstructed photograph with visible intrigue. “What’s that?” You inquired, head cocking to one side.

Vincent’s jaw tightened, posture becoming somewhat stiff and rigid as he deliberately removed the picture from behind the masks. He’d forgotten all about it until you pointed it out — a sliver of him wondered why he’d even kept it at all. He cradled the tattered, dusty photograph within one hand, brows furrowing together.

It was Trudy Sinclair, forever immortalized within one still image, holding a very young Vincent, whose countenance was indistinguishable — marred and torn from his conjoined state with Bo. Her expression was arguably the kindest it had ever been, gazing down upon the near-infant Vincent with a look of fondness.

Even through the faded granules of color, you were able to make out the affection she held for him. Your heart clenched within your chest, primarily out of empathy for Vincent himself. Despite all his talent and efforts to regain some favor in his mother’s eyes, part of her would always see him as some disfigured freak, doomed to be trapped behind that wax mask.

Wordlessly, Vincent offered you the photograph, letting you inspect it for yourself. You treated the object like a priceless relic, gently turning it over within your hands. It pained you to know the fate that had inevitably befallen the Sinclairs — locked within a household filled with vitriol and parents whose passions often overrode any love they might’ve had for their children.

“This is Trudy, isn’t it?” You uttered, watching as Vincent’s head bobbed up and down in a stoic nod. Bo had received the short end of the stick when it came to Trudy’s love, but things were far from perfect with Vincent, too. “I’m sorry, Vincent.” Your voice barely drifted above a whisper, lips curling into a sympathetic frown.

His shoulders sagged in a gentle shrug, taking the photograph from you before placing it behind a cluster of half-burnt candles. “Nothing to be sorry for. You can’t change the past.” Vincent signed, concentration turning to you, instead.

He’d spent most of his life wishing that he could change his tumultuous childhood — he’d stopped long ago. He and his brothers would always be chained to Trudy, and there would always be a certain level of loyalty to her, even in death.

“I understand, Vincent.” With a soft murmur, you gently rubbed at the back of your neck, trailing your fingers across his spine. “Come back to bed with me?” You asked, head canting to one side. Vincent reached for your wrist, gingerly cradling it between his fingers, stroking along your forearm.

He wasn’t tired, but Vincent didn’t want to leave you alone, either. He moved up from his chair, lean musculature towering above you as he kept hold of your wrist, fingers drifting to twine around your hand. The two of you retreated into the alcove that served as his bedroom, if one could call it that.

The mattress was littered in blankets, indents visible from where the two of you slept. He’d fixed it up with doors that folded shut, similar to that of a closet. You settled back down, Vincent right beside you as he tugged you close, letting you lounge against his chest.

You sat up just a little bit, enough to see his masked countenance. “Could I ask you something?” Your voice was nothing more than a tender whisper, and now that you were awake, a string of thoughts began to nag at the back of your head. Pillowtalk with Vincent often became very emotionally-charged.

“Anything.” Vincent nodded as his hands moved, propping himself up enough to look at you, too. He had told you about his life some time ago — the intricate details and his own sentiments on the matter were left out and simply implied. You were a precocious and inquisitive individual, but above all, you were empathetic.

“This,” With a feather-light caress, you traced your finger along the cheekbone of his mask. “Why do you still wear it around me?” Your inquiry was innocuous, spoken out of genuine concern instead of malice or confusion. Vincent had shown you his face once before — and it never bothered you. It wouldn’t bother you.

Vincent’s throat became tight, jaw unusually tense as he attempted to muster up a feasible answer. It was an anchor for him — one way to feel less like a monster and a freak. “Habit,” He signed, but he knew better than to give you a false response. “I don’t want you to feel guilty or pity me.”

Your brows furrowed together, visage contorting with a look of mild confusion. “What do you mean, Vince?” You wondered if you’d done something wrong, stomach swelling with a wave of anxiety, but he seemed to catch this. He pressed a finger against your lips before he began to sign in a flurry of animated hands.

“I don’t want you to pity me for how I look. I’ve spent my entire life being looked at like a freak — like something fragile, something to feel sorry for.” Vincent finished with finality to it, hoping that you would understand why he continued to wear the mask. He knew that you still loved him, regardless of how he appeared.

“No, no,” You uttered, sitting up enough to stare at him, hands gently splayed across his taut chest. “When I saw your face, that night in the kitchen — the only thing that I saw was a survivor.” His eye sparkled whenever you spoke, hanging upon your every word. “You’re resilient and you’re talented, Vincent. You’ve never been a freak.”

It was the first time in his life that someone labeled him as a survivor — he hadn’t thought of it like that.

Most of his life had been about preservation — keeping the Sinclair name alive, to continue his mother’s dream, keeping Bo and Lester safe. Vincent hadn’t considered that his face was also a sign of resilience, of an endurance that even he wasn’t fully aware of.

You felt his hand reach for you, cupping your jaw with calloused, roughened digits, the practiced hands of an artist. His touch was filled with both adoration and a dark yearning, thumb sweeping over your lower lip. “You mean everything to me.” He signed, and you knew that he meant it wholeheartedly.

“You mean everything to me, too.” You murmured, careening into the warmth of his embrace, lips pursing to kiss the pad of his thumb. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” A breathy, passionate sigh left you when he coaxed you closer, slotted against his musculature.

His hawkish eye picked you apart from where you sat, the distance slim between the two of you. You were vaguely aware of his obsession with you, disguised as protectiveness and adoration — Vincent often made it explicitly clear that you belonged to him, drew a line in the sand with Bo over and over again.

As you lavished him in kind, tenderhearted words, Vincent’s innate possessiveness over you seemed to flare to life, malignant and very much alive. You were tethered to him until the end of time — a pretty, iron-wrought cage, inescapable — and admittedly, you didn’t want to be free from it at all. You stopped thinking that way a long time ago.

Vincent exhaled, dragging his hand across the slender expanse of your neck, digits exploring the canvas that was your flesh — all belonging to him. “You’re mine.” He signed, staking his claim for the hundredth time. Even through signing alone, his nature was desirous and rapacious.

Long before he’d entered this relationship with you, he was very indifferent towards you. It stemmed from insecurities, from rage, and from confusion — girls were always Bo’s forte and never his. Having you, something to covet, something to protect and to keep, Vincent was always worried that he’d lose it.

You nodded, breath hitching within your throat when he traced the pad of his thumb across your pulse point. Your heartbeat had climbed to erratic, excitable heights, mouth somewhat dry as he applied pressure underneath either side of your jaw.

“I’m yours.” Parasitic — you leached from him, and it always took your loneliness away. You used to hate him for taking away your friends, but it almost felt like a wandering dream that didn’t feel real. Ambrose was where you were meant to be — meant to be with Vincent. You empathized with him, surrounding him with your affection and comfort.

A rugged huff emerged from the depths of his throat, feeling you climb closer, gaze glazed-over with desire. Wordlessly, Vincent removed his mask, placing the waxy veil aside as his mouth clamored for yours. The kiss was blistering, full of a rather oppressive possession and greed — he felt entitled to you, in some depraved sense.

Reciprocation made him giddy as your lips eagerly pressed against his, responding with a desperation that nearly bordered his own. Vincent squeezed your jaw, other hand relocating to slip underneath the baggy shirt you wore, brazenly groping at your breasts.

Your fingers scraped through his hair, digging into the base of his skull as he coaxed you down against the mattress. Vincent crawled on top of you, mouth briefly disconnecting from yours before he crashed back into you, parting your legs with his knee.

A low, raspy grunt escaped him when your lips continued their relentless assault, mouth parting to allow for a sloppy kiss. He was needy, desperate to feel you as he rucked your shirt up with one hand, fingertips tracing across the plane of your stomach. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine, arousal pooling between your thighs.

Heat blistered between the both of you, an amalgamation of desire, want, and the emotion of your charged conversation moments prior. Vincent savored it all — it still didn’t feel real sometimes, being physical with you. Some time ago, he felt unworthy, too horrid and too scarred, but you changed everything.

You changed the way he touched you — no longer hesitant or wrought with deliberation. He felt like a god, capable of conquering anything — even you. Instead, each touch was charged with lust, and the sensation was beyond mutual as you slipped a hand underneath his sweater.

Vincent was made of taut, sinewy muscle, littered in plenty of scars. His broad shoulders tensed when your hand pressed into the nape of his neck, toying with the collar of his sweater. In one fluid motion, he lifted it up and over his head, discarding it toward the foot of the bed.

He lifted two digits toward his lips, pressing them upon his tongue as he coated them in saliva. Vincent’s eye glistened with a ravenous sheen, fingers drifting toward the warmth between your legs. He brusquely shoved your panties aside, dragging those fingers along your slit, peppering your jaw in kisses.

“Vincent,” You moaned, feeling him cage you against him, arm bracketing you in, keeping you for himself. It was explosive — everything felt hot, as if the both of you were running out of time. “Touch me.” Your voice was high-pitched with a sense of urgency.

Your hips jolted forward, chasing after the friction his digits provided, feeling his mouth press hot kisses against your sternum. He branded you with his embrace, hoping to make it permanent — a mark, something that bound you to him. His lips sought to take one of your pert nipples into his mouth, suckling on the sensitive bud.

At last, he gave into your breathy demands, slotting his thumb against your clit as his middle fingers explored your cunt. An elated sigh escaped you, knees squeezing at his waist, hands splayed across his shoulders. He looked immaculate beneath orange candlelight — a deity of wax, perfection immortalized.

A ripple of bliss consumed you, body keening and arching into Vincent’s touch. His fingers lightly traced your core before dipping inward, forcing his way inside of you, feeling your cunt clench pathetically around his practiced digits. He lavished your breasts in a flurry of attention, throat echoing with a hoarse grunt.

Scars were crisscrossing all over his body, remnants of his victims that left their mark. Bullets, stab wounds, the diagonal, uneven slashes of knives and sharp objects. His skin served as a canvas for chaos, and you traced your fingertips over a livid mark on his chest.

Vincent shuddered, rutting his fingers inside of you before withdrawing halfway, finding a steady rhythm to piston in and out of your aching heat. He kissed his way back to your mouth, lips crashing into one another as he pressed against you. You could feel his erection snug along your thigh, prompting you to squirm.

You needed him terribly, unable to vocalize that want unless it was through a mess of needy moans. With a gentle shove, your lips tangled with his, tugging on his mane of dark tresses. Vincent huffed, digits curling into your cunt, eliciting a simpering cry from you.

He watched you through a lustful stare, glazed-over with rapture, drunk with desire. Vincent kissed at your throat, teeth teasing your flesh, feeling you roll your hips into the sensation of his hand. “Need you inside of me,” Your voice emerged as a hungry groan, clawing at the muscle of his shoulder. “Please, Vincent.”

Admittedly, he hadn’t seen you quite like this before — tangled up within your own need, aching for him in ways you hadn’t felt before. Vincent was delighted to oblige you, feeding off of your desire like a leech.

“How?” Vincent signed, and that singular word seemed to set off some chain reaction. Your stomach sloshed with anticipation as you rolled over onto your abdomen, able to hear the audible hitch in his throat, a raspy grunt tearing past his lips.

Vincent slipped his fingers from your cunt, digits coated in a thin sheen of your arousal. He grabbed at your hips, chest reverberating with a low rumble as he tugged you back against him. The metallic rattling of his belt sent shivers down your spine, able to feel the heat of his cock press against your slit.

“Vincent,” You moaned, and that was enough to get his blood pumping, accompanied by a surge of adrenaline as he let the head of his length slide through your slick a time or two. A soft yelp tore past your lips when he pushed himself inside of you, hunched over you, flesh feverishly warm.

A hand gently held the back of your neck, thumb grazing over the slender muscle of your jugular. His face was buried near your shoulder, tresses sweeping across your exposed back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He filled you in a way that you never thought possible, causing you to whimper.

With a sharp thrust, Vincent began to invade your cunt, somewhere between tender and rough. He was always sporadic and unsure when it came to pace, but you thoroughly enjoyed the unpredictability. His cock lewdly slapped into your cunt, followed by the sound of his ragged breathing.

Wax-laden palms skirted across your body, one hand grappling at your hips while the other gathered at the nape of your neck. You huffed, face partially pressed into the mattress, body contorting and submitting to him as you had many times before.

You were perfect — his paramour, his muse.

A twisted desire began to wash over him like a tidal wave, borderline insidious as he rutted into you. Vincent’s love might’ve been perceived as sweet on the surface, yet it often veered off into a very vitriolic obsession. He wanted you all to himself, as much as humanly possible.

Vincent’s grunts resonated just beside your ear, full of a lustful fervor. Every inch of him was consumed by your cunt, tight around him as he continued to fuck you. It was hot and messy, his pace sometimes scattered and erratic, as if he didn’t know what rhythm to adopt.

He brought you back against him, caging your back to his chest as he rocked onto his knees. Taut, muscled biceps locked around you as he pistoned into you, cock reaching new depths until he couldn’t go any further. Vincent’s mouth clamored to your neck, kissing and biting wherever he pleased as he kept you snug against him.

“V—Vincent, shit,” You stammered, the newfound position taking you by complete surprise. A sensation of sheer want flooded through you, coupled with overwhelming arousal. He filled you completely, flesh dewy with a layer of perspiration, black strands stuck to his temples from exertion. “Please cum in me.”

Another hoarse, throaty grunt ripped through him, hands relocating as one palm groped at your soft, pliant breasts. The other had a mind of its own, snaking to the cleft between your thighs as he toyed with your clit. Euphoria gripped you then and there, causing you to squirm and writhe with pleasure.

Again, Vincent locked you in against his chest, huffing into your ear, biting at your jaw as he filled you up. Part of him wanted to devour you, but the added heat and friction, the swiftness of the moment was enough to make him exert all force.

If he could, he would’ve gladly drowned himself in you, let himself float away within your very presence. Even covered in a veil of sweat, your scent was saccharine, accompanied by his own musk from the cling of his clothing.

Vincent felt you reach for his hand, digits curling around his wrist as he played with your clit, hoping to get you to your peak, right alongside him. His palm wandered from the plump flesh of your chest toward your throat, wrapping around until he applied pressure along your windpipe.

Within the stifling warmth of the basement, the only sounds that reverberated throughout were your moans and his occasional grunt. Vincent’s breathing was heavy, chest heaving against your back. You moved with him as best as you could, nails digging crescents into the taut tendons of his forearm.

Arousal sat heavy within the pit of your stomach, thick and viscous. Vincent was relentless and unyielding, continuing to pound away at your cunt, gently squeezing underneath your jaw. The combined pleasure that assaulted your clit and throat were preparing to send you cascading over the edge.

“M’close,” You huffed, feeling his lips meet the dip between your neck and shoulder, face buried there as he rutted into you. Everything felt incendiary, as if you’d been set ablaze, only to sink further into the fire. He touched you as if you were molded from obsidian, covetous and desperate for you. “Vincent!”

