#period au

[evyltalks]

Commission for @damagecontrol.jpg featuring James and Regulus from their amazing fanfiction ‘Divinitus’!

This commission was an epic journey—one of the toughest, but most rewarding projects I’ve tackled. Super proud of how it turned out!

[randxmthxughts]

Human Stuff - Neteyam x Human! Reader (afab)

summary: the one where a confused na’vi teenager tries to comfort his human friend while she’s on her period 

warnings: menstruation talk, feeding food

wc: 2.3k

a/n: can you tell that i’m on my period and this is all i want rn

also, neteyam not knowing about periods can be canon? i just read that na’vi are non-placental, so they most likely don’t menstruate like primates. eywa be looking out for her girlies lol. but what do i know

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam walks into the science facility confidently, knowing every nook and cranny like the back of his hand. Growing up, he has spent countless hours here with his siblings, and especially lately, he has been here every other day. His eyes search for you through the glass windows of the labs where he knows he is not allowed to step a foot in, ears perked up for a sign of you, even though it’s awfully quiet. The facility is mostly empty, and he assumes that the rest of the group is probably in their avatar bodies, busy with research. But it’s you that he’s looking for. 

Ever since you arrived at Pandora, Neteyam liked you right away. Roughly translated, the two of you were close in age, and had similar humor. Your father was the team lead of entomologists, and since you weren’t an actual scientist like the rest of the group, you had a lot of spare time to spend with Neteyam, exploring the forests. Your weekly meet ups with him became so familiar, that when you don’t show up at your regular meeting spot, Neteyam has to come and fetch you himself.

So here he is, walking through the labs, wondering if you had forgotten about your plans and were out with the others. It takes him some courage to sneak his head into the sleeping area, where he knew humans slept. Neteyam also knew very well that he wasn’t allowed back there because he could accidentally knock over things with his massive frame but he just needs to check. And his gut feeling isn’t wrong. You are laying in your bed, your back turned to him, completely unaware of his presence. Neteyam takes notice of how little you look with your body curled into a ball. 

At first, he assumes you’re asleep. A small smile stretches his lips, as he sneaks up on you planning to scare you awake for abandoning your plans. But as he readies himself for the loud growl, a small whimper escapes from your lips.

Neteyam stops in his tracks, his ears perking up immediately at the sound. He thought he had imagined it, but that theory gets quickly disproven when he hears another whimper. Moving quickly, he rounds your bed to confirm his suspicions. You jerk up at the sight of his big frame looming over you.

“Neteyam, what the hell?” your heart starts racing. 

“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, sorry,” he slowly crouches down in front of your bed, with a guilty expression on his face.

You throw an annoyed look at him before wrapping your arms around your middle again, and pressing your face into the pillow. You don’t want him to see your face. Neteyam doesn’t move, watching you.

“Go away,” you mumble, hoping that for once he will just comply. 

“Did you forget about our plans?” he asks, ignoring your previous words, “Are you sleeping?”

“I am not sleeping,” you mutter angrily into the pillow.

Neteyam can’t quite put his finger on it but he knows that something strange is happening to you. Maybe it was the scent? Of course, he was used to your scent, he could sense you from a mile away because it always stood out to him. It wasn’t necessarily bad or good, it’s just the way he recognized you. But right now, for some reason, it was so intense, like somebody gathered it into a perfume bottle and sprayed it right into his nostrils. 

He instinctively sniffs the air, and you cringe out of embarrassment, wishing you were dead right at this moment. Stupid periods, stupid cramps, stupid human bodies. If only you were back home right now, indulging in comfort food and taking your usual painkillers that could soothe the pain. Whatever you had found in the lab's aid kit was clearly not strong enough, and you suspect that the pressure on Pandora is making it even worse.

Tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes as another painful cramp surges through your already sore muscles.

"Y/N, are you hurt?" Neteyam asks, attempting to turn you to your side so he can see your face. You grumble in annoyance, resisting his movements.

"Can you please just leave me alone?" you snap at him.

“But what about our plans?” Neteyam stares at you confused.

“I’m canceling them,” you huff, “I’m going through some human-stuff.”

It feels like your insides are being twisted and squeezed over and over again. You place a hand on your lower belly, hoping to suit the pain, but it only gets worse. Noticing the way your face grimaces, Neteyam stands up.

“You’re in pain,” he states, “I will go for Tsahik.”

“No!” you protest, “No Tsahik!”

“But you look unwell,” he hesitates, unsure of what to do.

“No Tsahik!” you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling another cramp, “It’s a human thing, the pain will pass soon.”

Something about Neteyam standing there and watching you, makes you feel embarrassed. You already felt weak in comparison to him, whenever you tried to keep up with his running through the forest or climbing trees. He loved teasing you about it, and you don’t need another reason for him to poke fun at you. Your hand clutches one of the pillows under your head, and you sit up to shoo him away.

“Go away, you’re not allowed to be here,” you threaten him, raising your pillow in the air.

Neteyam frowns, still not moving. Angry at his sudden stubbornness, you throw the pillow at him with as much force as you can.

“Go!” you shout at him again.

Neteyam easily dodges the pillow but finally backs away from your bed. He knows that when you get angry at him, it’s because you’re embarrassed about something. He just can’t grasp what this “human stuff” is and why is it making you so stressed. Neteyam thought he knew plenty about humans from his dad, but Jake had never mentioned anything like this.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Neteyam is so confused on his way out of the facility that he barely notices Norm and almost bumps into him. Fortunately, Norm was in his avatar body and wasn't trampled by the teenage Na'vi. He chuckles at the way Neteyam doesn’t even stop to acknowledge him and keeps walking.

“You okay, kid?” Norm calls out after Neteyam, finally catching his attention.

“Norm, you’re one of the sky people,” Neteyam turns around. 

“I am,” Norm confirms with another chuckle, “Something bothering you?”

“Yeah… Can you tell me what is this ‘human stuff’ that you go through?”

Norm cocks his head, the question sounding so ridiculous, he assumes it’s a joke. But Neteyam looks serious.

“What ‘human stuff’?”

“I’m not sure but it looks like it is painful,” Neteyam shakes his head, “I just saw Y/N, and she was laying in her bed, and crying. It looked like something was hurting her, but she wouldn’t tell me what. Only said it was ‘human stuff’.”

“Maybe she’s just having a stomachache or something?” Norm shrugs.

“That’s what I thought. But when I wanted to get Tsahik for her, she got mad at me. Said that it will pass on its own.”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t understand women sometimes,” Norm replies, then a sudden realization hits him, “Ooooh…”

“What?” Neteyam’s ears perk up, “What is it?”

“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but she might just be on her period.”

“Period?” it was an unfamiliar word.

“Yeah, women get it every month,” Norm explains but it only seems to confuse Neteyam further, “Okay, so I’m probably not the best person for this but sit down.”

After what seems like an hour passes, Neteyam gives up on the human biology lesson with Norm. He sort of gets the idea of menstruation but he can’t imagine what it feels like, no matter how hard he tries. All he gets from this conversation is that Y/N needs to rest to feel better, and that the food she craves can help ease the pain? He is an alien; he has no idea what she wants.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Y/N?” Neteyam’s soft voice catches your attention.

The medicine you took earlier finally seems to work, and you feel slightly better. You prop yourself up on your elbows and see Neteyam walk into the room. A few colorful plastic bags in his hands catch your attention; these were usually hidden away in the very back of the kitchen cabinets for special occasions. Your mouth salivates at the sight of the chips and the cookies. 

“Are you feeling better?” Neteyam asks, now crouching down next to your bed.

You nod, sitting up, feeling a little guilty for shooing him away earlier. 

“I stole these from the secret stash,” he grimaces, laying out the bags on your blanket.

“My father is going to kill you for this,” you chuckle, reaching for the chips.

Neteyam smiles softly, as he watches you open the bag and fetch a few chips into your mouth. With a loud crunch, you munch on those with a giddy smile, then offer him some. Without much hesitation, Neteyam opens his mouth widely, letting you feed him a handful. You can’t help but chuckle at his blissful reaction to the taste; it was always fun for you to introduce Neteyam to human snacks. Your father got mad at you sometimes for it but you liked sneaking some for Neteyam, just to see him try it out. The sweets seemed to be too intense for him, but he liked salty things. 

“Good?” you ask him. Neteyam hums, then opens his mouth again, signaling for more. 

You chuckle before feeding him another handful. Though a teenager, Neteyam still required much more feeding than you did. So if you had a couple of chips at a time, Neteyam had to have a triple to fill his mouth.

“How did you know to bring these?” you ask him, now reaching for the bag of cookies. 

From your previous tastings, you knew that Neteyam didn’t like chocolate chip cookies. Or anything with chocolate, to be fair. You did not hide your disappointment the first time he almost gagged at the chocolate kiss you gave him, offended by the way his eyes teared up.

“Norm told me that your favorite food can help,” he shrugged, watching you bite down on a cookie.

Your eyes closed in satisfaction as you chewed on it, savoring the taste that filled your mouth. You haven’t had those in a long time.

“Help with what?” you open your eyes again.

“Your human thing,” Neteyam gestures at your stomach.

“Did Norm tell you what it means?” 

You feel heat flush to your cheeks, when Neteyam nods his head. You’re not sure why but the thought of Neteyam knowing makes you feel a little embarrassed. Not because there was anything embarrassing about getting a period. You just couldn’t imagine how weird it might be for him to know that you were bleeding out right at this moment, and he could probably smell it.

“Do you want to cuddle?” his voice catches your attention again. Where did he get that from?

You gulp down nervously, confused at how nonchalant he is. Maybe it’s not a big deal to him? He probably just wants to be supportive.

“Cuddle? Like, with you?” you clarify.

“Who else?” Neteyam chuckles, standing up.

He doesn’t wait for your response, instead gently nudging you to move to the middle of your bed. He was too big for it, so instead of laying down next to you, Neteyam decides to act like your headboard. You watch in confusion, as he slings his left foot over the bed and sits down, pressing his back against the wall, and setting down pillows on his lap. 

“Come on,” Neteyam pats the pillows, encouraging you to lay down.

You hesitate for a second, before laying down, as Neteyam’s huge frame hangs over you. He smiles at how small you look, gently propping up the pillows under your head to make sure you’re comfortable.

“This is a little weird,” you sigh, looking up at his face. 

Neteyam only chuckles and grabs the bag of cookies. He takes one out and offers it to you, bringing it to your mouth. As you open up to take a bite, Neteyam suddenly moves it out of your reach. You huff.

