#it was hard enough coloring the cloak

[hotrodpixkup]

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

and happy pride to these assholes. it's still june so i can technially still make that joke right

[chaosbloot]

Oc art Oc art Oc art Oc art Oc art Oc art Oc art

[thegnomelord]

me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

[robertdowneyjjr]

tony stark doesn't die.

he burns, from the inside out. the infinity stones are too much for a regular human to handle, and the iron man suit could only do so much. so he burns.

human inventions aren't adequate enough to combat cosmic damages. super soldier blood transfusions do nothing. gamma infused hulk blood also has no effect. extremis is a lost cause.

the entire right side of his body barely functions anymore. and his face. oh god, his face. it's so damaged, so scarred, tony can barely look himself in the mirror anymore, let alone expect others to look at him without cringing away.

so he hides.

he builds new armor. gone are the flashy colors. no more red and gold. just plain old gunmetal grey. gone are the nanobots. no more skin-hugging technology. just cold hard planes of metal. back to unflinching, terror-inducing steel, like the suit he wore when he flew out of that cave over a decade ago.

he hardly ever takes it off. it's the only way he can get his body to just move. it's life support. it's a high-tech prosthesis.

but that's not enough.

he's just so ashamed. sure, he's saved the world. but while everyone else lives on, he's barely surviving. so he covers himself up the best he can. with the armor. then with a cloak, so he looks a little softer, a little more inviting. not that it matters, when he hardly lets anyone see him anymore.

he stops wearing red. he can't even look at that color anymore, when all it does is remind him of the day he couldn't just die.

what's the opposite of red?

he wears green instead.

people looked at iron man and saw hope.

now people look at anthony stark and see doom.

------

steve rogers doesn't die.

he lives a happy life, with the one who got away, and returns to his timeline knowing that he's fulfilled his lifelong dream and he can rest well knowing what it's like to grow old with the love of his life.

except that wasn't actually his dream.

he goes back to the future and finds out the man he's in love with is still alive, and if he plays his cards right, steve might just get to spend the rest of his life with tony.

but steve is old. and he's dying. the rest of his life could only last so long.

and tony doesn't even want to see him. tony doesn't want to see anyone.

so steve begs. he sends messages through friday. notes under the door. anything he can think of, he tries.

"please, give us a chance."

it takes longer than steve has time for, but he finally wears tony down. when tony opens the doors to the lab for steve, he hands over three vials filled with molten orange liquid.

"extremis. modified and enhanced trifold for a super soldier. it's a risk, but if it works, you'll have at least another fifty years left."

steve takes the risk.

his muscles come back. his wrinkles disappear. his hair darkens from white to gold.

steve picks up tony, armor and cloak and all, and spins him around in joy. he's so happy, he lights up from within.

literally, he lights up. his skin glows orange. he's dangerously hot to the touch. he breathes, and smoke escapes his mouth.

but becoming a human torch is a small price to pay if it means he gets to be with tony.

[98752-blog]

super scary pt2

TW: Anal, coercion?, public fondling, public orgasm, tail pulling, thigh riding,

The bar was a cacophony of sound, low lights and a sea of colors and chaos.

It wasn't hard to spot your boys, tucked in the back of the bar, right by the washrooms, a wide view of the whole room.

What surprised you was the costumes they were sporting and even in your semi-delirious state you were baffled.

Your captain was sporting a phantom of the opera mask, dark cloak falling over his shoulders, overtop of the crisp suit he wore.

Gaz was nearly looking like himself, red jacket over an England football jersey, plaid trousers but his neck and hands were adorned with golden accessories.

The one that shocked you the most was your lieutenant, donning a denim vest over a black shirt, spikes atop his shoulders, a red feathery mohawk protruded from his mask, and he had even tied a red bandana around his bicep, the fabric flexing when he reached for his glass.

"Took you two long enough, thought you'd keep us waitin' all night." Ghost rumbled, taking a swig of his bourbon. You couldn't stop staring at him, only jerking in surprise when Soap pulled you onto the bench, your core and ass pulsing from the sudden movement.

A fresh wave of slick trickled down your thighs and you ducked your head in embarrassment, praying to the Gods that your squadmates wouldn't notice.

"Sorry, Lt. Our lil medic had a bit of an issue with 'er costume - couldnae quite figure i' out but I helped. Ain't tha' righ' birdie?" Soap nudged you conspiratorially, you scowled at him, heat rising beneath your cheeks, you could feel your heartbeat in your cunt - and having four pairs of eyes on you certainly wasn't making things more bearable.

"I didn't want to come." You admitted, frown marring your face.

"You lost a bet." Ghost surmised, assessing your reaction instantly. You nodded in defeat, shifting in your seat when the plug pressed against the sensitive spot inside you. You could barely think, could barely breathe - the conversation was carrying on without you, which suited you perfectly, but you needed release, just a little scratch.

"Soap-", the pressure from sitting to standing had you gritting your teeth, hand reaching out to snatch his arm.

"Come with me to get more drinks." No room for argument in your tone, he shrugged when all eyes turned to him, scooting out of the booth and following behind dutifully.

"Doin' alrigh' bonnie? Lookin' awfully heated there." When you both finally reached the bar.

"And who's fault is that?" You seethed, eyes narrowing at his faux innocent expression. He smiled coyly, eyes half lidding when he spied the way your chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Och, dinnae flap, wee one - jus'a coupla hours and ye can work i' off teh yer hearts content." He leaned in, breath warming your ear further.

"Could go fer a quickie if yer real desperate." You squeezed your eyes shut when someone bumped into you from behind, jostling your tail up your ass even more. You hissed quietly, a whine slipping out, Soap pressed himself to your front, head dipped low to speak more filth in your ear - he was all you could see, all you could hear - the loud music drowned out in the sweet lull of his brogue.

"Could jus' take ye in the back, would only need a minute b'fore yer gushin' over ma fingers." You bit your lip, his lips grazed your forehead and you looked at him through your eyelashes, the red hood covering his head, hiding his mohawk, casted a shadow over his gaze - pinning you in place. You sucked in a breath, churning blue waters; a thunderstorm waiting to happen, if you looked away you would be sucked back in, you would drown.

"W-we can't risk it. They'll know..." You whimpered, thighs gently pressing together to abate the hunger licking you in your gut. He smirked, lips pressing to your brow.

"Big ba' wolf, not so ba'. More like a wee pup." He crooned, near mocking. You couldn't bring yourself to retort, at some point you had slipped so close to Soap his thick thigh had come in-between your legs, pressing up against your cunt, just barely grazing the anal plug.

Lost in your haze you barely registered someone coming up right behind you, and tugging on your tail - heat lapped at your insides, you gasped, a moan leaving your throat, the motion sent you jerking into Soap, placing even more pressure on your already sensitive clit. Two sets of hands steadied you as you keened, an orgasm tearing through you, making you stumble.

"Fuckin' 'ell," you heard behind you.

Oh no, oh no, no, no, no

"Ghost," You whined, his warm hands shifting from your waist to your hips. You tipped your head, gaze looking upwards - his dark brown eyes were nearly black, brows lowered behind his mask. Fuck you must have looked like a sight, hair messy, face glistening and mouth agape, desperately trying to breathe through your post orgasmic daze, while your hips were softly rocking back and forth.

"Thought you lot were pickin' a scrap. Looks like I was wrong." Heat curled once more in your cunt, he hadn't taken his hands off you, in fact, he hadn't even looked away - his darkened eyes pinning you in place.

"Innit she jus' tha cutest, Lt.?" Soap said, mouth stretched in a grin, Ghost hummed behind you, eyes dancing over your features before rising to meet Soaps stare.

"Prettiest girl I ever seen." Ghost agreed, you trembled in their hold - the praise dripping down your legs in near rivulets, soaking through Soap's pants..

"Should sho'er how pretty she is." A set of hands drifted down your body, hands gently prying your cheeks apart, something thick pressed itself into you from behind, the rough material doing nothing to hide the size and hardness.

"Does this pup follow orders?"

"Guess we'll find out, Eh, L.t?"

For my muses: @shotmrmiller , @charliemwrites, @ghouljams

you make my worms feel seen

[inexplicifics]

What or rather who are the Eldritch Trio? It sounds familiar but I can't place it.

Heh, the eldritch trio are what happens when I go "alright but what if Geralt and Eskel and Gweld got some interesting alterations to their Grasses and ended up a little more inhuman than possibly the mages desired?"

Lambert knows he got a different blend of mutagens than his older brothers did. That’s because everyone got a different blend than they did. Their year, the mages decided to experiment, and even the sort of mages who go in for mutagen research are sane enough that after they saw the results, they decided not to do that ever again. There were only three survivors of that year: Geralt, Eskel, and Gweld. Geralt, the mages gave twice the usual Grasses, and he still came out looking the most human of the three. His hair is white as bone and his eyes are a startling true gold and his teeth are very, very sharp, but he looks mostly normal. Until he moves, with a liquid grace and speed that makes something in even witcher hindbrains shudder and draw back in fear. He’s much, much stronger than a witcher ought to be, and he can move as silently as a shadow, and something in his roughened voice makes terror skitter down a listener’s spine when he is angry. He doesn’t talk much anymore. Gweld got a different mix, and it’s probably a good thing he only got a single dose of it, because it gave him the sort of inhuman beauty only mages and incubi have, the sort that it’s hard to look away from. His eyes are the color of coals, deep burning orange, and if he meets someone’s gaze, it’s like Axii: they melt to his will. Also his hair is made of fire, now, instead of just being fire-colored, and his body temperature is just a little hotter than is truly comfortable to touch. Lambert suspects if Gweld had gotten a double dose of that, he wouldn’t have made it off the table…and also the entire keep might have gone up in unstoppable flames. And Eskel, poor bastard, whatever the mages gave him, it forced his latent connection to Chaos wide open, so that his power spills out around him…into vast, writhing tentacles of black shadow edged with amber light the same shade as his eyes. They’re only solid when he wants them to be, and they’re terrifying to face on the training field, because they’re impervious to pretty much all damage and they’re stronger than an angry chort. And Eskel has absolutely perfect control of them, including being able to cast Signs through his godsdamned tentacles. Most of the time, they look like a strange cloak, shrouding him in shadow-and-amber; and then, at least when he’s comfortably at home in Kaer Morhen, one of them will flick out to grab something off a shelf or pull one of his brothers closer, and Lambert is reminded all over again that his brothers are something that’s not even a little bit human anymore.