He never slowed, still pounding away at you, cock unable to go any further before he pulled out just a little bit, only to shove himself back in. A sheen of perspiration glistened across his features, forehead pushing into your shoulder, still clutching at your throat.

You belonged to him — you always would. There was no one else for you, only him.

Vincent huffed, teeth sinking into your flesh until he slammed into you one last time, painting your insides with hot, virile ropes of his seed. He continued to rub circles around your clit, dragging you toward your peak. Your cunt clenched around him, eliciting a throaty groan from him as you came.

A myriad of moans and sighs escaped you, shivers rolling down your spine as your thighs twitched, ecstasy flooding throughout your body. Vincent soothed any bites over with kisses, staying in you for a moment longer until he reclined against the mattress, taking you with him.

You were on top of him, layered in sweat and his cum, palms spread across his chest. Vincent stared at you with complete and utter devotion, gently tucking away any strands of hair that were stuck to your temples.

“You’re perfect,” Vincent signed, tucking his thumb and forefinger beneath your chin. The sienna glow of waning candlelight flickered throughout your shared space, basking you in such an atmospheric light. “You look perfect like this.”

There was a darker undertone to his sweet words — and to him, you did look divine this way, covered in his seed, wracked with want for him. Vincent cared very little for moving in that moment, content to stay with you in the oppressive heat of the basement.

With a soft caress, your fingertips swept across the scarred part of his jaw, mouth clamoring for him in another kiss. He didn’t protest, hand slipping toward the base of your skull, coaxing you closer to him.

“I love you,” You murmured, watching the way his pupil dilated with understanding. “M’tired.” You sank down into the mattress, still staggeringly hot with no sign of changing, either.

Visibly, you were spent, exhilaration and your post-orgasm haze beginning to dissipate into exhaustion. You smiled, laying down at his side instead, head curled toward the broad expanse of his shoulder. He locked an arm around you, caging you in, nowhere else to go — it was where you belonged.

There was nowhere you could go where he wouldn’t follow.

[lendeah]

Happy Memories

Also on AO3

Summary: Based on this line from the epilogue- One night he tells you that these six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags:  Fluff and Smut, 6 months post-finale, Lovemaking, Domestic Fluff, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Love Confessions, it's so soft really, Soft Astarion, they have just been through so much, Tooth-Rotting Fluff.

WARNING: +18, minors DNI

The past few months had been a trying time, both of you struggling to come to terms with the events that had transpired. The weight of it all hung heavy in the air, leaving you to navigate through nightmares and Astarion's bouts of dissociation. Yet, somehow, you were making progress. Together.

You had taken it upon yourself to find a cure for Astarion's condition, a challenging task made even more difficult by his returned aversion to sunlight. But it gave you both a purpose, something to look forward to - a brighter tomorrow. The greatest source of joy in your present life was the simple act of lying down next to him every night, enveloped in each other's arms with the comforting knowledge that tomorrow you would once again wake up without the constant fear of losing him.

Together, you had found solace in a serene cottage by Riverbend, settling into a comfortable routine. You delighted in gardening and cooking, while he took care of household chores and lovingly mended and sewed your clothes. On lazy afternoons, you would paint alongside him as he engrossed himself in endless books. It was pure bliss, and you were content with your perfectly imperfect life together.

As the two of you prepared for bed, Astarion wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. In the past, such an intimate gesture would have caught you off guard, but he has since learned to let his guard down and embrace moments of tenderness. Though he still struggles at times, he relishes in this display of affection.

"Everything alright, my love?" you asked, resting your head against his.

Astarion's arms tightened around you as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "Alright would be an understatement," he murmured, his voice low and warm against your skin. "I am absolutely enchanted, my dear."

You turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I'm glad to hear that, because I am enchanted too," you said softly.

Astarion leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate kiss. You hummed against his mouth, savoring the familiar feeling of his soft lips moving against yours. He pulled back slightly, forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "I have something I want to show you."

Curiosity sparked within you, but you simply nodded and followed him as he led you outside. The moon was high in the sky, casting its soft glow over everything. Astarion took your hand and led you toward the nearby meadow. And that's when you see it: he has prepared the scenery around to look like the one from the first night you shared together, back at the Grove.

"What is this?" You say, with a huge grin decorating your face.

Astarion's crimson eyes shone with excitement as he turned to you. "This, my love, is a recreation of the night we first shared at the Grove," he said proudly.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you took in the scene before you. The soft grass beneath your feet, the gentle rustling of trees in the distance, and a small basket filled with wine and various snacks, right next to a small blanket.

"I thought we could relive that enchanted evening, but this time we'll make it truly unforgettable." His fingers caressed your cheek, gently wiping away a stray tear, as he added with a cheeky smile, "Because let's be honest, the first time was... underwhelming."

You smiled at him, grateful beyond words for his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, my love, this is incredible," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion's smile widened and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Anything for you," he whispered into your ear.

You stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a while, just enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Eventually, Astarion led you over to the basket and poured some wine for both of you. As the night went on, the two of you talked and laughed, reminiscing about your early days together and all the adventures you had been on since then. And with each passing moment, it felt as if the world had paused just for the two of you, as if all the events of the previous months were leading up to this one perfect moment.

As midnight approached, Astarion stood and held out his hand. "Shall we dance under the moonlight?" he asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

You raised a teasing eyebrow, "Has the spirit of Wyll possessed you?"

Astarion chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, my dear, you wound me! I assure you, this idea is entirely my own. Besides, who needs Wyll's spirit when I have enough charisma to ignite the heavens themselves?" He flourished a grand gesture, pretending to adjust an imaginary top hat atop his head.

You couldn't help but giggle at his theatrics. "How could I resist such an offer from the ever-enchanting Astarion?" you teased, accepting his outstretched hand.

He pulled you close, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back as he led you in a slow and graceful waltz beneath the soft glow of the moon. The world around you seemed to fade away as you slowly swayed in each other's arms.

"I don't remember this happening on our first night," you murmured against his ear, remembering how different that moment had been compared to this one.

A low, seductive chuckle escaped Astarion's lips as they brushed against your skin. "And pray tell, darling, what do you recall?"

"I remember you trying to seduce me and then almost draining me dry," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Astarion let out a dramatic gasp. "Such slander! I would never do such a thing!" He pressed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

You both laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet night. It was a stark contrast to the fake seducing words and lack of feelings of that first night. Now, he was completely at ease, his true self shining through without any pretense or hunger clouding his mind.

"But it was still special," Astarion whispered, stopping the dance to pull you closer to him. "It's what brought us to be here now, and I wouldn't trade that for anything."

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering at his words, as you leaned in to kiss him. It was a gentle and sweet kiss at first but soon turned more passionate as Astarion deepened it. His hands grabbed your thighs and picked you up to press you up against a nearby tree, lips trailing down your neck.

"This is bringing back memories," You say breathlessly.

You could feel him smirk against your skin "Do you really think so? Perhaps I should refresh them even more."

His declaration sent a wave of warmth through your body and you leaned in to kiss him again, eager to lose yourself in the moment. His hands were now unbuttoning your shirt and you gasped as they reached your bare skin. You looked at his hooded eyes, and with a playful smile, offered your neck to him.

However, Astarion pulled away slightly and looked into your eyes, with something like doubt swimming in them. "I want this to be real," he said earnestly. "Not like last time."

You nodded in understanding and smiled softly at him. "It already is," you reassured him, cupping his cheek with your hand.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to kiss you again, but this time it was slow and tender – an exchange of affection rather than something laced with hunger or deception. Astarion picked you up again and gently set you down on the soft blanket that he had laid out earlier. He leaned in to kiss you once more, his body hovering over yours.

As you entwined your fingers in his soft, white locks, you pulled him towards you, deepening the kiss. His hands explored every curve and dip of your body, sending pleasurable shivers down your spine with each touch.

As his lips trailed from yours, they left a tingling sensation in their wake. Your hands eagerly reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Astarion's hungry gaze followed every movement as you unbuttoned your jeans and let them fall to the ground. With a grin, he helped you out of your remaining clothes before stepping back to fully appreciate your naked form glistening under the moonlight. His eyes traced every curve and dip of your body before meeting your gaze once again, a hunger evident in his expression.

"You are breathtaking," he murmured, and then pulled you into another passionate kiss. Your fingers traced the lines of his bare chest, feeling the softness of his skin. You tugged at his shirt, silently urging him to remove it, and he obliged with a sly smile. His pants soon followed, revealing the chiseled contours of his body. Your hands traced over every ridge and dip of his body, feeling the coolness of his skin against your fingertips.

"I want you to bite me," you whispered urgently.

Astarion leaned down to press his lips against the nape of your neck, making you gasp and arch into him as he traced his fangs along your pulse point. Your skin tingled with excitement as his hands eagerly explored your body before gripping your hips, sending shivers of desire through you.

"Tell me if it becomes too much," he whispered against your skin before sinking his teeth into your neck gently.

You gasped at the sensation – a mix of pleasure and pain that sent sparks flying through your body. Astarion's grip on your hips tightened as he drank from you, his other hand reaching up to cup one of your breasts. You moaned as he continued to drink from you, feeling the pleasure building up inside of you.

After a few minutes, Astarion pulled away and licked the wound on your neck before kissing it gently. His red eyes met yours and they were glowing with a mix of emotions – desire, love, and something else that you couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I'll never grow weary of that," he murmurs, before leaning in for another kiss. Astarion's lips trailed down your neck and onto your chest, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way towards your breasts, taking a nipple between his lips. Every touch of his tongue sent sparks of pleasure through your body and you arched your back in response.

"Astarion..." you panted.

The sound of his name on your lips only spurred him on, and he began to suckle harder, moving to tease the other nipple with his fingers. His hand moved from your breast to between your legs, and you gasped as his fingers found your wetness. He slipped his fingers between your soaking folds, skillfully rubbing and circling your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers sent waves of pleasure through you, making you whimper and writhe beneath him.

"Please," you whimpered, unable to hold back any longer.

Astarion smirked against your skin before moving down your body, his lips leaving a trail of kisses until he reached the apex of your thighs. He looked up at you with hunger in his eyes before diving in with his tongue, causing you to cry out in pleasure.

His tongue flicked against your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on as he continued to please you.

"Astarion...oh gods..." you cried out, your voice thick with need. His fingers thrusted into you relentlessly, syncing perfectly with the skilled movements of his tongue on your swollen clit. Your body arched and trembled with each wave of pleasure, every muscle tensed in anticipation.

"Inside...now..." you begged, unable to find the words to express the ache for him to fill you completely.

Astarion looked up at you from between your legs, his eyes filled with lust and desire, "Whatever you wish, dearest."

With a swift movement, he withdrew his fingers from your slick entrance and aligned himself at your dripping core. He pushed in slowly, savoring the tightness and heat engulfing him. A moan escaped your lips as you were filled to the hilt, waves of pleasure washing over you. Your bodies melted together, panting and trembling with pleasure. He then leaned in close, and gently rested his forehead against yours, breaths mingling as you held each other.

"I never envisioned discovering someone like you," Astarion said softly, "You have made these six months of happy memories counterweight two hundred years of misery."

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes at his words. The weight of his words, the realization that you have brought true joy to someone who has known nothing but misery, crushes you in the most beautiful way.

"I...I love you," you managed to choke out, your heart overflowing with emotion as you reached up to touch his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbone with trembling fingers. "More than anything."

Astarion's eyes softened at your words, a small smile tugging at his lips. He leaned down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all of his emotions into it. You both stayed like that for a few moments, just lost in each other.

"I love you more than my own existence," he whispered against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "You are my everything."

Without hesitation, he leaned down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss, and you savored the feeling of his lips against yours. Eventually, he starts slowly moving inside of you, each thrust calculated and precise as he intertwines his fingers with yours. You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, still lazily kissing him. Astarion continued to move inside of you with slow, deliberate strokes, making love to you in the most intimate way. Every movement is filled with intense desire and tenderness, eliciting uncontrollable moans of pleasure from your lips.

"You feel so good," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with adoration.

Your legs wrapped around his toned waist, your fingers tightly gripping his as he moved inside you. Each thrust was met with a moan from your lips, the heat and friction between your bodies igniting a passionate fire within you. He held you close, his lips eagerly finding yours in between each deepening thrust. The intensity and intimacy of the moment had you lost in a sea of pleasure, feeling every inch of him as he poured his love into every movement. Your body trembled as you neared your climax, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation any longer. Sensing this, he shifted his hand between your bodies, his fingers finding their way to your clit once again.

"Oh gods," you cried out as the pleasure intensified. Your body trembled and your breath quickened as Astarion's fingers moved expertly over your skin. You dug your nails into his back, desperately trying to hold on as he brought you closer to the edge.

"I'm close," Astarion grunted, his own body trembling with need.

"I am too," you whimpered.

Astarion's movements became faster and more urgent, his own moans mixing with yours in the stillness of the night.

"Look at me when you come," he demanded, and you obeyed.

Your eyes locked with Astarion's, the intensity of his gaze sending chills down your spine. As you reached the peak of pleasure, your body trembled and your walls pulsed around him. You couldn't hold back any longer and cried out his name, drowning in waves of pure ecstasy, and Astarion followed suit with a guttural moan. As you both lay there, breathless and entwined, every cell in your body buzzed with contentment and fulfillment.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice raw with emotion.

"I love you too," Astarion replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off of you and pulling you close to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and complete in his arms.

You both lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking, until eventually, Astarion spoke up.

"Even if we don't find the cure, being here with you is enough," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. He paused for a moment, his eyes on yours, searching for the right words. "This is all I ever wanted," he says softly, placing his hand on your cheek.

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips as you traced your fingers along his chest.

"I feel the same way," you replied, resting your head back on his chest. "But we can't give up hope just yet."

Astarion nodded, his arms tightening around you. "We won't" Astarion replies. He pulls you in close to him, squeezing you tightly. "We'll find the cure. I know we will." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "And I will spend the rest of eternity making it up to you."

[gossiplatoya]

Lover Is a Day | One shot

Synopsis: Y/N makes friends with the new boys from the forest. She notices that Lo’ak takes a liking to her friend Tsireya. Matter of fact everyone in their friend group is courting someone — but Neteyam seems to have his mind on something — someone and she will find out who.

Neteyam x Fem!Reader

Tags : fluff , romance , oblivious reader 🙈 , frustrated Neteyam , readers kinda loud , third person pov, perspective change, idk js fluff and romance

this is an old old old story

————————————————————————

Neteyam had arrived upon the salty shores the island Awa’atlu. He tried his best to keep a front infront of the lighter blue Na’vi that surrounded them upon entrance, giving them stares.

A girl had emerged from the water (whose name he later learned was Tsireya). Sure she was pretty, but his stare didn’t linger for as long as his brother’s did. “Hey,” Lo’ak nodded with a slight smirk.