"Please, do not choke," he warns, before finally letting you bite into the cookie.

Eventually, you find yourself sitting up, leaning against his chest. As you swallow the bite, Neteyam feeds you again, listening to the satisfied sounds you make. 

“Feel better about the human stuff?” he nudges your shoulder.

“Much better, thank you,” you turn a little to look at his face.

While you were spending a lot of time with him, you’ve never found yourself in such close proximity with him. It felt weird but comforting. Like he offered you some sort of protection, a shield. 

“Can I ask what it feels like?” Neteyam breaks the silence, “Norm was sweating trying to explain it to me.”

You laugh at the thought of Norm trying to explain human biology to him. Nestling against Neteyam's chest, you make yourself comfortable and start talking. You both enjoy the snacks he brought, and occasionally he comforts you by rubbing small circles on your shoulders and arms. As the evening wears on, you start to feel tired and eventually doze off in his arms.

[grimmzee]

still fighting an artblock with doodles.

here's my take of @valiants 's Period!ghostsoap

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {Masterlist}

Read on a03

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

Summary: Nesta Archeron has been married off to Tomas Mandray to secure a comfortable future for her father and sisters. Although grateful to be wed, Nesta holds no love for her husband. Lost in a state of depression, she meets her husband's newest business partner and can't seem to stay away.

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Index: Prologue Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII

[atinyjules]

Where The Magnolia Blossoms Ft. Park Jisung {mini - masterlist}

"Loving someone is not a crime... right?"

The Crown Prince of Baeguk, whose future had already been decided from the day he was born, met a girl once in his childhood. A girl he fell in love with, despite the fact that he would one day be matched with a stranger. Knowing that their social status differed greatly, Prince Jisung let go of his feelings for her. But when he comes across her, who made his heart flutter years ago, will he be able to suppress his feelings again?

Park Jisung

Seo Seonhwa

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[monster-cock69]

winterspider omegaverse early 1800sish au where alpha Bucky's a farmer and omega Peter's a school teacher that just moved west with his family and Bucky's parents die and leave him the farm, so he decides he finally needs to learn to read so he can properly handle all of the paperwork

[jar-of-maise]

heyyy guys i have some story ideasss

wriothesley x reader howls moving castle au (ngl the wriolette potential is strong in this one OHO)

wriothesley x reader period au - royalty, dark academia, medieval yk

wriothesley x smart, reader who gets sent to the fortress to investigate him and shenanigans ensue

the question is, what to write first

EDIT: OKAY SO special thank you to @notgodbutme FOR ENLIGHTENING ME ABOUT THE EXISTENCE OF POLLS HEAD OVER AND VOTE IN THE DEMOCRACY THEY'VE GIVEN YOU

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Beta & Omega

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc

Tags: period au-Edwardian era, a/b/o, heat cycles, nesting, pregnancy, post partum, breast feeding, body insecurities, sex toys, p in v sex, oral sex f!receiving, threesome, plural marriage, headship, arranged marriage

Summary: Nora's hit her heat. Since their alpha and headship is currently stuck in the Senate weathering a lengthy filibuster, it’s fallen to Bucky to take care of her needs.

Bucky takes the block of cheddar from the icebox and carries it to the kitchen counter by the front window. He’s cutting off a few slices of the cheese and adding it to the plate that he’s made up for Nora.

She’s hit her heat—her first since giving birth four months ago—and holed herself up in her selected nesting closet. Since their alpha and headship is currently stuck in the Senate weathering a lengthy filibuster, it’s fallen to Bucky to take care of her needs. He looks up from the fruit and cheese plate he’s prepared when he hears the loud rumble of an engine. A glance through the window to the street outside shows that a motor carriage has just pulled up to the curb. When the driver comes round, it’s Lady Whittemore who is helped from the car, sneer on her face as she makes sure to keep the hem of her dress out of the dirty street snow. Bucky sighs and glances down to himself. He’s still in his nightshirt—not exactly appropriate attire for greeting guests.

The house bell rings and just a moment later one of the servants is peeking her head into the kitchen. She blushes and averts her eyes when she sees how little Bucky is wearing. “Um, begging your pardon Sir. Lady Whittemore has come to call. Shall I show her to the front parlor?”

Bucky affords her a smile. “That’s fine Gertie. Tell her that the Lords and Lady Rogers aren’t entertaining visitors this afternoon but offer her some tea and to stay for as long as she likes.”

“Yes sir.” Gertrude steps into the kitchen and lays a few letters and a small parcel atop the kitchen island. “Today’s post,” she says.

“Thank you.”

Gertrude gives a small curtsy and spins back around to leave.

“Oh and Gertie? Gabe is having his nap upstairs. Keep an eye on him while I’m with his mother?”

She nods politely. “Course Sir.”

Bucky takes the plate and the package from the counter and goes to the servants’ hallway off the kitchen. There’s a small door in the wall which leads to a tiny thing of a room—Nora’s chosen nesting spot. There is of course a proper nesting closet upstairs, near the master bedrooms. It’s original to the house itself, finer than this tiny room off the servants’ hallway. But Nora had found the little nook tucked just off the kitchen and decided that this was where she’d have her babies, where she’d pass her heats. Bucky looks down at the tray of fruits and cheese that he holds and knocks on the door. Trust Nora to want to stick close by to the food.

A light, “Come in” is said, and Bucky turns the knob on the door. It opens to reveal the tiny room. Nora is curled up in a mound of blankets. Bucky can’t help but smile softly at her. “Hey doll.”

She holds out her arms. “C’mere.”

He stoops with the plate in hand to get through the small doorway of the nesting closet. The inside is dark, lit only by a single gas light on the wall. There are soft blankets and pillows everywhere—a true nest that Bucky knows his wife has worked very hard on. The closet smells of old wood and close bodies. It’s got Nora’s own vanilla scent, mingled along with his and Steve’s from times that all three of them have spent together in there. Bucky sees that Nora’s brought one of each of their unwashed nightshirts in with her to add to the smell, as well as one of Gabriel’s soft blankets. He smiles at that, convinced that she’d have drug their infant son himself in there if he wasn’t already napping upstairs. After these past four months, the entire Rogers’ household is very much aware that you never, ever wake a sleeping baby.

Bucky hands the plate to Nora, who immediately picks a few things off it to eat. He sets the parcel aside and runs a hand through her curls. “How are you feeling?” he asks. She’d only gone into heat the night before. Bucky had woken to an empty bed, finding her tucked away beneath the servants’ stairs early the next morning. He takes in her appearance now. She’s dressed only in her underthings, her hair left loose around her shoulders. She looks flushed—certainly dazed from the heat—but still beautiful. Bucky always thinks she looks beautiful. Especially like this. He takes a few grapes from the plate and eats them, waiting for her to tell him how she feels.

“Not too far gone,” she says, pushing the plate his way when she feels she’s had enough. “Is there any hope he’ll be home soon?” she asks.

They both know that she’s referring to Steve—their alpha, headship to their marriage. The man who, under normal circumstances, would be the one to soothe Nora through her heat. Bucky hates to disappoint her but he shakes his head. “I’m sorry sweetheart. No. It’s just us this time.” She hums and squirms further into the nest of blankets she’s created, hands flitting restlessly over her neck, chest and belly. She doesn’t seem aware of what she’s doing, but Bucky knows that she needs to be touched. The smell of unfulfilled arousal coming off her is heady. “Here,” he says, scooting up to sit behind her. He pulls her against his chest and hands her the package. “This came in the mail today. Why don’t you open it?”

She does, her small fingers making quick work of the brown paper and twine. Once she has it unwrapped, she holds the item in her hand as if she’s no idea what to do with it. “Oh,” she nearly whispers. “Bucky, is this…?”

“Mmhm.” Bucky murmurs. He presses his lips to her neck. “Given that Steve’s unavailable this time around, I thought it prudent to acquire one.”

Nora laughs and the sound is light as a bell—beautiful. She’s not at all embarrassed about the fact that Bucky’s just presented her with a false knot, and it makes him love her all the more. His girl never was one to shy away from the intimacies of married life. With the toy still in hand she twists her head around and kisses him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me doll.” He encourages her to lift her hips up and eases the delicate fabric of her drawers down her thighs. She kicks them the rest of the way off and spreads her thighs in the blankets.

“Oh Bucky,” she sighs, leaning back into his chest as he begins to touch her between her legs. “Mm, yes. Please.”

He chuckles into her skin, chin hooked over her shoulder to watch the way his hand parts her folds. He’s holding her still against him with his metal arm and uses the other to stimulate her. She’s already wet. He coats his fingers in her slick and glides the pad of his thumb over the hood of her clit. She shudders hard in his arms and he holds her all the more tightly. “Shhh, there’s a girl. Feels good doesn’t it?”

She makes a soft noise in her throat. “Uh huh.” Bucky continues thumbing her clit and presses two fingers into her, curling and rubbing them against her walls. She tenses even further, hips chasing the movement of his hand. “Ooh, Bucky. Oh fuuck.”

“You close already sweetheart?” He asks in a low murmur, his smile against her skin. She obviously is. During her heats Nora comes much more easily, for both him and Steve. Bucky loves it. “Come on,” he encourages her, working his hand a little faster. “Come for me. Come for your beta.”

She shudders and the orgasm spills out of her, a sweet and sudden thing. When it’s over he turns her around and pulls them down into the blankets, allowing her to lay atop him and catch her breath. “So pretty when you do that,” he tells her, kissing her cheek. Her skin is flushed. She looks healthy and pleased and it stirs a possessive feeling in his chest, makes him want to satisfy all her needs. “I’m jealous of him sometimes,” he says quietly after a while.

She peeks up his chest at him, surprised. “Of… of Steve? Why?”

Bucky shrugs and pushes a stray tendril of hair away from her face. “He’s our alpha. He’s your alpha. Sometimes I want so badly to take care of you during a heat, want to be the one you really need. But I know he’s the only one who can give you that.”

“No. Bucky… I need you too.”

He smiles sadly at her. “Not in the same way though. I’ll never be able to knot you, feel your body tied to mine. My scent will never soothe your fever the way his can. My voice will never command you the way his does. I wish I could do that. Wish I could do more.”

