#the glow on her hair is so pretty!!! i love her shiny eyes they look so liquid

[kteezy997]

hello hello! don’t know if you take requests, but could you do something about Tim and the reader are already dating and working on a film together. one of the days the reader doesn’t have to show to set so she has a seat for herself and when tim finally gets off work he comes to find her on the jacuzzi of their room using the water jets to masturbate. you can choose how to finish it

i admire your work🥰❤️

A/N: I tweaked the first part a little. warnings: using water jets to masturbate, explicit thoughts, hot tub sex, breast play, Timmy calls reader ‘good girl’ at the end

Jacuzzi// t.c.

You were finally able to fly out and see Timmy for the first time in weeks. He was in the middle of the press tour for Dune: Part Two. You would be joining him in London for two days. You'd miss the premiere of the movie and the after parties, but that didn't really bother you. Timmy was very private when it came to his love life anyway, and you didn't want to take any attention away from him or the film. You were set to head straight to the hotel once your flight got in.

You were exhausted after being on a plane for 10 and a half hours. You honestly thought of just going to bed straight away, but you knew Timmy would be back soon. You didn't want to miss seeing him tonight. And you knew he would be sad if you were already asleep when he got back.

You looked out the window, seeing the city lit up against the darkness of the night sky. It was beautiful; the bustling night life of the city. You saw the large hot tub off to the side of the balcony. You then realized why Timmy told you to bring a bathing suit.

You decided to take advantage of the hot tub now, and you went back in to retrieve your bikini from your suitcase. As you got into the two piece, you looked at your phone. Messages you had gotten while in flight were finally coming through. Timmy's manager had sent you photos of him in his premiere outfit and you scrolled through press photos on social media as well.

He wore a pretty simple outfit, but looked so damn good, as usual. You thought about ripping that big T-shirt off of him, along with those shiny trousers, and running your fingers through his curly hair. You missed him. You missed his voice, his scent, the way you felt so safe and warm in his arms.

You were clad in your pink bikini as you grabbed a towel from the bathroom and went out to the balcony. You entered the hot tub, your body stung from the contrast of the coolness of the night mixing with the hot temperature of the water. But you got adjusted to the change after about a minute.

The sound of the jets and the little waterfall on one side filled the air and created a calming ambiance with the glow of the lights along the bottom of the tub. You wished that Timmy would just come through the door already to relax with you.

You kept thinking of him, and of how long it had been since you’d gotten to cuddle him, much less have sex. You craved it at this point. You closed your eyes, thinking about your handsome man, and the ways he knew how to please you. He knew your body even better than you did. He knew all of your weaknesses and kinks. He knew how much you loved his mouth on your body.

You were getting hot and bothered, literally and figuratively. The steam was making your face hot as the water soothed your muscles. One of the jets was hitting your lower back so precisely, working out any aches and pains.

You were reminded that Timmy would often massage you, sometimes before sex, sometimes after, and he really knew how to use his hands. Even more so when it came to playing with your pussy. Your core ached just thinking about it.

Then a thought popped into your head. If the jet felt good on your back…it would feel even better somewhere else. Your turned around, straddling the jet stream. The water shot your clit, making your body vibrate. You moaned and your body shook, your pussy was stimulated to the point of almost numbness. You thought of Timmy’s fingers, rubbing you softly, then faster and faster.

His tongue dancing back and forth on your clit. The way he'd flick his eyes up at you now and then as he ate you out. The shooting jet hit all the right places, your pussy became totally numb with pleasure. You found yourself humping the water, your body eager to feel more pressure.

You put your hand between your legs, and closed your eyes. You rubbed between your folds. Thinking of Timmy's fingers again. After he was done with his fingers, he would kiss your inner thighs. He’d smirk at you. Your next thought was of his tongue nudging your bundle of nerves where your own fingers were.

Then your mind wandered to his cock… thick, veiny, and his pretty red tip.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You were completely startled, and gasped as you slipped under the water. You came back up immediately, coughing up some water and pushing your hair out of your face as you looked over at your lover who had, unbeknownst to you, joined you out on the balcony.

Timmy laughed at you, shaking his head. "Just couldn't wait for me, could you?"

"Sorry Timmy, it's just- I saw photos of you from the premiere and"

He cut you off, inching closer to the jacuzzi, placing his hands on the ledge of it, "And? And what, you got greedy, so you put your pussy on the jets while you thought about my cock?"

"Basically...yes." you shrugged. Having now caught your breath, you swished over to where he was standing, the steam evaporated from your wet, hot skin, and you said, "Get your big cock in here with me."

With a little smirk, Timmy whipped his shirt off, then his sparkly trousers and his boots. Once he was down to his boxers, he stepped into the hot tub with you. "Whoa! That is hot!" he said in surprise as he got accustomed to the temperature.

You got onto his lap as he sat down, your arms enveloped one another automatically, and your lips met. You tasted a bit of alcohol on his lips, but he hadn't stumbled or slurred his words at all, so he wasn't drunk. You were glad that he was able to let loose a little bit and have fun. You knew how busy he had been the last few months as he traveled all over the world to promote two movies, one of them having already raked in hundreds of millions of dollars.

You pulled away from his kiss and he smiled brightly at you. It was so glorious, you felt light and fluffy inside, like you were on a cloud. The sky was dark, with nothing illuminating the night except for the glowing lights in the tub and the tiny squares of indoor lights coming through windows of the many buildings below and around you.