She giggled and bashfully looked away, she covered her mouth with her hand. Neteyam turned his head to look at his brother and gave him a smile but turned back around when he noticed another girl next to Tsireya. She nudged Tsireya’s shoulder with her elbow while snickering.

“Oh quit it, Y/N!”

Y/N, he thought. He mumbled her name to a whisper. There was something about her that he just couldn’t fathom. Perhaps it was the smile or the way she parted her hair with intricate shells but there was something about her. She looked up at Neteyam, her wide set eyes made contact with his emerald one’s and it was like time slowed down. The boy looked down at his toes but the moment made him smile.

***

Before the hands of Eywa would she pluck the eyeballs out of Lo’ak’s head. The Sully family had been in for a few weeks and with their skill in the forest their mentors had assumed they’d be adapted, and they were, but one. Y/N saw how Lo’ak would purposely fail to do a simple task so Tsireye could help him. In a whiny voice he’d beg and emphasize how it is her help he needs most.

“Lo’ak I will kill you,” Y/N hit the side of his head. “It’s not that hard!”

Wincing, the boy went back to folding the leaves around the meat, if he did it right she would put it in the pile, if he didn’t, he would keep doing it until his hands break. He tied it in a bow and before he could hand it she snatches it away from the ground. Lo’ak looks at her expressions like the way he would after his dad yelled at him—her face frowns or furrows at imperfections but instead of giving him a nasty remark she tosses it in their pile of three. His tense shoulders relax.

Suddenly, she stands up and turns her head to the direction of the other groups, “Rotxo!” She calls. “Come teach this skxawng.”

Lo’ak stands up at the insult, “what did I do?!”

“Don’t argue, I don’t wanna help you anymore as you seem to be able to learn about nothing!” Y/N withdraws herself away from him, passing by Rotxo to find something worth watching. She goes by a various groups talking in a circle but comes to a halt when she sees Neteyam working with her friend, Äkxlä.

She watches from a distance and takes mental notes of the way she grabs his hand to fold the leaves and the look that dawns his face at the contact. It’s just the two of them near a fire and a distance away from everyone. A grin crawls slowly up her face as an idea screams in her head.

——

Neteyam is enjoying the peace of being on the sandy shores with his friend but the crackling fire and her close proximity is making him rather uncomfortable.

“No you’re doing it wrong,” her voice is so quiet. “You have to put the left one over first. Like this.” Suddenly, she grabs his hands and starts moving them to her will. He looks down at the movements but is trying so hard to not look at the stare she’s burning into the side of his face.

“I think I get it now”—he backs away—“Thanks, bye,” Neteyam nearly boosts up. He walks swiftly to the direction of his marui pod but sees a snickering Y/N in the corner of his eyes.

“Do you really get it though,” she approaches.

“Very funny.”

They walk together side-by-side to his pod and and he very much notices their hands brushing against each other. He turns his head to see her skin sparkling under the moonlight; she’d probably gone for a swim. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, held together by a clip from the reefs. Her neck is decorated with various shells and nets, some he notices made by him.

“I don’t like her,” she turns to meet his gaze. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Sure,” she draws the word out. “If you don’t like her why was it just you two, huh?” She flashes him a smile and his cheeks heat up.

“Because she said nobody was available to teach me and I had to learn somehow,” his head turns away before he faints at the sight of her.

Y/N simply nods and hums a ‘mhm.’ They walk through the pods and she looks briefly inside them while passing. He turns to rest inside his and she leans against the entrance. He sits down on one of the cushions and signals for her to come too but she shakes her head. Neteyam unwraps the dish he made prior and bites into the meal. She glances at him and smiles.

“What’s on your mind, yawne?”

“Nooothhhiiinnggg.”

Neteyam squints his eyes at her smile from hell. He swallows the food in his mouth, slightly bowing his head. “Do you like anyone?” He chokes at her words.

“What the hell?” He says through coughs. He looked up at her anticipating figure. “No?” He lies.

“You’re lying!” She hurries toward him and kneels at his level. She looks at him with squinted-wide eyes. Neteyam looks left to right as if there is someone else she is looking at through him. “She pretty?”

Neteyam softens his expression, thinking hard about the answer he was gonna give. Of course she’s pretty; in the eyes of a fool she would be considered anything less and anyone in their right mind would consider her more. “She’s beautiful.”

——

Beautiful. The word resonates throughout her thoughts. “Itxung?” Neteyam shakes his head, almost offended. “Whatever, I’ll bother you about this a day from now,” Y/N stands up and walks towards the exit. “We will talk about this!” She remarks while leaving the pod.

——

Sunlight and warmth engulfs Y/N’s pod. The ripples of water are heard from right beneath her along with the strong scent of salt. She breathes in through her nose and breathes out her smiling mouth. She steps out of her pod and onto the bouncy material the path is made of. She hops and skips to the Sully’s pod a little more than usual. She sticks her head through the entrance of their home slightly, she eyes down a sleeping Tuk and Kiri huddling together and averts her gaze to Lo’ak, his limbs contorting in ways she didn’t know were possible.

Her eyes twitch at the sound of rustling and she turns her head around to see Neytiri holding a basket, trying to look at what the younger girl was seeing. “Do you need anything?” Neytiri asks.

Y/N shakes her head, “No I am sorry, I was looking for Neteyam.”

“I think I saw him swimming.”

She nods a smile and waves off with a thank you. She squeezes through villagers bustling on the path and mumbles ‘excuse me’ every time skin contact was made.

——

Last night sticks like glue. Neteyam woke up before anyone else did and decided he’d go for a swim to practice his breath and to reflect, but it gets interrupted by a call of his name from a familiar voice.

He pushes himself up to the surface and sees Y/N sitting knees tucked against her chest on the shore. She has her eyes locked on him. He swims toward her and joins her on the wet sand. It’s quiet for a few seconds as she picks at the roots in the sand.

Neteyam breaks the the silence with a remark, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yes,” she sighs. “I have a class to teach.” A light bulb goes off in her head and she jolts up on her feet. “I have a class! Come with me!” Y/N grasps Neteyam’s wrist and drags him to her lesson in which he sees girls from all ages in cliques crowding together but leaves a large portion left empty for dancing.

“There are so many beautiful dancers,” she nudges his shoulder. “You should invite Kiri and Tuk!”

Neteyam nods and looks around—he catches a few winks from the performers. Y/N lets go of his wrist and almost throws him to sit down, she whispers to ‘just watch’ in his ear and shivers run down his spine.

She lets out a call and the drummers hit their drums and the girls swiftly put their hands on their hips.

She calls again and a rhythm forms on the drum patterns. They all start swaying their hips while moving their arms in articulate patterns. He takes note on Y/N especially, she is a mentor but she stuck out like a flower surrounded by leaves. Neteyam eyes her hips, she raises her arms up and that draws clear attention to her torso.

She turns to the side and starts whining her hips, he only notices he was practically drooling when he sees her laugh at him. She claps her hands and says something to the dancers that made them all nod and retreat to the rest of the day.

Neteyam wobbly stands up with a heated face. She simply walks pass him with that grin he loves, “Thoughts? Opinions?”

He shakes his thoughts to reality, “Yeah I—I liked it.”

“Oh good,” she put her hand on her chest.

She goes on about a long talk about how they were gonna dance for months and excited for them to perform it but he’s not listening, usually he wouldn’t be a wall if Y/N was speaking to him but after that performance, he couldn’t control it.  He admires her features. He looks at her eyes, and then her lips and her cheeks, and the way they scrunch up when she smiles.

His eyes fall on her mouth, or more specifically her lips, and how they’re moving and talking, but he would much rather advance and put his own on hers. Her eyes light up, “You’re coming tonight right?”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” he blinks.

“You’re acting weird, are you okay?” Her expression trades to a frown.

Neteyam nods and comes up with reasoning about how early it is. She believes him, he hopes.

——

i am probably never going to complete this i just needed to get this out of the trenches

[arvandus]

Thinking about how adorably awkward Diavolo is, but also how sad he is too. This guy grew up super isolated with a father that neglected him, a “friend” that was obligated to play with him and cater to his every whim, and essentially raised by an ancient time demon that he “bullied” into serving him.

This poor guy has never ever had a single person be around him/with him by choice. Imagine what that does to him, to his self-esteem. The only one who has been with him by choice is Barbatos, but every now and then, Diavolo will doubt even that much, considering how he had “forced” him into serving him when he was younger (logically he knows Barbatos could have refused him; he was powerful enough to… but even then, the doubt lingers).

On top of that, he’s trying to join the three realms in a peaceful way, which I would guess not everyone in the Devildom is okay with.

Even when the angels fell, and Lucifer requested his help, Diavolo did it on the condition that Lucifer (and by proxy his brothers) serve him and the Devildom. Because even though they may have been somewhat friends (remember Diavolo planted an apple tree for Lucifer when he was still an angel), Diavolo had to act as a prince first, setting his own personal desires aside. His help would come at a price.

Everything he does is so motivated by this deep-rooted loneliness, forced by his position and power, and the choices he has to make because of it, keeping him isolated from others.

This persistent isolation and always being served by others has left a huge deficit in his people/relationship skills. The wild shit he says or does when interacting with those he cares about isn’t even intended to cross boundaries or rile them up half the time. He genuinely means it in the most innocent way. He hasn’t exactly learned what’s appropriate and what’s not appropriate (after all, the only friend he had was Mephisto, who worships the ground he walks on and never tells him no to anything). So he’s learning that now, albeit a bit late. He really just gets an idea that sounds nice in his head, inspired by his love and respect for that person, and says it out loud in an effort to deepen his relationship (ie, friendship) with them. And fortunately for him, Lucifer is able to be patient enough with him and maintain those boundaries as he figures out all of the nuances of socially and culturally acceptable communication and relationship building.

That’s not to say that there aren’t times where Diavolo doesn’t say or do things on purpose with the intent of giving others a hard time. He’ll definitely say things to get under Lucifer’s skin; he likes to fluster him, and for Diavolo, even bad attention is better than no attention. But I think there’s also another purpose to it, albeit subconsciously, in that it allows him to experience healthy boundaries which he never had when he was younger. Lucifer has no problem saying no to him, even at times when Barbatos doesn’t (Barbatos is strict, but he’ll also dote on Diavolo at times too, in a motherly way). It allows Diavolo to feel equal with Lucifer, more friends/comrades than ruler/oath-bound servant.

It’s also the same reason (partially) why he tries to escape his work half the time, or will come up with wild ideas that Barbatos has to say no to. He likes pushing (just a little) against the boundaries placed by others in order to meet that resistance. In a weird way it’s how he knows that they genuinely care about him rather than simply serve him out of obligation. They tell him no when he needs to hear it, but they’re also forgiving.

He’s always known he’s not perfect, yet he was treated like he was for so long. It created a dissonance between who he was told he was versus how he was experiencing himself. Now, he’s allowed to experience, understand, and accept his own imperfections through those closest to him and how they respond to him when they maintain their boundaries. It validates his own self perception of being imperfect while also allowing room for growth and understanding that the imperfections are acceptable/allowed to be there.

I think the last lingering doubt of others’ genuine love for him is the fact that they literally cannot leave him, at least not without consequences. Sure, they can disagree, even fight him. But in the end, he’s the prince, and they’re bound to him by duty and oaths. If they weren’t bound, would they still stay and continue to be there for him? Or are they merely tolerating him? It’s an insecurity that still plagues him.

Anyway… not sure where I was going with this. Brain is just stuck ruminating on it. He’s such an interesting character, I love him so much.

[gauloiseblue]

TF141 + König, Graves, Alejandro | Body Worship

[+18 | Adult Content MDNI]

Every healthy couple has done body worship to some degree, whether through compliments or something that's done behind closed doors. So when the two of you have reached that point, this is what they'll do:

Price

He'll absolutely kiss every part of your body, and his favorite spot is on the back of your knee.

In his mind, it's a reserved spot for a lover's kiss—because it could only be done in private, when the two of you lounge around.

While it's true that he prefers doing something else with you in private, he also loves kissing that particular spot, particularly when he feels like a sap, like a sentimental fool.

When you're laying on your back, he'd kiss your belly, before laying his head on your chest. He does it so often, that you'd instinctively run your fingers through his hair.

He loves doing it so much that it becomes a stress relief for him.

(One time, out of curiosity, he decided to compare his pulse before and after doing it, and his heartbeat did slow down during the cuddle)

Once, you joked that he has to find another way to destress or he'll die of a heart attack when you're gone. He didn't laugh.

Fluff aside, I think it's pretty much true that he's a giver when it comes to sex.

He's been in the position of power for so long, it's only natural for him to be in charge of everything.

(That applies to his relationship as well. Although he did tone it down, so he wouldn't end up suffocating his partner)

He'd take care of your body, and he'd make sure that nobody can make you feel like he does.

The thing about Price, is that he takes pride in knowing your body. He knows the blueprint of your pleasure like the back of his hand—he knows which button to push, and which way to make you see white.

He loves eating you out, that it almost becomes a ritual for him. And he wouldn't stop until your grip on his hair has tightened, so much so it's almost like you're trying to rip his hair out.

While he likes the term 'worship', he prefers 'giving you what you deserve'.

Also, I can picture him kissing his partner's sole or heel when he's fucking her—especially when her legs are up on his shoulder.

Gaz

He's the type of person who likes to hug his partner 24/7.

Aka, the baby monkey

He's very clingy, to the point that you can't escape from him with the excuse of 'going to the toilet'.

It's even worse when he just came back from a mission. Like, ten times worse.

He's the type that'd drag you into the shower when he's home, even though you already did it 5 minutes before. All because he misses you so much.

He knows that it annoys you sometimes, he even does it purposely just to poke fun at you, but he'd stop when you're genuinely pissed or needed space.

While he's not the type who'd worship his partner with grandiose acts, he'd shower her with compliments.

He'd tell you how much he loves your curves, or how much he wishes to be the one who hugs your body instead of clothes.

He loves his partner so much that her imperfections seem to blur in his eyes. He can't see any of her flaws, because he's blinded by love.

It might sound cheesy, but he really can't see his partner's flaws. He has no desire to search for it.

He'd be very sad if his partner didn't believe him, and he'd do anything to change her mind.

Maybe that's how the worship started

He'd call you with many nicknames, and all of them contain the word 'pretty' or something with similar meanings.

And he'll definitely abuse it in bed.

"You're so lovely when you cum like that, babe."

"Your lips are tempting me."

For some reason, I see him as someone who'd love mirror sex as a way of worship. Because he can fuck you while praising you at the same time.

(He also uses it as a punishment, especially when you don't believe him)

"Look at you. What a pretty thing you are."

And when he does it, you know he won't stop until you agree with him.

Soap

This man.

You know that post about Napoleon's letter to his wife; 'don't wash, will arrive in three days'? That's literally him.

While it's only figuratively, I do think that he doesn't mind the impropriety of it.