“Oh, no Bucky please. Don’t feel that way.” She pushes herself further up his body and takes his face in her hands. “I don’t need another alpha. I don’t want one.” She leans down and kisses him firmly on the mouth. When she pulls back she says, “You’re my beta and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Steve and I, we both need you between us. You calm me better than he ever can, and lord knows you communicate better than he can. In a lot of ways you even understand me better than he ever can. Steve and I… we both find it easier to come to you first about anything. You know that. We’re both closer to you than we are to each other. You’re the one who makes this marriage work. You bring us together.” She pets at his hair, a smirk curving her lips. “And you know I depend on you to keep me sane now that we have Gabe. Steve wouldn’t know what to do. Bucky, you’re my beta. I will always need you.”

Bucky smiles up at her. His omega, his wife, his Nora. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She bumps their noses together. “And since you’re my beta, and our alpha isn’t anywhere to be found, I’m counting on you to push all. my. buttons.” She pokes her finger three times up his chest, ending at his collar and snapping her teeth at him playfully.

He grabs her by the hips and flips her over in a flash, making her shriek. He hovers over her and eyes her wickedly. “All of them, huh?" Nora giggles madly and he moves down to suck her breasts through the lace of her top. “Like this one?”

She moans. “Ooo, mm. Yeah that’s one.”

He grins. His fingers find the edge of her camisole and ease it up to bare her breasts. They’re large and swollen still from nursing, beautiful and flushed just like the rest of her. Bucky lays a kiss to each of them before urging her to lift her arms for him. He removes the scrap of fabric and she’s finally naked, bared fully to him. He groans appreciatively as he looks his fill. “You will never know how beautiful you are,” he tells her, reverence in his voice. “So goddamned beautiful.”

He runs his hands all over her, feeling the curves of her body beneath his. When he reaches the soft skin of her belly she tenses and her hands fly down to land on top of his. Bucky frowns at the reaction, recognizing it for what it is. Ever since the birth of their son Nora’s been self-conscious about her body, and he absolutely hates it. Gently but firmly, he removes her hands from covering herself and brings them up to press them into the blankets by her head. “Don’t hide yourself from me, Omega.” he tells her lowly. “If there’s something I don’t want to be looking at I’ll let you know.” He moves back down with a purpose, gripping her hips harsher than before and kissing down the soft swell of her stomach. “Love your body Nor,” he says between kisses. “It gave us our son. It’s beautiful. Perfect. You’re such a beautiful mother.” If he could let her into his mind he would, to let her see what he sees.

Nora whimpers, obviously wanting to argue that point but unwilling to ignore Bucky’s command. She merely tosses her head in the blankets, muttering some complaint about how she can’t lace down within six inches of what she used to. Bucky rolls his eyes and continues kissing down her body. He’s almost got his mouth where it needs to be to get his wife to shut up about how well her stupid corsets fit.

The first flick of his tongue against her clit makes her cry out, hips rising instinctively. Bucky holds her down and moves in again, this time licking all along the cleft of her sex. She’s so incredibly wet, so eager for him. Her slick gets on his face and he chases it, fucking his tongue into her cunt slowly, pushing in as far as he can and listening to her pleasured groans from above. When he switches to sucking gentle pressure against her clit and pushes his fingers into her, her hands shoot down and grab onto his hair. Bucky grunts at the sting and keeps going. “Don’t stop!” she gasps, using her hold on his hair to keep him right where he is. “Oh please, Bucky! M’gonna come.” Her hips are moving in little circles, rubbing herself hard against his mouth and hands. Bucky hums against her, his way of telling her to get herself off. When she comes, her breath catches and she doesn’t make a sound again until she’s coming back down, her body going lax in the blankets. “Ohmygod,” she huffs, overwhelmed. “Oh my fucking god.”

Bucky chuckles at her dirty mouth. He pushes himself up and yanks his nightshirt over his head, abandoning it somewhere in the pillows. He crawls over her and blankets her with his naked heat, waiting patiently for her pretty brown eyes to open. When she’s looking at him again he gives her a kiss that tastes of her own juices. “Love making you feel good.” He rocks his hips gently against her, his erection a heavy weight along the crease of her thigh. “You want me inside of you?” he asks.

“Yes,” Nora breathes excitedly, her scent rising again even though she’s just come down from her second orgasm. She lifts her legs to wrap them around Bucky’s waist, pulling him nearer to her center. “Take me,” she sighs into Bucky’s ear, knowing exactly what words like that do to him.

Bucky shudders out his next breath in the effort to control himself. He could plunge inside and take her, rough and fast. God, that’s what he wants when he has her like this—soft and pliant and mewling underneath him, and heaven knows her body would accommodate him. Her slick cunt would part for him and swallow him without resistance. He could take her furiously and without care, satisfy that base animal need that he always has when Nora is near. Bucky’s mouth waters at the thought, but he grits his teeth and refuses it. That’s not what they’re here for. They’re here for Nora, his mate. Carding his fingers through her hair, he uses his metal hand to line himself up with her. She gasps and her pupils widen, and Bucky smirks. He drags his cockhead up and down her slit a few times, gathering her slick onto himself and teasing them both. When Nora’s hips give an impatient little thrust upwards, however, he loses the last of his control and presses into her in a hot, needy slide.

“Oh, Bucky.” Her hands find his back, running up and down the muscles there without coordination. Beneath, her hips are moving in steady, needy little thrusts, just barely moving his cock inside her and bumping her clit against his pubic bone. “Please,” she begs, voice reedy and light. “Please move Bucky. Fuck me.”

She sounds desperate and it’s music to Bucky’s ears. He growls lowly and holds her by her wrists again, pressing them into the blankets as he starts to move. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” he murmurs as he fucks into her. “Gonna give it to you good.” Nora moans filthily at his talk and presses harder against his thrusts, moving with him as the blankets tangle around them and everything becomes sensation and sweat, hot breath and pleasured grunts passed between them.

Nora’s soft sounds grow into cries of pleasure—sharper and louder—until she’s arching up hard against him, fingernails painful against the skin of his back and her cunt grasping him in rhythmic pulls as she climaxes. “Holy—” Bucky cuts himself off as she trembles and collapses. He forces himself to breathe slow with her and to not come. Not yet. He knows his wife well, has spent more than a few heats with her and knows from experience that she’ll want to be fucked through at least one more orgasm before being knotted. Normally it’s Steve doing the knotting and at least half of the fucking, but this time Bucky will have to be the one to give her both. He’s not complaining. He can exercise a bit of self-control if it means he gets to watch her come apart so sweetly.

Nora’s chest rises and falls as she catches her breath. Her breasts are pressing up against him—two beautifully flushed swells just begging to be abused. Bucky can’t help himself; he sinks down to press his face into them, cupping them with his hands and sucking mouthfuls of the soft skin. He nips her once or twice, hoping that little bruises will form there. He thinks about Steve coming home and seeing the marks and realizing what he’s missed out on, and the thought puts a wicked smirk on Bucky’s face. His headship is also possessive of Nora—even more so than Bucky himself is. He can only imagine the tussle he and his husband might get into over their shared omega. Perhaps Steve will take him roughly, perhaps while Nora’s off in the nursery napping with the baby. Perhaps he’ll throw Bucky on the bed and push him face-down and reassert his rights as headship and… Bucky grunts in pleasure at the thought. It excites him, has him sucking harsher than he needs to at Nora’s nipples. She cries out and pushes against him and the tiniest bit of breastmilk leaks into Bucky’s mouth. He pulls back, taken-aback and frankly surprised at the sweet taste. His expression must be odd because Nora giggles at him.

He raises his eyebrow. “You laughing at me, doll?”

Nora bites her lip, nodding through her smirk. She looks wonderful, complexion rosy and flushed from her pleasure. Bucky is still hard as a rock and ready to give her more. Grinning down at her, he grabs her hips and flips her over onto her front, yanking her bum up and pressing himself inside her with no warning. Nora whimpers, the sudden intrusion making her scent soar. Bucky rumbles his approval of that from somewhere deep in his throat. He thrusts into her once, twice, rocking their bodies roughly to show her that he means to take her well and good this time. “That’s it omega,” he praises, running a hand down the center of her back. “So good for me. Gonna get you to come again.”

Nora groans pitifully at this, as if another climax will be some sort of hardship. But Bucky just moves his hips and shushes her with gentle words: Shhh, none of that angel, you know it’ll feel so good. Thrust. Want to watch you come apart. Thrust. Wanna hear it, wanna feel it. Thrust. He takes her steady and sweet, angling himself to rub inside her in the way he knows gets her off. Nora’s breath chokes off a little and her hands claw viciously in the blankets, and that’s how Bucky knows that she’s close. He is too, but he wants to make her fall apart first. He hunches over her, slips a hand around to rub fingers against her clit. “There you go,” he whispers against her skin. He kisses her shoulder blade and enjoys the increasingly loud cries that she gives him. Oh, he thinks, she is so close. “Come on,” he urges her, mimicking the controlling tone of Steve’s alpha voice. “I know you’re close baby. Let it go. Give it up to me.” Then, without warning, he gets his mouth on the back of her neck and bites down.

Nora goes absolutely rigid. “Ahhh!” Her cry is loud and long, dissolving into a desperate keen that makes Bucky’s toes curl in want. “Oooh fffuck,” she groans after long seconds pass. She goes boneless on the blankets, Bucky’s hands at her hips the only thing holding her up.

He watches her, completely mesmerized by the sight of his omega getting off so hard. Her pussy is still clenching down on him rhythmically. Once she’s clearly come down from it, he starts fucking her with a purpose. She squeaks at the sudden change in pace, but pretty soon her arousal is spiking again, and she starts encouraging him with pretty moans that fill up Bucky’s ears and urge him on. “So eager baby, you want to go again?” Nora sobs but it’s an affirmative sound—his girl wants more. “Don’t worry doll,” he grunts, hips moving furiously. “I know what you need. Gonna give you a knot.” Nora whimpers at this. “But you gotta make me come first,” he tells her. “Gonna get my load in you. Gonna fill you up so good.”

Nora cries out, whimpering, “Bucky, yes,” into the blankets. “Mm, want it. Please.” She’s fucking back against him with every thrust, eager and pliant. “Breed me,” she begs.

That’s it, that’s what puts him right there. With utterly possessive thoughts of fucking his mate so good and deep that he puts a litter in her running through his mind, Bucky feels his balls draw up tight. “Fuck,” he hisses, babbling at her in the way he often does when he’s this worked up: So close baby. Yeah, just like that. Fuck back on me, Fucking… Yesss. Oh, ugh, gonna make me come Nor. Oh! He comes, body spasming as he releases into her with uncoordinated thrusts. His fingers are holding her tighter than ever, and as he comes down from the high he realizes that she’ll likely have bruises from it. It’s hard for him to bring himself to care.