[perfectlyoongi]

LONG-DISTANCE!YOONGI who takes a photo of the moon every night and always sends it to you with the same description. and you saved all the moons. in a way, Yoongi counted the days spent with you, even though he was miles away. in a way, that moon kept all your conversations and promises to itself; between its craters, in its darkest places, the moon wrapped your words in a small starry cloak that would be kept there, far from the evil of the whole world, always waiting for your first date to make it rain all the stars that your words turned into. “i had another conversation with the moon today. she told me her love story with the sun. i could only talk about you.”

LONG-DISTANCE!YOONGI who orders flowers for you on the most important dates. birthdays or promotions, good news or a task accomplished, any opportunity was seized by Yoongi, always ordering large, colorful bouquets that lasted eternities on your table. Yoongi might be far away, but he did everything he could to make up for his absence, showing you small acts of love that always filled your heart. Yoongi knew you and, as such, he knew how to love you — and sometimes flowers speak louder than mere words. “i’m not there, but i want you to know that won’t stop me from showing my love for you. it’s just a reminder that i love you.”

LONG-DISTANCE!YOONGI who falls asleep with you on call. he didn’t do it on purpose, he swore, but there were days that were simply exhausting and only your comfort could soothe Yoongi’s soul. it seemed almost instinct to Yoongi. when he got home and knew you were available he would call you immediately. a quick dinner while he told you about his day. quickly tidying up the kitchen while he listened to you talking about your day. and the comfort of his bed when all the tiredness weighed on Yoongi. wrapped in your words, when you spoke about everything and nothing, Yoongi listened to you attentively, really, but your voice was an ethereal melody for Yoongi, which cradled him in divine comfort and made him dream without him even realizing it. “i swear your voice is all i need to recharge my energy. only you, your voice and your soul are enough to make me feel safe and truly rest.”

LONG-DISTANCE!YOONGI who offers you a basic hoodie in your favorite color with a small personalized tag. Yoongi knew perfectly well that what you craved most were his hugs. Yoongi knew perfectly well that you would only found comfort and courage in his arms. but Yoongi also knew he was far from you, separated by painful miles. that’s why Yoongi bought you a hug. in the form of a sweater, warm and cozy, Yoongi offered you a hug that would comfort you when he was on the other side of the screen. “when you wear this hoodie, i’m hugging you. a warm fabric that will always reflect my soul. i love you.”

LONG-DISTANCE!YOONGI who shows your photos and videos to his closest friends. Yoongi was in love. he already knew that, he had already accepted it. so it was only natural for Yoongi to talk about you. of course he was a private man and wanted your story to be yours alone, private; but he couldn’t hide the wide smiles that took shape whenever a notification from you appeared on his cell phone; he couldn’t hide the radiant glow that beautified his eyes every time he saw a photo, a video of you. he liked you. you liked him. Yoongi wanted to show everyone how lucky he was. but for now, just his closest friends were enough. “it’s when i talk about you to them that i really realize how lucky i am. you like me. me. someone so insignificant and normal. i am the one who conquered you. and i still find it hard to believe that this is true. but, oh, how happy i am.”

LONG-DISTANCE!YOONGI who makes a list of all the things he wants to do and say when he sees you for the first time. it was something childish, pathetic, Yoongi knew that, but he couldn’t control his hands when they started typing quickly on his cell phone with phrases that he could only tell you in person. and, behind words, plans emerged, possible outings and probable moments to adorn Yoongi’s notes with the celestial magic of a love so lasting and eternal that not even distance could break it apart. “with every plan i make, it’s as if a new flame of hope lights up inside me. the hope of seeing you. the hope of being with you. the hope of finally being able to love you as you deserve to be loved.”

LONG-DISTANCE!YOONGI who appears on your doorstep on your first birthday. you had agreed to start dating only when you were physically together, but that didn’t stop you from celebrating small dates that were also important to you — among them, the day you started talking. and, on that warm spring morning, when they knocked on your door, you never expected to see Yoongi in front of you, with a smile on his lips, a sparkle in his eyes and flowers in his hands. he was there. in front of you. physically. you and Yoongi were together for the first time. you and Yoongi were together. finally. “i can’t believe i can finally tell you in person how much i like you. i love you. so much, but so much. my love for you consumes me from the inside and shapes my entire existence to be able to love you.”

[violet-eng]

Lantern Rite Zhongli x fem!reader - NSFW of course

Summary: Zhongli likes reader! since the first day he saw her. Then, during the Lantern Rite, he finds a spot where to watch the show together and do it. The second part wasn't planned. Old man just wanted some time with his crush but ended up doing it.

Warnings: Smut as always. piv. Outdoors sex? Unprotected sex (wear a condom please)

World count: idk, but it's a lot.

(🎨by @gorooon0402)

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .┊ ┊ ⋆˚         ✧. ┊         ⋆ ★

The first time Zhongli saw you was at the top of the city, at the place where Rex Lapis had died. You had caught his attention, kneeling in front of the place, offerings in front of you and your head lowered.

He knew everyone in Liyue, somehow his ancient omniscience had given him that privilege, but you were a complete stranger. The cloak covering your body, the seams bruised and the hood worn, you had had a long journey, but you were there, praying.

You stood up, wiped your knees and adjusted your clothes. You headed towards the exit and brushed against his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft, just like your features. You were in his eyes the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life.

That same afternoon, Zhongli goes to the Bubu pharmacy in search of certain medications; his human form had been difficult for him to care for in recent years. He rings the bell on the table expecting Baizhu or Qiqi to appear, instead, you are the one who receives it. This time you wear a different cape, matte oak colors without a hood, allowing your face to be seen clearly, framed by your hair.

"What can I help you?" You ask, both hands on the table and a kind smile on your lips. Zhongli, due to vestiges of his ability as an Archon, perceives a certain energy emanating from you: perseverance, an unbreakable will accompanied by nostalgia and kindness. He realizes that you have come a long way in your life, that you know hard work and have extensive knowledge about the different nations of Teyvat. He wonders why he didn't give you a Vision when he was Rex Lapis, realizing you lack one. All of this is enough to awaken something in him, a human feeling that he thought he had gotten rid of a long time ago.

"I need medicine" is the only thing that can come out of his lips, while he spreads a prescription in front of you.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Baizhu warned me that someone like you would come" you say, taking a bag.

"Someone like me?" The phrase sparks a hungry curiosity in Zhongli.

"Yes, an elegant gentleman with an eloquent voice."

Those words send a wave of heat up Zhongli's spine, although his face doesn't flinch.

"I see, it's like Baizhu" he finally says.

The following months you find yourself invading Zhongli's mind, and the more he gets to know you he realizes the greater attraction he feels for you. It's not just your face, your smile or your gestures, it's the way you care for the patients that Baizhu can't care for, the way you tell the children about the things you've seen outside of Liyue, when you help Madam Ping with her teapot or when you bandage Yanfei's ankle for running from side to side.

You are the kind of person he decided to live for as a human, the kind of pure soul he had given up his gnosis for, the creature he hates not having created, even though he knows he would never have had the ability to create something so perfect like you.

The Lantern Rite arrives, the festival is bigger this year than last, and Zhongli, who watches everything from one of the tables at the Wanmin Restaurant, cannot help but feel slightly alone. He looks for you in the crowd, perhaps you could share stories of his expeditions as you have often done for a few weeks, but he can't find you anywhere. That worries him.

He asks about you in a subtle way, knowing that people hold you in high esteem for your work as an auxiliary doctor, discovering that you have been making outpatient visits all day to some of the adventurers who suffered a gunpowder accident while preparing the fireworks.

So Zhongli heads to the city dock, where he finds you leaving the house of one of your patients. He notices that you are exhausted, so he approaches you cautiously.

"It looks like you haven't rested all day" he says as he offers you a drink.

"Is it late for the event?" you ask after wiping your lips with the back of your hand.

"No, you're just in time."

"Madame Ping's place is probably full, not to mention the plaza. I was dying to see the lanterns this year," you say, looking over the sea, where you realize that they are preparing everything for the big event.

"I know a place..." Zhongli says, not very sure of his words although his tone of voice hides it pretty well.

So you two end up crossing the water in a boat, reaching the other shore, from where you can see the coast of Liyue.

You are amazed by the sight, and you express it to Zhongli as you get rid of your cloak, revealing your clothes underneath, it is a dress, and Zhongli surprises himself by looking for where the zipper of your clothes would be or how easily It would be undoing your buttons.

The lanterns rise, and you pick up your legs as you follow the bright spots rising above the dark sky with your gaze. You watch the show and Zhongli looks at you, the amber color of the fudistant ego reflected faintly on your face.

You are alone, and that gives him enough courage to approach you, take your chin in his hand and turn your face towards his. You don't have time to react because his lips are against yours, gently sucking on your bottom lip.

You put your hands on his chest and separate yourself from him in search of air. He feels dazed, ecstatic, and ashamed all at once. He believes he has offended you, and regret consumes him until you kiss him again, this time wrapping your arms around his neck.

You feel the same as him, and that gives him enough courage to take off his jacket and tie while still kissing you. His hands go behind your back looking for that zipper that he had identified before, and then sliding it to reveal your body in lingerie. The image sends a ripple to his core and he suddenly feels imprisoned in his pants. He gently pushes you until your back is against the grass, damp from the rain a few hours ago, and he positions himself over you, your legs between his.