He's been in the army for years, with long working hours, and no time for personal care. So the smell of sweat won't bother him at all.

And he doesn't care about things that we might consider 'gross', such as hairy legs (or anywhere else, really), acne, or greasy hair. For him, it's only natural for humans to have it.

It doesn't mean that he doesn't care about hygiene. He does keep himself clean, but not too obsessed with it—mainly because he doesn't have a problem with it in the first place.

But he wouldn't mind if his partner took care of him, even though he has no idea what that toner does, or what's even moisturizer for.

Skincare aside, I do believe that he doesn't care if you don't shave. He'd still eat you out like a hungry man.

Just like Gaz, he doesn't see any of your imperfections. He just doesn't care.

In bed, he's quite dirty about it. He'd lick your sweat off your neck, and would cover your body with his cum whenever he could.

He also lets you sit on his face, until you drench him with your juice.

When the two of you had sex, he'd exhaust his endurance to its potential. Which means, you'd be covered in sweat and other fluids by the end of session.

Worry not, he'd treat you with aftercare by soaping you up in the bathtub.

Ghost

I feel like Simon would be the textbook example of body worship.

Growing up without proper care left him clueless about love, he wouldn't know how to show his affection if you didn't teach him the right way.

It might’ve felt awkward at the time, but keep in mind that he's trying his best.

It's amusing to watch though, especially when he's just started practicing. Because there'd be a time where you look at him expectantly, and he'd stand there for a full minute—trying to figure out what it means—before leaning in for a kiss.

While he looks like he's the man in charge, he actually finds solace in submission. He'll only take control when he knows that you're okay with it.

He needed a partner who's patient with him, because he'd flinch away at the slightest gesture of affection.

But beyond that point lies a loving partner. Affection won't scare him away anymore, and he won't be afraid to show it in public.

He'll kiss the tips of your fingers, your hands, or your temple tenderly.

In private, he prefers kissing the lines of your back. Trailing his kisses along your spine, and down to your lower curve.

And he'll do it with such tenderness, that it almost feels like a worship.

Did I ever tell you that he's good at massaging?

When you tell him your neck is stiff, he'll tell you to sit down immediately. He'll do such a good job on it, that he'll release all of your muscle knots in 5 minutes.

You know the joke about how men will turn a massage into sex? He's not one of them. He'll genuinely take care of you and tell you to rest.

So don't use it for that purpose, because he'd be so confused when you tease him during the massage.

In general, he wouldn't know what you want unless you say it straight to his face.

It'd change once he's comfortable with you. He'd take initiative more often, and he won't hesitate to touch you. Don't be surprised when he kisses the top of your head whenever he feels like it, even in the presence of other people.

König

This extra large size of a man is actually a scaredy cat.

He's so used to violence that he's afraid that he'd unintentionally bring it into his relationship.

One time, you hissed when he grabbed your wrist, and since then, he's afraid to touch you.

His fear pushes him to be cautious with you, and he'd treat you as if you're a porcelain.

It took about 7 weeks before he treated you like a normal person. And several days more before the two of you could get down to 'business'.

I'd like to mention something about his mask, I don't think he'd hide his face from his partner, even at the time when they've just met. He only uses it in the army, but outside of work, it's definitely off. Maybe he'd wear a mask in public, but that's it.

But since he's used to having a mask on, he sometimes forgets that other people can tell when he's looking. So when his eyes fall on your ass, you'll definitely know it.

Similar to Ghost, I do think that he needs time to learn about how to give and take. The only difference is that he has rough edges, and would definitely tease his partner.

"Don't tell me you can't reach that cupboard, maus?"

He'll definitely take advantage of his height and make fun of yours. Don't be sour about it, though. That's just his way of showing love.

He likes to pick you up, or carry you in his big arms to show the size difference. He did it so easily that he could do it with one arm, and still not break a sweat.

While he doesn't show his affection through kisses, he does it by getting on his knees.

Whenever you sit on the sofa—watching the TV, or just lounging around—he'd join you by sitting on the floor, before placing his head on your lap just like a dog.

On a rare moment, when he's feeling vulnerable, he'd lean his head against your stomach, and wrap his hands around your waist. He'd do it in such a way that people would've mistaken your stillness as something holy—as if you're a personal saint.

Like this image

Sometimes you wanted to question him about it, but you got the feeling that he'd return to his shell when you mention it to him. So you decided to keep it to yourself.

Maybe someday—if you're lucky—you'll find the answer for it.

Graves

In terms of take or give, I think he'd be pretty selfish about it. Especially when it comes to body worship.

He'll demand your affection all the time, and that applies in the bedroom as well.

He won't hesitate to push your head down, until your eyes are on the same level with the bulge on his pants. He'll be cocky about it, manhandling you and dictating you of what to do.

But here's the thing, he's very desperate for it, and you can use it against him.

If you don't mind him taking control, then go ahead. But if you don't want him to, you can literally turn things around by refusing him.

And let me tell you this; he'll do absolutely anything just to get his dick sucked.

You can ask him to kiss your feet, or buy you things, or even worse—you can humiliate him and get away with it. And when he did fulfill your demand, he'd be very submissive to you, even when you're on your knees, taking him in your mouth.

"Just like that, mon cher—" He'd moan, "Oh, yes, yes."

You can absolutely peg him, with the cost of giving him oral. Not a bad trade, right?

Outside the bedroom, he'd be critical of your fashion choices.

He'll dress you up whenever the two of you are going out, and he'll definitely hire people to take care of your hair and make-up.

"You don't like that dress? Too bad sweetheart, I already bought it for you."

(Then again, you can just threaten him with no oral, and watch him going through 5 stages of grief before he agrees with everything you say)

Aside from that, I don't think he'd do it to control you, he just wants you to have the best of everything. Because if he can't provide it to you, then what the hell is he doing?

Alejandro

As a Mexican man, he can't resist moving his body in one way or another.

Meaning, he loves to dance.

It'd be nice if you know how to dance, or at least what his dance means, but if not, he'd definitely teach you.

Think of a bird dancing as a way of courting, and you'll see his way of thinking.

He wouldn't woo you with words (although, he does have a silver tongue), or with kisses (not really, he's a great kisser as well), instead, he'd use his body to communicate his desire.

The easiest 'dance' that you can understand, is when he presses his hips onto your ass, as he sways your body—gently, and side to side—with him.

If you're not familiar with dances, worry not, he'll make sure you understand them by the end of the night.

If he pulls you to dance with him, it means he finds you interesting. If he lets you take the stage, he thinks you're beautiful. If he presses your body together, then he wants you. It's not that hard to decipher, since he's very eager to show it.

(While he prefers dancing with upbeat music, he's down for slow dancing to soft music)

You joked to him that he's always changing whenever he started to dance, and he replied with a smirk, "For better or worse?" He asked, and you couldn't answer.

Because not only he became the biggest tease, he also gave you memorabilia, in the form of copious lovemarks on your neck.

Have I ever told you that this man is obsessed with your neck?

He'd press his nose against the nape of your neck, muttering, "You'll make a slave out of me." Before placing his lips on your skin.

He likes to kiss your shoulder as well. He'd do it anywhere and everywhere, that it's become his second favorite place to kiss after your lips.

Whenever he stands behind you, you'll always catch him pressing his lips on your shoulder, absent-mindedly.

I think he's pretty much the king of body worship. Sadly, I can't describe every little thing he does to you, so I'll just leave the rest to your imagination <3

[nyashykyunnie]

I saw your jinwoo Drabble about the two heartbeats and I raise you this: cuddling up to jinwoo one night and pressing your ear against his chest, trying to melt into him while listening to his heartbeats. You can’t see it, but his ears and neck are pink, a subtle blush he can’t contain. He’s delighted by your closeness and worried that you’d find his two hearts appalling. But you’re just nuzzling away, your fingers kissing adoration on any bare skin you could find, your lips whispering words of devotion and Jinwoo- every fraction of him: the weak, the strong, and the frightening Other- is suddenly so painfully in love with you.

Sung Jinwoo! Two Hearts x Gn! Reader: Twice To Love You More

a/n: I normally go by "first come, first serve" but I badly need Jinwoo comfort scenes that are in my head so aaaa. yes. ty anonnie for requesting this, my burnt out brain desperately needs this. I just need Jinwoo in general whEezE

TW !!! : Body Horror(?), Multiple Organs

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

﹢　˖    　✦      ¸ .　﹢　 ° 　¸.    ° ˖ ･ ·̩　　 ｡　☆.     　﹢　˖    　✦      ¸ .

He was anxious. Really anxious.

Once he felt you snuggle up to him, you hear his two hearts suddenly pound madly.

Jinwoo was so nervous that he could hear it drumming in his ears.

The lump on his throat kept moving. His hand was even stiff as it rested on your shoulder.

He doesn't say anything. Jinwoo doesn't know how to.

But when he saw your face, god your face, that beautiful face of yours...

That face of yours that is so delighted, so satisfied, so at home.

You're not frightened of him, not even the slightest.

It's a little confusing on his part really, after all... A human with two hearts, isn't it quite terrifying?

Jinwoo is considered as a monster with that.

But to you? No. He isn't.

Your Jinwoo is beautiful, even in his imperfections.

Even with the scars, the horrific slashes, those so called "Spoils Of Wars" of his many deaths and injuries.

Jinwoo is Perfect.

Slowly, slowly you can hear his hearts calm down. Creating a symphony that makes you melt.

Who knew that hearing two heartbeats at the same time could be so... Therapeutic?

His two hearts represented who he is as a person: One heart given to him at his birth, the heart that shows he is Sung Jinwoo, the Jinwoo that loves his family, the Jinwoo that is good and human. The other heart, a heart of black, representing his monstrosity, the heart that proves that he is the shadow monarch. The harbinger of destruction, the monarch slayer, the heart that is proof of his divinity.

Yet, in the same time, these hearts belonged to you.

Jinwoo has given up his existence to you. His purpose is to love you.

Two hearts just means there’s more of him for you to love. More of him to dedicate to you.

His strength, his weakness, all of it is for you.

These two hearts beats for you.

All of him, may it be Sung Jinwoo, the Shadow Monarch— He is yours.

All that he is, you adore him.

How did he necome so lucky to have someone as innocent and loving as you?

His hearts churn, stirred at how you just love him despite the fact that he is not totally human anymore

”I love you.” Jinwoo mutters as he rubs his nose on your hair, inhaling your lovely scent.

Those three words may be simple, but those three words held a thousand words. Thousands of words dedicated to you.

The you who loves him no matter who he is, the you he wishes to cherish forevermore.

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 11

Y'all, this GIF is down right SPICY but it fit the smut in the story so well I had to ☺️

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: SMUT, Emma getting an attitude, Sy yelling, detailed PTSD flashback, bodily function/embarrassment, self-deprecating talk, language

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Part 10

I wake up still in the same position that I fell asleep in, on Emma’s chest and notice that my body feels incredibly stiff. Her gentle breathing and steady heartbeat are comforting even though I’m incredibly embarrassed and just want to pretend last night never happened. I have a feeling this is going to be a very long day. I notice the amount of light cascading in from behind the curtains must make it late in the morning, but considering I had a very active night I’m not surprised that I slept in. I carefully lift my head to see if Emma is awake and am startled when I see her big beautiful eyes staring down at me. 

“Good morning.” She says quietly.

“Mornin’.” I reply.

“How are you feeling?”

“Stiff. What time is it?” I ask her somewhat brusquely.

“It’s 9:38.” She answers after looking at the time on her phone.

I sigh and sit up so that I’m faced away from her. 

“Let me make us some breakfast. I’m hungry.” She quickly gets up and goes to the restroom to take care of her morning routines before she exits and walks to the bedroom door.

“Come down to eat after you’re done in the bathroom please.” She says quietly while I’m still pondering my next move as I sit on the edge of the bed. The tension and embarrassment oozes from my body as I sit there attempting to contemplate how to handle this. I haven’t been in this situation before. Alex has seen me have a small flashback at work once, but we didn’t have to talk about it. My grandparents certainly don’t know the extent of my PTSD because I purposely keep it from them. They don’t need to know how mentally damaged their loving grandchild has become. Aika is really the only one who has ever witnessed the extent of my depravity and luckily, she can’t talk or judge me for it. She’s just a silent witness who snaps me out of it with a bark or licking my face. Emma is the only person to ever see how badly it really is and I just don’t even know what to say to her. I force myself up and relieve myself in the bathroom before brushing my teeth and getting myself ready for the day. I look at my reflection in the mirror and wonder just how I got this screwed up before heading to the kitchen. 

Emma is humming to herself as if nothing has transpired as she flips pancakes on the stove. She has coffee brewing in the pot and has sat out my favorite mug that has a picture of a donkey on it with the words, “Do I Look Like a Jackass?” written across it. It was a gift from one of my warhorse buddies, Harper. 

When she hears me approach, she turns and silently fills the cup with coffee before handing it to me with a shy smile. Seems the poor thing is also trying to figure out what to say and coming up blank.

“I hope pancakes sound good to you. I also made some bacon and saw there’s some fruit in your fridge but I’m not sure how old it is.”

“That’s more than enough. Thank you.” 

I drink my coffee while she turns back around to work on the breakfast. Once it’s made, I set the table and refill our coffee cups while remembering to add the coffee creamer that I now buy specifically for Emma since she likes hers sweet. Just like her.

We sit down and I’m aching to avoid the subject but I know I just need to get it over with.

I clear my throat. “Breakfast looks really good. Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby.” She replies and I want to smile.

“I um… I’m really sorry about what happened last night. You shouldn’t have to see me like that or put up with it and I just want to apologize.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. I’m grateful you opened up to me a little bit, honestly.”

Unwillingly, I think to myself. I take a deep breath.

“Maybe, this thing between us is moving too fast.” I blurt out.

“By this thing, you mean our relationship? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we were exclusive after our conversation the other day. Is this you trying to end things with me?” She says angrily.

“I’m just no good for you. You shouldn’t have to deal with a grown man who has nightmares.”

“I think that I should be the one to decide who or what is good for me. I’m a grown woman who has plenty of my own baggage and I’m not going to allow you to throw this away because you’re embarrassed or trying to protect me from the one person who doesn’t pose a threat to me.”

“I absolutely pose a threat to you!” I yell and slam my fist against the table. “Wasn’t last night enough to show you? I was wielding a rifle dreaming that I was back in active war. Damnit Emma! Don’t be naïve. I could have shot you, or hit you. I could have thought that you were the enemy and there’s no way you would have been able to fight me off! I should have ended things before it got to this point and I’m sorry that I didn’t. I was being selfish and wanted more time with you but I realize now how dangerous that is.”

“NO.” She crosses her arms and straitens her back defensively.

“No?” I repeat in quiet shock.

“No.” She stares at me with a look of fire like a mother chastising her child and even though she’s so tiny I feel myself cower back a little.

