#everything you do has a very faint blush settling on his face

[merakiui]

What about Alpha!Jade? Is he better? Worse? 👀

Floyd will be blunt and brutally honest when he feels like it, but Jade can be rather deceptive. When you approach him with an offer for friends with benefits, he’s a little too quick to agree. You think Floyd might have rubbed off on him, but Jade’s always considered the possibility of an arrangement like this. Not that you’d ever know that, of course.

Jade is painfully vanilla the first few times. He does it on purpose. As fun as breaking you would be, you only expect him to be the alpha who’ll help you through your heats. Nothing more, nothing less. He won’t exceed any expectations, so all of his preferences are kept secret. He does stay a little while after the fact, but it’s usually to bring you refreshments and snacks if you need any. He’ll run a bath if you desire one. He’ll pick discarded clothing from off the floor and fold it in neat piles. There is no emotion in any of these gestures, and it feels like he’s your butler when he goes to these lengths.

I like to think that things change when he accidentally knots you. :) of course Jade’s usually good at keeping his restraint and he’s never let his desires get the better of him, especially not when he’s dealing with you. That’s how he frames it. It’s never helping you; it’s always dealing with the issue, as if it’s burdensome. But he was a little too lost in thought and you were so defenseless beneath him, shuddering through another orgasm, fingers curling into the dampened bedsheets, your legs wrapping around his waist. And…it just happened. One minute he’s fucking into your slick, warm hole and the next his knot has slipped past the ring of muscles, locking the both of you together. And he suspects that if you weren’t so heat-brained and your hole wasn’t so slick it would probably hurt.

It’s a little embarrassing that he allowed this to happen, and he knows you’d probably panic if you were more self-aware. But you throw your head back and cry so sweetly for him and he’s relieved it won’t cause any issues. It’s a little bothersome after the fact, though, because he has to wait until he can finally detach himself from you.

When Jade’s in love, he’s in love. He can hide it well, but one look at his dreamy, far-off expression and you’ll wonder what’s caught his fancy this time. There was never any intimacy in your relationship to begin with, but lately he’s started interlacing his fingers with yours when he fucks you, gently cradling your hand while you moan beneath him. And his kisses are always so deeply romantic, as if he has to taste you each time he kisses you so that your flavor remains on his tongue afterwards. Gone is vanilla Jade. When he loves you, he wants to love you until you’re on the verge of shattering. Expect ropes, handcuffs, blindfolds, and lots of other fun things he’s been dying to try on you. It’s a shame he can’t do this outside of your heats. He’s certain your reactions would be very interesting.

It feels like these feelings have snuck up on him because suddenly he no longer views you as an obligation he’s tasked with handling. Now he looks at you adoringly, as if you’re the only one he’ll ever see. And this complicates the matter because now he’d give anything to claim you for himself and knot you again, but this time with the intention of pouring his love into you.

[senawashere]

We're on this together...(Chapter VI)

Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Stupid kids.

Little note: Carol and Nick is still alive.

Warnings: Infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf.Use of alcohol,arguing,use of bad languange. Not so angsty anymore🥹

July 22, 2022:

It was almost six weeks later that Bradley became suspicious.

They both hadn’t spent much time together since the last time, and he wanted to make up for lost time with his wife. So he decided to take a day off and make breakfast while you were still in bed.

He whistles as he makes the pancakes, turning around every now and then to check the coffee on the stove the way you like it. He puts the missing dishes on the tray, completing the breakfast you’ve been making for years; maple syrup, coffee, pancakes, hash browns, and toast.

He jots down the note, “I’ll always love you :).”

He hears you coming down the stairs and mentally prides himself on his perfect timing, quickly organizing everything and turning toward the door frame that separates the kitchen from the living room.

You enter the scene as he scratches his tangled nest of hair and tries to adjust the pj's that have been tossing and turning throughout the night, his face is imprinted with pillows and Bradley feels like he’s going to faint from how beautiful his wife is.

“Good morning, my love.”

“Hm.” You just smile, you don’t like talking to anyone when you’re barely awake and he knows that so he doesn’t force you.

You open your eyes and stop in your tracks when you see your breakfast, looking at your husband with a small smile and a blush on his face.

“Oh, Bradley!”

“It’s been a long time since we had breakfast together.” He mutters and you settle between his legs (you sat down so you could eat with him) and walk over to him to take his face in your hands, placing small kisses on his sparsely stubbled face and lips.

You sit down and the two of you start eating, chatting from time to time.

He looked proud of himself as he watched you eat pancakes with maple syrup, but you tasted the coffee and spit it back into the cup.

"Hey! Why did you do that?" He asks you with a hurt expression on his face.

"I'm sorry honey, but it tastes awful." 

You reply with a grimace as you pour yourself a glass of apple juice to drink it all down.

Bradley takes your coffee from you and takes a sip; it tastes perfectly normal, very good if he has to admit, but he decides to leave you alone and let you continue with a glass of apple juice.

You were happily continuing to eat, of course, until you popped a small piece of egg yolk into your mouth.

Bradley doesn’t have time to complain when you’re throwing up in the sink anyway.

He quickly drops his coffee and walks over to you, grabbing your hair and patting your back until you pull yourself together, wiping your face with the sleeve of his shirt as he looks at you.

“I don’t feel so good.” You mumbled with a pout that made Bradley’s heart ache.

“It’s okay, honey.” He pulls you into his chest. “Why don’t you lie down? I’ll put everything aside and join you as soon as I can.”

You nod and look into his eyes. “I’m sorry I messed this up.”

He smiles sadly as he brushes his sweaty hair from his forehead. “You didn’t mess anything up, to be honest, I was really looking forward to staying in bed with you.”

You leave and ten minutes pass while Bradley gets breakfast, maybe saving it for later. He’s washing the cups when he notices something while one of them drying in the sink.

He picks up his phone with his half-dried hands and opens the conversation he had with his mother a week ago.

"Everything is fine honey. Your cousin is pregnant and can't handle eggs and coffee so we're taking care of her now. Kisses, honey, I love you and Y/N!! 💕💞😘"

Eggs and coffee.

Eggs.

Coffee.

He grips the marble countertop as he tries to catch his breath.

Could it be..?

God, he's going to faint at the thought.

He couldn’t believe he had such a good memory to remember such a mundane message between his mother and him.

You run your hand over your face as you trie to come back to reality if she’s pregnant…or not..

Damn it, you can’t think straight, and if it wasn’t for Duke jumping on the counter and barking in your face, then you’d still be going crazy.

You turn off the faucet and run upstairs, ignoring Bradley's fuzzy nerves as he enters your shared bedroom, you stare at him in fear.

“Take a pregnancy test.” That’s all he says, and you get out of bed in confusion.

“What?” You ask, approaching him. “Are you okay? You look pale.” You cup his face.

“Yeah, yeah.” He responds excitedly, letting you examine his face.

“Just, please, you have to.”

“Okay, I’ll do it and you’ll calm down.” He looks into your eyes and nods. “Come on.”

Bradley can barely control himself as you pee on four sticks to make sure, wandering the bathroom and bedroom until you come out.

“We need to wait five minutes, do you want to explain what’s going on?”

You both sit on the bed and hold his hands to comfort him, which does the trick.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but do you remember when my mom told me Marienne was pregnant and couldn’t stand eggs nor coffee?”

“Yeah.” You answer, and your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh my god. What do you think..”

“I don’t know.” Bradley shakes his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t know.”

The minutes pass and the both of you gets crazier and crazier; You feel like you're going to tear your hair out in desperation, and Bradley wants to throw up again for the tenth time as he playes with his rings.

There has to be something else, he doesn’t even know how to take care of babies, was it his paternal instinct? no, this is stupid, maybe he’s not going to be a father and he’s just going crazy.

He’s an idiot, now your hopes are up and he doesn't want to have to see the look of disappointment on your perfect face again.

So lost in his thoughts that he doesn't notice you get up from behind him to re-enter the bathroom, slowly reappearing with four tests in your hands, unable to take your eyes off them as you mumble;

“Positive.”

Bradley raised his head as soon as he heard you, his eyes met your now teary ones and he stood up, approaching you, ypu are showing him all the positive lines that showed your baby growing inside you. His fucking wife is pregnant.

You put them down and throw yourself into your husband's arms, clinging to each other, making you both fall backwards onto the bed.

You cry into Bradley's chest while he cries into yours.

You feel like you're going to faint from the tears and sobs pouring out of both of your bodies, a tremendous happiness fills your entire body as millions of things go through your head. Same for him too.

Bradley talks to pregnant women's bellies, Bradley holds a small chubby baby, Bradley plays the piano with a small child, Bradley rocks a baby, Bradley and your babies will be like this.

Sooner or later, it would all come true.

Meanwhile, Bradley is still crying as if he's never cried in his life, you're sitting with him in your arms and he moves his hands between them to rest on your belly. "There's a baby inside," he says, his voice breaking.

You laugh and lean your forehead against his. "There's a baby inside."

Both of you look at each other, your eyes fill with tears and you both start laughing, you kiss, ignoring the salty taste of teardrops. You kiss, trying to convey everything that cannot be expressed in words to each other, but now there is someone who proves that their love is possible.

"A perfect blend of us,there it is." Bradley's and yours belly felt like there were fireworks inside. He can't wait to sing and play the piano to his love's growing belly, to hold that tiny hand.

He just can't wait.

"I love you." He sees the tears continue to flow down your cheeks as you part your lips. "I love you Bradley, we did it."

"We did it." He repeats, squeezing your waist between his hands. "We did it, we're having a baby, I told you."

"I can't believe you found out because I threw up your breakfast."

"Because you would never throw up something I make, I'm an incredible chef."

Both laugh again and Bradley flips both of you over, laying you between him and the bed, laughing at the kisses he spreads across your face, neck, and lifting the robe slightly to reveal the soft skin of your belly. 

It was keeping his baby warm in there.

Duke seems to notice the happiness that is coming from the room, he climbs into bed and cuddles up to his mother’s chest, who is happily caressing Bradley's hair and cheeck's.

Bradley kisses the area on your belly as you stroke Duke's scalp, and his tears continue to flow when he sees you talking to Duke about the baby.

He whispers something, but you and maybe someone else can hear him clearly.

“Welcome home, baby. You are already loved.”

“Yeah, I always wanted to have your stupid children.”

THEY MADE IT🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

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[lieutenant-teach]

How the debates about the Force helped to uncover the Sith Lord (Prompt: Fun)

A shore leave was supposed to be a time when people rest, Anakin was sure of it. Rest – means having fun. Having fun – means doing whatever you want. What Anakin wanted was stay with Padme alone for a couple of days. Unfortunately, she was away for some Senate stuff, so he was stuck with Obi-Wan’s meaning of ‘fun’. At that moment it was sitting on the cushion in a circle of several elderly Jedi and listening intently to a heated debate about the nature of the Force.

 – The Force can influence the way living beings act, otherwise why do we have prophecies of Chosen Ones? The Force chooses them, so it has an ability of acting, - insisted a frail Nikto Master, passionately waving his stick and barely holding on his feet even in a sitting position.