“Zhongli…” you whisper as you watch the way he undoes his shirt and then removes a glove with his teeth. You notice something primitive, almost animalistic, in his gaze.

As he undoes his pants you notice his hardened cock lifting the fabric of his underwear, your already wet center becoming even more soaked at the image of him on top of you.

Zhongli leans over you to kiss you as he gets rid of the fabric and is completely exposed to you. The image he gives you makes your nipples harden, and you close your legs even more before the incessant moisture that flows from you. Zhongli's body seems sculpted, his shoulders defined, his pectorals large, and his abdomen marked by his muscles. His cock points at you, big and thick, the head red with hunger at your center and a vein bulging on the side.

You gulp at the thought of what awaits you. You can't believe you're with him like this, outdoors, on the grass.

"We're alone, right?" you ask, and he smiles, leaning over you.

"Completely alone," he says, kissing your neck as one of his hands slides under the fabric of your bra, grabbing the soft flesh of your breast and teasing your nipple.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he whispers in your ear, his voice hoarse.

He takes off your bra, exposing your breasts to him. You try to cover yourself, but he grabs your hands and pulls them away from your breasts. He wants to see you, he has wanted to for weeks.

"Don't be shy," he hisses, tilting his head, a proud smile on his lips. You are completely blushing, "Let's see what else you have for me" he says, sliding one of his fingers between your breasts, down your abdomen and reaching the edge of your panties. He lowers them cautiously from both ends and when he takes them from you he brings them to his nose, inhaling your essence impregnated in the damp fabric. That only causes you to leak even more.

Zhongli throws the fabric along with the rest of the clothes and bows again, this time he won't pause as much. He glances at you as he spreads your legs with one hand, a lopsided smile appearing on his face as he notices how wet you are for him.

"All this just by touching you" he says as he slides two of his fingers through your folds making you shudder and arch your back, you are as needy for him as he is for you.

He brings his fingers to his mouth and tastes your juices, running his tongue over his lips.

"So sweet, and all for me," he growls.

He aligns himself with your entrance and suddenly you feel him slide easily inside you, it's as if you were tailor-made for him, specially created for him.

Zhongli pushes his way inside you, molding your walls to the shape of his cock.

“You're tight,” he whispers, stifling a moan, leaning over you and gripping the grass under his hands. The way you squeeze him drives him crazy.

When Zhongli is completely inside you, you throw your head to the side and cover your mouth so he doesn't hear you moan, you don't want to make him uncomfortable with some embarrassing sound.

"I want to hear you," he says, taking your hands and putting them on the sides of your head, "I want to hear you moan, scream, curse... no one else is going to hear you, only me."

You look at him with reddened cheeks, completely drugged with desire and lust. The way those words leave his lips, the way he looks at you while he's inside you, all of it makes you feel ready for whatever's next.

Zhongli moves slowly at first, drawing soft moans from you, he wants you to adjust to his size, he wants you to get used to his rhythm as he holds on your hips while he lets low moans into your neck.

You cling to his back and move your hips as if to signal that you are ready, that you want him to fuck you as he really wants.

When your insides feel empty without him, your walls clench around his tip, and then he slides all the way inside, hard and fast, giving you no time to process the thrust.

He does it one, two, three times, keeping your hips static against the grass, the friction against your buttocks burns at first, but then succumbs to the pleasure you feel every time he enters you, every time he hits your cervix and your g-spot. Every time he moans incoherently into your neck you forget that they are out in the open fucking like two animals in heat.

"So soft, so mine," he says between indecent moans as his tip arches inside you, hitting your cervix. You feel that at any moment he will cross into your uterus and split in half.

The force with which he thrusts into you is almost beastly, accompanied by grunts and his hand tangled in your hair. His mouth attacks your nipple, making you feel double stimulation.

Zhongli stands up and sits on the grass, placing you on top of him, on his hip. He never left your insides.

You cling to his neck and rest your head on his shoulder, the image of the approaching lanterns blurred by the tears in your eyes. Zhongli's hands on your hips mark the pace of penetration, sinking deeper into you if that is possible.

"Just like that, cutie, just like that~" he growls as he squeezes your glutes and abuses your pussy with his cock. You feel a knot forming inside you.

“Zhongli,” you moan, breathing heavily, arching your back and digging your nails into his shoulders.

He realizes you're about to reach your limit, and he lays you back down on the grass.

"Don't resist," he says as he lifts one of your legs and places it on his shoulder, giving you a wave of ecstasy from the new, even more pleasurable position.

You look at his face as he continues to move inside you, some of the lanterns fly above his head, the amber fire almost as intense as that of his eyes at that moment. You caress his cheek, that image of him, thirsty for your pussy with the flashlights on him, you want to keep it in your memory forever.

His thrusts become frantic and irregular in rhythm, you feel the burning in your belly and center grow more and more, like a flame of fire every time he touches the already quite abused rubbery spot. Zhongli goes on and on and on and then you feel him coming. The knot inside you unravels and you let out a scream as you mark his back with your nails. You've reached your orgasm, and overstimulation haunts you as Zhongli continues to move, seeking to reach his own climax.

He twists his mouth into a grimace and presses his hips against yours, releasing a load of his cum into your hole.

He's breathing hard, his forehead is sweaty, and his member is still inside you. You caress his chest and neck, he takes your hand and kisses the back. You are both silent, only your heavy breathing can be heard in the air.

"Oh my Rex Lapis" you finally say.

Zhongli smiles and kisses you on the lips after hearing you say that. Maybe in the future he will tell you about his past and who he really is, for now he just wants to be there, lying next to you, naked and watching the lanterns traveling through the night sky.

[ninibeingdelulu]

You're my home

synopsis-> Exhausted after a mission, high school!Geto find comfort in your arms.

The tranquil quiet of your dorm is disturbed by a sudden dull thud against wood - the unmistakable sound of the front door swinging inwards.

You glance up with a small smile curving your lips, already anticipating the heavy footfalls soon to follow.

Right on cue, Suguru's tall silhouette appears in the doorway moments later, shoulders slumped beneath visible fatigue from his latest mission.

You watch with a tender fondness blossoming in your chest as he forgoes even removing his dusty traveling cloak before making a beeline straight for the bed...and more importantly, you.

A breathless chuckle slips free at the unceremonious fashion in which your stoic lover simply collapses face-first across your lap in an uncharacteristic heap.

You card your fingers through his sweat-damp raven locks, gently working out the knots and tangles from an no-doubt arduous trek back home.

"….Hey, baby" you murmur with unabashed adoration coloring every syllable.

"Looks like the great Suguru Geto is dealing with a serious case of travel weariness today..."

Suguru simply groans in response, the sound muffled against the plush warmth of your thighs.

But there's no mistaking the way his entire frame steadily liquefies while surrendering fully to your tender ministrations.

With each rhythmic pass of your nimble digits working loose the tension knotting his scalp, a fresh wave of hard-earned tranquility visibly washes over Suguru’s striking features.

You make a considering hum low in your throat while raking your nails over his nape in slow, firm strokes - instantly pleased by the full-body shudder it elicits from your blissed-out partner.

"Hmm, that's what I suspected...just another day's work of you keeping our world safe, huh my handsome hero?"

One onyx eye cracks open a bare slit to pin you with that signature half-lidded glower positively dripping with dark bedroom promises despite his haggard state.

That look never fails to set your pulse racing no matter the scenario, a reminder of all the deliciously wicked ways Suguru can unravel you completely while using little more than a single darkly heated glance.

A rough, calloused palm finds purchase over your bare knee as he angles himself enough to nuzzle into your abdomen with an overplayed grunt of effort meant solely to tug an amused giggle from you.

There's that childishly roguish side reserved only for you that always manages sneaking out sooner or later.

You can't resist leaning down until your smile presses directly to the crown of his sweat-dampened hairline.

"A man of very few words today, I see..."

You tease while finally easing those questing fingers down over the bunched ropes of tension in his shoulders and back.

"How about we simply stay like this for a while longer, hon ? Allow me to give you a nice deep muscle massage to show how much I missed you while away keeping everyone safe all this time."

The responding groan that rumbles straight from his chest and outwards vibrates against your very core - a sound you know all too well as Suguru's unique language of sinful pleasure.

More words are unnecessary between the two of you in these stolen peaceful interludes.

As you continue kneading the residual stress from his battle-worn frame with devoted tenderness, Suguru nuzzles imperceptibly deeper into your welcoming space while draping one full leaden arm across your lap in a possessive half-embrace.

With not a single utterance required, his actions speak louder than any poetry regarding just how smitten your fierce protector remains with his sole source of softness and serenity no matter what storms batter against him daily.

And for those few blessed hours at least, you find the roles beautifully reversed as Suguru slips fully into repose - safe, shielded and completely at peace while ensconced within the comforting circle of your indomitable strength and nurturing embrace wrapping protectively around him like the sanctuary he'll always call home.

[trensu]

Some more of stasis in darkness. you have no idea how many times i've written this scene. i discarded three or four different versions of it before i came up with this one. i feel like this version worked best for the characters. or at least i hope they feel in character.

It was the ninth night.

Steve took his usual spot before the shrine. He greeted his god as he had before but decided tonight was going to be a quiet night. He didn’t have much to say so he’d simply let his faith burn bright in his silent vigil.

Hours passed, and again the strange man didn’t show up as he had been the nights prior. This time, Steve didn’t bother putting it off. He decided to do a perimeter check. As he stood, however, a cacophony of squeaks and beating wings filled the air.

A massive colony of bats burst into the clearing. They moved shockingly fast as they neared Steve and the shrine. Steve ducked his head under his arms but let the bats come. He ignored the little Robin in his head yelling about rabies. He couldn’t risk hurting one of his god’s favored creatures. 