They collapse to their sides, Bucky bringing her back to spoon against his body. For a moment or two there’s no sound but that of their harsh breathing. Bucky feels her relax but can smell her scent ramping up again. Her body tries to clench down on him but he’s gone soft and he slides out. Nora whimpers, displeased at having nothing inside of her. “Shhh,” he soothes, reaching around blindly until he finds the knot. He knees her legs apart and brings it to her sex, rubbing the toy over her soaked lips to get it wet.

After a moment too long of this Nora growls at him, “Give it!”

But Bucky just uses his free hand to grab her by the back of her neck and force her face down into the blankets. “Be still,” he hisses, rubbing the knot more insistently until he feels her body start to part for it. “You’re going to get it.”

She whimpers and whines as he forces the knot in, filling her up the way that he knows she’s been craving since she opened that package and saw what was inside. Bucky inflates the toy to make it grow bigger inside her. Nora wails, thrashing without a thought, but it’s fine because she has Bucky there to hold her down, and he does. When the knot’s fully blown he abandons it to the clasp of her body and practically blankets her with himself. She’s trembling from the sensation of being filled so completely, and even though he’s spent, Bucky does her the favor of moving his hips against her to add to the illusion that she’s still being fucked. He soaks up her pleasured cries, imagining how good this must feel to her.

“Bucky,” she whines, still wiggling beneath his hold. “Beta. Help me.”

Bucky slips his metal hand around her body and presses his palm above her clit, rubbing down firmly enough that he knows it’s bound to set her off. It does, and she sobs yet again as her orgasm crashes over her. Bucky holds her through it, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear and petting her sweaty skin. He has no indication that her body’s locked onto the knot other than the fact that it doesn’t slip out of her. It won’t for a good while, he knows. If it were Steve here now they’d be stuck, tied together until the knot went down and Nora’s body let up, and Bucky would be responsible to take care of them. Usually that just amounts to getting one or both of them water to drink, but he’s glad for now to stay laying behind Nora, simply comforting her as she calms down.

After long moments she quiets completely, and Bucky assumes she’s asleep. So it comes as a bit of a surprise when she suddenly says, “See if the servants left towels?” He untangles himself from her and crawls to the door. Sure enough, just outside is a bowl of steaming towels. He pulls it inside and shuts the door. Nora smiles sleepily when she sees the bowl. “Yesss,” she purrs, and Bucky laughs.

“Here you go.” He unrolls one of the dampened towels, patting it between his hands until it’s not quite so hot, then brings it to her body and drapes it over her shoulder blades. She moans as if he’s done something particularly erotic to her, and he chuckles again. He takes another towel and begins wiping all over her skin. “Feel good?” he asks.

“Mmhm.” She’s purring contentedly, and he takes a moment to admire her—his sated omega. The sight of her like this makes something warm and happy settle in his chest. It’s love, that much he knows already, but it’s also satisfaction at having given her everything she needs. At having taken care of her.

When he’s gotten her cleaned he lays down again and pulls one of the blankets over them, arms wrapped around her middle until she’s ready to move. It’s as they’re lying there together, tucked away in their quiet corner of the house, that she whispers to him, “Um, what I said about you breeding me… I—”

Bucky shushes her, not wanting her to worry about what she’d said in the heat of the moment. “Don’t worry doll, I know we can’t yet.” Her heats may have returned, but both he and Steve know that she won’t be fertile again until she’s done breastfeeding with Gabe. They’ve got awhile yet to go with that, and even if they didn’t, Bucky knows he wouldn’t pressure his mate into having another baby so soon. Satisfying her through this heat had been simply that—satisfying it. But he has fantasized about knocking her up again. Ever since Gabe was born and it became clear that Steve was the father, he’s known that he wants to have one of his own with her. Bucky is grateful that he has a husband who will allow such a thing—many more conservative headships would not. He tells Nora, “I know you were just getting carried away with yourself, you know?”

“Mm,” she hums, snuggling back against him. “But what if I really wanted to?”

“What do you mean?” He tucks some of her messy hair out of the way and kisses her ear. “You want to have another baby?”

“Yeah,” she says. “…Um, and I want to… with you.”

Bucky’s heart leaps, and he holds her that much closer. “Yeah? Want to try with me next?”

Nora nods and turns in his arms so that she can face him. Her brown eyes are huge and beautiful. “I want that so much Bucky. Want to make a baby with you.” She leans in and presses her mouth to his, kissing him tenderly. Bucky groans into it, not so much at the kiss but at her words. When she pulls back she says, “So can we?”

He laughs. As if she even has to ask. “Of course,” he says. “If it’s what you want.” She nods again in encouragement. “But you know,” he says, “My, uh, seed is less likely to … I mean if we do try it’s far more likely that Steve’ll be the one to—”

She cuts him off with another kiss and a sly look when she pulls back. “Well then we’ll just have to kick him out of our bed, won’t we? Make him watch for a few months until you knock me up.”

Bucky laughs, amused by how she makes that sound like some sort of fun game. “Okay Nor, sounds like a good plan. You can be the one to tell Steve that that’s what we’re doing.”

She grunts, but doesn’t seem like she’s changed her mind. “Just you wait,” she says, pausing to give a long yawn. “I’ll tell ‘im.” They settle back down, both with thoughts of a growing family running through their minds. Bucky pets Nora’s side as she falls asleep and imagines another baby up there in the nursery with a toddler-aged Gabe. He imagines what the little versions of he and Steve would look like, running around and playing together. The idea makes him feel warm and happy inside. He decides that he really will have to have a talk with Steve when he returns, because having his alpha and his omega and a house full of children really doesn’t seem like that bad of an idea. In fact, it seems like the best one.

Masterlist

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[devildom-dedicated-daydreams]

An Unlikely Backer (Mammon x Reader) Chapter 4

Previous Chapter: Today I'm a Cute French Maid

Full arc title: The Unfavored Daughter Chooses an Unlikely Backer (link to arc masterlist here)

Chapter title: The Best Things in Life are Free, the Second Best Things…

Word count: 1.6K

Pairing: Mammon x FMC, Mammon x F!Reader

MAMMON

The duchy was falling apart. The mines had been stripped of every piece of gold and diamond they could offer and Mammon was now feeding his people from his own pocket. Sure the royal family would give a hefty award for winning the war but he had hundreds of people living in the dukedom, he had a lot of mouths to feed and he needed a separate award for the men who accompanied him to battle. The royal sum won’t last them long.

“You keep sighing.” It was his former nanny and current head maid, Everleigh. She brought him a pot of tea. He really didn’t like tea, but it wasn’t like they could afford wine or hot chocolate anymore. He technically could, but then what would the people eat?

“Leigh, what should I do? I suck at writing letters.” He had crumpled at least a dozen pieces of paper trying to find a way to ask for a loan from Viscount Leopold. 

“Take a break, Your Grace, you haven’t rested since you arrived yesterday.”

Unable to resist temptation, he snuck out for a drink at Ammencera Promenade without his men to clear his head. But of course, they caught him.

With another sigh, he gave up. “I think I will take a break.”

Leigh grinned before bowing and living his study.

He finished every drop of the warm tea before retiring to his bedroom.

The next morning he woke up earlier than the break of dawn, slipped into plain-looking trousers and the dirty white shirt he wore when he sparred with the knights, and escaped back to Ammencera Promenade. Everleigh didn’t like him going there, not because it was the so-called “land of the peasants,” but because she didn’t want him getting caught and ostracized even more by the other nobles.

He didn’t care what the other nobles thought about him though.

He passed by several decrepit buildings and a bunch of construction workers and glassware makers laughing.

“They look awfully cheery for men who are awake this early in the morning,” Mammon said as he met with Richard, the elderly toymaker he met with last night before getting his drink. 

“I hear business is booming.”

“Huh.” Mammon shrugged. “Ya got what I asked?”

Richard chuckled. “Ten dolls and ten soldiers, just like you commissioned.”

Mammon beamed and gave him his payment before taking the sack of toys from his old friend. “Thanks, Richard. I may need to come back again so do your best to stay alive.”

“Ha! Never gets old.”

Mammon hurried to the orphanage, where Winnet stood holding her own sack. “Finally! I thought I was going to freeze to death.”

“Why didn’t you wait inside?”

“I was worried you’d get lost with all this fresh snow.”

“I’m not that stupid.”

“I really doubt it.”

“Where are the wonder twins?”

“At home, exhausted.” Minette grinned. “They had a rush order and they found their new ‘muse.’”

“Really?” That was a first. 

“Well, come on, the kids are waiting.”

***

YOU

You were in the library when Lyrra informed you that your purchases have been delivered to the estate. 

“Send them to my room.” Without looking away from your book, you tossed her a coin, which she shakingly caught with both hands. 

“Yes, milady!”

“And be sure to call me when lunch is prepared.”

“Of course.”

The system watched the maid skip away with glee before dinging. [Won’t the family be mad about the giant hole you left in their pocket?]

You chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”

Lo and behold, your father was fuming when he caught you walking into the dining hall for lunch.

You ignored his and your stepmother’s glares as you made your way to your seat. No one spoke a word while the servants brought the meal. No one moved even when the last plate was set down.

Shrugging to yourself, you picked up your spoon to try the soup–the head of the house coughed loudly, an act that even a young child of any nobleman would deem inappropriate and rude.

You didn’t flinch, of course, in fact, you haven’t acknowledged his presence since you entered. The man has ignored this body 90 percent of the time. 

Smiling tenderly, you proceeded to eat first.

That set him off. “You dare eat!”

You set down the spoon and dabbed your chin with your napkin before making eye contact. He was a sour-looking man, with graying hair and a nasty set of distracting yellowing teeth. 

You offered a small but loose. "It is lunch time, is it not? You all seemed unwilling to eat so I went ahead and took the first bite to show you that the food isn't poisoned."

Your father turned pink so his loving wife stepped in, grinning forcefully at you. "I hear you went out shopping."

Your sisters lit up at the mention of the merchandise delivered at the door. 

"I saw everything. I didn't even recognize any of the branding," commented Deneve. 

“So many things and yet so little taste,” added Alma. “That reminds me you’re wearing an interesting ensemble today, sister.”

“Yes, the redness of your lips is so lovely. You look worthy enough to be married to Marquess Whitlock.”

Marquess Whitlock was an old man notorious for sleeping around with the so-called ladies of the night.

The two girls burst into a fit of muffled giggling, content with their wittiness.