 – The choice matters! The prophecies are just possibilities, not certainties, - was an angry response from a tiny Jawa Jedi opposite him, her cheeping voice, surprisingly strong for such a small body, piercing the room and making Anakin wince. He signed and propped his cheek on his palm and the elbow on the knee, letting his gaze wander around the circle-shaped room. Colourful tapestries of complex weaving, depicting scenes of Jedi life, were hanging on the walls, the floor was covered with fluffy patterned rugs. The warmth of the sun, pouring through the fabric shutters on tall windows, painted the room and persons present in gold and brown hues and was a pleasant feeling on his back. Doziness was settling cozily over his lids, hazing his thoughts in a warm embrace…

A mental nudge almost pushed him off the cushion – not because it was powerful, just unexpected. Anakin jolted, held his balance and sent a glare to Obi-Wan next to him.

 – Anakin, it’s good for your knowledge, - his former Master whispered, barely moving his lips and visibly very into the debate and whatever ancient Master Sinube was mumbling from his place. Anakin didn’t know which theory the Cosian Jedi supported – nor that he cared. – You’re a Knight, but there’s still so much to learn. A Jedi studies all their life.

 – Ah, so it was studying when you were interested whether the brain worm would go into Master Unduli’s nose or ear, - Anakin couldn’t help from snickering. That got an indignant look from Obi-Wan, a huff and a turned away head. Anakin smiled and changed the hand and cheek.

 – The Force gives life to everything…

 – The Force is created by life itself, everybody knows it!

 – Anakin, please, - Obi-Wan bent to his ear, - would you mind at least close your shields, so your thoughts about Senator Amidala wouldn’t emanate around the room?

Anakin felt blush creeping up his cheeks:

 – There’s nothing wrong with it! I’m not a… prude.

 – Of course, nothing wrong with it, - Obi-Wan agreed placidly, - she’s a beautiful woman, but not everyone wants to sense your daydreams about her… - he faltered, selecting the right words, - lady parts.

 – Come on, don’t pretend you’re listening to that, - Anakin nodded at an exchange among almost all the Jedi present, talking excitedly at the same time and somehow managing to perfectly understand one another – not without the Force, probably. – I bet you’re dreaming about Commander Cody’s… manly parts, - he broke into a wicked smile, seeing faint blush rising on Obi-Wan’s face. At least some fun at these stupid debates.

 – Even if I wanted to do so, it would be unprofessional from my part...

 – Is it the only thing that stops you? – Anakin wasn’t sure what they were talking about anymore – Obi-Wan’s ‘dreams’ or reality. After all, an obvious mutual crush of General Kenobi and Commander Cody was a famous open secret of the 212th, though few would be stupid or insolent enough to tease them. Anakin counted himself as both and also having a privilege of being Obi-Wan’s former Padawan and the closest friend.

Angry hissing that sounded much like ‘Shut up, please!’ of an Anacondan Knight next to Anakin stopped the conversation, much to his dismay. Obi-Wan was clearly glad to convert his attention back to the debate, blush reaching the tips of his ears. ‘Bet Cody would’ve found it adorable’, - Anakin chuckled mentally.

Then he signed again, left with nothing to do. Shifted his eyes to the ceiling. To the rugs on the floor. ‘Mmm… an interesting pattern… Hey, I can see a speeder here!’.

 – One more symptom of a Darksider in the room – lower temperature! – squealed the Jawa Jedi, breaking Anakin from his intent studying the rug. – Add to the signs that they spoil the Force!

‘Funny… It’s always chilly in Palpatine’s office…’ – the thought breezed Anakin’s mind, and he froze for a second, then shook his head. Apparently, his brain had started melting after listening to that pointless debate.

 – Grab for power – that is the true sign! – the Nikto Master pointed his stick on the Jawa Jedi. – And never stopping! The Dark Side infects the recipient’s mind, making them want more – and it always leads to suffering in the process!

‘He’s got almost all the power of the Senate, and the Senators are absolutely fine with it. And he always declines negotiating with the Seppies. So the war cannot stop,’ – Anakin really didn’t like where his brain was going. The Supreme Chancellor was a good friend of his, a kind mentor, he always supported Anakin in all his ideas… Even stupid ones… Not like Obi-Wan and the other Jedi did…

 – All the sources and witnesses claim the Sith bring out the worst in everyone around them, - the Jawa Jedi stood up and put her hands on her hips. – It’s their own doing, not the Force’s!

Anakin sensed something weird next to him, emanating from Obi-Wan. He looked at him and immediately met widened horrified eyes, their owner obviously sharing the same train of thoughts with Anakin himself. ‘Come on, it’s Palpatine, he cannot be a Sith Lord. And he’s not Force-sensitive – otherwise the Jedi would’ve known’. Anakin almost reasoned with himself.

 – The Force changes around the Sith, - the Nikto Master wasn’t going to capitulate so easily, stomping his stick on the soft rug. – It becomes Dark, clouding everything, poisoning susceptible minds…

 – Right, because the Sith do it! – the Jawa Jedi squealed on the top of her lungs and shook off the hand of a Human Knight nearby who was trying to calm her down. – Or why do you think the most powerful ones could even pretend not to be Force-sensitive at all?

Shudder tremored through Anakin – his own and Obi-Wan’s. The young Knight was balancing on the edge of his cushion, watching and listening to the debates with attention he’d never know existed in him. The puzzle was coming together in his head.

 – When there is a war, then it’s surely to be a Sith Lord somewhere, - the Nikto Master scoffed. – The Dark Side feeds off pointless war and suffering. But you cannot convince me that the Dark Side doesn’t corrupt a being.

 – I’ll tell you what – you seem to be a Darksider yourself, blaming the Force for your failures! Because only a Sith would say such poodoo about how the Force works! – the Jawa Jedi jumped on the Nikto Master’s chest, the Nikto Master grabbed his lightsaber, shouting his protests in response. The closest sitters scooted back as the full-fledged duel started, Master Sinube happily clapping in support.

Not paying attention to the chaos, both Obi-Wan and Anakin jumped on their feet:

 – The Chancellor is a Sith Lord!

@jedijune

[hp-hcs]

Am I requesting again because I love your fics? Yes yes I am AND IM NOT SORRY. Theo x ftm Reader (but like reader is Pansy’s brother ^3^) I feel like this HAS POTENTIAL but if you want to completely make ur own storyline be my guest because I trust you more than I trust my brain ٩( ᐛ )و

oHOHOHOH YIPPEE DW BABE I GOTCHU

also i’m on a yandere fix rn (if you couldn’t tell by the literally everything i’ve written these last few weeks) so uh, sorry if that was not what you were envisioning 🥲

requests. please. i beg of you. 🙏

Pansy’s Brother (Chapter One) — yandere! theodore nott x ftm! parkinson! reader

WARNINGS: aggression, stalking, possessive behavior, overprotective behavior, enzo berkshire bashing (done by theo)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You bite your nails nervously, rocking back and forth on your feet. Your sister must notice, because she gently pulls your hand away from your mouth, smoothing down your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

“They’ll love you, Y/N. Don’t worry.”

“Enz’ll be there?” You ask softly.

A faint blush settles along her cheeks. “Y-yes. Lorenzo will be there,” she says in an oddly formal tone, clearing her throat in a very inconspicuous manner. “Ahem. But that’s not important. Um. Anyways. Stop laughing. Put your tie on, we’re going to be late.”

You snicker once more. “Sure, not important.”

She swats your arm lightly. “Dickhead. Hurry up.”

“Oi, Panz, chill out. I dunno how to tie a bow tie.”

She watches you fumble for a minute before rolling her eyes and smacking your hands away. “Stop, this is painful to watch.”

You pout as she takes over, deftly tying the perfect knot. “How do you know how to tie a bowtie?”

“Because I dated Draco for three months. Stop moving.”

You fake gag. “Ew. How was that as an experience?”

“Awful. It was like dating my honorary older brother,” she dramatically shudders, looping her arm through yours as you two begin your long walk to the Great Hall where the Yule Ball is being held.

“Hey, I thought I was the only brother you were allowed to have!” You gasp, mock-offended. “Besides, it couldn’t have been that bad. He’s… uh, conventionally attractive, I guess..?”

“No way, it was terrible. It’d be like if you started dating Enzo.”

“Ew!”

“Exactly.”

~~~

Honestly, Theodore Nott had no idea what to expect when Pansy said that her little brother would be coming to the Ball and that she’d like to introduce him to everyone.

But he certainly wasn’t expecting the most gorgeous guy he’d ever seen, holy Circe?

The Parkinson siblings stepped through the doors of the Great Hall, Pansy dressed to kill in a green satin dress with a risqué slit that went a little too high, in Theo’s opinion. The boys next to him were all but drooling.

“Who’s going to tell Crabbe and Goyle that Panz doesn’t even know they exist?” Mattheo leans in to whisper with a sly grin.

“Not it,” Theo snickered, observing Pansy with respectful, but distant, interest.

She really was stunning—but it was in the same way that sunsets and fireworks are stunning. Beautiful, but purely in an aesthetic way.

Following a half step behind her, a rather timid figure followed. Pansy navigated her way through the crowd, presumably her brother trailing along behind her.

She stopped in front of the boys, waving with a friendly grin. “Hey, guys! This is Y/N. Y/N, these losers are Theodore and Mattheo, and obviously you already know Enzo,” Pansy introduced, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her brother, Y/N, straightened when his sister said his name, an odd gleam in his eye and look of relief on his face that Theodore couldn’t quite figure out. He held out his hand with a rather charming grin, the meek boy from before now exuding confidence as he shook each of their hands.

Theodore shook his hand when Y/N reached him, surprised by how dainty Y/N’s hand felt in his. Y/N made up for it, however, with a firm grip and a charismatic smile that made Theo’s stomach flip.

The Parkinson boy wore a well-tailored three piece suit that accentuated his build. It was the same shade of green as his sister’s dress, but the vest was a nice tawny tartan tweed, with shiny brown shoes to match. His expensive cufflinks sparkled under the candlelight, and his dark gray bow tie brought out his eyes.

Y/N Parkinson looked fucking hot.

Theo’s reverie was interrupted by laughter and Enzo’s voice saying, “You look handsome as hell, Y/N.”

Y/N grinned, a faint blush on his cheeks. Enzo laughed and slung his arm over the younger boy’s shoulders in a friendlier-than-‘we-just-met’ way.

Theo’s gaze broke away from where he was ogling the boy, snapping over to his friend.

How the fuck did Enzo Berkshire already know this hot guy?

A lick of white-hot jealousy flared through him. Enzo wasn’t even that cute! And he was dumb! Theo was way smarter!

He saw the way the youngest Parkinson smiled at Enzo, all teeth, and felt his blood practically boil with rage. One word kept floating about his head, from the second he lay eyes on his friend’s little brother.

Mine.

~~~

“So…Theo was looking at you a lot.”

“He was?” Your head snapped upwards and your eyes lit up as you thought about the pretty brunette with the dead eyes and the overall talk-to-me-and-they’ll-never-find-your-body demeanor from last night.