There were so many of them, more than Steve had ever seen in his life. They flew round and round dropping altitude until they coalesced at the foot of the shrine. The din stopped as abruptly as it had started. When Steve could no longer hear a single squeak or feel wings zipping overhead, he lowered his arms. Cautiously, he lifted his head, eyes drawn immediately to the shrine to check for any damage. 

Not a single bat remained. Instead, the strange man sat, cross legged, at the statue’s feet. He wore a dark cloak comprised of deep navies, bruising purples, and an inky black. Each color slowly, gracefully shifted and melted one into another, again and again before Steve’s eyes. Flecks of light littered it in familiar formations. The clasp that secured it around the man was a bright silvery white. It was shaped exactly the same as the waning moon above. 

“Ta-da!” the man said, fluttering his hands in a showman’s gesture.

Steve took in the man's appearance. The ratty travel clothes, the cloak of constellations and its clasp…Steve leapt back in shock. Everything suddenly clicked into place very quickly to paint a very unflattering picture of himself. He whirled around. He couldn't face the shrine. 

"Shit," Steve's voice was loud with a stunned sort of panic as he remembered the events of the past week. He paced anxiously. "Shit, shit. It was y–the whole time, you were–FUCK. How did I miss–and even if you weren't you, you were still a traveler in the night and I treated you like–I'm a fucking idiot. I'm the stupidest man alive, how–"

"Probably from getting dropped on the head so much, huh?" the man asked with that same annoyingly self-satisfied voice he'd been using every night. The annoying stranger with his annoying questions and his stupid smug tone.

Mindlessly, Steve turned on his heel to glare at the man. He jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction, frustration flaring.

"Oh, you can fuck right off, man," Steve replied reflexively. "I am having a crisis!"

A split second later, he felt his stomach drop to his feet. This wasn't just a stranger talking. He backpedaled hard.

"Oh, ohhhh no, I didn't mean that, Lord, I-I wasn't thinking."

The man exploded into raucous laughter. It shook his whole body until he doubled over from the strength of it. He continued to laugh when he toppled off the side of his perch and landed with a thunk on the ground. The man sat up, wheezing and wiping at his face, mirth clearly keeping him in a choke-hold. 

"Oh, far be it for me to interrupt your crisis," the Lord of Night forced out amidst the laughter. He flapped a hand at him. "Please, continue."

The god attempted to regain composure but all that did was turn his full bellied guffaws into snorting giggles. Steve waited, his anxiety fading in the face of the god’s genuine good humor. It took another couple of minutes before the god calmed enough to pop back to his feet and climb back onto the plinth. The man made himself comfortable at the foot of his own statue as he had before.

"So how goes the crisis?" he asked mischievously.

"On hold," Steve said evenly, fighting back the start of a smile. The man said nothing but still radiated amusement. Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you really the Lord of Night?"

"The one and only!"

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yep!”

“So why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I talked to you every night! I don’t get it.” Steve paused as a thought occurred to him. “Was this a test?”

“Uh…yes? Yes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. The god shifted in his seated position. It reminded Steve of the time Dustin shattered a jar of his most expensive hair product and tried to hide it. Dustin had squirmed guiltily under Steve’s expectant gaze until he confessed to his dastardly crime. Apparently, the method worked on gods as well.

“Okay, it started more as an attempt to get you to leave me alone,” the Lord of Night admitted. 

“Oh.” It came out blankly, which Steve was grateful for, because he felt like he’d been kicked in the chest by a mule. “You don’t want me.”

Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised. This was a classic Steve problem. He tamped down the old familiar sting of rejection. Steve knew going in that this had been a possibility. It was a god’s right to reject an offering.

“I never wanted any holy warriors,” the Lord of Night corrected. “Hence the attempt to make you leave.” 

Steve supposed that lessened the blow a little. It was an impersonal rejection. That was better, right? 

"If you didn't want me as your holy warrior you could've just said," Steve said ruefully.

“You seemed pretty determined to come back, though.”

“Only because I thought you’d want to, like, use me for something. If you’d asked me to, I would’ve stopped bothering you. I could’ve gotten someone else who could worship you better,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice light and unaffected.

"Yeah, I really don’t think you could have,” the Lord of Night said in a strained tone. 

“No, I mean it,” Steve insisted. “I told you, Robin and Dustin wanted to come along. They would make sure you’re not alone again. You would like them. They pick up on stuff faster than me. They’d be good worshipers.”

“That’s not what I meant. Your worship was, uh, it was…no, nevermind, forget that. The thing is, the more you came back the more I…” 

The Lord of Night trailed off. He tugged his dark starry cloak around him tighter. When he spoke again, he seemed to have switched tracks entirely. 

"Look, I don't know exactly how the holy warrior thing works, but you guys do quests for your gods, right?"

"Well, yeah, that's the whole point. We're your boots on the ground. We do acts in your service to spread your faith. Like priests but less boring." 

The god snorted which made Steve grin.

"Priests are so boring," the Lord of Night agreed. 

Things went quiet again. The cloak of constellations made it hard to see his god, but Steve got the impression that the Lord of Night was fidgeting. Steve remembered the conversation from a few nights before, about nervousness and not knowing what to do. Steve fell back on his social graces, his good old Harrington charm, and carefully picked something that would encourage the god to speak.

"I can't believe I didn’t see it,” Steve said, with a self-deprecating shake of his head. “Like, I know I'm not the smartest guy around but I didn't think I was that slow."

"Don't worry about it,” the god replied instantly, breaking out of his internal reverie. “That's not on you. I didn't want you to notice, so you didn't."

"Oh."

"Yep. And, it's not like I have a face to remember, so, y'know. You're good."

"I guess that does make me feel bet–wait. What do you mean you don’t have a face?” Steve squinted at the Lord of Night.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I lost my name,” the Lord of Night said with a hint of irony. “No name, no face.”

“But I saw it,” Steve insisted.

“Did you?” the Lord of Night asked, amused. He slid off the plinth and walked up to Steve until he was only three feet away. The god lowered his hood without any flourish. “What do I look like?”

Steve squinted at him studiously. The god was pale as moonlight and had hair as dark as the night itself; as for the rest of him…it was the strangest thing. Steve knew there was a pair of eyes under a brow. There was a nose above a mouth. He knew the right features were in the right places. However, he couldn’t tell if the eyes were dark or pale. He couldn’t say whether the nose was large or small. The mouth could be thin or it could be full. 

“I don’t know,” Steve relented. The Lord of Night nodded.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Is…is that the quest? To find your name?” Steve asked, dread pooling in his belly. That quest would involve a lot of reading and…he didn’t even know. Language things? General research, for sure. None of which Steve was particularly good at.

“That’s a bit presumptuous of you,” the Lord of Night smirked. He didn't give Steve a chance to apologize. “But yeah, there’s something important that needs to be done. I’m not strong enough to do it myself and I’m running out of time to do it.”

“I can do it,” Steve responded. “I’ll do it for you, my Lord.”

“You don’t even know what the quest is,” the god said wistfully.

“But I know you wouldn’t ask me to do anything cruel or unfair.”

“You’re unbelievable,” the Lord of Night muttered under his breath. Steve didn’t think he was supposed to hear that so he kept quiet. In a louder voice, the god resumed. “Okay, are you sure you wanna do this? Be a holy warrior? Because you could be literally anything else. You told me you liked cooking during one of your prayer sessions. You could open up a restaurant! Restaurant owners don’t usually die in the line of duty or whatever.”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This is what Steve trained for, what he was good at, and he wanted to put those skills to use.

“You said you needed help to do something important. I want to be the one that helps you. I want to be your warrior. I can do it, I know I can. I won’t let you down.” Steve bit his lip uncertainly as a thought struck him. "If you don't think I'm worthy–"

“It’s not about worthiness!" The god cut in. "Do you know what it would mean to be my holy warrior? The weight of the night sky, with all the stars and the moon, will be on your shoulders for as long as you walk the land. I don’t know much about holy warriors but I remember this: there’s no take-backs. You can’t just quit and go off to become something else later.”

“Yes, I know. We covered this in lectures at school. It wasn’t all swordplay," Steve said impatiently. "I did think about it once I finished training and I decided if I could find a god to pledge myself to, I didn't want to be anything else. Then I found you."

“...Okay. If you're sure, then okay,” the Lord of Night said decisively. “So what do I have to do? How do I make you mine?”

“Um, I think it’s different from god to god?” Steve stuttered, heart thumping at the god’s words. “But I guess we can do our own thing? I’m pretty sure it’s the intent that matters most.”

"I can work with that." The Lord of Night gestured downward. "Kneel, kneel. I have an idea of what to say.

"Should I close my eyes or something?" Steve asked once he’d gotten to his knees.

"Nah, this is good," Lord Night said. 

The god squared his shoulders and straightened his spine. Then, something miraculous happened. The Lord of Night spoke his name aloud.

“Steve Harrington.”

It was the first time his god ever said his name; it was stunning in a way Steve couldn’t begin to comprehend. A bolt of lightning down his spine. A roaring forge in his chest. A whirlwind in his lungs. It felt like all of that simultaneously, yet nothing like that at all. How could pitiful human speech hope to encompass the intensity of a god’s undivided attention; his god’s specific acknowledgement of a primitive life such as his? 

Tears sprang unbidden in Steve’s eyes. He became aware how lowly and frail his own body was, and how utterly insignificant his existence was in the vastness of the stars in the sky. He curled forward, hiding his face and making himself as small as he could. He could not bear his god seeing his mortal failings and imperfections. It would invite an exquisite, holy agony Steve surely wouldn’t survive. 

“Oh,” the Lord of Night breathed. “I forgot how that could feel to a human. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“No,” the word tore out of Steve’s throat without any conscious thought. “No, please. Please, my Lord.”