“You are ruining the best thing I’ve ever had because you are scared, Austin! And I understand how scary it was, believe me, I was there watching you fight a battle in your own mind. But I’m not afraid of you and I never will be. You need to understand that we both need each other and I am good for you whether you choose to believe it or not. You’re jumping to a conclusion either to punish yourself or me because you’re embarrassed that I know this about you now and I will not tolerate it. Last night, you protected me from what you thought was danger even in your flashback. You will not hurt me and I know it.”

I sit there for a minute stunned by what she said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’d be happy to tell you everything from my perspective if you could stop trying to dump me and actually have a vulnerable conversation with me like an adult.” She snarks.

Damn, she’s throwing some verbal punches this morning and it’s kinda sexy.

“Alright, I’m listening.” I announce and she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I woke up to the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut and you running down the stairs. Aika jumped up and seemed concerned so I took her with me as I went downstairs, turning on lights as I went since you still had the house completely in the dark. I heard the backdoor slam open against the wall as you ran out and I held Aika back so I could shut the door until I could determine what was going on. When I turned on the patio lights I saw you run by with a rifle in your hands. I figured you might have heard an animal or intruder or something so I waited for a moment looking through the window before I heard you yelling. It was pouring rain so I struggled to hear you but you didn’t seem to notice the rain. You ran up against the backside of the house and were yelling different words, military lingo I guess, and aiming your rifle around the corner. Aika was going absolutely nuts barking and I almost let her out to get you but I wasn’t sure if your gun was loaded. Instead, I carefully made my way over to you and kept repeating, “It’s Emma, you are safe.” But when I got to you I could tell you were still actively dreaming, if that’s what we are going to call it. Your eyes were almost glassy but when I touched your shoulder, you immediately put your arm around me from behind to protect me and told me to get down and cover my head. You kept placing your body in front of me. I tried talking to you but you just kept asking me if ‘Lowell and Waites’ were still alive. I wasn’t sure what to say but I remembered the conversation that we had the first time I stayed here. I couldn’t get your attention since you were so absorbed in your mission, until I finally grabbed your face with my hands. That’s when you started to come back to me. You protected me from whatever threat you saw, not the opposite.”

I take a steadying breath and try to calm my heart rate. Hearing her talk about something I’ve done during a flashback is strange, because she’s the first to actually witness it and tell me what I did. I guess it’s like sleepwalking, or undergoing anesthesia where you remember specific events but they are different to what actually happened.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not. I hate that you had to go through that in real life, and again in your flashbacks but I’m glad that I was there to see it. I think I understand you a bit more and I want to be there for you.” She says earnestly.

“If you want to apologize for something, you can apologize for trying to dump me.” She says moments later with an attitude.

I can’t help but crack a smile at her gumption. She is something else.

“I’m sorry for trying to dump you.” I whisper and she stands and comes over to sit in my lap. 

“I accept your apology.” She smirks.

“Thank you for refusing to be dumped.” I look intently into her eyes. She kisses me sweetly before tapping my forehead.

“Let me in here. I can handle it, I promise. I want to know everything about you, even the bad stuff.”

“I just… I’ve never let anyone in.”

“Okay, imagine this. What if I kept all of my trauma about Colin from you. I know it’s not the same, but just imagine I didn’t tell you about him stalking me, or why I am the way I am about things. You’d be pretty pissed, right?”

“Obviously.” I tell her. “But that’s because I want to protect you.” 

“Exactly. I feel the same way. Now imagine if I told you that I kept it from you because I just didn’t think you could handle my drama.”

I roll my eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t handle it.”

“But you’ve thought that. Haven’t you?” 

“Maybe” I mutter petulantly.

“You’d be livid with me.” She smirks at me knowing she’s made her point thoroughly.

“Alright. I get it.” I put my hands up in surrender.

“I can handle this and I want to know everything about you. Even the stuff you keep locked away for whatever reason.”

“It’s pretty dark, Sugar. I don’t like thinking about it and I don’t like the idea of you thinking about it.”

“Again, not your decision to make.” She says.

“I decide what’s best for me and what I can handle. I promise you, I can handle this and if you just get that through your thick skull and let me be there for you, we’ll be good as gravy.” She said while thumping my forehead.

“Ow, woman!” I say before I tickle her sides. 

“Fine. I’ll be better about opening up. I just might need your help and your patience because I’ve kept all of my shit buried away essentially my entire adult life.”

“They teach you to do that in the military?” She asks with an eyebrow arched.

“Pretty much.” 

“Well, I’m going to help you undo that.”

“I don’t know that I’m going to like that process.”

“You’ll be fine.” She says before kissing me gently. “I’ll use my sexual prowess if I have too.”

“Seduce me to learn my secrets? You little minx.” She giggles at my joke and I breathe a sigh of relief that we can joke about it at this point.

“Do these flashback episodes happen often?” She asks.

“Nah, this is the biggest one I’ve ever had. I’ve had a few small ones, but nothing this involved before. Maybe once or twice a year before this. It’s usually triggered by something when I’m really tired.”

“What do you think triggered you last night?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say the storm. Likely the thunder was similar to an explosion or something in my dream.” I say quietly and she just nods and strokes my cheek.

“Do you have Nana’s brunch today?”

“Nah, she’s got some clothing drive thing at the church that she’s doing. I’m glad because I don’t need her scrutiny today.”

“Does she know about the episodes?”

“Not really, just always told her it was nightmares. I think PawPaw likely has an idea having been a veteran himself, but he keeps it to himself which I appreciate. I don’t need Nana trying to convince me to join some VA group to talk about my problems.”

“What’s so bad about those groups? I only ask because I have no frame of reference.”

“Nothing, those things are really good for some people but it’s just not for me. I tried once or twice after I retired and felt worse after them. Just not the type to get up in front of strangers and talk about my issues.”

“Survivor’s guilt.” Emma mutters and I glance at her somewhat annoyed.

“Think you’ve got me all figured out then?” I ask haughtily.

“No. Not at all as a matter of fact. I know there’s a lot more that you haven’t shared with me. That’s fine, for now. Just don’t get mad at me for being here for you. I don’t deserve that.” 

My iciness cools immediately and I agree with her. She’s just wanting to be here for me in a way nobody else has ever been.

“I’ll do my best, Darlin’.” I admit while tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“That’s all I can ask for.” She kisses me sweetly.

“What do you want to do today, Sugar? That is if you want to spend the day with me.” I ask her.

“Shut up, of course I do.” She says as she rolls her eyes and I growl at her. 

“Mmm.. I need to go to the grocery store and do some meal prep, but other than that I’m open to whatever.”

“Want to go to the store together? Hell, it certainly wouldn’t hurt me to bring my lunch a few days rather than eatin’ fast food all the time.”

“Ohhh! I love that. I can prep lunches for both of us.” She says excitedly and I can’t help but smirk at her.

“You don’t have to do all that work.” I say, thinking that I can cook my own.

“I really don’t mind. I have to cook mine anyway.”

“Alright, how about this. I buy all the groceries for us, and you cook the meals.”

“No baby, I’m offerin’ to cook for you. I don’t need you to buy my food.”

“Nah, that’s the deal Sugar Pie. Take it or leave it.” She arches her eyebrow at me and I can’t help but chuckle and smack her round little ass.

“Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Military negotiation training continues to pay off.” I chuckle at her reaction. She attempts to tickle me, but I gently grab each of her wrists effectively handcuffing her hands by her sides. 

“Geez, Sy, I knew you were strong, but damn.” She says as she attempts to wiggle out of my grasp. She doesn’t realize that she’s also wiggling her ass against me and in a matter of moments, she’s going to feel what it’s doing to me.

I let go of her wrists and she acts like she’s done playing before she turns around quickly and shoves her fingers against my ribs. I jolt from the chair sideways as she laughs freely at what she thinks is winning this game.

“Oh, ya wanting to play?” I say with a smirk and when I reach for her she jumps up and takes off running. Before I even realize it, we are giggling like school children as I chase her up the stairs. The dogs are barking wildly and poor Aika has Mills jumping all over her in an attempt to start wrestling. They slowed me down by getting between me and Emma so she got a little bit of a head start. Eventually Aika gives in and the start playfully wrestling in the hallway. I catch her at the top of the stairs, my long legs being no match for her short but fast stature. Emma squeals exuberantly when I pick her up from behind and haul her over my shoulder. She’s panting and I realize I might’ve played too rough so I gently slide her down my body, taking care to be intentional with where I placed my hands.

“Shit! I didn’t think about your period. I didn’t hurt ya did I?” 

She smiles before shaking her head, “it ended last night. You didn’t hurt me baby, but thank you for checking.”

“Well in that case,” I say as I haul her back up on my shoulder, “I’m going to finish what I started.” She squeals again before smacking me on my butt.

I slap her ass that’s now exposed since she was still only in my shirt and grope it gently before throwing her on the bed on her back. I lay beside her on my back as we catch our breaths from our little game of cat and mouse.

“That was fun.” She giggles.

“Sure was.” I turn to her and smile. 

“Now what?”

“Well, I don’t think I’d let you go to the grocery store without pants on, so as much as I hate to, I suggest you get dressed.” I respond as I gently rub my big mitt against the soft skin of her leg.

“Mmm, maybe later. I don’t think I’m done playing.” She admits seductively before gently placing her hand delicately against my clothed cock.

“That so?” I ask her and she nods. My heart starts beating quicker as she begins rubbing against me.

“Right now, I think I’d like to get you undressed.” She says seductively before her hand slides under the hem of my shirt. I lean up and quickly pull it over my shoulders tossing it somewhere in the room. I’m about to lean over on top of her when she pushes me back and her hands slide under the waistband of my shorts and boxers. She grasps my erection firmly before pulling at my shorts and boxers to remove them, so I lift my hips to assist her. Once those are off, Emma begins kissing across my abdomen while simultaneously jerking my throbbing erection. My hands are everywhere and nowhere at once, like an overwhelmed kid given free range in a candy store.

“Fuck, Sugar. What brought all this on?” I rasp as I grab a handful of her ass.

“You trying to dump me.” She says and I pause and look at her concernedly. 

“Gotta remind you what you’d be missing out on.” She smirks before pulling my t-shirt off of her body and exposing her flawless breasts. She immediately pushes them against me and my responding growl has her grinning. Her warm, soft skin rubbing against my torso has me aching to take control and flip her over. Emma’s tiny hand still pumping my cock has me frozen and her gorgeous body, now only clad in a little pink thong has me hypnotized. I can’t stop myself from humping further into her hand as I feel her warm breath slowly making her way up my torso before sucking on my neck.

“Sugar, you’re playing a real dangerous game here.” I warn as she bites and sucks a hickey right above my collarbone. At the same time, I’m so hard that it’s painful and beads of precum are continually leaking from my slit as she uses it for further lubrication towards her ministrations.

Emma sucks on my earlobe before lightly whispering in my ear, “Ah, I like playing games with you.” Goosebumps erupt all over my skin and that’s when my resolve breaks.

Without thinking, I flip Emma over and tear her tiny thong to shreds as I rip in from her body. She gasps with either surprise or overwhelming need but I don’t pay attention as I pull her in for a brutal kiss. She starts to try and take control back by grabbing at my forearms, but I quickly trap both of her arms above her head using one of my hands to secure them. 

“Now who’s in control?” I ask her smugly as I take in her beauty. Her breasts, peaked and heaving from the excitement are so sexy that I ache just from looking at them. Her little belly ring shimmering in the sunlight that streams in from the window somehow makes me even harder.

“Still me. I say stop and I know you’ll immediately discontinue what you’re doing.” She smiles triumphantly.

I smirk at her, because she’s exactly right. She holds all the power here, and I’m damn glad she knows it. Seems she wasn’t able to have that in her last relationship and I’ll do everything in my power to see that she knows she’s in control. 

“You’re exactly right, Darlin’.” I say with a smile and her returning grin stuns me.

“Lucky for you, I like it when you take control and toss me around.” She divulges as she squirms under me and I can’t help but rut against her legs.

“That so?” I ask and she nods dumbly.

“Well ask and you shall receive.” I say before capturing her lips in a messy kiss. I trail my other hand slowly down her body before inserting my middle finger into her core and keen as she moans in pleasure at the intrusion. I pump a few times before adding a second finger and her body arches pleasantly off the bed.

“Fuck, Sy!” Emma shouts as I curl them in search of her g-spot. I grin victoriously when I know I’ve found it based on the reaction of her body. I start worshipping her titties that are so conveniently pressed right in front of my mouth and that seems to spur her on. I’m leaking all over her thigh as I’m so turned on but I need to get her there first.

I’m still holding her arms above her body and that’s how I keep her still as she squirms and moans exuberantly once her first orgasm washes over her. I observe the pure bliss ease across her facial features as she reaches her climax and I can hear the audible squelch of her arousal each time I pump my fingers into her core. After I’m sure to help her through it, I slide my fingers out and wipe the juices along my shaft, squeezing it to release a little bit of pressure as I do. I look at a completely blissed-out Emma as I pump myself a few times before I hear her quietly request, “Fuck me, Captain Syverson. Fuck me hard.” 

I groan before capturing her lips in a filthy kiss before I flip her over. I lift her hips up off the bed and am appreciating the view of her perfect little peach and round delicious ass in the air before she shakes it at me. I smack her ass before sliding in and barely giving her time to recover as I slam into her. 

“Y’okay?” I ask after she gasped loudly and she nodded before pushing herself further back on me. 

I groan and she does it again so I stay there perfectly still for a few moments as I watch the erotic way Emma fucks herself on my cock in doggy style position. Her back is perfectly arched and she flips that mane of hair over her shoulder as she drives herself back on me again. Fuckin’ hell. I can't help myself when I wrap her hair around my fist as I fuck her harder.

My hands are in tight fists as I’m trying to keep from busting a nut so soon after we started but I know I’m not going to last long. I grab ahold of her hips and drive myself into her sopping wet core and focus on getting the angle right. I know I’ve gotten it when I feel her flutter around me. 

“Yeah? Ya like that? Takin’ Sy’s cock all the way up in your tummy? Mmm, mmm, mmm, you look so fucking good like this, Sugar. This perfect ass slamming against me as I fuck that sweet, juicy peach.” I tell her and her moans get louder.

“Tell me, Darlin’. Tell me how it feels.” I probe her.

“Ah! Fuckkk! You feel so good, baby. So big and… and full and deep. Fuckin’ me better than I’ve ever had.” 

“Yeah? This is easily the tightest, tastiest little peach I’ve ever had before. You were made for me. Made to take this cock.” I say and she moans. I slide my hands from her hips and grope her ass before putting my thumb around her tight little ring of muscle.

“You gonna let me in here one day, Sugar?” She clenches all around me and I almost blow my load.

“May…maybe.” She says as I continue to rut into her. I add a bit more pressure with my finger and feel her clamp down on me as her second orgasm ravishes throughout her body. 