“Yep. He also kinda like, threatened my life once you left,” Enzo shrugged, splitting off half of his licorice wand and handing it to you. “Dunno why.”

“He didn’t say?”

“Nope. Although I kinda sort of maybe got the impression that he’s got a… oh, what’s the word? big fat humongous crush on you. Not that it’s obvious or anything.”

“Ah. Not a man of subtlety, I take it?”

“He’s been watching us since we sat down,” Enzo said through a his teeth behind a fake smile.

“Wh-”

“Don’t turn around. Bitch, what are you doing- I just said- fuck it. I give up,” he throws his hands up in exasperation and sits back in his chair.

You scan the occupants of The Three Broomsticks, seeing no one acting out of the ordinary. You sigh and turn back to your irked friend.

Enzo rolls his eyes at you. “Dumbass.”

“Dipshit.”

You both grin at each other.

On the other side of the room, tucked underneath the deep hood of a thick winter cloak, Theodore Nott simmered with rage.

~~~

“Thanks for walking me back. I’m pretty sure Pansy would kill me, and then you, if I got lost or something,” you take another sip of your butterbeer as the two of you trek back to the castle, the dusky sky bathing you both in a faint glow and making the biting snowflakes in the air shine like tiny crystals.

“Yeah. Speaking of Pansy…” Enzo trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes, you can date her. No, I won’t go but-she’s-my-sister-and-I’m-her-brother apeshit on you.”

He gapes at you. “You knew?”

“Enz. Love. Sweetie pie. Anyone with eyes could tell that you like her, and she likes you right back. Go ask her out, coward.”

“Fuckhead,” Enzo retorted, giving you a tiny grateful smile.

~~~

Theo watched from afar with barely-contained jealousy. The pair was too far away to clearly hear, and the snow underfoot crunched too loudly for him to move closer, so Theo was stuck.

A sudden gust of wind sent a flurry of snowflakes into his face, and he made a face at the unpleasant chill. With the wind, however, carried a voice.

Your voice.

“Enz. Love. Sweetie pie. A…” your voice trailed off as the wind died down, becoming indistinct again.

Theo snapped.

No. No. No. No, you weren’t allowed to say things like that to other boys. You weren’t even allowed out with other boys. You were his, and Theodore had waited far long enough.

It was time for him to take back what was rightfully his.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Two

[reixtsu]

The Magic Behind the Architect’s Hands

Character: Kaveh x reader (gender not specified)

Genre: Fluff (slightly sensational and tinglingly)

Word Count: 539

Something you really like about Kaveh is his artistic slender hands. 

His hands, slender as whispers, wield the brush of an artist's soul. Fingers, long and graceful, danced across the canvas with an elegance that mirrors the strokes of a love letter written in the language of creation. How the pulse of creativity coursed through those large, tender hands, each touch leaving an indelible mark on the tapestry of art and architecture.

It was breathtaking to just stare at them.

What more to hold them?

While engrossed in individual work projects alongside Kaveh one day, weariness settled in as your attention drifted from your own tasks. Your attention wandered, captivated by Kaveh's hands. A mesmerizing sight as one hand delicately wielded a feather brush dipped in ink, rhythmic taps resonating, while the other hand gracefully shaped a corner of his blueprint.

It was like watching an elegant dance. Mesmerizing, majestic.

Then your gaze started to drift, thinking about how soft his hands might be, yet slightly calloused by his architecture duties. Before you knew it, you unconsciously reached your hand out to grasp his.

"Y/n, what are you up to?" Kaveh teased, a playful glint in his crimson eyes, momentarily shifting his focus from work to your intertwined hands.

You scoffed, feigning a look of hurt. “Does it have to be anything bad, my love?” You began to trace the lines on his palm, as if tracing the lines of a page.

“I suppose not,” Kaveh hummed, giving you a warm grin in response.

You played with his fingertips and explored the sides of his hands, committing each and every detail to memory. Gradually, you brought his hands to your lips, delivering a gentle kiss. A faint blush made its way onto your lover’s face as you continued.

“Y-Y/n, you're distracting me from my work,” Kaveh said with such a goofy smile on his face. His eyes even held a flustered glow as you gave him a sly smile.

“Then why don't you take a break, hm?” With a final, tantalizing kiss to his fingertips, you sensually traced your fingers along the velvety texture of his cheeks. Inch by inch, guided by your playful smirk, you drew your face nearer to his, your gaze lingering provocatively on the expanse of his bare chest.

Kaveh's blush bloomed across his face as his eyes looked at everything but you. His breath became heavy, very naughty thought popping into his head. 

“Y/nn… Stop your magic and control yourself!” Kaveh whisper-yelled.

“Oh? Then look at me, love,” you positioned his face to face yours, and eventually Kaveh's shy eyes finally met yours. “Ahh, there are the eyes I love seeing the most.”

“Y/n!” Kaveh whined, fighting a childish grin with a frown. Though he failed miserably.

“Your hands, Kaveh, are sculpted from the heavens above. Take care of these beautiful hands of yours not only for the archons above, but for you and me.”

No bard could capture the majesty of Kaveh's celestial gaze, the blush that adorned his countenance, or the rhythmic dance of his heart upon hearing those words. His smile expanded grandly as he leaned forward, bestowing a kiss upon your forehead.

“Thank you, my beloved.”

Author-kun’s: TODAY IS NEUVILLETTE’S BIRTHDAY! Happy birthday to the baby girl. This fanfiction literally has no relation to that…

@reixtsu 12/18/2023. Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate my work

[b0nten]

MIGHT AS WELL

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ a love like yours was hard to come across. one like you he’ll never find, nor does he wish for. he only wants you, had only the stars aligned.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ angst, mentions of vomiting, rindou calls reader some very nasty words!

rindou was good at doing splits. he was good at fighting. he was good at surviving in juvie. there were plenty of things rindou was skilled at, except one. and it just so happened to be gentle, loving, and funny. it happened to have h/c luscious hair and striking e/c eyes. it so happened to be you.

rindou had had his fair share of relationships and hook-ups, but never had the thought of falling in love crossed his mind. he was of the simple hit-and-quit type, a curse he loved to blame on his older brother, and therefore got along with the idea of never settling down.

one windy september afternoon, though, the stars finally had mercy on him and faith guided him to you. it would’ve been a normal day, another fight, another drink, another stroll through the streets but that particular tuesday it so happened to be special.

unlike after most fights, that day he was pissed. he had not found his correct footing and ended up slipping, falling face-first into a pile of rocks, inviting some maggots to take their chance to kick at him. although still coming out victoriously, rindou couldn’t contain his anger, but he couldn’t let it out anymore either, since there was nobody standing anymore, so he just bid his farewell, and with a purple face took a long walk.

that also ended up not working, so he rushed into the nearest convenience store he could find, thanking the universe he knew roppongi like the back of his hand, and sliding past every rack, he bolted for the refrigerators and took ahold of the biggest beer he could find.

he wasn’t even out of the store by the time he took his first sip. once out the door he moved to the right, leaning against the tempered glass, closing his eyes.

“are those hickeys or did you get beat up real’ good?”

“fuck you want from me?” he said, not even opening his eyes.

“you could at least look me in the eyes when you’re being an asshole, plum face.” you spat back, this time just as angry as rindou.

when he opened his eyes, cupid’s arrow struck him.

“i’m sorry, uh..”

“y/n.”

“i’m sorry, y/n, i’m having a bad day.”

“should’ve guessed, i’m sorry for the joke.” you apologized in return, and a faint blush spread across his cheeks.

“it’s alright, don’t worry.” rindou reassured, “rindou, by the way.”

“so, rindou, why are you drinking cheap 7-11 beer at 4 in the afternoon?” you couldn’t help but ask, since his purple face was too intriguing.

“wouldn’t wanna bore you with it, it’s alright.” the blonde said in return, taking another sip, “and the beer’s actually good.”

“i’ve got a feeling you wouldn’t bore me. still skeptical about the beer tho. come on, talk, it might actually help you.”

and as corny as the encounter may have been, that is how you two became the closest friends ever and, finally, started dating.

there was never a dull moment with rindou, from amusement park dates to museum visits to shopping or cooking together, everything was exciting. he made your heart pump faster every time you saw him, and his heart was ready to jump out of his chest every time he even thought about you.

through patching him up after fights and curling his hair, you were always there for him. in confessions of heartache and fears, you were each others’ shoulder to cry on. and one says that in order to love, one has to let live, so what was happening with him in front of you right now?

his hair was messy and his voice tried not to tremble or break, but the guilt was eating him alive since he had come to this decision. in those two years he had finally learned how to live and love because of you, you had never seen him like this, he is sure of that.

but still, how can he bring himself to just shoo away the love of his life, but how can he keep you with him when it’s just so dangerous? his heart is torn apart in two, and his mind blank. should he be selfish or selfless, whichever way the words may fit to what he wants to do? should you live and hate him or possibly die while loving him?

was it actually selfless to let you go and selfish to keep you? or the other way around?

“we’re done, y/n.”

his eyes are glued to a painting to his left. his eyes burn, trying not to let out any tears at all.

you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. their penthouse feels like a small metal box and the air around is thick. you think you can hear you heart break or maybe it’s the construction work being done outside. the first time he said it you thought you had misheard him, but he really wants to break up.

“rindou, what? are you for real?”

he doesn’t say anything, he just nods, this time just looking at the floor.

“speak to me, rindou, at least have some decency!” you half-yell, not being able to call him names.

“i’ve gotten bored,” he says, “two years was way too much to work and i’ve gotten tired.” he wants to bite his face off but he knows he has to stay still.

“bored? of what? of us, of me? what the hell are you on about, rin?” he almost breaks down when he hears you call him by his nickname, and the sweet memories it holds are just excruciating.

“yes. and don’t call me that, you cheap whore… i-i know you only used me for money and drugs so it’s hight time you go and find another one to screw.”

you’re left dumbfounded at his words.

“what has gotten into you? are you alright?” you step closer but he takes a step back. it shatters your heart even more, and here you were thinking it was already down to zero.

“wake up, y/n! i’m not in love! i don’t love you, i never have, you dumb, foreign, ugly slut! you were one of my many whores, what did you think was so special about you?”

he feels a lump build up in his stomach, and his mouth is drenched in saliva, he feels the need to throw up immediately.

he finds the silence strange, creepy, obnoxious, why aren’t you talking anymore? he musters up the courage to look up and he wishes he hadn’t. you’re there, or is it actually you? he can’t tell. he sees your figure, he sees your eyes.

your eyes. they’re empty. they’re nothing anymore. they look like they’re hollow. he’s scared, he’s disappointed in him, he’s even sicker in his stomach.

he turns around to go anywhere, and before he reaches the door you speak up.

“you might as well have beat me purple like how you were the day we met. it would’ve been easier to get over.”

upon you ending the sentence, he swings the door open and goes out, the impact with the wall closing it shut again. he finds the nearest hollow or almost hallow object — a plant — and throws up in there. he cries as he lets all of the built up anger, regret and sadness fill the flower pot. he curses himself out and curses bonten even more, but thank god you’re still in there.