“Now, girls, be nice to your sister. It’s your job to guide her during times like this.” Your stepmother was definitely smirking behind that veneer of pity and sympathy she showed you.

You merely hummed. “I don’t blame you for not noticing the brand names, after all, the Queen was the one who suggested them. She also complimented the glow of my face when I visited her the other day.”

The girls froze and a silence befell the room. To insult the Queen’s taste, the opinion of anybody from the royal family, was a major faux pas akin to social suicide. There was an old legend about a king from long ago who went to war and came home with a woman with origins unknown. Not much was known about her aside from her love of flowers. During a tea party, one of the guests innocently inquired why she wore a floral dress, as the pattern was commonly associated with little girls. The king cut the person’s tongue and florals bombarded the market for years.

Even if the majority found it over-the-top, no one would ever talk badly about how you previously donned the violet of the royal family or how your former fiance insisted on wearing flashy suits. (Not where it could be heard, anyway.)

“Nonetheless, even you have spent way more than necessary,” your father said. 

Before you could open your mouth, your stepbrother, Bardrich, defended you, “Father, Alma and Deneve have spent more on fur coats and hats this season, I’m sure a few more won’t be too bad.”

You narrowed your eyes but quickly smiled at him. 

Bardrich wasn’t horrible to look at. In fact, he was one of the female lead’s many admirers who made several appearances in the webcomic. They first met with her in a tree and she yelled at him for saying it was unladylike. He ate up the “not like other girls” act like grapes. 

However, your body had no memories of this man outside of being just one of the members of your distant family, so it was a big shock for him to defend you like this.

“I beg your pardon, my lord, my ladyship.” The butler arrived holding a silver tray with a single letter.

You knew exactly what it was–

“It’s a royal invitation to the celebratory ball.”

The mood in the dining hall lightened instantly as everyone discussed what to wear and who to expect.

You quietly finished your lunch before excusing yourself to your room, leaving the family to their own. 

[My Host, your ability to lie while smiling sweetly continues to impress me. Now please explain just what you’re going to do when everyone arrives at the ball and sees that Queen is wearing the same unflattering makeup!]

“No need to yell.” You picked up the boxes that didn’t have the Winfred’s logo. You unwrapped a wooden box freshly varnished and beautifully inlaid with rose flowers. You then went to find the other boxes that didn’t contain clothes or accessories. After finding the different glass vials, you opened the Witches’ Cauldron Chem Set and made a facial cleanser kit, then you made a hypoallergenic powder, a blush, and a lipstick, each one contained in ornate, professionally carved glass and metal containers. You had to thank Winnet for introducing you to such talented craftsmen.

You then wrote her a letter which included the usual greetings and polite chitchat in addition to your instructions: “Please avoid using your usual makeup during these three weeks as they will interfere with the treatment. If you must paint your face, please use the ones I have included in the box.”

When everybody was asleep, you rang for Lyrra. You handed her a delicately wrapped box and the sealed letter. 

You slipped her a pouch of gold coins. “This must be sent ASAP, and no one else but you and the delivery man is to know about it, understand?”

She nodded, arms heavy with your gifts to Her Majesty and her salary.

“Oh, and before you go.” You threw her something. “Consider this a reward for your good job.”

Lyrra drooled at the diamond bracelet between her fingertips. “I’ll continue to serve you faithfully!”

“I’m sure you will.”

[bewitchedhearts]

Eremika x my favorite game is that Mikasa is the lost heiress of the Azumabito family, her parents died in an accident and she was presumed dead since they never found her, the only thing she remembers is the lullaby her mother used to sing to her but nothing more.

She meets Eren at a party, the new heiress to the Azumabito estate (since they have no actual blood heiress, Kiyomi plans to leave it to the son of another family so that's why it's Eren), he falls for her at first sight and thinks she looks like a princess when he sees her in a kimono jsjsj

Eren and Mikasa meet a party where she pretends to be the daughter of some noble so they both introduce with fake names jsjs

At the capital city, where the Azumabito house is, they meet again, because Kiyomi decided to give her estate to Eren there's someone that wants to kill him so the heir can be some other, if I remember correctly, but well, the game has two outcomes but in both they end up married and living at the Azumabito house.

[gerec]

Hi! I have always adored your rec. Do you have cherik period fic rec? :) thank you <3

Anon if you're still hanging around (and I hope you are), I have some wonderful period fic recs for you! This fandom has an abundance of great aus, and it's pretty impossible to rec them all on one list. I'll do my best to give you a good mix of different periods and hope you find something there to enjoy :D

Here is a post that has a number of great fandom classics! (sorry a couple might have been removed from ao3 but most are still there) terrible with the brightness of gold by brawlingdiscontent

The war is lost.

With the futures of his people and his children at stake, former Crown consort Charles of Normandy awaits the arrival of England's new master, the fearsome Viking warrior, Erik Lehnsherr. (Inspired by 11th century historical events)

First Impressions by sirona

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a spouse -- or the nearest set of curtains to hide behind, if you were to believe Mr Charles Xavier. Little does he know that he himself will soon put test to that very truth.

let's pretend I'm holding your hand by primetime

"Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles. He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love. Regency AU."

Roses & Cinnamon by TurtleTotem

Charles Xavier lost more than his leg in the war with Napoleon, and the man he's just pulled out of the water has ghosts of his own -- especially when Charles's involuntary projected hallucinations prove catching. Raven, meanwhile, faces the choice of whether to marry respectably or run away with a carnival fortune-teller.

Pride & Prejudice - Rip it from my hands by Synekdokee

“Say you forgive me,” Erik whispered, his breath warm against the skin of Charles’ neck.

Charles stood quietly by the window, looking past their reflections out into the yard.

“You made your feelings quite clear,” he said, stepping away from Erik.

Erik grasped his wrist hard, refusing to let Charles walk away.

“Please.”

All the King's Man by Pookaseraph

In an effort to get out from under the thumb of his step-father, Charles chooses to become a courtesan for several minor nobles in King Erik's court. It is not long before he attracts the eye of the young king, and the Cardinal who holds the young king's ear. Charles spends months working to secure his place as King Erik's favorite and to regain his father's title of Merchant Prince. Charles hopes to disprove the old adage that once you enter the king's bed, you have nowhere to go but down.

The Marriage Bargain by kianspo

Erik Lehnsherr had made a fortune manufacturing steel in Europe. When he wished to expand to the New World, he discovered that no one would do business with him unless he was affiliated with one of the First Families, the creme de la creme of the NW aristocracy. When Lord Marko holds an auction to give away his 14-year-old stepson's hand in marriage, Erik sees his chance and takes it. He has no interest in Charles himself, but now that he has him, can they make it work?

A September as Sunny as Spring by Black_Betty, ikeracity, keire_ke

Charles Xavier was part of a famous vaudeville act before an accident cost him his career and his ability to walk. He's pulled together a new life as a musician in Hollywood, but is finding it difficult to navigate his feelings for his old friend and partner, Erik Lehnsherr, the most sought after matinee idol of their generation.

Famous film duo Frost and Lehnsherr are two of the most well-known and admired mutants in the public eye, having built their fame and fortune on silent film blockbusters.When the rise of the new "talking pictures" phenomenon threatens all their careers, they must band together to try to prove that their days of stardom are far from over.

And a couple by me for your consideration:

The Master of Charlton Park by Gerec

On the brink of losing his ancestral home, omega Charles Xavier agreed to do the unthinkable; he would sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of his family, and bear a child for a married alpha and his mate.

But Charles never expected that alpha to be Erik Lehnsherr, with whom he shared an impossible love and undeniable passion.

All of You and All of Me by Gerec

Erik Lehnsherr aka Magneto is King of Genosha, forty-three and the veteran of countless wars against the British Empire.

Charles Xavier is his new husband, in a marriage arranged by the King of England as part of the peace treaty between their two kingdoms.

Logan Howlett is Charles' long time friend and bodyguard, in a secret love affair with the married Prince Consort.

[laceyjane44]

GaaSaku 2023 Day18

Prompt: Secret Relationship/Masquerade

“Do not go too far, dear,” her mother scolded. “You must dance with a few of your bachelors this evening.”

“But, Mother,” her daughter whined. “The youngest among them is six years my senior, and the oldest would be comparable to dancing with Uncle!”

With a flick of her wrist, her mother folded her fan closed, using it to point at her daughter. A bejeweled and feathered mask, pinned perfectly to her hair and wrapped in a vibrant green silk, covered her mothers face though it was unable to cover the intensity of her glare. “And his fortune is comparable to that of a duke,” she hissed under her breath. “You are the only child of our name, and your uncle heads the family; without marriage, you’ll get nothing when your father and I are gone.

“I can manage my–”

“We cannot allow your youth to waste away while the prospect of your future remains destitute.” There was no room for rebuttal; there never was. “Understand?”

Sakura lowered her gaze, her voice quieting. “Yes, Mother.”

Another flick of her wrist, her fan was open again and she was waving the curled tendrils of her updo away from her face, the ballroom could be stifling at times. “Good, you behave as though you’d prefer a convent.”

“No, Mother.”

Observing her daughter for a moment, she sighed and waved a hand. “Go, mingle with the rest of the young women, perhaps they can assist you in narrowing down your choice. Duke Uchiha’s second son is quite the suitor, catching his attention would benefit the entirety of House Haruno.”

Sakura curtsied to her skirt and dipped her head. “Yes, Mother.”

With that, her mother; standing so straight and so refined, turned impeccably on a heel and joined her husband for the upcoming waltz. Sakura gripped her fan in her gloved hand, her mask feeling itchy against her face, her dress too ornamental and heavy for her liking, even her jewelry felt especially weighted today.

The grand hall was alight with the glow of the many sconces, candelabras and the chandeliers sparkling above. Music and dancing filled the space, a breathtaking display of fashion, etiquette, and beauty. The Masquerade ball, hosted by the palace and second only to royal celebrations, from the lowest of barons to the highest of grand dukes; all were in attendance, and all hid their faces for the chance to play the pauper and the stag.

Dress unlike her usual colors, mask that hid her face, and being one of the lowly barons’ daughters herself, she hadn’t needed a disguise for anonymity, her name and standing alone ensured no one – save for those who knew of her unique hair color – would distinguish her. She’d been approached by a few young men, though unfortunately for them she had recognized them despite their attire and had navigated her way out of a dance with them all thus far. Her mother had noticed, however, and she found her chances of avoiding the unwanted attention better on the terrace.