“Fuck, Sugar, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. I’m gonna cum.” I tell her and she moans as I piston in and out of her at a quicker pace to reach my high. My balls are heavy and full and I grunt as they tighten to my body when my orgasm washes over me. I still as deeply as I can in her wet heat as I paint her insides with ropes of cum and gently drape myself across her back that is now limp on the bed. 

Emma whimpers as I remove myself from her and I quickly push the leaking cum back into her when it starts to leak out. 

“Y’alright, Sugar?” I ask as she doesn’t move.

“Mmm.” She replies and I don’t know if that’s a yes or a no.

“Fucked you speechless huh?” I chuckle as I stand up and turn on the shower. The sweat dripping down my chest makes me want a cold shower, but I know Emma won’t have that so I get the warm water running before I go back to get her. She’s still completely spread out on the bed on her belly like I left her. I roll her over gently before lifting her up bridal style and carrying her to the bathroom. I set her on the toilet and am shocked that she pees without making me leave the room, but I don’t comment on it. She shuffles over to wash her hands before pulling her hair up into a messy bun. I wash my hands and check the shower temperature before she wraps her arms around me. I’m sweaty but she doesn’t seem to care as she rests her cheek against my chest. I aim the water on us and soap us up cleaning the sweat and the remnants of our tryst from both of our bodies. I kiss her forehead gently and she just smiles and nuzzles further into my chest with her eyes closed. After our shower, I quickly dry her off as well as myself before I clean up the clothes thrown around the room. Her little panties are in shreds and I remind myself to offer to pay for them as I throw them in the wastebasket. 

“You’re awfully quiet.” I voice aloud and she smiles.

“I think I’ve been asleep while standing up that whole shower.” She replies and I chuckle.

“You must’ve been. Didn’t even make me leave the room when you went to pee.” I joke and her eyes snap open in realization. 

“Oh my god, I didn’t. You saw me pee.” She says as she places her face in her hands in embarrassment. 

I laugh loudly because she must’ve not even notice me pee after her while she was washing her hands.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone. I peed while you were washing your hands if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t. I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t even think, your sexpertise made me almost comatose. I claim insanity.” 

“You know I don’t care about that. You could even fart in front of me and I bet it would be adorable.” Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT. That would be mortifying. I would have to move out of the country.” She says dramatically and I laugh.

“You really think that we could live a whole life together, married with babies, grandbabies, and even great grandbabies and I wouldn’t see you pee or hear you fart?” I ask her seriously and am surprised when she shyly smiles.

“You think about us living a whole life together?” Truth time.

“Honestly, yeah. I’ve thought about it a few times. I know it’s early on, but it’s nice to think I’d be capable of having a future like that, and it’s even nicer to imagine it with you. Plus, it’s kind of hard not to when Nana is practically marrying us off in every phone call I have with her.”

Emma’s cheeks blush pink and I’m glad I was honest with her.

“I think that sounds amazing.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me and I swear my heart beats for this woman.

Part 12

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood

[callsigns-haze]

Prison for life..

Pairing: Acotar x reader Warning: This fic contains scenes of peril, violence, and suspense, as well as moments of light-hearted humor and camaraderie. Reader discretion is advised. Summary: Amidst the eerie shadows of the dark woods, YN faces a terrifying encounter with a malevolent beast, only to be rescued by the timely intervention of Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian, whose camaraderie and laughter serve as a beacon of light in the midst of darkness.

This is kinda a request by @callsign-magnolia, i didn't know what to write and the cutie helped me come up with an idea legit only like 2 hours back

Song I kinda used is Prison for life because 🎶I'm a feminist, obviously But I wouldn't really mind him savin' me And I know that I'm fine without a man But I think I would like his protection I'm just bein' honest, can't change what I like I'll never forget it, he told me one night If anybody hurts you, hah I'm goin' to prison for life🎶

As YN found herself amidst the grandeur of the Court of the Long Lost Gods, her mind was consumed with the weight of her impending speech. As the sole High Lady present, she understood the significance of this moment—it was her chance to make an impression, to assert her authority, and to inspire confidence in her leadership.

Yet, despite her best efforts, YN couldn't seem to shake off the nagging sense of doubt that gnawed at her confidence. She paced the opulent halls of the court, her footsteps echoing in the vast expanse, as she rehearsed her speech over and over again.

But each time she spoke the words aloud, they fell flat, lacking the conviction and passion she knew they needed to command attention. Frustration bubbled within her, a simmering brew of anxiety and self-doubt that threatened to overwhelm her.

"I am the High Lady," she whispered to herself, trying to summon the confidence she so desperately needed. "I am capable. I am worthy."

Yet, no matter how many times she repeated the words, they felt hollow, devoid of the strength and conviction she knew she possessed deep within.

With a frustrated sigh, YN sank onto a nearby bench, her hands running through her hair in exasperation. How could she hope to lead her people if she couldn't even find the words to inspire them?

But then, amidst the turmoil of her thoughts, a glimmer of determination flickered within her. She may not have the perfect speech prepared, but she refused to let her doubts hold her back.

Rising to her feet once more, YN straightened her shoulders and squared her jaw, a newfound resolve burning bright in her eyes. She may not have all the answers, but she was determined to face whatever challenges lay ahead with courage and determination.

With renewed purpose, YN returned to her preparations, ready to face the court and deliver a speech that, while imperfect, would be filled with the sincerity and passion that defined her as a leader. For she knew that true leadership wasn't about perfection—it was about courage, conviction, and the unwavering belief in oneself, even in the face of uncertainty.

As YN continued to read over her speech, frustration bubbled within her like a pot left too long on the stove. With each stumble over her words, her irritation mounted, threatening to boil over.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with frustration as she reread a particularly troublesome passage for what felt like the hundredth time. "Why can't I get this right?"

Her fingers clenched tightly around the parchment, crumpling the edges as she fought to rein in her frustration. But try as she might, the words refused to cooperate, slipping through her grasp like water through clenched fists.

"Stupid, worthless speech," she cursed, her tone sharp with self-directed anger. "Why does it have to be so damn difficult?"

Each mistake felt like a blow to her pride, a reminder of her own inadequacy in the face of the daunting task before her. She knew she needed to impress the court, to prove herself worthy of her title as High Lady, but in this moment, all she could focus on was her own frustration and self-doubt.

With a frustrated growl, YN tossed the parchment aside, her patience worn thin by her repeated failures. She buried her face in her hands, feeling the weight of her responsibilities pressing down upon her like a leaden cloak.

But even in the midst of her frustration, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind—a voice that reminded her of her strength, her resilience, and her unwavering determination to succeed. And with that voice as her guide, YN took a deep breath, steeling herself for another attempt.

With renewed determination, she picked up the parchment once more, her eyes blazing with determination as she prepared to tackle her speech head-on. For she knew that no matter how many times she stumbled and fell, she would always rise again, stronger and more determined than ever before.

As frustration gnawed at YN's patience, threatening to overwhelm her, a sudden intrusion broke through the turmoil of her thoughts. Rhysand's voice, clear and unmistakable, echoed in her mind—a telepathic communication that caught her completely off guard.

"Having a bit of trouble there, YN?" Rhysand's voice teased, his amusement palpable even through the telepathic link.

YN's eyes widened in shock, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to process the unexpected intrusion. She hadn't seen Rhysand since the ball, and the sudden appearance of his voice in her mind sent a jolt of surprise coursing through her veins.

"Rhys," she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "What are you doing?"

Rhysand's laughter rang out in her mind, a warm and familiar sound that washed over her like a soothing balm. "Just thought I'd check in on my favourite High Lady," he replied, his tone light and teasing. "And it seems I've caught you at a rather... opportune moment."

YN couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of the situation. Leave it to Rhysand to appear just when she needed a distraction the most.

"Opportune is one way to put it," she replied, her frustration giving way to amusement as she considered the absurdity of the situation. "I suppose you're enjoying the show?"

Rhysand's laughter echoed in her mind once more, a sound that warmed her heart and eased the tension that had been building within her. "Immensely," he admitted, his tone tinged with amusement. "But in all seriousness, YN, you've got this. I have every confidence in you."

His words were like a lifeline, a reminder that she wasn't alone in this struggle, and that even in her moments of doubt, she could always count on the support of her friends.

"Thank you, Rhysand," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude. "I needed that."

With Rhysand's encouragement ringing in her ears, YN squared her shoulders and returned her focus to the task at hand. With renewed determination, she dove back into her speech, ready to conquer her frustrations and deliver a performance that would do justice to her title as High Lady of the Court of the Long Lost Gods.

As YN struggled with her speech, Rhysand's voice once again intruded into her thoughts, his suggestion cutting through the frustration like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

"Hey, YN," he murmured telepathically, his tone conspiratorial. "What do you say we ditch the speech altogether? I know a much more enjoyable way to spend the evening."

YN's eyebrows furrowed in surprise at Rhysand's proposal, her mind racing with the implications of his suggestion. It was a tempting offer, to be sure—escaping the confines of the Court of the Long Lost Gods for a night of freedom and revelry in the Night Court. But she knew she couldn't simply abandon her responsibilities, not when she had a duty to fulfill as High Lady.

"I don't know, Rhys," she replied hesitantly, torn between her desire for adventure and her sense of duty. "I can't just leave without giving my speech. It wouldn't be right."

Rhysand's voice was gentle but insistent as he pressed his case. "You've been stressing over that speech for hours, YN," he pointed out. "And besides, who's to say we can't have a little fun before getting back to business? Trust me, it'll be worth it."

YN chewed on her lower lip, torn between her sense of obligation and the allure of Rhysand's proposition. The thought of slipping away into the night, of leaving her worries and responsibilities behind—even if just for a few hours—was undeniably tempting.

"Is there any chance you can slip past the guards?" Rhysand inquired, his voice tinged with hopeful anticipation. "I'll meet you at the edge of the woods, and from there, it's a straight shot to the Night Court. What do you say?"

YN hesitated for only a moment before making her decision. With a sense of exhilaration building within her, she replied, "Okay, Rhys. Let's do it. Meet you at the edge of the woods."

And with that, she made up her mind—ready to embrace the adventure that awaited her beyond the confines of the Court of the Long Lost Gods, and eager to reunite with her friends for a night of laughter, camaraderie, and the promise of endless possibilities in the Night Court.

With a racing heart and a sense of excitement coursing through her veins, YN cautiously made her way through the corridors of the castle, her steps light and deliberate as she sought to evade the watchful eyes of the guards. Every creak of the floorboards sent a shiver down her spine, every shadow cast by flickering torchlight seemed to loom ominously in her path.

She moved with the stealth of a seasoned predator, her senses attuned to the slightest sound or movement that might betray her presence. Each corner turned, each door passed sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, fueling her determination to reach her destination undetected.

As she slipped through the castle's halls like a ghost in the night, YN couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of her surroundings—the ornate tapestries adorning the walls, the intricate carvings that adorned the doorways, the soft glow of candlelight that illuminated her path. Yet, even as she admired the grandeur of her surroundings, her thoughts remained fixed on the task at hand—the tantalizing promise of freedom that lay just beyond the castle walls.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of tense anticipation, YN reached the outer courtyard of the castle, her heart pounding in her chest as she surveyed her surroundings. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the city below, while the distant sounds of revelry drifted on the night breeze—a siren call beckoning her to join in the festivities.

With a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure she hadn't been followed, YN slipped through the castle gates and out into the bustling streets beyond. The city was alive with activity, the air thick with the scent of spices and laughter as people moved about their business, unaware of the secret mission unfolding in their midst.

Heart pounding with a heady mixture of excitement and apprehension, YN navigated the winding streets of the city with practiced ease, her senses sharp and alert as she sought to avoid any unwanted attention. She moved with purpose and determination, her steps quickening as the edge of the woods loomed in the distance—a beacon of freedom that called out to her with irresistible allure.

And as she disappeared into the shadows of the night, leaving the castle and the city behind her, YN couldn't help but feel a surge of exhilaration coursing through her veins—a sense of liberation that filled her with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. For tonight, she was not just the High Lady of the Court of the Long Lost Gods—she was a woman on a mission, ready to embrace the adventure that awaited her beyond the confines of her gilded cage.

As YN ventured further from the castle and deeper into the night, she found herself drawn inexorably towards the looming shadows of the dark woods. The dense canopy overhead cast the forest floor in a cloak of inky darkness, the branches overhead intertwining like gnarled fingers reaching out to ensnare the unwary.

With each step she took, the air grew thick with a palpable sense of foreboding, the silence broken only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. Yet, despite the eerie atmosphere that surrounded her, YN pressed on, her determination unyielding as she ventured deeper into the heart of the woods.

The ground beneath her feet grew soft and spongy, the earth damp with the remnants of a recent rain, as she made her way through the tangled undergrowth. Shadows danced and shifted in the dim light, playing tricks on her mind as she navigated the labyrinthine pathways that crisscrossed the forest floor.

As she moved deeper into the heart of the woods, YN couldn't shake the feeling of being watched—a sensation that sent a shiver down her spine and quickened her pace. Yet, even as the darkness threatened to envelop her, she pressed on, driven by a sense of purpose and determination that refused to be extinguished.

With each step she took, the woods seemed to close in around her, the trees looming ominously overhead like silent sentinels guarding some long-forgotten secret. Yet, despite the sense of unease that prickled at the edges of her consciousness, YN forged ahead, her resolve unyielding as she ventured deeper into the unknown.

And as she disappeared into the depths of the dark woods, her footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the night, YN couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through her veins. For though the path ahead was shrouded in darkness and uncertainty, she knew that it was a journey she must undertake.

As YN ventured deeper into the heart of the dark woods, a sense of unease settled over her like a heavy cloak. The shadows seemed to twist and coil around her, whispering secrets that sent a chill down her spine. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig underfoot, seemed to reverberate through the stillness of the night, amplifying her sense of vulnerability.

With each passing moment, the feeling of being watched intensified, prickling at the back of her neck like a thousand invisible eyes boring into her very soul. It was a sensation that made her skin crawl, that set her heart racing with a primal instinct to flee.

Yet, despite the rising tide of fear that threatened to overwhelm her, YN pressed on, her footsteps quickening as she sought to escape the oppressive atmosphere that surrounded her. Each step she took seemed to echo louder in the silence of the night, a steady rhythm that drove her forward with renewed urgency.

As she pushed herself to move faster, to put as much distance between herself and the oppressive weight of the woods as possible, YN couldn't shake the feeling that something lurked just beyond the edge of her vision—a presence that watched and waited with bated breath.

With every fiber of her being screaming for her to flee, YN pushed herself to run faster, to outrun the suffocating darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she raced through the tangled undergrowth, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger.

Panic surged through her veins like wildfire, driving her forward with an urgency born of primal instinct.

Branches snagged at her clothing, thorns scratched at her skin, but she paid no heed to the pain. All that mattered was escape, escape from the unseen terror that hunted her through the darkness.