[natsuki208]

The Flowers Seem Prettier Today

Blood has been bled, tears have been shed, and endless battles happened on these very grounds. But now the flowers bloom, new found peace to consume, and with you I know much more will come around.

~

It’s quiet this morning.

The only minuscule sounds that can be heard are the gentle breeze pushing the curtains and the quiet rustling of the grass outside. When was the last time he ever heard such tranquility?

A young man is currently sitting idly in his chair, no thoughts are on his mind, only basking in the sunlight rays beaming in his face.

His emerald eyes shine along with the sun, his short, brown hair slightly move in sync with the wind, and after what seems like a decade can form a moderate smile.

Everything is at ease, until he hears faint footsteps approaching him. He blinks a few times before lifting his head to see the beautiful face in front. This girl who’s all too familiar from her long, black hair to the permanent scar on her cheek, and she appears to be speaking to him.

“Eren…” She mutters.

The man comes back to his senses after a brief moment of composure; the eye contact he makes with the girl feels even better.

“Mikasa…” he answers in a low voice. “How long have I’ve been sitting here?”

“Not long, only about 30 minutes.”

“Huh? Half an hour is still long though.”

In surprise, Eren lifts his head away from the back of his chair, now he catches the smell of something brewing. The thick, rich coffee smell fill us the entire main room of the cabin and it sure is delightful. While Mikasa goes to check on it, Eren glances outside once more to see the scenery of flowers all in bloom; surely a sight that he’s rarely seen in his life at this point.

Turning his head back towards Mikasa, who has just finished pouring their coffee, he accepts the handed mug from her with a smile. He takes a small sip, still very hot, but nothing he can’t manage.

“So… have we received any news from Armin yet?” Eren asks, just staring at his drink swirling.

Mikasa looks over at him with an honest half-smile. “Not yet. And I’m afraid he had to cancel his visit later today, due to another meeting with other alliances and Historia.”

“Oh. I see.”

Saddened by this news, Eren gently lays down his mug on the table beside him. It’s been three years since the battle against the titans finally ended and the public are still conflicted. That’s why it’s now important for the remaining scouts to become ambassadors to negotiate for peace between Paradis and what’s left of the world; but at first it’s was much easier said than done.

After a lot of trial and error, things do seem to be picking up well. Whenever Eren or him and Mikasa head into the nearest town, the townspeople no longer give him those cold stares so the rumours of him being fully responsible for Fritz’s destruction had eventually died down. As much as the two would love to help out their friends more, they chose to settle low for a while in their cabin near the woods for the time being - it’s what’s best after all the hell the guy has been through.

“This means we’ll have another weekend with just the two of us.” Mikasa admits, a small blush shimmers on her cheeks but not enough for Eren to notice.

But he’s smarter than that; he can hear the shyness in her voice. It suddenly dawns on him that even if they’ve decided to settle in this pleasant, sheltered cabin together, due to now being fully aware of each other’s affections, the two still never gained the confidence to share a romantic moment or two privately. These past few months have been super occupied with political undertones, that never had a chance.

But on a quiet, refreshing morning such as this, Eren might finally get to have his say after all this time.

“Mikasa?” Eren softly speaks for her attention, it works, as she turns her head upward to look at him - curious eyes and everything.

“Would you mind… taking a walk outside? I know it’s early but… it’s quiet. It might help to take our mind off things. Are you okay with that?”

The black haired girl can feel her heartbeat picking up, her eyes sparkle and butterflies flutter inside. How rare it is for Eren to ask for requests such as this, so she doesn’t know how to respond quickly; the cute look of him nervously scratching his head sets her at ease. She doesn’t really have any other plans for today anyway.

“Yes, I don’t mind at all.”

Standing up from her seat, she reaches out her hand for him to hold (the closest way of romantic contact they can do right now). Eren proceeds with pleasure and the two adults slowly walk their way to the front door.

~

The outside fields are much more radiant in person. All the flowers and trees dance in the wind, they paint the meadows with all their bright colors, accompanied by the morning sun lightening up from the horizon.

The pair have been strolling along hand in hand for a while as they’ve been enjoying the scenery so much, they lost track of time. Every few minutes, Mikasa will bend down to glance at any kind of flower she’s rarely seen, or what she’s only seen from a distance, and the smile Eren witnesses lifts up his spirits. Now that his feet are within the fields in person does he realise the bittersweet irony.

These fields were once the roaming grounds for titans, the very place they invaded nearly 12 years ago and took away everything that they held most dear. All the blood that was spilled have been replace by the redness of roses, the tears to the rain that helps them grow, and who were once soldiers are peacefully smelling each unique scent as they possibly can.

From one flower to another, they decide to rest on a little empty spot with just normal grass. Mikasa assumes that she can see the ocean from here; mostly possible because there are no walls to hide it. Eren can see it too, and what a sight it is, he wishes to wrap an arm around Mikasa but doesn’t feel confident yet so he keeps his distance.

A laugh has been shared. A quiet laugh but clear. Eren thinks his ears are playing tricks on him but there’s no denying it. One look and he sees the bliss on Mikasa’s face; is it him or does the sun happen to make her face much more luminous? Her eyes are shining like clear water, her ponytail waves behind her head and no minor scar can ruin such a pure image of the girl he loves.

Yes. He’s definitely in love with her.

But there’s something missing…

Eren’s gut is convincing him to look carefully, and there it isn’t - her old red scarf is not wrapped around her neck or at least isn’t holding it. If Mikasa smiling with glee isn’t a rare sight enough then this is the rarest.

“Mikasa… where’s your scarf?” Eren hesitates to ask.

The girl takes her eyes off the horizon as soon as he brings it up. She touches her neck but only feels her skin, she looks at her side but nothing is left there. The surprise expression makes Eren feel a bit down and sad for mentioning it at all.

“I… guess I forgot about it.” Mikasa closes her eyes in regret.

“I-It’s okay. It’s just… not like you to go anywhere without it. That’s all I’m saying.”

Come to think of it, when was the last time she actually wore that thing? He forgot.

Mikasa remains untalkative for a moment, leading Eren to feel even worse, so he tries to bring up that he’ll quickly run back to get it until…

“It was all battered and withered anyway.”

A more shocking statement comes right out the gate. An explanation follows before Eren can respond back.

“I didn’t throw it away, I’ve just…” She shakes her head tenderly. “I know it was special, but with everything else going on and… you with me… I feel like I don’t need it anymore.”

That last part catches Eren’s full attention. She really has grown a lot since their days of war and it shows. From a girl who never expressed her thoughts or feelings out loud to up front admit she can move on from an outworn cloth and still be happy. This can be the time for Eren to do the same.

“Y-You don’t mind, do you?”

Here it is. Eren smiles once more and gently grasps her hand.

“I don’t mind at all. It’s just a scarf. In fact, you might even look more prettier without it.”

One little word has Mikasa blushing red again, but she allows him to continue.

“I mean- What I’m saying is… it can be the start of a new life for us. Not just with fixing this healing world, but… continue to live here once everything has been said and done. We can walk across these fields or stroll into town or by the ocean, anything we’d like together. As long as it makes you happy.”

Bright red blush is glowing on his cheeks too, brighter than the roses behind them. The wind slightly rises and brings some flower petals with it; flying above the young blooming couple with eyes locked. If one touch makes this moment any more perfect is the brighter-than-the-sun smile Mikasa gives in return for such a heartwarming confession.

“Thank you.” She beams, followed by another cute giggle. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for so long. A bit corny but was worth the wait.”

“Really? Well, guess I have a lot to learn with being all ‘lovey-do et’ then.”

More laughs are shared between the pair, they shift closer to one another for long awaited hug, and they fall back into the grass in sync. For the rest of the morning they stay locked in each other’s arms and briefly talk about their plans for the future (mainly on how to address this confession to their friends next time). Eren cannot stop himself from looking at his new girlfriend’s lovely face even as the morning comes to an end.

Now Eren knows why the flowers are much prettier today.

-

(I apologise if the ending is too cheesy lol 😆 )

[notallsandmen]

for the WIP game: you know I'm obsessed with Hob titty fucking, I think everyone else should be too

It was a sveltering London summer day. Hob nearly passes out on the bus home, and he has to stand in the shower for half an hour to cool down.

It didn’t use to be this fucking hot. So much had changed in just a few centuries, and not for the better.

But something as petty as cataclysmic global warming was apparently not enough to stop Dream from popping by for a cheeky afternoon shag: only giving Hob a salutary little bow and a wry half-smile before practically tackling him into bed. Dream’s clothes had melted away with Hob’s remaining resolve; now, they were naked and panting into each other’s mouths. Dream’s damn smirk was somewhat undermined by the rosy-dawning blush spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his navel. Hob had tried to be pragmatic and suggest that they could take this to the Dreaming instead, but apparently Dream was barred due to similar overheating issues, so they were stuck here now. Quite literally — it feels heretical, the way Hob’s sweaty skin cloys for Dream’s sultrily temperate skin.

Hob presses his entire face into Dream’s cool chest and groans so loudly, he can feel it rattle through Dream’s ribcage.

“Are you well, little darling?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hob can see the onyx-lacquered nail tracing orbits into the Hob’s furred thigh.

“I know I have had a penchant for hyperbole in the past. But I’m actually dying. The heat, Dream. The fucking heat.”

Dream nods slowly, as if Hob was just randomly listing the physical properties of their environment, like a rambling toddler losing the thread of the story they’re telling.

It would be condescending if it wasn’t so maddeningly arousing. Hob might have a problem.

“Would you prefer not to have sex, so as to not risk your body over-heating?”

“Would I…?”, Hob chuckles exasperatedly.

“No I would obviously not prefer that, because I’ve evidently lost every remaining survival instinct from disuse.”

He pauses to empty the glass of water on his bedside table.

“Oi, Pillow Prince of Stories — you could be on top, for once, seeing as you’re not as affected by the heat as I am.”

The way Dream solemnly nods, resigning himself to his tragic fate, to again be saddled with the crushing duty of “having to do any work in bed except for coming”, was frankly so adorably melodramatic that the end of Hob’s sentence trailed out into a sputter.

“Fine, fine, if you’re going to pout about it, I yield.”

Still straddling Dream, Hob closes his eyes and tries to estimate what he could realistically be able to perform without ruining the afterglow with fainting salts.

Only now does Hob register the way he was unconsciously dragging his cock over Dream’s blessedly cool chest.

Well, that’s a thought.

Hob can’t deny that he descends into a heart-eyed mess every time he witnesses Dream laying eyes on his own chest hair; making a content little hum as his nimble fingers card through the coarse pelt like a homecoming.

But the idea of doing this, to rut against Dream’s silky-smooth chest, to come all over —

”Hob? Are you having a heat-stroke? Should I consult a physician?”

Dream’s brows furrow in concern, and Hob feels a bit high-maintenance with his autonomic nervous system baggage and everything.

”Like this?”

It was meant to be suggestive, but Hob feels himself sheepishly flush when his voice comes out as a dry croak.