Steve didn’t even know what he was begging for because the singular attention of a god was agony but the thought of his god leaving him filled him with terror. He shattered, left with no purchase save his god’s words. Then there were arms around him, pulling him close, and enveloping him in constellations. Steve’s vision blurred. Great, heaving sobs overcame him as though ripped from his very soul. The Lord of Night murmured comfortingly.

“Alright, there we go,” he said softly. “I’m here, Steve. I see you in the night, every night. The stars shine for you, Steve. The moon turns its face for you. I’m with you, Steve.”

The words crashed into him with the unrelenting force of ocean waves. They swept his footing from underneath him and sent him spinning endlessly, endlessly. They lifted him upwards and sent him plummeting down until he was deep below the surface where the currents finally slowed. Surrounded by eternally burning stars, he was left weightless and suspended in an unearthly calm. The words rang in his skull with the surety and strength only a celestial being could claim.

Somewhere between an eternity and no time at all, Steve came back to himself feeling overexerted, though he hadn’t moved from where he knelt. Steve’s heart and soul had been scraped out of his chest, put between a pestle and mortar before getting unceremoniously dumped back in his weak flesh, but in a weirdly good way. His sobs subsided. His breathing came in and out slowly.

Eventually the cloak of constellations released him as well. He blinked his eyes open gradually to see his god kneeling before him at arm's length, palms resting on Steve's shoulders. Steve felt a stab of shame at having brought his god down low to a mortal's level. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve croaked. “Do you still–? Can I still be–?”

“No, yeah,” the Lord of Night said straight away. “That was on me. Not your fault at all. I’m out of practice interacting with mortals."

The god’s words lost the gravitas from before in a way that would've been jarring if it weren't such a relief. He finally broke his hold on Steve. He got to his feet, somewhat gracelessly. 

"Let’s try that again?” the Lord of Night asked.

Steve cleared his throat. He straightened up where he knelt and kept himself still. He nodded to show he was ready.

“Steve Harrington,” the god said. This time hearing his name on his god’s lips was exhilarating but at a level a human could bear. “Do you swear to spread my values in the minds and hearts of mortals, through action and word?”

“I swear.”

“Then will you, Steve Harrington, do me the honor of being my sword and shield? Will you carry my crest through all your agonies and all your joys?”

“Yes.”

For a breathless moment, their words hung in the air, resonating through the night with finality. The Lord of Night reached out and gently traced something on Steve's forehead. Steve assumed it was his god's sigil, though neither Robin or Dustin could find any images of it so he couldn't be sure. It felt like an incomplete circle with a squiggle running through it. The god stepped back to observe him when he was done.

The stillness that followed, ironically, rattled Steve’s bones with relief and joy that it was done. His god had accepted him. Then the Lord of Night shuffled his feet in an awkward, shy manner.

“Cool,” said the Lord of Night.

The heaviness and tension brought down by the gravity of their oath ruptured with that single world, and Steve could do nothing but dissolve in helpless, giddy giggles.

[cozygold]

Mystery of Lilia's ring

Lilia x Reader

Warnings: angst/fluff, fem reader, general lilia, book 7 spoiler

Pt. I Pt. II

Lilia wears a wedding ring under his gloves. However when asked he doges the question or makes up some silly excuse

Malleus is aware that he had wife. Lilia confirmed it a while ago but did not elborate further

It was only during the Malleus overblot incident that Diasnomia family found out about her and who she was

(it takes place after Malleus have put everyone to sleep Silver/Sebek/Yuu watch Lilia dream play in front of them like movie)

Lilia woke up in unknown place. His whole body was burning with pain, he barely had the strenght to open his eyes

Everything was blurry but he could make out soothing humming and chopping of knife against a wooden board. It made him relax his muscles a little before the noise stopped. At the same time he realized

'Wait...it sounds like.. a human language?!'

He shot up sitting up on the bed before tumbling back down from the anguish

"My,my don't strain yourself like that, dear"

His eyes widden in horror when he felt hot breath right next to his ear along with voice that he heard ealier. He quickly reached to his waist trying to grab his weapon. But it wasn't there

"Sorry, love I had a feeling you might try that so i had to take your toy away so my head will stay on my shoulders"

He whipped his head around and saw a human woman. Now standing good few feet away from him. She was wearing a dark cloak and a long dress. Both looked pretty torn down and dirty

"What do you want, human? Even without my weapon i can take you down easily"

His eyes started intensly at her. A sight simillar to a wounded animal

"Haha, you would be right if you weren't in a state you're currently in. I barely saved that leg of yours. I'm medic that specilizes in humans, you see~"

She took few steps closer to him. Smile never leaving her face

"I'm (y/n)(y/l), i'm a traveling medic. I manged to save you from that abush that you got yourself into earlier"

Lilia squinted his eyes, trying to recall what happend. He remembers how fast his heart was beating, the metal that tore through his flesh...

Green fire, and a figure with what looked like horns

"Meleanor?! What the hell was she doing there?! Speak human!"

"Oh, i'm sure she's safe and sound in her castle"

"What?! Don't try to make fool out of me. I know what i saw. This green fire and the horns must have belonged to her"

"Oh no it was just me"

She deadpaned looking blankly at him. They stared at each other in awkward. Lilia pinched the bridge of his nose

"Care to explain yourself?"

(y/n) giggled and puffed her chest proudly

"It looks like two twigs on my head and some plant colored fire was enough to send the fools running. I honestly suprised you fell for it too"

She tilted her head to the side, looking smugly at him. Lilia felt his cheeks warm up. How could he had fallen for such simple trick?

"Hmph!"

He quickly turned around on the bed facing the wall and hiding his red face

Meanwhile Sebek, Silver and Yuu watched as the dream played in front of them

"Who is this woman?! How dare she mock Master Lilia!"

"Shh, Sebek that might be her. Father's wife..."

"Nonsense! He never even mentioned having a wife. Let alone a human"

"Never directly. But i once overheard Lord Malleus try to speak about her with him. After confirmation Father quickly changed the subject"

Silver scratched his chin, deep in thought

"as much i feel like inviding Father's privacy, this might be our only chance to really get to know her"

Back to the dream

"Awww, come on General! You gotta i eat! I didnt work so hard to save you just for you to die out of starvation"

Lilia scrunched up his face, turning away from the spoon being held to him. He spent about 4 days in the human's cottage refusing to eat, still not being able to stand up from the bed.

He didnt trust her one bit. She has no reason to do it so. What kind of motive drives her? Trying to gain his trust to poison him? Is she secretly a twisted woman trying to make him in some sort of fae pet for her amusement?

He has to get out as soon as possible

"I have no intention of taking anything from you, woman"

His tone harsh as it always been, red eyes glaring at her

She sighed, pulled out a chair and slumped down on it, setting the bowl of soup on the table. (eye color) eyes looked up blankly at the ceiling

It was her first time taking in a fae patient. She did as much reaserch as she could on them during such short amout of time. She knew that they could survive longer without food than humans. They also recovered faster

But his state was quite serious. Regular man would have probably passed by now. Used to enduring injuries in battle he's probably not even aware of it.

She Has to make him trust her. Just enough for him to her treat him

"You never told me your name. I just know you by 'general' "

She finally broke the tense silence, turning her head in his direction. He still refused to meet her eyes

"There is no need for you know it"

"Huhhh, no fair, i already told you mine"

Her attempt at teasing him got ignored making the room go quiet once again

"I never wanted this war. And i know you didnt either"

She dropped the teasing letting her tone get more grim

"Tch, don't act like you know me or what i want"

It was clear from his body language that this conversation was getting on his nerves, yet she continued to press further. It was now or never

"I know that my people caused you unimaginable pain. No matter what either side has to gain from its not worth all the suffering.

Fae, human, merfolk, beastman...i was taught to treasure all lives. I swore that i will save as many as i can as a medic. Just like you swore to protect your people as a general"

Lilia despite still being sceptical for first time seemed to not ignore her

"My parents were medic as well. They made me what i am today, taught me how to treat people. My whole village fell victim to this conflict"

Her voice shaked, eyes starting to get watery. She took a deep breath to remain composed before speaking futher

"I will not ask for your pity or gratitude towards me. Just please let me treat you. We already lost enough"

She bowed her head to him, her voice pleading almost like she was begging for her own life. Lilia let out a heavy sigh

"Rise your head, human. I do not want to be subjected to such a pitful sight any longer"

Few stray tears streaming down her cheek, her eyes looked up him hopefully

"I will eat your soup so cease your whining"

A bright smile adorned her features. She clasped her hands together letting out a joyful laugh

"Thank you sooo much! Don't be afraid to say if you don't like it i will adjust it to your taste next time! Please enjoy it!"

She handed him a bowl and a spoon

"I will be in the kitchen mixing up some healing herbs for you!"

"Sevens, quit talking my ear off! J-just go do what you're supposed to do"

"Right! Please call me if you need anything"

She skipped towards the door and just about when she was about to leave the room she heard her patient speak up

"Hey..."

"Hmmm?~"

She turned around, tilting her head curiosly

"Its Lilia Vanrouge. My name"

Suprise washed over her features for a moment before her lips spread into a thoothy grin

"Nice to meet you, Lilia"

[heartpiratedrabbles]

His True Self

Prompt: Sabo slowly shows you his true colors the longer you're with him.

~~ Part 2 Part 3

Sabo X Reader

Joining the revolutionary army was a big step for you. You watched as your friends and neighbors were kidnapped by the celestial dragons, or how the Marines, the people meant to protect you, had slowly started pointing their guns your way. It disgusted you. People made to do the World governments bidding, no one having any will. It made you sick. So when a small group of people came to your coastal town and started fighting, you joined them.

         The bombs went off and fire was everywhere, but you felt more alive fighting for your freedom and happiness. The thrill as you finally let your anger boil over, taking it out on any corrupt official while ushering others to safety. Running through your now ruined village, everything felt so slow yet your heart was beating so fast. You heard a crash and crying in the distance and made that your next target, a child no doubt was stuck somewhere.