With each frenzied footfall, YN's mind raced with desperate thoughts. Fear clutched at her throat like a vice, choking off her breath as she fought to outrun the shadowy menace that pursued her relentlessly.

In her terror-stricken state, YN found herself calling out, her voice echoing through the eerie stillness of the woods. "Rhys!" she cried out, her voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Rhys, please, hear me!"

She prayed that somehow, someway, her telepathic plea would reach Rhysand, her friend, her ally, her beacon of hope in the darkness. She clung to the hope that he would hear her, that he would come to her aid and rescue her from the clutches of whatever malevolent force lurked in the shadows.

But as she ran, her footsteps echoing like thunder in the silence of the night, YN couldn't shake the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach—that she was alone, that no one would come to save her from the nightmare that pursued her with unrelenting determination.

With each passing moment, her strength waned, her limbs heavy with exhaustion as she pushed herself to the brink of collapse. But still, she ran, her will to survive outweighing the overwhelming terror that threatened to consume her whole.

And as she disappeared deeper into the heart of the dark woods, her cries for help swallowed by the oppressive silence of the night, YN knew that she was in a fight for her life—a fight she couldn't afford to lose.

As YN's frantic footsteps pounded against the forest floor, her lungs burning with exertion, her foot caught on a hidden root, sending her crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Panic surged through her as she scrambled to her feet, only to find herself frozen in terror as a pair of glowing eyes emerged from the shadows, fixating hungrily on their prey.

But just as the beast lunged forward, ready to strike, a strong arm encircled YN's waist, pulling her back from the brink of danger. Startled, she turned to find herself face to face with Rhysand, his expression a mixture of concern and apology.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner," he murmured, his voice laced with regret as he helped her to her feet. "I should have been here to protect you."

Relief flooded through YN as she leaned into Rhysand's reassuring embrace, grateful for his timely intervention. Yet, even as she sought solace in his presence, the danger still lurked just beyond the edge of their sanctuary.

With a fierce battle cry, Azriel and Cassian emerged from the shadows, their weapons drawn as they faced off against the beast that threatened to tear them apart. Their movements were fluid and precise, their years of training evident as they fought with a determination born of necessity.

As the clash of steel rang out through the forest, YN watched with bated breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she prayed for her friends' safety. With each strike, each parry, they seemed to gain the upper hand, driving the beast back with a relentless fury.

And then, with a final, decisive blow, the creature let out a guttural roar of defeat, retreating into the darkness from whence it came. Panting with exertion, Azriel and Cassian turned to join Rhysand and YN, their faces weary but triumphant.

"We've got you, YN," Cassian said, his voice filled with reassurance as he clasped her shoulder in a show of solidarity. "We'll always have your back."

With a grateful nod, YN allowed herself to be enveloped in the warmth of her friends' embrace, knowing that no matter what dangers lay ahead, they would face them together, united in their bond of friendship and unwavering loyalty. And as they stood together in the aftermath of the battle, YN couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the strength and courage of those who stood by her side, ready to protect her at all costs.

As the tension of the moment began to ease, YN let out a long sigh of relief, her heart still racing from the adrenaline-fueled encounter with the beast. With a rueful shake of her head, she couldn't help but let out a half-hearted chuckle as she muttered, "I am never going out with you guys AGAIN."

Her words hung in the air for a moment, the weight of their shared ordeal softened by the hint of levity in her tone. And then, as if on cue, Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian erupted into laughter, the sound echoing through the forest like a chorus of joyous relief.

"Oh, come on, YN," Rhysand said between laughs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

Azriel nodded in agreement, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Besides," he added, his voice tinged with amusement, "where's the fun in staying out of trouble?"

Cassian grinned, slinging an arm around YN's shoulders in a gesture of camaraderie. "Exactly," he chimed in. "Besides, what's life without a little excitement?"

Despite herself, YN couldn't help but smile at their infectious enthusiasm, the tension of the moment dissipating like mist in the morning sun. With a playful roll of her eyes, she leaned into their embrace, her heart lighter than it had been in hours.

"Fine," she conceded with a mock sigh. "But next time, let's try to avoid getting eaten by giant forest monsters, okay?"

The laughter that followed was like music to her ears, a symphony of friendship and camaraderie that filled her with a sense of belonging unlike anything she had ever known. And as they stood together, basking in the warmth of each other's company, YN couldn't help but feel grateful for the bonds that united them—a bond that transcended danger and adversity, a bond that would endure for a lifetime and beyond.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@kmc1989

@djs8891

@hardballoonlove

@callsign-dexter

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@rosiahills22

[haileyywrites]

-> I am like you - so never abandon me. In this world, it will be me and you side by side.

-> gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) with platonic brother Scaramouche! Spoilers for Scaramouche and Ei's backstories! Scaramouche is referred to by his real name!

-> Small mentions of death - not detailed! Unhealthy family dynamics?

Kunikuzushi came into this world as a mere experiment into the making of pupets. He wasn't meant to resemble the Electro Archon as he was merely a test to the limits of such technology.

While Ei didn't expect much to anything from it, yet she was still disappointed in him or rather disappointed of how he turned out. He was too emotional, too human perhaps, for her desired outcome. An imperfection.

This did not deter her, however. The second time she decided to create a puppet, she wanted something closer to the end result she wished. So, she created you. But even you were not what she hoped for.

Yes, you did resemble her - like how a child would resemble their mother, but that was not what she wanted. As neither of you aged or changed it was easy to mistake Kunikuzushi as your twin - the resemblance between you two was even more apparent than with your mother!

But what Ei seeked was a clone-like puppet to rule Inazuma in her stead - under her command, while she would seek Eternity for Inazuma in the plane of Euthymia. Neither of you fit into her standards, as she saw you to be too kind hearted, too human to rule the nation of eternity.

So you were cast out. Simply thrown away like used toys after she finished playing with them... She saw this as a kindness - but it seemed more like she felt guilty. That she felt like she owed you two that much after giving you life when you clearly felt like any other human.

Together you would stumble through the country side as wanderers, all while trying to learn everything about the world around you. Endlessly seeking something. Something to give you meaning to your existence, a reason to life. But if your own creator - your own mother turned you away, what purpose could your life possibly serve?

No matter where or how far you wandered together, it never ended well for you or those around you... They would either betray you or die - which your brother saw as another form of betrayal. Especially when the small boy had promised to...

At least through it all, you had each other. During the freezing nights spent sleeping outside - huddled together to avoid the biting winds, or days were you had to resort into leaning against one another after not having eaten in days. Helping each other through every nightmare...

Though you might not have completely noticed it, but all your hardships had changed Kunikuzushi over time. He was colder and more suspicious of others - always asking after their intentions. He smiled and laughed less... It was what he had to do to make sure he would never be betrayed again, it was to keep you both safe.

You were the only one to never betray him, and the only constant in his life... He knew he could always count on you, but he was becoming more paranoid. He kept thinking and dreaming of you either dying - with him unable to protect you, or you joining with the rest of the world in betraying him.

In a twisted sense, he was rather glad you were meek and dependent on him. It lowered the chances of you betraying him, unless influenced by someone else - which he wouldn't let happen. As well your own fear of abandonment wouldn't allow that to happen. But not to worry, as he was just as loyal to you. He would never let anyone or anything harm you, just as long as you stood by his side loyaly.

As he decended from his hopeful, happy and naive personality, he would come to cherish it in you. He wanted protect this part of you at all costs. You could still see the world in that sweet innocent way after all that happened to you, while he couldn't afford to do so - lest he put you both in danger. It was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make for you.

Even when the Fatui picked you up and he became the Balladeer, he wasn't opposed to hurting his fellow Harbingers or any Fatui member if they dared to threatened you or your life. You were his light in the darkness and the reason he actually wanted to create the world the Tsaritsa spoke of.

He never let you see that side of him though, you never met Scaramouche and for good reason. To you he was simply Kunikuzushi - your older brother, who protected you - even if his protection meant essentially locking you inside, unless with him of course.

The Fatui and its Harbingers essentially hated and despised him. He was cruel and never in a good mood, often screaming for any reason to anyone. While with you he was sweet and gentle, making jokes and doing menial tasks to keep you entertained.

You were the last piece of Kunikuzushi he had left and he would let you - and only you, keep it.

After seeing his backstory I've just been wanting to hold and comfort him - so I'm just milking out content from that, but I do have others coming ^^3

Feel free to reblog :)

[malice-ov-mercy]

Maskros

Pairing: Jolly Karlsson x OFC (Mariah)

Content Warnings: art student au, 18+!, female nudity, implied past toxic relationship,

A/N: The pic that inspired this. And in typical me fashion, my original idea got abandoned. Can’t promise there will be a second part, but I still have some ideas floating about.

Word count: 2k

Tag list: @circle-with-me @xxrainstorm @foliosriot @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @witchyweeb34 @an-insane-day @lyschko666 @calisto-thoughts @agravemisstake @shroomfairy24 @cncohshit @dominuslunae @th4t-em0-k1d

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Lorna Shore!

Jolly Masterlist

Still as could be, Mariah sat under Jolly’s scrutinizing, concentrated stare. He studied every little detail of her figure, roaming over every imperfection and dip. Meticulous scribbling filled the space between them. Every so often, she flashed a quick, closed lip smile at him, trying to ease the nervous tension in her body. Each time he returned the gesture, her stomach flipped.

Jolly seemed completely oblivious and unfazed to Mariah’s nudity—which truthfully she was grateful for. She’d never modeled nude before, not even sent one. He was so kind and graceful, reassuring her that she was safe, and they could stop at any time. Jolly told her he’d just as happily sketch her fully clothed; it made no difference to him. He wanted nothing more than for her to feel comfortable.

He stopped his sketching, his brows furrowing as he stared intently at the page in front of him. Mariah watched curiously, hoping to commit his focused expression to memory. Squinted eyes looked at hers.

“Is something wrong?” Mariah asked, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Jolly rubbed his jaw, charcoal smudges being left behind by his fingers.

“I’m having trouble getting your tattoo,” he stated, eyes drifting to the dandelions between her breasts. “Could I get closer?”

Mariah offered a small smile and nodded. Jolly gathered his sketch pad and charcoal in his arm, and dragged the stool closer. She sucked in a short breath.

He now sat a little more than a foot away, close enough that she could smell the woodsy freshness of his cologne. It was like he collected the aroma from the forest itself. A subtle floral note tickled her nose as Jolly tied his hair back. His brown hazel eyes landed on her with a smile. Mariah’s heart pounded against her ribs. She wondered if he could hear it.

“Thank you, maskros,” Jolly said, busying himself once more with the drawing, “I promise to be quick.”

She tried not to think about how long his eyes lingered on her chest and how little he glanced at his sketch or how warm his concentrated stare made her skin.

Mariah snuck a glance at his work, only to find herself distracted by the practiced and skilled movements of Jolly’s fingers. Each tiny twitch, every minuscule adjustment he made was deliberate—even the way he held onto his sketch pad served an important purpose. If he noticed her own intense gaze, he hid it well.

Jolly shifted uncomfortably. He crossed his leg, accidentally kicking Mariah in the process. She jolted at the abrupt contact. Panicked, he reached for her, his hand gently squeezing the space above her knee. His touch sent a wave of warmth up her thigh that spread through her, setting somewhere deep in her chest.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Jolly unconsciously squeezed her knee again.

Her eyes landed on his hand, the softly calloused skin making her mind run wild. Heat spread across her face as images of him exploring her body flooded her head. She wondered how his lips would feel on hers, how ticklish his facial hair would be on her neck. Would he litter her skin in marks or leave her unblemished?

Jolly’s gaze followed Mariah’s. The realization he was touching dawned on him suddenly.

“Ah, sorry!” He apologized and pulled his hand away. Charcoal fingerprints were left behind. Jolly reached to hastily brush away the smudges but stopped, blabbering more apologies for touching her.

His obvious concern and panic of his actions made Mariah giggle. Jolly looked at her like a deer in headlights, then eased into an embarrassed laugh.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to kick or… touch.”

Mariah smiled sweetly. “It’s fine, honest.”

Jolly matched her expression. Silence filled the space between them. Mariah rubbed the marks on her knee, letting her mind wander again but less freely. Absent-mindedly, Jolly fiddled with the edge of his sketch pad, using it to wipe away the mess on his fingers. An ache formed in Mariah’s shoulders that slowly crept through the rest of her body.

“Do you mind if we take a break?” She spoke quietly.

“Of course.”

Quickly, Jolly stood and neatly placed his supplies on his stool. He stepped around her with a small smile, reaching for his wine red sateen robe draped on the back of his desk chair. The warmth Mariah felt earlier returned when their fingertips brushed. Jolly averted his eyes as she shrugged on and secured the robe. It swallowed her whole. There was room for an entire other person inside.

“I think this might be a little big.” Mariah held out her arms and chuckled.

Jolly gave her a once over, a lopsided smile on his face.

“You’re welcome to put your clothes back on,” he gestured to her neatly folded clothes on his desk.

“I’ll be fine in this, thank you.”

His smile softened.

“As long as you’re comfortable.”

Mariah beamed. “I am, I promise. You’ve made me feel very safe.”

She swore she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Good, good.” Jolly glanced around his studio, searching for something to focus his attention on other than his heart hammering against his ribs and the beauty in red stealing his breath.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off her long. The rich, green hazel staring back captivated him. Rings of gold haloed around Mariah’s pupils, so bountiful and pure, royals alike would start wars just for the promise to gaze upon it. He dared not tell her how exceptional she looked in his robe, like a goddess straight from mythology. The deep red complimented her eyes and warm complexion in ways he only read about. He was a man of desires and needs, but her comfort came before that. Jolly prided himself on his composure, but damned he be in her presence.

The fullness of her plump lips, the immaculate way her dandelion tattoo accentuated her perky yet small breasts, her lone freckle just below her left breast. God, what he would give to feel her skin under his lips, see her writhing and gasping his name as if she was praying.

“Jolly?” Her raspy yet angelic voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” He broke from his salacious delving daydreams.

He found himself momentarily blinded by her bright smile.

“I asked if you have anything to eat. I’m a little hungry.”

Jolly picked at the assortment of fruits in his bowl. All he could focus on was the way Mariah’s lips curved around the strawberries. She swiped her thumb over her bottom lip, collecting the lingering juice and honey before mindlessly licking it away. Silently, he chastised himself for the way his body reacted.

“These are some of the best strawberries I’ve ever had.” Mariah said, her eyes fluttering shut as she tossed the rest of the berry in her mouth.

“They’re from a local market.” Jolly popped a few blueberries. “All the fruit is.”

She hummed. “That would explain why I like the blueberries. I’m always disappointed in the store bought.”

Jolly watched her trace a finger around the rim of her bowl. He kept his eyes glued to her hand as she plucked a blackberry and brought it to her mouth. The tip of her tongue poked between her lips, lightly licking at the honey before biting. Dark red lined her inner lips and trickled down her chin.