It was hardly the most energy-efficient position, given the heat.

But as a bead of sweat falls from Hob’s temple down onto Dream’s throat, trickling down his breastbone, Hob realizes that he wouldn’t be able to get it out of his head, now.

Right — it’s settled. Hob needs to fuck Dream’s tits.

Dream looks down at himself, and then back up at Hob in confusion, pressing two fingers against Hob’s wrist where they grasp his hips, not very discreetly checking his pulse. Dream’s concerns were evidently soothed enough to plummet him back into his ordinary state of perplexed feline imperiousness, scoffing:

”Why would you want that?”

“Why?”, Hob laughs, a little maniacally. As if it would be a hardship. As if he’s not already smearing a drop of pre into the tuft of hair on Dream’s chest.

”Let me show you why.”

Continue to read:

[bricommissions]

hi, i’m sen (she/her, 25) and i’d like to request a genshin impact matchup!

my romantic preference is that everyone’s hot, please help. i’m a shortstack musical theater kid stuck in the body of an accountant. i love going down research rabbit holes; i enjoy solving problems and hunting down the misplaced puzzle piece that throws everything else out of balance. but i burn out very easily when doing that, and am actively trying to learn balance. i burn out easily in general, honestly. social engagements require a lot of recharge time in bed after.

i err on the side of politeness in social settings, but my sense of humor is so sardonic it generally comes across as too blunt. still, i try to keep my friends’ spirits lifted with bits and goofs. i also fluster easily and am probably very teasable, lmao.

this is probably more information than you needed/wanted, so i’ll leave two more nuggets: i love spicy food and iced coffee, and my love language is acts of service. i was going to leave three nuggets but couldn't come up with a third, which may be a nugget in and of itself :D

thank you so, so much in advance! we've dm'd recently, so please let me know if there's anything you need from me during the process!

hi hi dear friend sen !! thank you for commissioning me for a paid match-up ♡ your contribution to my writing career & helping me pay my bills means the world to me. thank you so much from the bottom of my heart ♡

DRUM ROLL, PLEASE . . .

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

YOUR MATCH IS : ZHONGLI !!

right away, i could see connections that would blossom between the two of you !! so for the sake of immersion, let's dive into this hypothetical scenario of you living in the world of teyvat ...

you're a traveler who likes to go from nation to nation, but liyue is the destination you travel to the most. you're paying the beautiful nation a visit, & everyone is happy to see you again. you enjoy third round knockout & their delectable beverages. after settling into an inn on the harbor, you immediately head there & order an iced coffee & a small appetizer of the spicy variety - two of your favorites !!

however, for the first time, there is someone sitting at your usual table that you don't recognize. it appears your schedules have finally lined up. this is where you first meet zhongli.

right away, you two hit it off. the conversations never seem to end & he is very curious to learn more about your travels. at one point, some regulars sit beside the both of you & politely tune in. the talk extends into the night ... one key thing you notice is that when you chime in with a rather blunt joke, no one laughs ... except when zhongli suddenly barks out a laugh, clearly a fan of your humor. judging by the reactions of the other tavern-goers, a laugh like this is rare. their faces are quite shocked. it's obvious he's laughing with you & not at you. it gets you a little flustered, but not in a negative way.

the two of you talk into the late hours of the night; long after everyone has left & third round knockout has closed. when the people on the street become fewer & fewer, you both realize it's time to go.

"allow me to walk you back in exchange for your wonderful company tonight, sen," zhongli would insist. & he does walk you back to the inn !! ... for reasons tooootttaaaallllyyyy unrelated, you decide to stay in liyue for a while longer.

what follows is you spending more & more time with zhongli. you take walks amongst liyue's breathtaking nature & solve ancient puzzles out in the wild; not so much for the treasure, but for the intellectual challenge your brilliant minds can team up for. whenever you feel that infamous sensation of burnout, you'll both sit in comfortable silence & enjoy the views ... yes, views ... zhongli is a very hot guy, after all.

he certainly finds you attractive, too. he has a faint blush on his cheeks whenever you're around. hu tao, who you meet in passing due to them being co-workers, is quick to point this out to you when he isn't looking with a wink & a nudge.

zhongli never expected to feel such a way for a mortal, & yet his heart races every time he thinks of you. he adores your focused expression when you speak with him about your research, or the passion in your eyes when you speak about your musical theater days.

on that fateful day when he approaches you with a bouquet of qingxins behind his back & a tender murmur of "sen..." —

well, i'll leave the rest up to your imagination !!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

THANK YOU FOR READING !!

if you're the person that sent this & are unsatisfied with the results, feel free to shoot me an ask or dm !!

if you'd like to receive one of these yourself, PLEASE DM ME !! you can commission a match-up like this from any fandom for just $5 !!

( i did put a little more pizazz into this one because i was tipped, thank you sen ♡ )

if you liked my writing, please consider commissioning me !! i am in dire need of help with bills & buying myself a bed that doesn't kill my back & body. i offer writing commissions such as custom character x reader fics, oc x canon character fics, comfort character emails, ship fics, & more ♡

CHECK OUT MY PINNED POST !!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[verlaines-corner-archive]

𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕

 -> Summary: Your son has a nightmare and comes to you for comfort.

 -> Pairings: Son!Fyodor x Mother!Reader - NSFW

 -> Warnings/content: Mother x Son -bloodcest, mommy kink, suckling, handjobs, slight perversion, age-gap. Fyodor gets called “good boy”. The inherently ooc concept of Fyodor having an even remotely good relationship with a family member. While not specified Fyodor is above 18. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. 

 -> Notes: This is my first smut fic! I’m fairly happy with it. As stated before this is dark content, do not read if that makes you uncomfortable, take care of yourselves people. Also thank you all for 500 followers! 2k words

The door to your room opens with a soft creak. There’s the faint shuffling of feet, followed by the sound of the door closing before footsteps approach. They’re hesitant, barely making it to the edge of your bed. It’s with even more hesitance that a hand reaches out, a soft tap on your shoulder rousing you from your sleep. Hazily you turn to face the source, sheets falling below your breasts as you prop yourself up on your elbow. Your son, Fyodor, stands by your bed, eyes downcast and shoulders heavy. In the faint moonlight it looks like he’s been crying. 

“Fedya sweetheart,” he almost jumps when you speak, eyes timidly meeting yours, “what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“I’m sorry,” he glances away, “but I had a nightmare and I couldn’t fall back asleep. I just,” there’s a pause and Fyodor swallows the lump in his throat, “I didn’t want to be alone.” 

His voice is almost inaudible. 

You notice his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweater, nervously moving the fabric between his fingertips. His body, tall and lanky, sways as he rocks on his feet. Pity fills your heart, settling in the crevices as you lay on your side and open the covers to him.

“Come here love.” 

Fyodor stares at you for a moment, eyeing your face and the spot beside you before giving a small nod. He climbs into bed, awkward as he finds a position comfortable enough. Fyodor settles on his side, pulling the covers up and around himself before scooting forward. You give him a sympathetic smile, brushing his fringe out of his face before pulling him closer. You hear his breath hitch slightly, arms unthinkingly moving to your waist as your own wrap around him. There’s a bit of shuffling about before he lays with his head in your chest, hands hesitantly resting on your back while your own rub his. You hear a soft sniffle as he buries himself closer to you. 

“It’s alright sweetheart, relax.” You mumble, placing a soft kiss on Fyodors' head. 

The feeling of your hand running up and down his back causes your son to relax, the tension seeping out of his body. You stay like this for a minute, then five, and it’s only the feeling of his fingers fiddling with your shirt that tells you he’s awake. Your own hand, the one rubbing his back, finds its way under his sweater and moves to stroke his skin.

Fyodor shivers under your touch and thinking him cold you pull him further into you, hand momentarily leaving him to tighten the covers around the both of you. It takes everything in Fyodor not to whine at the loss of contact and to make no sound when it returns, his mind racing as he feels your hand slip under his shirt once more. He’s grateful that you can’t see his face, a dark red blush high on his cheeks.

Fyodor can smell the bodywash you use in this position, the gentle scent of lavender clinging to your skin. Though it doesn’t compare to how intoxicating your natural smell is, barely noticeable under the fancy bodywash but he could recognise it anywhere. It smells like home, and he finds himself pressing into you. His eyes close, taking in a deep breath as an ache grows between his legs. From his position he can hear the vibrations in your chest as you talk, feel almost every inch of your body against him. 

“You’re very affectionate tonight,” There’s a smile in your voice, but his focus is on how your hand slides down to his hip, fingertips gently poking under the waistband of his pants, “I take it you’re feeling better now?”

Fyodors’ throat goes dry, body tensing as the air grows stale around him, mind painfully aware of his hard on pressed against your thigh. It’s difficult for him to swallow, disgust and shame coiling around his heart and squeezing until his blood runs cold and he feels sick, mind racing. He can’t bear the thought of the horrified look on your face, the hate undoubtedly filling your eyes. Fyodor shifts his hips slightly, trying to think of something he could say that would change the inevitable, something that could play off his depravity as pure accident. But you both know he’s gotten too old for unprompted erections, there’s nothing he can say that can cover the sick truth; that his own mothers presence and touch got him hard. Fyodor can’t see the gentle smile on your face or the light blush on your cheeks. The hatred never comes, and it’s when you raise your hand to his head that he dares to peek up at you, tear filled eyes timidly meeting yours.

Sympathy and love mix in your eyes, darkening with hints of lust as you bring your hand to his cheek. Your thumb traces the warm skin of his cheekbone, moving to wipe away stray tears. Fyodors’ dick twitches in his pants as you go to speak.

“Fedya sweetheart, it’s okay. There’s no need to be ashamed, I’m not mad.” 

“Are you- are you sure?” his voice is barely a whisper but the desperation is evident, “you’re really not mad at me? You’ll stay?” His hands tighten their grip on your shirt.

You lean in, pulling Fyodor up from his position and brushing your lips along his cheek and down to his jawline. They travel to his neck, appreciative kisses littered along his throat before you place a soft one to his pulse point, the feeling of his heart racing under your lips as you gently suckle the skin. You notice a light mark as you pull away enough to speak.

“Of course I’ll stay sweetheart, you’re such a good boy for me. Mommys’ beautiful boy.”

You can feel his cock twitch at your praise, his breath growing uneven as he bites back a whine, voice shaking as he goes to speak.

“Kiss me, please? I’ll be a good boy for mommy, I promise.”

You laugh slightly, moving from his neck to his lips. You give him a gentle peck, testing the waters before moving in again. The kiss is longer this time, his lips inexperience and timid against yours. A soft moan escapes his throat as you deepen it, fingers hooking under his chin and turning his head for better access. You take advantage of it, sliding your tongue into his mouth. 

Desperate fingers tug at your shirt, Fyodors’ hips bucking against your own as you cup the back of his head. He whimpers when you pull away, a string of saliva following.

“Can I touch you sweetheart?”

“Please.” His voice comes out as a desperate whisper, eyes avoiding your own.

Your hand wanders down his side, settling on his hip for a moment before tugging at the waistband of his pants.