         As you got closer, you climbed rubble, ignoring how your body ached and the scrapes and cuts throbbed with every movement. It was only when you got to the top of the crushed building that you could see where the child was, leg stuck under a concrete pillar as they were wailing in pain. You were about to jump down when a flash of blue past you, a man in a trench coat and a top hat was there, already hauling the pillar the best he could.

         He glances up at you and you jump to gather the child who had barely crawled from underneath. Picking her up the man, who had climbed out of the destroyed room, was telling you something but the adrenaline in your body made it hard to listen to anything. He reaches his hands out and you hand him the crying child before lifting yourself out. He flashes you a smile before letting you take the girl back and just as fast as he appeared in front of you, he had disappeared deeper into the battle.

         It wasn’t until after the soot settled and the now refugees were gathered that the revolutionary army scouted out the crowd and found you. You, along with plenty of other people, agreed to join and packed what little remained as you left your home behind to fight for freedom.

~~~

         While going through training, you were shocked when a cloaked figure came up to you, “Y/N was it? Why don’t you follow me?” The man’s voice was deep and you could see a tattoo covering half his face and you immediately listen to the head of the army. You follow him into the main building before sitting down in a meeting room, “I want you to help the second in command with his duties.” You sat there listening and confused as he explained further into what you’d be doing.

         Soon your heart sank, “You want me to be a secretary?” you interrupted him. The helping organizing the paperwork, the helping him remember meetings, putting together bags so he wouldn’t forget anything, even reminding him of meals. These mundane tasks were not what you were expecting when you joined, “What about liberating towns? Or helping those in need-“

         “You would be helping, by making sure everything works smoothly here, others can focus more out there,” Dragon said before dropping a file on the table, “You have enough experience working in business and banking that having you help with the books, and more importantly Sabo’s workload would be a great relief.” He flips through the file that you came to realize was everything about you. You argue a bit with the position before ultimately agreeing. There wasn’t much you can do when the head of the revolutionary army was asking you.

~~~

         As you walk towards the office that you knew was the second of command you could hear arguing pursue, “Why do I need a ‘helper’ They’ll just slow me down” A mans voice rang out and you let out a deep sigh, at least you weren’t the only one not looking forward to this.

         “Because I can’t babysit you all the time Sabo.” A determined and final tone of a women stated, “You’re trying to ignore your work right now as it is, of course you need help.” You chuckle a bit before knocking on the door and peeping your head in, “Y/N! Thank god, I looked into your background as was the one that begged Dragon to assign you to this idiot,” She beamed while pulling you further into the room.

~~~

         As time went one Sabo seemed to appreciate the effort you put forth, you never realized just how much the second in command had on his plate. You had started just answering calls and organizing trainings for his team without double-checking with him, you knew his schedule better than he did if he wasn’t out on a mission.

         And if he was on a mission? Well you filled in his seat and did everything you could without him, the stacks of piled up work sending you into overdrive the first time he had left for just 2 weeks. When he came back you had heard Koala practically dragging him to the office you sat yourself in yelling at him about paperwork, to both of their surprise most of it already done, some set to the side for a signature and a small pile of things you couldn’t do without him.

         The time you save him let him focus on other things, and at some point, he even remembered to take breaks and eat by himself much to everyone’s shock. “Y/N Where have you been all my life?” He asked while you brought him a cup of tea, despite not having as much work he’d still complain about the paperwork.

~~~

         Despite all the work you did to keep Sabo up-to-date and on track, you still enjoyed training with everyone else. You wanted to be able to fight even if you didn’t have too and enjoyed the thrill of your muscles burning after a particularly hard training session. You never tried to hide the fact that you did this from Sabo, you didn’t even know he’d want to know something like that, it’s just that it never came up previously.

         And there you were, sitting in the chair in front of his desk, avoiding his hardened gaze after you had gotten a pretty bad stab wound by accident. It wasn’t a particularly large wound, although it was rather deep and required medical attention, narrowly had it avoided an artery. The bandage on your thigh was secure, and while it ached it was fine. But you could feel the glare of your boss as you avoided the topic, “Are you going to tell me how you ended up with stitches?” His voice stern and arms crossed.

         “Why do I need to tell you that? I’m healthy and can continue working, there’s nothing wrong with me.” You say, your hands tapping your knees while looking away like a child who got caught coloring the wall. You didn’t understand why he was so insistent on this; he’s never shown concern before when you tripped and fell or banged your head on the door way.

         “Y/N, if that were true, I wouldn’t have gotten word that I can’t have you running around like normal.” He huffs out standing up, walking around his desk to stand in front of you. So that was it, he wasn’t actually concerned about you. You felt your heart drop slightly at the realization, He was frustrated that work wouldn’t be going smoothly for a while.

         “I’m so sorry that I’ll be an inconvenience for the foreseeable future,” It’s your turn to cross your arms and glare up at him, “I’ll be more careful next time as to not hold you back.” You go to stand up, wincing a little bit at the weight on your leg only to be pushed back down into the chair.

         “It’s not that Y/N.” Sabo’s grip on your shoulder was firm and he knelt down, putting his other hand over the bandage, massaging it slightly. The action made you blush slightly. “I don’t want to see you hurt, not like this” His voice was low, quiet enough that you barely heard him. Your mind started to flutter at what he could mean but you shook your head slightly.

         “You don’t have to protect me Sabo, I joined the revolutionaries thinking that I’d get hurt. It’s only coincidence that I ended up in one of the safest areas,” You blurted out, you wouldn’t let your heart make you believe things.

         The hand on your thigh gripped it at your words, making you wince at the sudden pressure, “That’s not what I mean.” Sabo mutters, standing back up and walking out of the room, leaving you all by yourself. You stare confused before standing up yourself, slowly making your way back to your quarters.

~~~

         Koala had come to you the next day saying that Sabo didn’t want to see you for the time being. She phrased as a way to make sure you’d heal fast but you couldn’t help but feel like there was more to it. Regardless you decided to heed her words and not head to the office building. Instead, you took your time in the library to read more about past missions, or sat near the training grounds to watch others prepare for combat.

         The few times you did try to see Sabo he had made sure someone stopped you and led you back to your room. It was rather frustrating that you couldn’t even check in on how he was doing or talk to him at all. You even tried finding him after the normal work hours to be turned away by anyone. You missed the random conversations that would pop up throughout the day and reading and watching had grown boring.

         It was only a week into your little break that you demanded to start working again, refusing to turn away when someone tried to stop you from entering the building. The doctor had finally approved of you walking around and you weren’t going to sit still until everything was perfectly healed. It was truly frustrating how much pent-up energy you seemed to have in you.

         When you knocked on the door opening it you saw the mess that had become of the empty office. Your mind forgetting the last time you had seen Sabo as you got to work organizing and cleaning everything. “How could he let this place get this bad?” You wondered out loud as you started sifting through the papers to separate them appropriately.

         You were only getting more exasperated as you saw papers from a week ago still not finished that you sat down and started catching up on everything. Filling out any information you knew, approving of some documents, refusing on ones you’d know Sabo wouldn’t allow. It wasn’t until you heard a stifled laughter that you looked up to see your boss in the doorway.

         He watched in amusement as you’re faced turned from that of pure focus to a contorted one of anger and annoyance. “What have you been doing while I was gone?!” You yell, slamming your hands down on the desk standing up. You walk around the desk, Sabo suddenly realizing just how pissed you are, “I was forced to take time off and you can’t even properly keep up?!”

         “Hey, Y/N wait a second-“ His words are stopped by a surprisingly strong grip on his shoulder as you smile up at him. Pulling him to his desk and forcing him to sit down.

         “You aren’t leaving this room until you’re finished.” You say with a finalized tone, “You get mad at me for getting hurt and force me to take time off but can’t even do your work properly when I’m away??”

         “I was busy with other things-“

         “Do I have to babysit you to make sure your work?” You place a stack in front of him, forcing a pen into his hand. You were not going to listen to his excuses, it was an awful idea for you not to come into the office for a week for the sole fact that you weren’t babysitting him doing his work. Sabo looks at you before sulking into his work as you stare daggers at him.

~~~

         “Y/N please, I’ve done so much already~” Sabo cried out from his desk that you had decidedly ignored. Sabo kept trying to ignore work by talking to you, and so you have been giving him the silent treatment for most of the day. You glance over to see the hefty pile of paperwork that still has to be done but the even larger of work that has to be sent out.

         Sighing you get up from your spot, “When I get back you can stop for the day.” Your voice short as you grabbed a stack to deliver them to the appropriate parties. Sabo looks at you with pleading eyes, “If I come back and you aren’t working, I’ll make sure you can’t go on a mission for another month.” You had been able to switch Sabo’s missions thanks to Dragon, and just as you had pent up energy from a single week of doing nothing, your scarred boss would get restless if he doesn’t leave base ever so often.

         “Are you mad?” Sabo asks as you’re about to leave the room. It stops you in your tracks. Mad? Sabo didn’t often care about your emotions, or he didn’t seem to let you know if he cared. But now the man was blatantly asking you and it felt strange.