Mariah hastily covered her mouth, embarrassed by her mess. Jolly hurried to reach for a napkin and stepped beside her. Without hesitation, he pulled her hand away and softly grabbed her jaw. He tilted her head back, gently wiping away the juice from her chin and lips. Delicate pink brushed her cheeks.

Once more, Jolly found himself lost deep in her eyes, willingly letting himself fall under her spell.

“Jolly?” She whispered.

Jolly tilted her head down then back again, studying the way the green and gold in her eyes shifted in the lighting.

“Your eyes are gorgeous.”

Mariah’s blush deepened. “Thank you. Yours are pretty too.”

He hadn’t realized how close their faces became until the soft, sweet scent of fruit and honey filled his nostrils. The sudden urge to kiss her almost overwhelmed him, but he restrained. Her eyes danced between his while he hoped the quick flick to her lips wasn’t obvious.

“You can kiss me.”

The words froze Jolly in place. He looked back to Mariah’s eyes just as hers fell to his lips.

“Are you sure?” He pulled away from her, but only enough so he could fully look at her face.

Unwavering certainty saturated her gaze.

“Yes,” she said with a confident nod. “Kiss me.”

It sounded more like a demand than request. Either way, Jolly was happy to oblige.

He grasped Mariah’s chin with his thumb and index finger. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting expectantly. The thudding of his heart deafened his ears. It kicked into overdrive as he leaned down, the erratic rhythm pumping through his blood.

Pillowy, plush softness greeted his lips. A gentle, lingering peck is all Jolly offered despite the burning desire to devour her. Radiant hazel peered at him through long lashes. He tugged at her bottom lip with his thumb, prompting Mariah to keep them parted.

“Kiss me again,” the quiet, sultry sound of her command stoked the steady growing heat in his loins.

Soft and slow, he slotted their lips together. Divine sugary sweetness filled his mouth. They ate the same fruits, but the taste was far better on her tongue. Jolly trailed his hand to the side of Mariah’s neck, delicately stroking his thumb along her jaw and settling it to the rapid pace of her pulse. He was glad to know he had a similar effect on her—though he hoped her palms were less sweaty. His other hand found her waist and he pulled her a smidge closer, the cool sateen a welcomed contrast against his skin.

Mariah easily followed Jolly’s lead. Much like him, she savored the berries and honey on his breath, delectable and delicious. She didn’t expect his kiss to be so gentle and calm with the heated intensity of his stare. An overwhelming blend of emotions flowed through her, making her mind race and head spin. She latched onto his hips, desperate to keep herself grounded.

The material of Jolly’s shirt was softer than she expected. Mindlessly, Mariah ran her hands from the hem up to his chest and down again. Jolly took it as an invitation to slip his hand higher and trail his kisses along her jaw then under, until he reached the base of her neck. She gripped his sides harsher than intended with a loud gasp.

“Jolly—“ Her breathless call of his name went straight through him.

He pressed more into her space, seeking more, only to be weakly pushed back.

Heavy panting filled the air between them. Jolly feared he crossed a line and took a large step back, allowing Mariah the space she needed. Her eyes were closed as she collected her thoughts and breaths.

“I’m sorry.” Mariah said after a long moment of silence. He could sense she felt guilty.

“Don’t apologize,” Jolly started to reach for one of her hands but hesitated. “I… feel I’m the one who owes an apology.”

“No, no. You’re fine,” Mariah took it upon herself to grab Jolly’s hand and laced their fingers together, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I just… it’s been… a while and my last experience wasn’t the most pleasant.

“The guy was a real asshole about it,” she continued. “He was more worried about himself and focused mostly on him. He blamed me for not being able to get off because it couldn’t possibly be his fault.”

Jolly listened intently. He noticed water welling in her eyes and quickly reached for the berry stained napkin. Mariah sheepishly accepted the gesture, dabbing away the wetness before it could trickle down her cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you.” Mariah laughed, slightly embarrassed. “Not very cool of me.”

He offered a sympathetic smile. “I still think you’re pretty cool.”

The sound of her laugh made his smile grow wider. Jolly wanted to kiss her again, but instead he carefully wrapped her in a snug, comforting embrace. She clung tightly to him, grateful for his reassurance.

[evaglass]

I like how real the characters of BES feel

I feel like this for many of the characters, especially Taigen.

I know many people highly disliked Taigen at the beginning, including myself, but he grew on me. I really enjoy how Taigen's growth is being handled, and I look forward to see more of the growth he goes through in the future.

I know now opinions on him are mixed, especially in regards to Mizu. I've seen people hoping they both get together, and I've also seen other people still hate him. In my opinion, I would like for them to be together, but not just yet as they still have some growth they need go through as people.

Flaws aren't only just small imperfections, nor do they easily go away at the flick of a lightswitch; flaws can really hold a person and their mindset back. Many of the characters are very flawed, some more than others, but some of them were able to start to grow from them.

Taigen is heavily flawed, especially at the start of the series. In the beginning, he is prestended as arrogant, stubborn, a bit selfish, closed-minded, cocky, etc, but he also he also had some redeeming qualities. Taigen holds honour very highly, and although the bushido code is flawed and in the show, many of the people who subscribe to that code are shown to be hypocritical, but Taigen leans more towards to honour aspect of it.

Taigen is also starting to show remorse on how he used to treat Mizu, and the way it's depicted feels realistic. He doesn't get on his knees and apologizes, but he starts treating Mizu with more respect and like a close acquaintance.

Now, I want to talk about the way Taigen reacted after Mizu told him about finding out about Fowler's plan to overthrow the Shogun and not telling him immediately when she could have; I want to talk about that whole scene in general. Usually, people take sides in that situation, but I can understand why Taigen was upset, but I can tell Mizu didn't withhold that information on purpose. Mizu was healing from her injuries. She was distracted trying to make new steel for a sword because hers broke, and she was overwhelmed. Like I said before, I can understand why Taigen was mad because they needed to move as quickly as possible, and even though Mizu was planning to go after Fowler once she had made a new sword time was of the essence around that moment, and in Taigen's mind he started to think that Mizu was possibly the traditional definition of 'honourable', and when that wasn't the case he lashes out.

What Taigen said to Mizu before he left to defend the Shogun was harsh stating "you really are a demon," and promising to kill her, saying it in tone like he's defeating a terrible beast, he wasn't right at all for saying that but it feels realistic; that scene was supposed to highlight both of their flaws. When people are really mad, they sometimes say harsh things to people around them, especially in the heat of the moment, and eventually, once they start to calm down, they soon start to regret what they said.

Taigen also soon sees how hypocritical many of the people he respected and said to subscribe to the bushido were, which must have been kind of difficult to digest. To Taigen, being a great samurai meant very much to him as it separated him from his broken background. Taigen came from a lower working-class upbringing with an abusive alcoholic father; it's pretty clear he wasn't gonna be a stable kid or much of an emotionally stable adult. It makes sense at the end of the season he wanted to be happy rather than just achieve greatness; the greatness he thought he wanted stems from people whom he used to respect, people who were shown to be corrupted and hypocritical. Taigen thought greatness would be the thing that would make him whole, but he realized it wouldn't make him happy.

Taigen grew a lot throughout the first season, but growth isn't exactly linear, and he has a lot more growth to go through, but that's what's so great about his character because it makes you want to see where he goes next.

[angelltheninth]

Hi! If you write for Twisted Wonderland, Can I request corruption kink with Vil??

I've been wrecking my brain for inspiration for this when it finally hit me today.

Pairing: Vil Schoenheit x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, cum eating, praise, degradation, creampie, semi-public sex, classroom sex

Word count: 1k

A/N: It's always the Reader getting corrupted, this time it's reversed.

Normally Vil asked you to stay longer in order to study. He liked study sessions with you, it was quiet and he had such a pretty sight to look at. Well it might have been a little distracting for him but the two of you always managed to get work done.

It was already past noon when Vil pressed you against the glass window, one hand on your hip, holding your skirt up and the other pressing into your shoulder, the combined grips keeping you in place as he thrust his hard cock into you.

"Are you sure... ah... no one's going to come in?" Vil chuckled behind you, pulling you harder onto his cock. "Well other than you." As embarrassed as you were you couldn't keep the need out of your voice.

It only seemed to stoke the fire and drive from Vil, evident in the way his cock pulsed and throbbed as he pulled out and settled back in, stopping for a few seconds. While a part of you was grateful for a little breather there was another much hornier part of you that wanted him to get on with it.

"Don't worry darling, I'm not done with you yet. Just waiting for the two students down there to pass. If you're quiet they might not notice their star student being a complete cock slut." In order to test your resolve he jolted his hips, surprising you, making you let out a loud whimper. "I wouldn't have even dreamt of fucking you here. But you... I guess you bring out this side of me. You made me imperfect. With your lovely smile, your charm and your wit, your kisses and affection. And gods your cunt."

His hand left your shoulder and intertwined on top your own, lacing your fingers together, pressing it further into the glass as he starts to hammer his hips into yours.

You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head but all you could do was to press back into him, which only made him go harder, blurring your thoughts with pleasure and a slight sting of pain as your knees start to give out beneath his thrusts.

"You're the one who started jerking off in the middle of the study session. Don't pin this on me." Not that you were really complaining about it. Your cunt felt too good for that.

"And who crawled towards me on all fours hm? Who encouraged me to keep going? To lock the door and take my pants off? Who moaned and moaned, choking on my cock? You. All you my love. The things I want to do to you, the things you put in my head, the ways I want to use and please this tight, pretty hole of yours. I can't... I can't think right anymore. I don't care if anyone sees us, sees me fucking you. I'd keep fucking you. It's all you. So you better take responsibility for making me this way." You could hear the clear strain in Vil's voice, a little sound, almost like a whimper.

You arched your back and turned your head towards him, "I do don't I?" You purposely made your walls clench and flutter around him, right around his tip. "How's this, my Prince? Your cock seems to like it."

He always likes it. At first he was a little reserved in showing it but over time he became more and more open with his desires, initiating sex more often than not and going for a very long time, sometimes resulting in the two of you having to skip the first class because you wanted to nap and snuggle.

"Trying to get me to come again? You're already dripping my cum across the floor. And your desk... in fact." He pulled you back and maneuvered you over to your desk, "You want cum so bad then fucking lick it off you little slut."

You couldn't refuse his order. After all he always followed yours before, it was only fair that you returned the favor. And now it made a bit more sense that he asked you to thoroughly clean your desk before you started having sex on it.

"Fuck. You really ate it all up." He pressed your head into the hard wood and lifted one of your legs up on the corner of the desk, his cock reaching deeper than before with his new angle, "How about your cunt? Do you think it can take one more? I'm about to burst sweetheart, you can take it can't you? You can be good for me."

"Yes. Yes, I can. I will be. I'll be good. Just for you Vil." You gripped the edge of the desk in a white knuckle grip, trying your best not to black out as another orgasm, you don't even know what number anymore, flowed through you, a park of pleasure going from your clenching hole all though your body.

"Beautiful. You're so beautiful sweetheart. I love how you take all of me, all of my cum." Vil kept fucking you through your orgasm until his pace got too sloppy, to unhinged as he emptied his cum deep in your core, rutting until his balls were completely empty.

The sound of your combined heavy breathing was all that was heard in the classroom as Vil pulled you into him and collapsed into the nearby chair, his cock still snug inside you.

"How was that my darling? Enough of an adrenaline rush for you?" Vil's hips settled on your hips as his soft lips found your neck, pampering it with soft kisses and even softer words of love and praise.

You let out a heavy sigh as you settled in his lap, leaning your back to his front. Your hand reach back and found his blonde locks, angling him for a perfect kiss. "Perfect. Just like you." His smile was so bright from your words it was like looking into a sunrise illuminated by a sunset. You couldn't help but lean back for another kiss. And another. And many more after that as you waited to get the feeling in your legs back. Until then you were fully planning on enjoying the feeling of Vil's lips on yours, his tongue pushing and prodding, his mouth marking up your neck, and the comforting fullness and pressure of his cock and cum settled inside you.

[ilikepjo24]

A key point in Azula's potential redemption...

I have talked before about how I think that humiliating and torturing Azula in the name of redemption is ineffective, unfair, cruel, barbaric, inhumane, monsterous, ect...

I go into detail about why I think that in this post, check it out if you're interested.

It has come to my attention that people believe that Azula should be abused cause Zuko also got abused and the pain and humiliation changed him. In this post I will explain why that wouldn't work for Azula.

Mainly, it's because Zuko didn't just get abused. He got abused by Ozai. And that's a major detail, because it affects what Zuko thought of that abuse.

In Fire Nation, the Fire Lord is treated like some kind of god and everyone accepts it. People suffer due to bad economy (war and all) but it's okay because it's the Firelord's will send the Firelord knows best. Zuko being abused by said Firelord is what taught him that no, the Firelord isn't always good, he abuses his fucking kids, the Firelord can go fuck himself.

Zuko hated the fact that he was being abused and therefore to an extend hated Ozai for abusing him. That hatred is what made him able to view Ozai as an imperfect, non-godly being, that could be wrong in same cases and then helped Zuko realize that he was wrong about the war.

Zuko's hatred of Ozai's abuse is basically what triggered his redemption. That method worked for him. But it wouldn't work for Azula. And here's why.

Ozai is now out of the picture.

That's it. That's the reason why. That single detail is why the idea that Azula must suffer for redemption is logically impossible. Allow me to compare the situations:

Zuko was abused / Azula could be abused

Zuko hated his abuser / Azula will hate her abuser

Zuko wanted to destroy his abuser / Azula will want to destroy her abuser

Zuko's abuser was Ozai / Azula's abuser would be the Gaang and the peaceful society

Zuko hated Ozai / Azula will hate the Gaang and the newfound peace

Zuko helped ruin Ozai / Azula will try to ruin the whole world

Azula's redemption arc isn't happening during the war or by a character we know is bad. Especially if we say it's for the sake of redemption. Logically, the people that would want to see her redeemed would be Zuko, Mai, Ty Lee, Aang and potentially the rest of the Gaang.

So while Zuko's abuse made him hate a person that should have been hated, Azula's abused will make her hate people that shouldn't.

Zuko's abuse happened by Ozai and it made him Ozai.

If Azula gets abused, it will be by the good guys and it will make her hate the good guys.

Zuko's abuse was done by evil and made him turn towards good, which caused a redemption arc.

If Azula gets abused for the sake of a redemption arc by good, it'll make her hate both the idea of redemption and good in general.

You could argue that Zuko's abuse made him good but Azula's abuse would just make her more evil and that kind of defeats the purpose of doing it for the sake of redemption

Which is why humiliating/abusing- I'm sorry, "humbling" Azula wouldn't work for her the same way it did for Zuko, it'd have the opposite effect.

Thus proven.

And kudos to @hello-nichya-here for being one of the reasons I was inspired to write this post in the first place!