“Be a good boy and take them off for me?”

Fyodor nods eagerly, swallowing thickly as he clumsily pulls his sweatpants down enough for his dick to spring free. The feeling of your thigh against him makes him hiss, precum leaking from his tip.

“Good boy,” your hand slips onto his thigh, gently massaging the soft flesh before you lightly glide your fingertips over his dick, “are you sure you want this sweetheart?”

A broken whimper escapes him, hips wiggling as he tries to get more friction. 

“Words, love. Tell mommy what you want.”

Fyodor shies away, embarrassment coming off him in droves. You hear what you think is a please, but the rest is inaudible. Seconds pass and when he doesn’t say anything you place a soft kiss to his forehead.

“It’s okay sweetheart, don’t have to say anything you don’t want to. Relax and let me take care of everything.”

He stops you before your hand can touch him again, cheeks burning, “wa-wait. Please,” his voice grows bolder, “please touch me. I want this mommy, want to be a good boy for you. Touch me, do whatever you want with me.” 

You swallow a groan, mumbling praise as you spit in your hand and finally wrap it around the base of Fyodors’ dick. The whine you get in response can only be described as sinful. His shyness disappears with just a few jerks of your wrist. Moans and whimpers unabashedly fall from his lips as he clings to you, hands desperately grasping the skin of your back.

Fyodors’ whole body trembles, the feeling of your thumb flicking over his tip causing his hips to buck. You can feel his nails digging into your skin, mind only half aware of the pinpricks of blood they draw. You’re too focused on the way he shakes in your arms, face pressed into your chest while he whimpers. You can feel his precum on your hand, a soft wet noise as you twist your wrist. Fyodor throws his head back at the sensation, hips desperately thrusting up into your warm hand.

His own hands move to your shirt, clumsily pushing it up until the fabric bundles above your breasts. Fyodor lets out a soft moan, subconsciously licking his lips and nuzzling into your soft flesh before greedily taking a nipple into his mouth. You can feel the way his tongue circles your sensitive bud, the way he moans around it. His hands re-find their place at your back, eyes squeezing shut while he suckles. Sweat drips down his forehead, your spare hand coming to brush his damp fringe aside.

“Look at you, being such a good boy for me.”

Fyodor can feel a tightening in his stomach, thrusts growing erratic as he chases his release. You repeat your previous action, your thumb rubbing over his tip nearly sending him off the edge.

He pulls away from your breast, looking up at you through half lidded eyes. Saliva glistens on his lips.

“‘M gonna- gonna-” his words are incoherent, he’s barely able to get them out. He appears drunk, head uselessly tilting to the side as his eyes flutter between open and closed.

“Go on sweetheart, cum for me.”

Fyodor buries himself back into your chest, hips stuttering as his back arches, a broken moan of mommy escaping him. His vision blots with static, body convulsing as cum spurts into your hand, the clear liquid painting your thighs and falling onto the mattress beneath you both. You ride him out through his orgasm, stopping when you feel his body still. 

Fyodors’ thighs tremble slightly, struggling to catch his breath as he comes down from his peak. You sit up, reaching over his spent body and grabbing tissues from your nightstand, wiping your hand and your sons’ dick clean. He twitches under your ministrations, a weak whimper leaving him and causing you to laugh.

The tissues are chucked unceremoniously to the side when you’re done, shortly joined by your pants and Fyodors’. You’ll worry about them in the morning, for now all your focus is placed on the man before you. Soft streams of moonlight paint his body in gentle white, his hair dishevelled and eyes closed as his breathing steadies. Your voice cuts through the haze.

“You look beautiful like this sweetheart, I’m so proud of you. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” there’s a drawl to his voice, the earlier fatigue returning full force, “come here?”

He spreads his arms for you, eyes barely opening as he looks at your face. Even in his half asleep state he notices the love in your eyes, heart swelling as you lean forward. A lazy kiss is placed to his lips, your hands pulling the covers over the two of you as you return to your original places. Fyodor leans back in when you pull away, softly rubbing his nose against yours before resting his face in your shoulder.

“I love you.” The words are muttered against your skin, accompanied by a kiss.

“I love you too sweetheart, get some sleep okay?”

And he does, content in his mothers arms.

Ao3

[roetrolls]

Battleship

Mallum finds Veylin in the kitchen, holding a kettle under the tap and watching it fill. She glances over her shoulder as he plods into the room, looking just long enough for him to notice the faint rings that crown her eyes. 

She’s been crying.

Comfort has never been Mallum’s strong suit, a fact which he is made especially aware of as he languishes over what to say. Unsure how to address the elephant in the room he’s just discovered, he eventually opts to dance around it instead.

“Hey,” the seadweller nods, easing open the refrigerator and surveying its contents. He’ll keep it casual. “How’d it go?”

A noncommittal shrug is her only reply.

He sucks a breath through his teeth. “Bad, huh?”

Again, she shrugs, reuniting the kettle with its lid and placing it gingerly on the stove. Her hands, now free, begin to wring away their anxiety.

“I don’t know,” Veylin mumbles, suddenly immensely interested in the nail of her thumb, “I didn’t… say anything. I wasted her time.”

“That’s stupid,” Mallum snorts. 

He lets the insult hang for a moment, cracking open a can of sparkling water and raising it to his lips. Veylin frowns, shrinking into herself at a comment that, to her, must seem like pointless cruelty.

“You went,” he says finally, nudging the fridge closed with his hip. “That’s the first hurdle down, how’s that a waste?”

Veylin presses her lips together, clearly unconvinced. Unable to face him, she turns away to rifle through the cupboard. Mallum sips his drink and waits, watching her deft, dainty hands sift about in search of, he assumes, a case of peppermint tea. 

“I thought it would be easier,” she admits, voice only just audible.

She withdraws the box–yep, peppermint–and sets about readying her cup, each movement delicate and precise. It takes him a second to process her confession, but he rolls his eyes the moment the statement registers.

“What, you thought you could unlearn a lifelong coping mechanism in your very first session?”

It’s a tame comment, all things considered, but she shifts under the weight of it. It’s obvious she’s hurt, and the fact that he caused her discomfort twists in Mallum’s gut like a knife. Not exactly a pitch feeling, there.

“Seriously, Veylin,” he tries to backpedal, voice soft. “You don’t need to fix everything right away.”

“I don’t know how to fix it at all.”

“That’s the therapist’s job.”

No reply. Mallum’s never been one to shut up for any length of time, but something about her silence is contagious. He opens his mouth, then shuts it, a pantomime stammer to fill dead air as he grasps for something to say. There are so many things he wants to tell her. A mountain of miscellaneous contradictions, all as undecipherable as she is. 

“It’s… It’s alright. To feel lost.” He swallows, eyes drifting for one fleeting moment across her lips. She raises her eyes to meet his, and at once the words are gone, lost to the depths of the deep blue saucers that flit across his face.

A crease finds its way onto her brow. “Is something bothering you?”

You, his mind seems to say, though there’s no malice behind it. The things you do to me.

Mallum shakes his head. He can’t say that. She searches his face, expression laced with concern, and already, he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. 

I’m not myself around you, he thinks, but the person I become is better.

He croaks helplessly, words sticking in his throat and laying thick on his tongue. Veylin’s mouth purses slightly in confusion, a silent question hanging in the air.

You don’t fit in any of my boxes.

I hate myself for hurting you.

Nothing about you makes sense to me.

“I think I might have feelings for you.”

When his voice hits his ears, Mallum’s heart all but stops. Had he meant to say that one out loud?

Veylin blinks. Mallum opens his mouth to speak, leaping to withdraw the sentiment when she cuts in with a delighted giggle, laughter quickly replacing the lead that had settled on her shoulders.

Despite the blush blooming in his cheeks, it’s enough to return the air to his lungs.

“Mallum…” She cocks her head and fixes him with a warm smile, eyes twinkling. “You do.”

[everything-redacted00]

Starstruck<33

Charlie is famous and Casper is his bodyguard pt.1

———————————————————————

It was rainy day as Casper made their way to the pop stars penthouse.

Casper was one of the best bodyguards out there that’s one of the reasons Charlie hired them they were quick, strong, skillful, but they were also very beautiful but Charlie didn’t know that…..yet.

*knock knock knock*

Uh come on in.

The door opened and the most beautiful person Charlie has ever seen walked through the door. Charlie was starstruck staring at them in the doorway.

hello my name is Casper and I’ll be your knew bodyguard.

Huh what.. oh yeah right my bodyguard *Charlie clears his throat* uh yeah my name is Charlie.. it’s nice to meet you Casper.

you know you really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked like that someone could get in.

ah shit your right I always forget to lock the door when I come in.. I’ll get better about that. Now uhm dont you need a tour or something?

yeah that would be good if you don’t mind showing me around sir.

s-sir ah you don’t need to call me sir just call me Charlie.

oh ok uh Charlie well would you mind giving me a tour please.

yup come along

they walked through Charlie’s huge penthouse going into every room as Casper made mental notes of possible break in points while Charlie made mental notes of how beautiful they are.

Welp looks like we’re done did you see everything you need to?

yeah I got it you should be safe

uh right.. good! When are you gonna sleep tho?

Sleep? Uhm I don’t really know I guess they’ll just have to switch out bodyguards every now and then. Do you have any bodyguards for that?

uhm no.. but I do have a room for you to sleep and I should be ok!

Casper thinks for a second* I am I light sleeper I guess I would wake up for any loud sounds.. that should be ok

well good now that we got that settled do you want something to eat? I’m not any type of cook or anything like that but I can make I bit of a meal

oh no that’s ok but thank you though.

oh alright well how about you tell me about yourself.

Charlie sits down in the couch and pats the seat next to him

oh alright

next thing you know two hours has gone by of Charlie and Casper talking and getting to know each other and Charlie has caught himself falling hard for Casper and Casper might return the feelings

hey Casper it’s uh *Charlie looks at the clock* eleven twenty three

Ah shit you might wanna get going to sleep and I’ll make sure nothing happens especially after.. the incident

ah… right yeah well uh night cas- I mean Casper not cas… uh sorry

n-no it’s ok you can call me cas if you want

oh alright well goodnight Casper

Goodnight Charlie

And there he went back to his room as Casper watched with a faint blush spreading across their face but they had a job too so Casper grabbed a chair and sat by Charlie’s door it was gonna be a long night.

———————————————————————

that’s pt.1 of famous Charlie and bodyguard Casper series I’m writing

If you wanna get tagged in the other parts just ask

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 7.9

“Why are you being nice to me?” Avery asked. “Was I mean before?” “You weren’t… this.” “You came. You went looking.”

:)

Jessica’s face was very close, and her expression was very intent, and she was being caring and even though Jessica wasn’t the build she really liked, the rest of those things were enough together to get her attention.

... yeah

“You’re turning blue,” Snowdrop said.  “You’re getting cold.” Avery’s face felt warm. Was she flushed?

oh poor Avery. Somehow I'm not surprised she blushes easily

“You don’t keep your third in the loop?” Jessica asked.