         Turning yourself around to face him you lean against the door way, a throb still coming from your stab wound, “I’m not mad Sabo. I’m just disappointed in you.” And the guilty face he was wearing shifted into one of horror as he yelled out that, that was worse. You chuckle a bit while turning away. “Then remember to do your work when I’m away,” you yell over your shoulder as you walk away.  At least he wasn’t acting too different.

~~~

         “Absolutely Not.” Sabo’s nagging voice rang through your ears. You had finally convinced Dragon to let you go on a field mission, but only if Sabo would let you go. You had barely gotten the question out of your mouth when Sabo hit his fist against the desk, startling you at his sudden outburst.

         “Why not?” Your voice was cool but it was clear you were frustrated at the sudden refusal, “I’ve been continuing to train and Koala agreed to help you with work while I’m away. What’s the issue?!”

         “Why are you even training in the first place? You got stabbed just a month ago and you think you’re ready to go on a mission? And what about you’re actual job? You work for me Y/N.” Sabo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

         “How am I suppose to help if you don’t let me go on missions-“

         “You’re not going. That’s final.” Sabo interrupted you staring right into your eyes with a sudden determination, “I don’t care how much you want to go on a mission, I cannot risk you getting hurt.”

         “I signed up for the risk Sabo. I know what could happen and if needed I’m prepared to-“ You flinch when you Sabo stands suddenly, his chair hitting the wall behind him with a thud.

         “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I need you here. No where else. You are not to train anymore either.” He’s leaning over his desk now, his hands balled into fists that you’re sure if he wasn’t wearing gloves his knuckles would be white.

His words ring through your head for just a second before you respond without thinking, “You won’t even let me go on missions and now you’re saying I can’t train? Who do you think you are to stop me from doing things in my freetime?” You furrow your eyes, tilting your head closer to the man in front of you.

“I didn’t think I’d have to babysit the girl I like from getting hurt!” Sabo yells, his voice echoing in the room.

“Getting hurt is apart of the job. I’ll be more carefu-“ You stop yourself midsentence. One. Two. Three. Four seconds for you to process what he just said. From the looks of it, he also if just realizing what he’s admitted, the scowl on his face being replaced with one of dumb horror. “Who do you have to babysit?” You voice quakes a bit, you must have heard him wrong and he averts his eyes, standing up straight and readjusting his vest, seemingly ignoring your question.

The silence that fills the air rings in your ears as you stare at the man in front of you. His arms crossed while he refuses to meet your gaze, his face tinged red, “You’re dismissed for the evening Y/N.”

More silence fills the air before you respond, “You really think I’m going to leave just like that without clarifying what you said previously?” You lean back in your chair, crossing a leg over the other. Sabo glares at you for a second before sighing at the display of your getting comfortable, a tug of a smile appearing on your face as he walks around his desk to be right in front of you.

You look up at him, waiting for him to say something but are more shocked at the hardened face coming closer to you, either of his arms now trapping you in your chair. “I like you.” His face was merely inches away from your own and this time it’s your confident teasing face that turns into one of embarrassment as you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, any quick remark you were prepared to make falling silent on your lips as your mouth hangs open.

Your eyes flash about Sabo’s face, from his unblinking, unmoving eyes, to his eyebrows, even to his lips before going back to his eyes. It’s getting hard to think with how close he is, and such a direct sentence made your head spin, “Now than Y/N. If you have something to say, or you want to leave. You better do it now.” His tone was serious as he watches for any sign of resistance.

You blink for what feels like the first time in forever, closing your mouth as you realize you are still caged by him. Slowly his hand goes to under your chin, lifting your face up to his, it’s the smallest hesitation before he meets your lips with his.

A soft, gentle kiss that drives your mind crazy as you lean into it yourself. His lips leaves yours, though he is still close enough that you can feel them brush against yours as he speaks, “Is that your answer Y/N?” His voice just barely above a whisper as his eyes flutter open to yours. You can only manage a small nod as he smiles, standing back up tall. “Then you understand why I can’t let you go on a mission.” He proudly proclaims.

The sudden change blinks you out of your romantic trance, “What?! That’s not fair,” You complain, albeit much gentler this time round while standing up to be closer to eye level with him.

“Bosses orders, girlfriends can’t go on missions.” Sabo shrugs his shoulders, a wide grin across his face as he watches your face turn another shade of pink. He gently places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer, “Besides your wound is still healing. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you wincing every now and then.”

You breath hitches as your arms immediately go around his neck. “It’s just sore nothing more,” the subtle lie crosses your lips and you can see it doesn’t work as Sabo’s face changes to one of scolding, “I’ll be more careful.” The small grin the plays on his lips makes your heart skip a beat, “Talk to me again after you can run a mile without pain.” He leans down to kiss you again and you only hum in agreeance.

[shakingparadigm]

As stated in the Patreon, ROUND 6 marks the halfway point for ALIEN STAGE as a whole. We've now reached the middle of the story, so it's no suprise that we see more and more characters change and metamorphize into versions of themselves that seem so distinctly different from how we once knew them. ROUND 6 will no doubt be a turning point for both Ivan and Till, and their new outfits seem to reflect this too.

Complete opposites, not only of each other, but of the people they used to be.

Till's loose t-shirt and pants created a simple image. He didn't want to be glamorous, someone dressed up and bathed in glitter, paraded around for people to gawk at. He most likely fought against it, to the point where they couldn't even force shoes on him. It was a basic outfit, incredibly unfitting for the weight of ALIEN STAGE as a competition, and that in itself was a show of his character. Despite the leash around his neck, he was more free than any other human pet who stood under those blinding lights. On stage he presented nothing but himself, untouched by the influence of those who wished to turn him into something marketable. He no doubt fought hard for that right.

Ivan, on the other hand, was dressed in sleek cloak and and shiny glittering gloves. His outfit was handpicked by aliens, decorated with the symbols of sponsorships and pressed to perfection. Deep black, as black as the universe that cradled the stars. Imagery of expansive emptiness, a vast void that swallowed anything bright enough to illuminate its cold and empty air. Ivan was dressed almost head to toe in this universe black. The clothes nearly swallowed him, blanketing his human skin, hiding his true colors from the rest of the world. It's a very reserved outfit, layered, restrictive, heavy. The status of being a marketable product literally weighs down on his leg, the bulky decorative belts bearing the same effect as handcuffs. Ivan carries the weight of many things, and heaviest among them all are his secrets. Ivan keeps everything close to his chest, perfectly black cloak hiding a beating human heart.

In CURE, everything is flipped upside down.

The tenacious loudmouth rebel is now dressed in an ensemble of tight, restrictive black, his motives unknown, stance unclear, his expression of a man in engulfed in sorrow.

From the other side of the coin, an abyssal coat now gives way to a burst of bright white, a flowing silhouette. Hands free and ungloved, spread out, freeing all the secrets from a guarded heart. Everything will be out in the open soon.

[themotherofhorses]

Vic!! I have a request pretty pls hehehe,

Creepy dark! Aemond forcing his way with fem!reader as she sleeps after stalking him for many moons? PWEASEEE

what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.

pairing: soft but dark!aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

warnings: explicit language. nsfw smut. slight breeding kink towards the end. consented abduction. aemond is (as usual) obsessive and possessive but is actually kinda a sweetheart in this.

notes: ok so small thing: i kinda put my own twist to this request, because this sort of idea has lived in my head RENT FREE since forevvaaa. hope u enjoy it :)

masterlist

Dragonstone was quiet when arrived, the sea tide calm and peaceful.

Aemond Targaryen could not remember the last time he stepped foot in the castle, if he ever did at all, having spent the entirety of his life behind the bronze doors of the Red Keep. He did not care for the damned island, nor did he hold any love for its people, but his twentieth nameday was fast approaching, and his mother was insisting more and more that he take a wife soon.

“Now, where will you be,” he mumbles to himself as he rips off his riding gloves and tucks them into his belt.

The castle hallways were without light, and no houseguards stood afoot. Aemond smirks. It would be much easier for him to find you, tucked away in your own chamber.

Your personal chamber was nicely furnished, in the colors and style of your shared noble house, and had an aura belonging only to a Targaryen princess. Thick wool carpets covered the floor instead of harsh black stone, and your windows were cracked open just a little, with pretty drapes swaying from the light ocean breeze. The walls were hung with different tapestries, all of horses and dragons, and the doors were flanked by Valyrian sphinxes.

And to the corner was your bed, where you, his niece, lay atop, fast asleep.

Aemond wills his heart to continue beating, and for his cock to behave.

He has not laid eyes on you in almost a full decade, ten years too long for him. Both your parents whisked you away to Dragonstone when you were still a child, soft-faced and in the mid of girlhood.

They refused his mother’s offer for a betrothal between the two of you, and broke his heart to the tiniest of pieces that he wondered if they were still scattered around the Keep. But that was so many moons ago, and time slipped by him.

“Gods be good,” Aemond whispers, moving closer.

What has happened to that little girl, that kid niece of his? In her place sleeps a living goddess, too lovely for mankind. You’ve grown beautiful, a mirror image to your mother, his eldest sister. He bends to kiss your bare shoulder- just a simple and tiny kiss- and you stir in your sleep. It is cute, he admits, but he also can not wait another second longer.

Only the gods above know how much he’s wanted you.

With a hard yank, Aemond draws back the bedsheet covers, causing you to jolt up from the bed. You look around, confused and scared and still half-asleep, purple eyes clouding from drowsiness. In front of you sits a stranger, a man- silver-haired and cloaked in black riding leather. Across his eye, an eyepatch.

Your heart quickens at the sight. “Aemond…?” you call out, unsure.

He smiles, teeth and all. “You do not know how happy it makes me to know you are still able to recognize me, my niece. After all, it has been awhile- ten years, has it not?”

You shrug, trying to wipe the sleep away from your eyes. “What…what are you doing here?” you ask, while patting down the bed, looking for the sheets to cover your chest. “Should you not be at King’s Landing? Why are you here?” Your eyes grow as wide as a dinner plate as you soon add, “Oh no, has something happened? Is it my grandfather?”

But Aemond scoots closer, bringing his face to yours. “Do not fret, nice. I’m here on my own wishes,” and he twirls a thin strand of silver hair around his finger, humming as he watches it fall back around your shoulder. In that sheer Dornish nightgown, you look good enough to eat, and the princeling is feeling beyond ravenous.