With a shawl wrapped over her arms and the heels of her shoes quietly clacking as she exited the hall, she climbed the grand staircase to the second floor where she hoped a balcony could be left empty for her. A guard stood near the terrace doors, and as she passed through into the evening air, the soldier didn’t even turn to glance at her. The door shut behind her, the sounds of the orchestra and the dancing sounded so far away now, only the starry sky and glowing moon were witness to her retreat. The gentle evening breeze of summer enveloped her as she leaned on the stone railings overlooking the central garden below, she had begun to wonder if he was even going to show –

“They’re relentless, aren’t they?”

Sakura gasped, spinning around spying a man stood near the door. He was a tall man, broad shoulders, crimson robes draped over his shoulders and belted at the hips with the ornaments of his nation. Even though that lavish and extravagantly embroidered fabric draped over his head and obscured his features, he hadn’t gotten memo of deception. Anyone to glimpse the exposed skin of his chest through his robes or see the adornments strung about his attire would have known of his name.

Her heart sprung to life within her chest, like a songbird with visions of freedom just beyond the bars of its cage, and she went to him. “Gaara!” she breathed as she leaned into him and he slipped his arms around her; strong, warm, and he always squeezed her more than the bachelor lords had ever dared to.

He lifted his arm and drew her to his side, the robe he wore inviting her into the warmth that always kept close to him. She shivered, in part because the air always felt colder when he was near, as if the sun of his homeland had followed him to this kingdom, and in part because of how the unabashed nakedness of his skin – no matter how modest – set her flesh alight.

“I loathe to have kept you waiting,” he said, ducking his head to whisper at her ear. She shivered at his breath along her neck.

“Did your session with the King go accordingly?” she asked, a life and an excitement breathing into her each time his deep blue eyes locked with her own.

Gaara nodded, admiring the beauty hugged against him, and he couldn’t help but tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then continue to tickle her neck to deepen that color on her cheeks. “Exceedingly so,” he boasted, always proud of his achievements through his skills in diplomacy. “My siblings and I will bring news of enriched trade and commerce to the Sultan upon our return. The end of this conflict will belong in your history books,” he teased.

“Your father will be pleased with you?” she asked, her own eyes searching his for the signs of truth behind his response.

“Yes,” he agreed, smiling at the way her face lit up at telling of his victories. “And he will likely offer me reward,” he continued, his gaze traveling down her figure to the attire that had been weighing her down all evening.

He could never wrap his head around their peculiar customs of dress in this land, the women especially. Hoop skirts and corsets, stays and petticoats, all they did for him was cover up the beauty of feminine form, one that his people were wont to praise and admire. Though, he had caught on to certain customs, and he could not be caught unaware of the one currently employed by the flame of his heart.

The colors he often wore were too dark for a complexion such as hers, she was a fair woman, with pale skin and light hair, though he noticed some familiar accents on her gown this evening. When he had spied her in the ballroom, ascending the stairs to the terrace as if beckoning him to follow, the burgundy color of her eye mask and the accessories of the same hue called out to him across the crowded ballroom. “Who are you matching this evening?” he asked, his hand at her waist slipping up her boddice and enticing a blush on her cheeks. “I haven’t seen any men wearing this color.”

Sakura peered up at him before the intensity of his gaze caused her to look away. She brought her fan up to her lips, tapping it against her chin. “Have you seen a mirror?”

He didn’t answer, though something about the way that he held himself shifted slightly, and soon the hand at her waist was guiding her to turn toward the door again. “Come,” he invited her. “I wish to dance with you.”

Sakura nodded, quieting her heart and stealing her will; she had expected this, she was counting on it even, and it was precisely why she had attempted to match his color. Perhaps a dance with him would give tell of their romance, maybe her suitors would take that smart step back she’d been begging of them, or finally be able to kiss him and not be obscured by shadows to do so.

They entered the ballroom and descended the stairs, a few masks tilted their way, curious as to why they matched though she knew no one questioned their identity.

“Do you see my sister?” he asked when he leaned down. Sakura scanned the floor below, finding the familiar blonde surrounded by the usual number of men that followed her. She nodded. “What do you think of her attire?”

“She is stunning as always,” Sakura replied with a smile, though she had sung the praises of his sister’s style to him before. “Even among the nobles attending, her visage and apparel are radiant beyond compare.”

Gaara smiled, the draping of his robes obscuring his face as he and his family had forgone the traditions of masks in leu of what their own wardrobe contained. On the dance floor, Sakura took her place in his arms, her eyes shining up at him though he wished that embellished mask hadn’t obscured her feature from him.

“When I return home,” he began as they started their dance; her hand in his, his palm molded to her hip. “I will have secured a name for myself outside of the throne’s succession.”

Sakura nodded, her heart fluttering. He had come here for that very reason; to be an ambassador for his father, to show his support to his sister as the heir to their family throne, and to ensure that he had no need for such a seat in order to make himself known and respected. She had been awed by his willpower and conviction, he’d been so bright and well spoken; the moment she met him was the moment that all other suitors fell short and were found lacking. She didn’t want to think of what would become of her after his return, this illation and happiness she had found was nothing more than a dream she would ultimately wake from, and when she did; he would be gone.

She smiled as she looked down, bittersweet and hoping the mask would catch any tears to fall. They had never been meant for one another, they came from different worlds, and even though she had tried insisting on the very same from beginning, she had fallen so deeply for him, for the way that he admired her in all that she was, and all that she wished to become.

“I hope your journey is a safe one,” she said, unable to lift her gaze, certain that her eyes would betray her.

Gaara twirled her around, basking in the jealous looks and sidelong glances from the men she’d spurned in favor of him, and bent down to speak softly in her ear, rasping his voice in the way he knew would excite her. “I always thought you would be beautiful in Sunesion robes.” Just as he had hoped; goosebumps.

“You have?” she managed to say, her voice almost lost among the sweeping crescendos of the orchestra.

“The vision of you in such a way has a habit of keeping me awake,” he admitted, enjoying the way her features flushed when he wooed her.

He hadn’t known if she had fallen for his appearance or his eccentricity, for his mannerisms or his foreign alure as a man that had journey across the kingdoms from the far away sands and mystifying dunes. He did know, however, that he was not above using any of these qualities to his advantage when vying for the heart of his conquest. He could be bold if she needed, he could romance her if she preferred, he could lay waste to her suitors in combat as were his own customs; it didn’t matter, so long as she continued to choose him.

“I will send for you,” he spoke quietly to her, the vibrancy of her green eyes shining at him from behind her mask as she caught his gaze. “Deeds, dowry, land,” he listed, admiring the way she hung off his every word. “Your family can have it all, so long as they give me you.”

She couldn’t speak at first, her lips parted in stunned disbelief, and he mused that if she didn’t use them momentarily, he gladly would. Soon her brows pulled together beneath her mask, her shock burning away to hesitation. “You jest,” she accused, resisting the urge to turn from him. She needed to see his eyes as he answered, he could lie to anyone else with that iron stare, but he’d never done so to her.

“Only if this be your refusal,” he countered, his heart skipping a beat as he offered her escape from this dalliance they’d fallen into together. He’d chase after her if she ran, and he’d fight for her, if need be, but he had hoped that she would welcome his proposal. “Though, if it isn’t,” he said, his fingers plucking the pins affixing her mask in place. He removed it from her face, allowing him to drink in her beauty as the drapery of his robes slipped down his shoulder as he did so, and she took in the fullness of his features as if the rest of the world had fallen away. “I’d be tempted to steal you away.”

“Must you send for me?” she asked, her pulse thrumming in her veins, her thoughts now filled with visions of a foreign land and a man to love her there. Her hand rested on his shoulder gripped the fabric of his robes, scanning his face and succumbing to the softness of his gaze. “Can you not take me?”

Gaara smiled and shook his head. “Let me build a place for you,” he urged her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and she frowned. “I want to do this right.”

The song was coming to an end, their dance concluding, and even as the music began to fade and their steps slowed, Sakura could hear nothing but his professions, could see nothing but the truth in his eyes, and could feel nothing but the desire for more of him.

“What of my suitors?” she challenged.

Admiring the way her expression reflected the racing thought within her mind, Gaara closed their dance amidst the pairs of couples swaying to the subsiding tune. He could feel the eyes on them as their dance ended, gazes hidden behind a sea of ambiguity, and he knew precisely how to thwart the abundance of admirers vying for her hand. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Kiss me,” he said. “Be mine.”

Sakura leaned in, pressing herself against him and encircling her arms around his neck when he bent down to her. She nodded; she’d been his since the day she met him, had fallen for him more deeply with each time they spoke, and henceforth she wouldn’t hide her love for him. “Yes,” she agreed, eyes fluttering closed as their lips met during the crowded masquerade ball, their faces bared and their intentions known.

Forever.

Thanks for reading!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceyJane

FanFiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2120361/WiccadBaltane0501

[the-husbando]

A white blank page, and a swelling rage.

[theladyofdeath]

Lady Death's Lover {8}

Lady Death's Lover Masterlist & Summary

19th Century Period AU Nesta x Cassian Secret Affair / Enemies to Lovers / Forbidden Romance Fanfiction / Characters from Sarah J Maas / ACOTAR Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous

A/N: I am so sorry it has taken me so long to update. Life has been messy. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy and cannot wait to hear what you think! Thank you for reading. x

TW: marital abuse, sexual content, language, depression, alcohol abuse

This story is for readers 18+. Mature readers only. Content should not be read by anyone under 18.

Dear Sir or Madam,

You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the Mandray Manor on Starlight Avenue on the twentieth of April. Wear your finest mask and arrive before midnight to dance the night away.

>.<.> Nesta >.<.>

“The ball is in nine days. We are meant to create a United front, show the ton that we are happy. Yet, you will miss it, leaving me to play host alone.”

I think it’s the most words I have spoken at once to Tomas, especially in such a tone, but once I’ve begun I can’t seem to stop. “Can you truly not return a few days early?”

I try my best to ignore the fire in his eyes and the way it makes my back stiffen. I would not be afraid of this man. I cannot be afraid to stand my ground.

At least that’s what I tell myself as he takes a step toward me. “Wife.” That one word that should be full of nothing but love is flung at me with hostility. “My wife, with your lavish homes and beautiful gowns. You can have whatever you want, whenever you want it, and do you know why that is?”

I may be headstrong, but I’m not foolish enough to answer a question of his that he doesn’t intend to have answered. 