I like that she's watching out for Avery

The Wolf stood opposite Avery.  Old, hunched over, but big, wearing a startlingly red dress.  Laila laid at the woman’s feet.

oh. My first thought was this was a flashback, but Laila being there rules it out. And I'm inclined to think it isn't a normal trauma dream.

“Both at the same time.  The world’s dream, your dream.  One and the same.  Humans make up the world and that has its border.  Its sharp edge.”

Cool way of looking at the world/paths. Interesting to see it defined as the border of the world humans define... I wonder if the Paths were already there when the world was run by Others, and how they've changed?

Also, we haven't heard much about the wolf and the forest ribbon trail, but it left a mark on Avery. Feels weird to say, but I'm glad it's coming up again rather than lurking in the background or getting glossed over

So was Clementine, unconscious.  So were some other adults Avery didn’t recognize.  Alexander was waking students.

more of Bristow's Aware? not sure which ones, I think most of those we've heard about are accounted for

Mist over everything.  Motion made more real.  She could see connections, and she could see movement.  Changes in expression clearer than expressions themselves.

oh neat. We knew about the connection aspect before, but not sure if the movement part has shown up. Very fitting for Avery.

The step away gave her a better view of her little friend.  Her companion, and the way connections between Lucy and Snowdrop were dissolving.  The connections between Snowdrop and Avery.

bad! Is this something like Sharon, where she makes things more mundane, and Snowdrop is affected as an Other?

You’re a Lost, denizen of Paths.  You can’t hold onto stuff, you told me that.  Not weird you lost your grip on it.

oh fuck she lost the protection from the eye

“If I die here, I’m going to leave you without a cool shirt on,” Snowdrop said.  “Funny.”

no! not allowed!!

Snowdrop had fainted.  Kevin’s influence had pulled away, thinking his job was done.

fuck yeah oppossum!!!! play dead !!!!

“No,” Rae said, again, before adding, “I can’t be alone.  I won’t ever be alone again.”

very thematic to be Avery's opponent

Avery turned, took a running start, and leaped from the rooftop of the workshop to the canopy over the outdoor dining tables.

parkour! Zoomtown keeps being useful practice!

“Uncle!  Reid!” Raquel shouted.

Enjoying how them not paying attention to Raquel gets back at them. I don't think there's time to work at it now, but long term I bet she could be convinced to defect from her family

“I guess I’m giving up on a really cool position with a group of Augurs.  And ending up on the bad side of both Bristow and Belanger,” Nicolette said.  She pushed Avery and Lucy behind her.  “I’m probably going to be in a lot of debt as far as deals I’ve made, I might lead the rest of my life destitute, doing this.  But… I think I can make do.”

I want to cheer for this, and I am very proud of Nicolette here, but mostly I'm worried. She's right that she's made some powerful enemies over the past few days, and I don't think she has a plan for settling things so she can walk away. I suppose this might win her some forgiveness from Alexander? I doubt it will make him trust her, but maybe not press on what she owes? I wonder if Kennet could step in... having an Augur around could be handy.

And this wasn't what they were planning on, but I think it counts as a second win.

“Did you forget I’m better than you?” Chase asked. “You are… as an augur,” Nicolette said.  “I’m pretty darn good with some scary arts, you know.”

also just better in general as a human being

"Two students who barely rate? Lesser daughters from lesser families?”

wow. way to show what you think of your students.

“Four,” Verona said. “Mccauleigh has doubts, and Nicolette’s abandoned you."

ok, so Nicolette is being counted as part of the "students leaving" victory, not as her own one

“And!?  For all this petty teenage drama, this interference, this petulance!?” he asked.

Bristow is reminding me of Verona's dad here. Huh. That might be a factor in how eager she's been to challenge him

Taking Clementine’s hands.  Avery’s momentum was such that she circled around Clementine, spinning the woman in a half-circle.

yes! Alexander may have brought her here, but the girls are the reason she thought of leaving. They recruited one of Bristow's Aware! That's a third victory!

“They’re kids!” Clementine spoke up.  “They’re kids, and I don’t understand anything, but they were kind to me and they should be listened to, not talked over, especially by their teachers.  I think they were fair to me, when they could have been harsh.”

Clem is currently winning for best adult. Also nice to see mercy and fairness offered to opponents come back to help down the line. We've also seen that with Nicolette and Brie.

So do tenants who think you’ve failed to do a very good job, because you’re spreading yourself too thin. My sink still needs fixing, I can speak on behalf of a few others who have wanted your help or attention but haven’t been able to get in touch.

... I should contact my landlord, it's been literal months since they said they'd do fixes

“I am in my rights,” she said, glancing at Alexander, “to demand an answer now.”

oooh. Look like someone should have kept a planner of all his outstanding obligations!

“Question one,” Clementine said.  “How may I, Clementine Robertjon, or anyone I designate to search on my behalf, access the most valuable pieces of information you keep on me?”

I went back and looked at the deal, and she gets to ask ten and he picks one to answer. Tricky to pick ten that are all evenly valuable. I wonder if Alexander gave her guidance on questions Bristow can't or won't answer to force him to pick from a smaller field? Either way, this would be good to have answered to whittle away at Bristow's control, though maybe not immediately useful since this would just be where to get access to information

“How many I, or anyone I designate to search on my behalf, access the most valuable pieces of information you keep on Ted Havens, tenant and assistant manager of the building?”

oh. ohhhh. She can ask over and over again, for different tenants each time. Technically different questions, but they all lead back to the same diagram of information.

Everything you have on them, to keep them under your thumb? It’ll be long gone by the time you even cross the provincial border.

oh, nice. He takes Alexander's power base, Alexander takes his.

“In a little while, bad things will come to pass. Things that end cities. I don’t know what they are, but the conditions are right. What I was going to build here would have prepared us. Yes, it’s harsher. Yes, fewer students make it through, but we’d be ready and organized against threats to come. It won’t be in the next few years, it may not even be in the next decade, but I think these wrongs are coming in your lifetimes. And I damn the lot of you to it.”

... well. That's ominous. Reminds me a bit of the end of the first Mistborn book.

And I'd imagine that what's essentially a dying curse would carry weight.

I wonder what this could be? For conservation-of-narrative reasons, I'm assuming it's connected to Kennet and the Carmine Beast. Which would make it ironic if Bristow was so focused on his solution that required him to be in control as the hard man making hard choices that he missed the actual clues.

“You’re not headmaster,” Nicolette called out.

yessss

“The alternative is having me as a very dangerous enemy.” “Understood,” Ray answered, quiet, very serious.

well done, Mr. Sunshine

[johnbronze]

Blue Skies Excerpt

HEYYY thiam nation / Blue Skies nation!! so today is January 15, the anniversary of the great molasses flood, and I’m not quite ready to release the chapter that this snippet of Blue Skies at Twilight is part of today, like I planned, but I didn’t wanna let this very timely meme-meta moment go by... so here’s a little teaser of a scene from an upcoming chapter<3

(there’s a little bit of lore/timeline clarification in here too >;3c ... hehe)

---

“Hey, since we’re playing twenty-questions… how old are you? I never asked that either—” Theo hmms out loud, laughing at the tail end and lifting himself up onto his elbows to look over at Liam. Liam blinks, looking a little caught out with Theo’s eyes on him. He’s got a faint bit of color blossoming at his cheekbones, and Theo watches him, amused.

“Well,” he drawls out, “I’m pretty sure you just skipped over my turn to ask you somethin’, but I’ll let you off this once…” Theo flashes a crooked sort of teasing look, then tears his eyes away, looking upwards as if he’s thinking out loud. He ticks the potential answers off on his hands, watching the halo of stage light peek through gaps between his fingers as he raises his arms again. “…There’s how long I’ve been around, and then there’s what year I was born, or how old I was when the Doctors took me.” He turns back to catch the way Liam’s mouth opens in an ‘o’ shape.

“Right, gotcha. Well, I know it’s kinda rude to ask a lady her age, but I wasn’t sure if that also applies to…um…” Theo grins even more at the stilted way Liam trails off, awkwardly unsure of how to get out of the hole he’s dug himself with the comparison. The blush deepens prettily on Liam’s face, and Theo rolls over, closer, to brace on his elbows, his stomach bare against the chilly expanse of the stage, where his shirt has ridden up. He props his chin up on his fists, furrows his brow. The teasing tone comes too easily, a Cheshire grin barely held back as he speaks again, jaw bouncing up and down against his hands. “Hey now, everything’s jake, Li! I’m no lady. I’m not gonna hit you with my pocketbook for askin’.”

Liam laughs, copies his motion, turning over to lay on his stomach as well.

Theo continues, as Liam settles: “...I was 22 when they took me, in early 1920, so… I was born in 1898, and oh what a year—”

“ —Oh my god!” Liam gasps, drums his hands against the stage in a frenzy of sudden excitement. “Wait, so you must have been in Boston on January 15th, 1919... and you were, like, old enough to remember the Great Molasses Flood?”

Theo jolts, absolutely dumbfounded. “What…? I—” his jaw works, and Theo manages: “...how do you even know about that? People still talk about it?” ‘you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met’ and ‘maybe it’s not people, maybe it’s just you, again’ bounce around inside of him too. He closes his mouth with a head shake; makes them stay there.

---

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Epistle From a Friend

Collab with @jumpingjoy82 for @tylindel

Chapter two

Ao3

Chapter one

“Marinette,” her mother called up, “there’s a package for you!”

‘Package?’ She idly wondered, ‘I don’t remember ordering anything.’ Making her way down the staircase, Marinette quickly ran through her thoughts wondering what it may be. Finally at the bottom, she gasped when she saw the size of the package, and recognized that the label was in English.

“I’m not sure who this ‘Damian’ boy is, but I hope you plan to introduce us to him soon,” Sabine said with a knowing smile on her face, “you know I love meeting all of your new friends. I have to go back to the bakery to help your Papa, have fun with whatever.”

Glancing back down at the package, she opted to bring it up to her room, rather than opening it beforehand, which would lead to a larger clean up, and more trouble for her in the long run.

“Marinette,” her kwami greeted her, “what’s this? And who’s Damian? I don’t think I’ve met or even heard of him before.”

“He’s…” Marinette paused, trying to find a good word to describe their relationship, as she hasn’t seen or heard from him since she was eight, with him being nine.

“He’s an old friend,” she finally decided on, “We used to play together when we were kids, just right around the corner in the park. Usually we played ‘I spy’ even with him referring to it as ‘locate the target’” giggling while thinking about old memories, she continued, “he was always so well spoken, and shorter than me at the time.”

Smiling her holder, Tikki flitted around in joy, happy with the prospect of Marinette having more friends than the ones in Paris. While they were good, Tikki just felt like it would be good to have friends outside of the class.

“Well, go ahead and open it,” she exclaimed, positively buzzing with excitement.

“Okay, okay, I’m opening it.”

Reaching down, she carefully slid her fingernail down the middle, slicing through the tape, as to allow her to open it. Once opened, all she could see was lots of tissue paper, with a single envelope settled on top, labeled Marinette in very neat penmanship.