“I’m here to collect a debt.”

Lucerys…you think, a sinking feeling in your chest. His stolen eye, that night on Driftmark…

Ten years and Aemond still seeks revenge.

“No,” Aemond says, shaking his head. He moves even closer, grabbing at your shoulders. His palms are rough and callous. “I would dare not hurt you. Anyone but you. You…” he sighs, “-you were promised to me, back when we were children. You were meant to be my wife, and they stole you from me. The only good fucking thing in my life, and it was taken away…”

He studies you, his eye running across your face, down your neck and to your chest.

That Dornish nightgown clings loose to your body, and he can see your nipples perk against the fabric. It sends blood rushing between his thighs. “Tell me, niece, what did I do to deserve that?”

“Aemond…”

“No!” he hisses, tightening his grip on you. “No! You have not the slightest idea of the fucking torture I’ve endured these years. The nights I stayed up, begging to the gods that I might have you. I thought…maybe if they heard my pleas, saw my faith, they would…but no. Ten years, and not a single glimpse of you.” Your breath hitches when he meets your gaze, “I dreamt of you, every damned night. Fought the urges to fly over and collect you from here…”

You shake your head. “Aemond…” you say, softly. “I’m betrothed to another, this cannot be.” You press your hand against his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch, and kiss his forehead. “I have missed you greatly, uncle, but it has been years! So many years. I’m to be married soon.” You pull back, “It is best if you return home, and start finding a lady of your own choosing.”

Aemond sighs, and inside his chest, he feels his heart being ripped apart again.

“You are right, my dearest niece. My sincerest apologies for waking you up, it was quite wrong of me. I shall see myself out,” and he kisses your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish you all the luck in your marriage, and may your husband love and appreciate you till the dying days of his damned life.”

You smile at him, though a bit sad now. “Thank you, uncle. To you as well.”

The princeling turns to leave, and you sit up watching as he makes his way to your door, before sinking back into your bed. “Goodbye, Aemond,” you call out, one final time before your eyes close, failing to see him pause and turn around to look at you.

What was he doing? Foolish man, he thinks. Foolish, stupid man!

Was it in his nature to admit defeat so easily, and to some unnamed wastrel cunt of a man? No. Throughout his life, Aemond suffered nothing but tremendous losses, while being denied the goodness and fairness that a child should’ve had. His lips pucker at the thought.

You were right there, close enough for him to finally claim.

And so he did.

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Aemond tuts next to your ear, a heavy arm slung over your naked breasts as he holds you as close to his chest as possible. It feels as if he is frightened to let you go, worried you would disappear before his very eye, with another ten years slipping by until he finds you again.

His other hand lies between your trembling thighs, fingering you with such an intensity and speed that it leaves you utterly ruined and in tears. “Aemond…” you hiccup, nibbling at your bottom lip as he groans. “Fuck! You sound so good when you say my name like that. Gods be good, you are wet. Absolutely soaking my fingers. Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks, using his thumb to rub at your clit. “Yeah…it does, doesn’t it?”

You sniffle, fat tears streaking down both cheeks as you nod.

Oh, it feels good. So good, but so wrong as well.

You were to be married in less than a fortnight, to a highborn lord of House Stark, handsome and kind. How would you explain this to him? Or to your parents, who proposed the marriage between you two? How would you tell them that you were ruined? And it was your uncle’s fault.

“Please, Aemond…”

Aemond grabs at your jaw, cradling it in his hand before pulling it close to his face. “Shhh, it will be alright, my love. Do not fret. You will be okay, just give in,” he whispers, quickening his fingers as he fucks them into you, curling two to hit your sweet spot. You almost scream, so overcome with pleasure that it hurts. “This is where you are meant to be, darling, make no mistake in believing that. My bride, my love.”

My woman, he thinks gleefully, watching how your face scrunches up. Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth press together in a tight line, and it is the most beautiful sight.

My woman, made for me. Made for my love and protection and seed…

Goosebumps prickle along your arms as wet sounds echo across the chamber, followed by a strew of whimpers and moans. It sounds so dirty, so sinful and wrong that you pray to whichever god was listening in that no one would overhear such, especially your parents and siblings. Your father would have Aemond’s head, no doubt, and your older brother might rob him of his only other good eye.

“Oh, fuck…” you moan, flinging your head back, “-don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

A minute or so later, your vision blackens, the room spins, and your jaw slacks as you cum plenty around his fingers, all with such a high-pitched shriek that Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. “What did I say? Stay quiet!” he hisses before chuckling, smearing the mess around your folds while you make an attempt to catch your breath. “Very good, my love. You did so well for me.”

He brings a finger to his mouth, to suck at the taste. “Your taste is heavenly,” he moans, swirling his tongue around it. He then brings two to your mouth, swiping at the tiny bit of drool pooling before stuffing them in. “Suck. Taste yourself now.”

“Dirty girl,” Aemond hums, a smirk curving on his lips as he watches the way you lick and suck at his fingers. “You are digging a grave too deep to escape, darling.”

Ruin me, you want to say. If I’m to die, I rather it be in your hands than anyone else’s…

He lays you back down on the bed next, making sure your head rests comfortably against the pillows. Ten years, Aemond reminds himself. Ten fucking years. He can feel his resolve slowly weakening by the second. You’re too beautiful, too soft and womanly and perfect for him. Every fantasy he dreamt up during boyhood never claim as close as to this. “I dreamt of this for fucking years,” he admits while kissing your pink and pouty lips. “All the possible ways to take you, to fuck this pretty cunt of yours.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes his cock inside you. It is painful- undeniably painful- yet he swallows every cry and wince and moan that you give. Your fingernails dig into his skin from the terrible pain- the stretch and the sting and the weird feeling growing deep within your tummy.

“It is too much…!” you whimper against his lips. “Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, darling, it is your first time. Every woman hurts when a man takes her first blood. But you can take it.”

“No,” you whine, trying to shove him away. “No, Aemond, it hurts too much-” But Aemond only kisses your temple, sweet and gentle and lovingly, while rocking his hips against yours. “It’ll feel so good soon, my love, trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, not my precious and sweet girl,” he coos, leaning to rub your noses together, “-my brave girl.”

Ten years.

He could not stop, even if he wished to. No, not now that he finally has you, underneath his body and wet and ripe for his seed.

“I’ll give you our child,” he mutters beside your lips as he pinches your nipple between two fingers and keeps his thrusts hard, deep, and fast. All of it makes your face twist in a soft gasp, your body tightening as you feel that thick rush of pleasure from before, right before you creamed over his fingers.

“Take my seed and have our child. I promise to take you back to King’s Landing and marry you," he vows through ragged breaths, "and spend the rest of our lives making up for those ten years.”

“Aemond,” you pant, clutching onto his shoulders and dragging his face down for a kiss. His skin is sweaty and flushed, and he has never appeared so beautiful before. You love him. You love him so much, how did you spend ten years without seeing him? It makes no sense. You understand his woes now, clear as day, and you want to rid of them forever.

“I love you! I love you, I love you, make me your wife, please. Please!”

He feels your cunt tightening around his cock, and he is ready to give you everything: his heart, his soul, and his seed.

Come the morning, his son will be swelling within your belly, and he will have you seated atop Vhagar, flying back to the Keep to make you his wife, in both the eyes of the gods and the laws of the land.

The next day, at dawning, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter does not join her family to break fast together. Her three half-brothers and two half-sisters raise eyebrows as they munch quietly on their meals but keep silent, all until little Joffrey asks where his older sister might be. Rhaenyra does not know, and neither do the houseguards, the men of the small council, and the maesters, and it worries her greatly.

Her husband, though, is quick to remind her that the princess- ever their trueborn child- enjoys morning rides on dragonback. “Give her a few hours and she will surely return with a new story to tell us,” Daemon says, while sipping on his wine.

But a few hours turn into the rest of the day, and soon evening creeps by.

A raven arrives from King’s Landing, bearing the family a note:

“I’ve taken what was owed to me. Such a pity you all forgot that what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.”

[sweetsweetjellybean]

Red Ridinghood | Dark Fairytale Vignettes | 18+

BigBadWolf!Eddie x RedRidinghood!Reader

These are short blurbs with figurative fairy tale themes. Eddie isn't actually a wolf unless that's how you'd like to imagine it. These are just meant to be fun, nothing serious. Without further ado...

The ends of the red silken ribbon tied tightly at your throat slide through his elegant pale fingers. His dark curls striking contrast with the blood red of your velvet cape, the only thing separating your naked body from the wet mouth of the wolf. 

“Eddie,” you moan as his fingers part the folds of your cloak, exposing your skin to the night air. When he uncovers your breast, he growls. His sharp teeth graze your nipple before his mouth closes over it, sucking in as much as his jaws will allow. 

“Fuck,” you cry, one of your hands tangling in his hair, holding him tightly against you, while your other smooths through the soft bed moss you lay upon, searching for something to grip.

He sucks at your skin long enough to have the ache in your belly turn to fire and slickness coating your thighs.

 “You’re so lovely and soft, my dear,“ he says, hovering over you. His eyes look black in the light of the full moon, much closer in color to the bare branches of the trees. “But now,” his lips are wet and glistening, “it’s time to eat you up.”

The rest of your cape is spread open. Red wings framing your bare form. His hands slide over your skin–your breast and stomach. The tops of your thighs–where his grip tightens and roughly pushes them apart. His head dips to bite the tender flesh inside your thigh, leaving the heat of your wet cunt exposed to the shock of cool air. He bites just hard enough to leave the skin bruised but intact. Just hard enough for your gasps and pleas to drive the frightened birds flapping from the trees and disappearing into the night. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you wait for him to soothe the throb at your center. Finally, his hot flat tongue licks a slow stripe up your center–once and then twice more. Until his plush lips close around your swollen bud and your back arches as your scream echoes into the deserted forest. 

“Eddie,” you cry, “Eddie, your mouth… you feel so good.”

“The better to eat you with, my dear.”

AN: Sorry I've been MIA. That pesky real-life stuff had me laid up for a while but I'm back and writing. Got down at least 2k done of ITNC & I'm looking forward to catching up on reading all the fics I've missed. So much talent in our fandom and I'm happy to be part of it. xoxo- Jelly