“You have your life because of me,” he says, tilting up my chin with his knuckle. He’s not gentle. “You are not allowed to complain. You are not allowed to be unhappy. You are, however, allowed to shut that pretty little mouth of yours and do as you're told. I have told you when I will return. Until then, you will make sure that the ton believes my absence from this ghastly affair is a complete necessity. Is that understood?”

I stare at him.

He drops his hand and takes a step back, clearly pleased with himself. “Ensure it’s a success.”

With that, he turns toward the door and my tongue has a mind of its own. “You are a poor excuse for a husband.” 

He stops, just short of the threshold, and his body grows taut. I instantly regret my words, but I shouldn’t. I should not be afraid to speak my mind. I should not have to fear the power of my words. I should be able to voice my opinions, and in a loving, healthy marriage, I would be able to.

Of course, in a loving, healthy marriage, I would not have to voice these opinions. I would not have these opinions at all.

When Tomas turns to me, I fight the urge to run. With all the strength I can muster, I lift my chin and stand my ground. 

“Apologies,” he says, sauntering back towards me. “I am afraid that I misheard you.”

This was the moment. I could either lie and apologize and hope he shows mercy, considering he heard my statement clearly. Or, I could continue to stand my ground.

This is when I think of him.

I think of him always being there around every corner with that stupid little grin of his as he towers above me. I think of his kind words and the way I shared my macarons with him when we shared my coach. I think of the heat between us as we stand so close, too close for a married woman to be standing by a gentleman. I think of him, his beauty, his kindness, the temptation. 

“I am a woman,” I say, trying my best to make my voice remain still. “I am a human being who deserves to be treated with respect. You are cruel. You want a wife to flaunt around like a trophy, a woman to have on your arm for the sake of image, someone to order around and control.” I swallow, my hands turning into fists at my side. “But I am not a woman to be controlled. I am tired of playing this role. I am tired of being at your beck and call. I am sick of being a slave to this marriage when you do not take it seriously, take me seriously. Our marriage vows do not mean a damn thing to you, and I am the one who suffers because of it.” 

He’s close to me now. The air has grown thick. We are in the midst of battle and, if I am being honest, I cannot tell who has the upper ground. 

He opens his mouth, and I think he’s about to say something, to demean me, to threaten me, but then he moves.

My cheek burns as his palm makes contact with my skin.

Immediately, my eyes blur but I beg myself not to cry. It’s a natural reaction for one’s eyes to water when getting slapped, but I fear my hurt comes from somewhere deeper. 

It’s not because I love him.

Of that I am sure.

Perhaps it’s because the life that I lost, the life that could have been, a joy that will never be reached but will always be wondered about. 

Tomas grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me close to him. I cry out, but he doesn’t seem to care. Or, maybe he doesn’t even notice. 

“I don’t know who you think you are,” he hisses. “Without me, you’d be nothing but a whore in a little town that no one has ever heard of. You should be bowing down to me, worshiping at my feet.” His grip tightens and I bite my tongue to keep from whimpering. “You’d better learn your place before you come to regret it. I can ruin you as quickly as I’ve made you.” 

The urge to spit in his face is overwhelming but I ignore it as I always do. 

“Now, be a good little wife and tend to your list of duties for the ball while I prepare for my leave,” he says, finally letting me go. 

He doesn’t look back at me as he leaves the room, not even acknowledging the fact that he just tore me to pieces and left me alone to put myself back together. Except I don’t. I remain shattered but I straighten my back anyways. I lift my chin and take a deep breath before following my husband’s instructions. 

The staff doesn’t look at me all afternoon.

That way, it’s easier to ignore the blooming red splotch on my cheek. 

~.~.~

>.<.>Cassian>.<.>

After going back and forth with myself (and my brothers) for days, I find myself stepping out of my coach and falling into the line of people walking into the Mandray residence. I had a new jacket made just for this occasion, and I have no idea why I care so much. Even if it seems Nesta and I cannot keep away from one another, and there is clearly a pull between us, she made herself clear with me. She is true to her husband.

Even if she cannot stand him. 

I hardly notice the house and its occupants as I enter the manor. Music has already begun to play and there are people dancing, which makes me think I am one of the last to arrive. 

I see Nesta nowhere.

Nor do I see Tomas. 

After securing my mask, I grab a champagne flute off a tray being carried by a passing server. I sip it once and instantly wish it was bourbon. I drink it nonetheless.

For all the utter shit they had given me, I don’t see Azriel or Rhysand. Although, the latter does like to be late to make a dramatic entrance. Not Azriel. He prefers to blend into the shadows. 

“Lord Cassian.”

I spin around only to frown at the man in front of me. Lord Tarquin and I had never truly been friends, but there was a time that he didn’t hate me as much as he does now.

I set his library on fire once and the bastard never forgave me.

“Lord Tarquin,” I begin, clearing my throat. I give him a cocky grin that makes his eyes narrow. “A pleasure. I haven’t seen you in years. Back in Velaris?”

“Only for the season,” he says, nodding towards a young woman who is dancing with a gentleman. “I’m serving as my cousin, Cresseida’s, chaperone now that she is of age.” 

I remember Cresseida, although she’s nearly a decade younger than me. She was nothing but a child when poor Tarquin’s collection of war novels went up in flames.

“I’m certain she will find a husband quickly.” As the words escape me, she sweeps into the room. She’s wearing a dress of midnight blue and a gold, lace trimmed mask that covers the upper half of her face, but I know it’s her. “She’s lovely.” 

“Indeed,” Tarquin says, and I completely forgot he was by me. “But, apologies, I must deny her anyone who has ever set a portion of my home on fire.”

My eyes snap from Nesta to Tarquin, who is watching me with a raised brow. I clear my throat. “Oh, I…wasn’t showing interest. Cheers.”

I walk away before he can say anything else, although I’m sure he hates me more now than he did five minutes ago, which is saying something.

Not that I give a damn.

I try to cross the room to Nesta but she’s fluttering about, making her rounds as hostess. I follow her around the room nonetheless until she exits out the doors to the patio. Once I make it there and the cool night air hits my skin, she’s nowhere to be found. 

I frown.

A couple of partygoers are scattered about, laughing and sipping champagne. I don’t give any of them a second glance as I walk across the patio and down the stone steps, into the garden. She couldn’t have gone far, one would think, but as I scan the deserted garden before me, I second guess myself.

Maybe she had seen me and is attempting to flee from me. In that case, I’m nothing but a creep and a scoundrel. 

I freeze, halfway between two lines of tall shrubbery, and contemplate my thoughts before starting to turn around.

“Cassian?”

I stop. Stop walking, stop breathing.

Her golden mask is nearly all I can see in the moonlight but it’s enough to make my mouth go dry. I ignore the need to rush to her, to where she stands in perfect view after rounding the corner.

Neither of us says a word, but the air between us is thick. 

“I was not sure if you would come,” she says, her voice quiet but I hear every word with perfect clarity.

“I couldn’t stay away,” I say, the words escaping me before I can think better of them. “I know I should, but I cannot seem to.”

“Is that why you’re out here?” she asks, as my eyes drift to the quick rise and fall of her bosom. “Because you cannot stay away? Or, is it just a happy coincidence that we have once again run into one another in the garden?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was a coincidence?” I ask, taking a step towards her. She does not move.

She almost smiles as she says, “No.”

“Good, because that would be a lie,” I confess, continuing to make small strides to where she stands between the bushes. “You have put on a lovely party, my lady.”

“My lady?” she asks, humored. 

“You always seem to get angry with me when I am inappropriate, so I thought it wise to use your title,” I say, although I cannot stop my widening grin. I take a sip of the gods-awful champagne. “May I ask, my lady, while you are wandering the grounds alone during your own ball?”

The humor in her eyes dims as she says, “Tomas is the one that the ton likes. It is hard playing hostess all alone for a crowd who dislikes me. I just needed a break, so I thought it best to come out here to clear my head.”

“Alone?” I ask.

She nods. “You don’t know? Tomas is out of town on business.” 

I swallow. “I see. When is he supposed to return?”

“He was supposed to come back Tuesday, but a letter arrived this morning saying that he is currently unsure of his return date. I suppose we shall see.”

“And he left you here to do this alone?” I ask, a sudden burst of anger flooding my body.

She shrugs, and the unladylike gesture captures my attention in the most satisfying of ways. “I must confess that I prefer his absence.” Her mouth snaps shut as if she knows she just admitted something that she should not have. “Forgive me.”

“For what?” I breathe. I am standing so close to her now that she has to look up to meet my gaze. Yet, she still has not moved. 

“For speaking freely,” she says, quietly. 

“I wish you would speak freely,” I say, wanting to reach towards her but refraining. “It would allow me to not have to constantly be wondering what’s going through your mind.” 

“Is that something you are constantly worrying about, my lord?” she asks, that humor returning to the depths of her eyes. “What is on my mind?”

If I am what’s on your mind, yes. “I must admit I’m curious.”

I don’t miss the way her eyes dart to my lips. In fact, I track the movement very carefully, track the way her mood shifts, track how her cheeks flush and her breathing grows ragged.

“Is that so?” she asks. “And why is that, my lord?”

“Cassian,” I say, and our fingers brush between us. “Call me Cassian, please.”

“Cassian.” The way she says my name is barely audible but it sets me on fire. “I must admit that I’m curious, as well. Will you share what it is on your mind?”

“You do not wish to know what’s on my mind,” I say, and our fingers brush again.

That gentle sensation will be the death of me. 

“Why not?” 

“If you feel our being together in close proximity has been inappropriate, I assure you that what is on my mind is far from innocent.”

Her lips part and her lashes flit. I’m tempted to remove the mask from her face so I can see her clearly in all her beauty, but I don’t want to ruin this moment. Whatever is happening between us is fragile, delicate, and I don’t want it to disappear too quickly. 

“Don’t let that stop you,” she says, and I nearly curse as our hands brush once more. “I’m having a horrendous night, please grant me some reprieve.” 

I swallow the words on the tip of my tongue. This time, when the back of my hand meets her satin glove, it’s intentional. “I am thinking that, under different circumstances, I would ask you to dance. And I would scare off any other man that tries to get in my way.”

“No one likes jealousy.”

“Your tone suggests otherwise,” I say, and reach up to brush my finger softly up her glove, letting it linger where it meets her skin. She sucks in a breath and lets her eyes close. My finger continues dancing across her skin. She’s warm beneath my touch. I stop at the hem of her sleeve and let my hand fall back down to my side. The second my touch leaves her, her eyes snap open and lock on mine. 