Dear Marinette Dupain-Cheng,

I hope this package arrives at your domicile promptly and is up to your standards. I must admit, as memory can prove to be a fickle thing, I should reintroduce myself. My name is Damian, and we became acquainted in our youth through frequent meetings/run-ins at a park. You also may not remember me, but I included some drawings that may prove to be helpful reminders. The reason behind this correspondence was due to the fact you were a ‘pleasant’ aspect of my adolescent years and my father has asked for me to reflect upon these times. During my reflection my thoughts continue to return to you.

Your old acquaintance, Damian W.

 

Marinette blushed a bit, reading that she was one of the better aspects of his childhood. Placing it over to the side, she pulled out a bit of tissue paper that was left in the box, revealing bundles of fabrics, all of different shades and patterns. She had to admit that it brought a faint mist of tears to her eyes, knowing that he still remembered the conversation that they had as kids, when Marinette had asked him what he wanted to be once he grew up.

“I will grow up to be like my grandfather. That is what is expected of me. My purpose.”

She didn’t quite like that answer. It wasn’t real in her eyes. He said what he would grow up to be, but he didn’t really say anything on what he wanted to be. What he actually wanted to do with this life.

“But what do you want to be?” she asked again, putting more of an emphasis on the word ‘want’. He looked startled for a moment, like no one had ever asked him such a question before. While Marinette was still a child, she still knew what it meant to be ignored in everything. To never have a choice in a matter. She didn’t like that Damian had never had the opportunity to actually think about what he wanted to do with himself.

“I think-” he started out, with some hesitation, “I think that I would like to do something involving animals, in the future. That will never happen though. Where I live pets and most animals of any sort are not allowed. They are seen as a weakness.” 

Sensing the boy's reluctance to continue on with the topic, Marinette turned the conversation back on her.

“My parents say that I can’t have a pet because of health code violations, and that it may cause issues with food or customers I think. I’ve wanted a hamster for a long time. I’ll get one when I grow up and make them a bunch of little clothes because I’ll be a fashionista plus designer. I want the hamster to match!”

As she rambled on, Damian got a thoughtful look on his face, only looking up when she tapped on his shoulder, telling him that it was time for her to go home. “I live right there, see?” and before she turned to go, he would say good luck with being a stylist, before he too, would go, towards wherever his mother would say that she was.

Deciding to repackage everything, she placed the fabrics back in the box. Reaching for the letter, she saw that it was flipped over, with a number on the back. Taking a glance at Tikki, she shakily reached for her phone, opening the phone app, and then dialing the number, hesitating, she did nothing but stare at the call button, wondering if it was too soon.

“Go ahead, Marinette!” Tikki urged her, “I think you should call. I think it’s only about 6 where he is.”

Nodding her head, she let it ring, and on the third ring, it was answered.

“Hello?”

Taglist:

[elysianslove]

please use this ask to elaborate on mattsun’s dick <33

AH YES THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING gotta do this before i start fasting lmfao.  this ended up being sadder than i thought, but it just ends up being kinda sweet and sorta hot. also this was way longer than i intended. post in reference.  

warnings; big dick mattsun, throwing up, pain kink (?), painful sex, insecurities, consensual taping  

okay remember when i mentioned the insecurity thing? let’s dive deeper into that; third years and mattsun are at some sleepover thing. it’s a little before graduation, and they don’t when they’ll see each other next, so they’re trying to make most of the time that’s left. the conversation progresses to sex, as it naturally does, and each of them admits some horrifying or embarrassing sex story. 

iwaizumi had sex with a girl who was extremely kinky and asked him to slap her, but— they don’t call him ace for no reason. 

oikawa lost his virginity to this girl and she started her period halfway through, but he was really young and didn’t realize that was something that could just happen? it wasn’t that he was immature about it. it was more that he fainted. 

hanamaki found out he was allergic to flavored condoms when he lost his virginity, and it was not fun. 

but then it was mattsun’s turn, and they’re all waiting for his embarrassing sex story, till he hits them with, “i’ve never had sex though,” and each and every one of their eyes bulge out of their heads. it’s the last thing they’d been expecting from him, from cool, suave, charming mattsun, but he continues to swear by it. and when they demand the reason — surely you’ve gotten the chance to before? — he admits it to them: “apparently my dick is too big.” and it’s comical to say out loud, because he’s only gotten with a handful of girls, barely any for it to be firm hypothesis. he thinks he’ll one day meet someone that doesn’t think it’s too big, it won’t fit, um i can give you a handjob, if that’s okay? 

all that evidently leads to a dick comparison, because how big can it really be? and once mattsun sees his best friends’ eyes widen at his hardened dick, it sinks in. shit, he really is big, isn’t he? 

“holy shit, mattsun,” makki says, and he’s bashful as he stares at his best friend’s dick. “how would that fit inside anyone?” and mattsun’s already growing soft, tucking his dick back in his pants and moving to wash his hands after kicking makki rightfully in the chest. 

college comes around, and he passes by a thousand girls crying about how the boy from last night’s dick was so small, ugh i wish i had an 8 inch, and the things i’d do to have my guts rearranged. he sees a little light in this tunnel of endless blue balling, and meets a girl, takes her back to his dorm with his lips biting at her neck and her hands fumbling with his belt. as soon as he falls onto the bed, as soon as she straddles him, naked, and moves to slip off his trousers, anxiety meets him halfway again, and he holds in a breath as she pulls at the hem of his pants and takes his boxers with her.

the gasp his half hardening cock pulls out of her is confusing. he can’t tell what to make out of it, but she spits on her palm and grips his hefty cock in her small palm, unable to have her fingertips meet. her eyes are wide, but she seems determined, even tilts her hips forward, but she resorts to, “can i just suck you off?” 

and mattsun thinks alright, that’s an upgrade. 

when she ends up throwing up because she underestimates his size and overestimates herself, mattsun offers her his bathroom to clean up, and grabs her a bottle of water as she leaves. 

he ends up losing his virginity to some masochist, and it’s not very memorable or anything he’d ever imagined it be. it sits high on his list of regrets: he cums way too early, and hurts the masochist too much for it to be enjoyable in any way. but he texts the old third year groupchat and types in “i lost my virginity 😎” and receives the praise he had expected. 

for months to come, he fucks his fist every other night to amateur porn and watches as some camgirls’ cunts swallow inches and inches of plastic cock. he hooks up with some girls only to have them sit on his face and kitten lick at the head of his cock. some swallow a little bit of his cock, some fondle at his balls, but none ever let him fuck them. oikawa sends him links for sex toys, and mattsun feels as pathetic as ever, but he buys a fleshlight anyways and finds purchase in how tight it feels around his cock, how wet and slippery it is, how it properly milks him dry. makki meets him during a break and offers to suck his dick for him, but mattsun flips him off and kicks at his stomach again. 

it’s during his third year that he meets you. 

you’re sweet and charming, , and you have pretty hair, and he likes your style, and you laugh at his stupid jokes. you call him handsome, and you call him pretty, and you compliment his hair when it’s at its curliest. you send him the weirdest memes and tell him it reminds you of him, and you pick him up at obscure times because you’re craving nuggets or ice cream or ramen or licorice. he asks you to be his girlfriend and when you say yes, he blushes so forcefully that he has to scrunch up his face to try and hide it. he lets you meet his friends through a screen, and he buys you matching rings because he enjoys the subtlety of it all, and he orders donuts to be sent to your place  during your exam week. 

being with you is a dream, so much that when he hovers above you, kissing at your lips like he always does and sucking at your neck the way you love, and you murmur that you want him, want all of him, his hands fumble and shake. he tries to hide it, but his breath is shakier and his chest is flushed, his eyes a little hazy. you’re so gentle with him, and he hadn’t known he needed it until you’re straddling him and slowly smoothing your hands down his chest, palming him through his too tight briefs, squeezing softly. 

when your hands reach for his briefs, his own snap to your wrist, and he dares to beg, “please stay,” and you kiss him in response. your breath hitches at the sight of him, and your hand shakes when you spit on it and grip at his cock, but despite your initial hesitance you don’t falter. 

you stroke tentatively at his cock, squeezing him tightly, and fall closer to him, hovering your lips by his as you ask of him, “stretch me— stretch me for you.” 

there’s only one word to describe everything mattsun had been feeling in that moment, and it’s overwhelmed, but it’s somehow in the most positive way. he sits up straight, keeping you on his lap. his fingers find your dripping cunt and he pushes one, two, three, four fingers inside of you. he makes you cum twice, fingers curled and rapidly thrusting into you, other hand occupied with your sloppy clit and mouth latched onto your nipple. you praise him and thank him and cry for him and writhe in his hold as he pleasures you, and when you’re breathless and limp in his arms, he waits for the ball to drop, for you to give into your anxiety and hesitance. 

except you don’t. 

you lift yourself up on trembling knees, hands settled on and gripping his shoulders, and with teary eyes, you say, no, you beg, “make it fit.” 

he has stars in his eyes as he grips his cock tightly with one hand, the other holding you to him by your waist. it’s slow, it’s painfully slow, but mattsun has never treasured time as much as in that moment. he takes in everything, from the way your body tenses at the first intrusion when his tip presses against your hole, to the small gasps and moans as you take more and more of him in, at the sweat that beads at your temple and that rolls between your breasts. he marvels at the heave of your chest and the roll of your tummy as you curve in yourself, and he revels in the press of your lips to his, in the pull your arms looping around his neck and pressing his chest flush to yours. 

he does cum too early, but you don’t chastise him. you only continue to ride his soft cock, his cum messily dribbling out, and he ignores the sting from his sensitivity in favor of rubbing at your clit, sending you over the edge eventually. 

he texts the old third years groupchat that night again, with you sleeping soundly by his side, comfortable beneath his blankets, “why didn’t you guys tell me sex was this good? fake friends,” and sends a picture of him shirtless, sweaty, and with a post-sex flush to his cheeks and messy curls, with the middle finger. 

maybe you shouldn’t have let him have a taste of you, because he fucks you in bed the next morning, sleep still settled deep in your bones, and then he fucks you in the shower, and then he eats you out splayed out on his dinner table. he videotapes you sucking him off, with your permission, and watches it when you’re too far out of reach. he sends you pictures after a shower, gripping his cock through the briefs he’d quickly slipped in, hair wet and curly and matted to his forehead, skin damp and glistening. and when you react so positively, he blushes, to his dismay. you meet his friends and they joke about how you’re still alive, but you brush them off and tell them you’ve never felt more satisfied. 

with every single time he watches his cock sink into your warm, tight, sloppy cunt, and every time he watches you swallow around him, and every time he makes you cry and leaves you braindead, leaves you mindless and begging for more, his confidence grows. so much until he learns to be cocky about it, so much that when he barely preps you and pushes into you, he shivers at the way you whine and tense up, at the way you flinch and lightly thrash. because you’re a good girl, aren’t you? always take my cock so well, don’t you? nobody but you, nobody like you. 

and it’s true; it’s nobody but you for him. in every single way.

hello what the fuck am i doing. i did not think this was gonna escalate like this hfskjfns but anyways, big dick mattsun for the win <3