“Pardon me, my lord—”

“Cassian.”

“Cassian,” she continues, “I’m feeling unwell.”

“How so?” I ask, unable to help myself. I am not a dumb man, I know what is happening here. But I have to hear her say it. 

“I should get back to my guests,” she replies, simply, breathlessly. 

“You do not want to get back to your guests,” I say, knowing it's the truth. 

She doesn’t deny it. 

“You’re trying to avoid me,” I continue, “because it is what you should do.”

She doesn’t deny it.

“But you don’t want to,” I finish. “Do you?”

She hesitates, and just when I’m afraid she won’t say anything, she says, “What I want does not matter.” 

“You must stop telling yourself such lies,” I say, and I cannot keep the passion out of my voice any longer. Her eyes are locked on mine, her chest is flushed, her breathing is shallow. I can see every thought running clearly across her face but she refuses to voice them. “You deserve to feel joy. Wanted. Pleasure.” 

Her eyes roll back, her lashes flutter, and I am so undeniably hard that it’s growing painful. I reach up to touch her once more, my palm resting idly against her cheek, and she leans into me. We don’t move. I allow her to revel in the simplicity of gentle human contact even though it’s testing my restraint. 

“You mustn’t encourage this,” she says, eyes still closed, her tone betraying her. “I do not deserve—”

My thumb brushes along her jaw and her words fade away as her eyes snap open and meet mine. I’ve come closer without even realizing it. Our bodies, perfectly aligned, are nearly pressed up against one another. Our breaths mingle together in the mere inches that separate us. Her eyes fall to my mouth then back up to my own. The need in her gaze is overwhelming.

Our noses brush, but just when I can nearly taste her, a high-pitched fit of laughter breaks the silence. 

Suddenly, Nesta looks both poised and pissed as she pushes me away and hurries off, completely out of sight before I can even collect my thoughts. A duo of ladies comes around the corner and smile as they see me, the man standing along among the shrubbery with the outline of his cock perfectly on display for all to see. They whisper something to one another and giggle as they pass.

I wait until I’m completely alone before walking the path back to the party, but I don’t come across Nesta once. Instead, I call for my coach and shut myself inside before finding release on my own. 

Again. 

[yes7erdays-a1]

❛⠀⠀ i’d go with the one on the left, ⠀ ❜ ⠀slipping her arm through caroline’s, she doesn’t bother looking at the boys who’d been following the heiress around all night long, knowing they are within sight, more than likely looking at them right now. puppies. eager, wide-eyed puppies. they’d be charming, if they weren’t so annoying.⠀⠀

❛⠀⠀he has a strong chin. when his mind goes, you will at least have the chin to keep your company. ⠀ ❜ ⠀

starter call. • @penvcnens

[atinyjules]

Where The Magnolia Blossoms Ft. Park Jisung {ch-1}

A/n: I disappeared for a while ig...but it was because I had to go help my dad in clearing our ancestral home. So while I was there, I saw a little Magnolia tree with blooming flowers and got inspired to write a historical au with Jisung as my lead, of course!

!!Mind you, this is all fiction. And it is not related to any history. None of the festivals or the things that take place in this story are real, and it is all purely fiction.!!

So here it iss

The Title of the story has been changed, and the name of the kingdom has been changed to Baeguk.

The mini - masterlist for this series can be found here

Genre: Historical au, romance, angst, fluff, forbidden love au, royal au

Pairings: Crown Prince!Park Jisung x fem oc

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, war, strong language , kinda angsty..

In the break of spring, when all the flowers began blooming and the birds began singing , a young prince sat and admired nature's beauty from his secret garden. His heartbeat was calm, and a soft smile graced his otherwise cold and rigid features. Away from all the pressures of the throne, Prince Jisung was at peace in his little hideout. When he was in the garden, he felt more like himself than he ever did in the big palace he was forced to call home.

The pressure and expectations of the throne suffocated him and made him feel sick. Like he was an animal who was forced to be a human. But at least the throne won't bother him for now. He's the youngest, after all, and the title of the Crown Prince belonged to his elder brother, not him, so for the time being, he could fly freely.

That's what he thought, until the day his life changed. The Crown Prince was murdered without a trace of his killer, and just like that, Prince Jisung slept a young prince and woke up the Crown Prince. Due to the sudden murder, the Crown Prince Jisung's life was way more restricted than his late brother, and all forms of freedom were thrown down the cliff. He was restricted from leaving the palace, restricted from meeting his subjects, restricted from visiting his secret garden, and most of all, the Crown Prince was restricted from behaving like himself.

He lost himself and became a puppet, a puppet who had to do whatever his father wanted him to do. Never could the Crown Prince Jisung be just Jisung, it was simply a wrong answer in everyone's eyes. If he could make a wish right now, he'd wish to be a nobody, and if his wish couldn't come true, he'd rather be dead instead.

I am a child cursed by the heavens.

"Your Highness, the King wishes to see you." One of the King's servants said to Jisung, who was brought out of his thoughts. Dismissing the servant, he couldn't help but stare at the calligraphy he just wrote one last time before folding it into a bird and discarding it outside to fly away from his sight.

A child cursed by the heavens can only wish for an early death.

❀❀❀

Jisung's

"Your brother's tomb has been mounted, so now your actual duties will begin. I know how you are, toughen up because, if you're weak, the kingdom will fall. I will kill you myself if you fail to go ahead with your duties as you should." Father said with a cold and chilling tone, making me nod timidly.

"Yes, father." I replied in a soft tone.

"Being too good is not good. The people will take advantage of a merciful ruler, but they will follow the orders of a merciless one. If you remain timid forever, everyone will take advantage of you and your powers. A timid and merciless ruler will fall, but a ruthless and tyrannical ruler will never stop rising." Father said and looked at me before scoffing.

"You're nothing like your brother at all. You're too soft, too timid... to weak. It's a shame that your brother was met with such an early end. He would've been the perfect ruler, but of course... the weakest one had to be left behind." He said, making me clench my fist tightly as I faced the floor.

"You better improve fast, or else I'll send you to Jihyuk." I felt my heart pause for a second at the mention of my brother's name.

"You're dismissed... get out of my sight." He said, making me stand up and bow to him before leaving for my quarter.

Seonhwa's

"You and your obsession with magnolias, why don't you ever make anything else?" One of the elder girls asked, making me perk up.

"It's pretty... besides, it's the kingdom's symbol." I said in a soft tone before getting smacked in the head by her.

"That's boring." She said and left with the newly made robes.

"Crazy wench..." I trailed before going back to doing my embroidery when an origami bird landed on my table.

"What's this?" I mumbled before picking it up and unfolding it.

"A child cursed by the heavens can only wish for an early death...this is so dark. I wonder who wrote it..." I asked myself before quickly hiding it under my skirt when I heard mom's voice.

"Seonhwa? There you are, what are you doing?! We need to quickly get the robes to the Crown Prince!" Mom exclaimed.

"Okay, okay... I'm coming." I said, making her sigh.

"Quick, quick! Or else our heads will end up on the king's table." Mom said in a rushed tone.

Right...the king.

After mom left the room, I got up and hid the calligraphy inside the cupboard before rushing out to help mom.

We had arrived in the main palace and waited for the Crown Prince's arrival after setting up everything. I was currently straightening out the Crown Prince's clothes when I heard footsteps.

"Make way for the Crown Prince." A loud booming voice proclaimed, making everyone panic and quickly get down on their knees to give respect to the Crown Prince. The door was slid open to reveal the Crown Prince in all his light. With a cold and stone like face, the Crown Prince entered the room and sat down in the middle of the room.

"Rise." The Crown Prince said in a low but commanding tone, making all of us rise from our position.

"Your Highness, with the Lantern festival approaching, his Highness, the King had asked us to prepare a robe for you to wear to the festival." Mom spoke in a clear and calm tone before revealing the robe to the Crown Prince.

"I want to see it up close, if that's okay." He requested making mom smile.

"Of course, your Highness." Mom said as me and another seamstress carefully brought it to the Crown Prince who took it and traced his hand over the embroidery.

"The embroidering here is beautiful. Who did it?" He said in a soft voice before looking at mom.

"My daughter Seonhwa did all the embroidery. " she said and bowed before motioning towards me, taking me by surprise as the Crown Prince looked up towards me.

"Seonhwa?" He said my name, making me bow to him.

"I am Seonhwa, your Highness." I said after bowing only to see the Crown Prince looking at me in shock.

"Is there a problem, your Highness?" The Crown Prince's royal guard asked in worry.

"I...no...it's...your very skilled. It's my pleasure to wear such a beautiful robe." He said making my eyes widen.

"T-Thank you, Your Highness!" I said a little too aggressively before kneeling on the ground and bowing, making mom face palm.

Jisung's

"She's definitely her... I know it." I mumbled to myself as I stayed awake in the middle of the night instead of sleeping.

I didn't think about her much, but now that I met her again... why is she all I'm thinking about? She made my heart skip a beat then and still made my heart skip today when we met. Why? Was it because we were older and more mature than we were in the past, or was it simply because I still thought about her all these years?

I got up and took out a box from the cabinet.

"Where did it go?" I rummaged through the box to find what I was looking for, a neatly folded piece of paper. I opened it and smiled as I began reading the contents.

You keep asking me why everyone calls me seonahwa right? So I'll tell you today! My real name is Seo Seonhwa, that's my name. It's a play on the word "Suseonhwa" (daffodil). Mom loves daffodils, so when I was born, she named me Seo Seonhwa because I was her precious little flower.

But some of the girls here call me Seonahwa instead. It's a pun if you didn't understand. They call me that cause I'm timid and cowardly.

When will you tell me your name? I can't keep calling you Park Salgu (apricot)can I?

After folding the paper and keeping it in the box, a transparent material caught my attention. I pulled it out to see the handkerchief with the embroidered magnolia Seonhwa made me when we were kids.

I silently sighed and brought the handkerchief close to my heart.

Park Salgu... don't you dare forget me... ever!

Park Salgu never did!

That's it for this chapter 💖✨️

I hope you guys enjoyed it! Yesterday was my Jeno's birthday but I couldn't post what I planned to. I completed 2 new chapters for his Broken Melodies series but because of the bad internet it didn't save and I lost everything 😭

And by that time I lost interest to rewrite it again 🤧 so I posted this new jisung fic instead.I had been working on this for a month before finally deciding to put it out for you guys so I hope you'll like it! Especially the Jisung simps🥹💖✨️

Chapter 2 can be found here

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated 💖 ✨️