Timmy was so handsome, his strong arms above the surface of the water. Droplets webbing on his skin, the steam coming off the both of you now, the trickling sound of the waterfall, it was all so romantic. It was a moment you could have lived in with him forever.

He kissed your neck, and you held the back of his head, his curls slightly dampened and cool to the touch due to the chill of the nighttime air. He nibbled your collarbone and left some smooches on your shoulder. "So pretty." he whispered, his eyes closed as his lips grazed your wet skin. "I'm so happy you're here." he cooed.

As he looked at you, his irises sea green now, you put your arms around his neck. You let your crotch graze over his cock. “Awe, me too, honey.” You felt his erection growing even more as you kissed him. You moaned into his mouth, and he stuck his tongue in. You felt his cock poking around your clit through the material of your bikini bottoms. "Mm," you began to mutter, "you're so hard right now."

Timmy hummed lowly, his hands went under your arms, and he lifted you up slightly and eyed your wet body. "I want you so bad." he admitted, leaning in to kiss your breasts. He left little kisses along your cleavage, with hungry, sensual sounds.

As he teased your nipple through your bikini top, you begged, "Put your cock in me, Timmy."

He lowered you onto his lap and he pulled the front of his boxers down in an instant, then pushed your bottoms to the side so he could access your pussy. With a firm upward thrust, he was inside you.

"Ohh, shit." you trembled, adjusting to him.

Timmy let out a soft moan, letting his hands settle on your hips under the water.

You started to roll your hips, letting his cock rut in and out of you.

"Aw, yes, baby, yes." he panted, grabbing you by your ass, helping you pump his cock faster.

"Oh, Timmy." you cried, bouncing on his cock now, as fast as you could muster without splashing water out of the hot tub.

His hands moved to your tits after a moment, squeezing them and rubbing your nipples, only adding to effect he was having on your pussy. He pushed either piece of your bikini top aside, exposing your breasts right in his face.

It was quite the sensation having your hard nipples splashing in and out of the hot water and into the coolness of the evening as you rode Timmy's cock.

Again, he felt your breasts. He nipped and licked at them as they bounced with you. He rolled your nipples with his fingers, making you throw your head back. He was able to capture a tit in his mouth here and there to suck them.

You could feel him pumping his hips up into you as well, meeting your thrusts as they got slower.

His waist was smacking hard up into you, and you were moaning like a whore. It was becoming too much for you to keep up with. You threw your arms around his neck, keeping still to let him fuck you. Your face rested in his damp hair.

Timmy held your waist and made the hottest growling sounds as he rutted you. Water was splashing everywhere around you at this point, hitting you in the face, even, but you didn't care. You whimpered and cried as you held onto him, just taking what he was giving you.

He stopped, then stood up in the tub as he grabbed you by your arms. He placed you chest down on the side of the tub. You braced yourself with your hands, trying not to slip. You felt Timmy's hands on your butt. The head of his cock toyed with your dripping clit for a second before he slid in again.

You held onto the edge as he started to ram into you from behind. You were just imagining how hot he looked, water droplets running down his body, frizzy ringlets of his hair bobbing back and forth with his thrusts. Your pussy throbbed and you clenched around his thick cock. His balls caused the warm water to splash your clit. The cold, hard surface of the jacuzzi wall caused your nipples to pebble up. You cried like a little bitch and shuddered as your orgasm overtook you.

"You take my cum like a good girl now." Timmy muttered, squeezing your ass cheeks, pumping his cock rapidly.

You whimpered with each of his final thrusts, trying with all of your might to not slip under the water.

He slammed his cock in one last time, and you felt his warm fluid spill into you. You rested your head on the edge of the tub, feeling all tingly. Then, his cold curls were on your skin as he pressed a sweet kiss to your shoulder blade, making you giggle.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen

[shidouswhore]

can I make a request ? 💗

About reader working as a stripper in a nightclub in which Shidou ofc is a regular guest x3 and him wanting to fuck reader so badly since shes his fav dancer there and reader always saying no until one night... 😏 Yk, pretty please, i need this so badly 😭💗🖤

mmm!! im literally drooling. here ya go :p

warnings: slight stalkerish behaviour, teeny tiny daddy kink, cumdump (?), dumbification, little bit of angst!, licking..?, dacryphilia, biting, root/hair pulling n tugging, slapping, rough sex!! :( ok this is getting too long

“cmooon, babe—“ his annoying voice called out to you yet again, for the.. 1, 2, 3, 4.. you lost count’th time this evening.

you had to admit, he was hot, and paid a good amount of money… just not your type. stripping wasn’t easy, with the amount of strange, men flooding in through the doors each night. you had your fair share of desperate ones, and he was no different. shidou, was it? though, he pleaded for you to just call him “daddy ryusei”, a hand already grabbing at yours as if a big, shiny, glowing, neon pink sign saying “don’t touch the employees” wasn’t on the wall behind him.

you simply rolled your eyes, snatching your hand away from his as you walked away, your hips moving with each step you took, a handful of the men turning their heads towards you.

you sighed deeply as soon as you go to the back, crashing against the couch as your fellow coworkers gossiped and giggled about the “hot blondie” outside.

as if, he’s a total weirdo once he opens that pretty mouth of his.

it had been a few weeks, and that strange man still hadn’t left you alone. every night he was there in the crowd, a grin on his face as he waved to you, fuchsia eyes trained on the way your body moved so well.

of course, he didn’t stop his pursuit to get in your pretty little pants— coincidentally parking his car next to yours, leaving when your shift ended, etc.

you sighed, legs slightly shaking with each step you took as you walked through the lobby’s doors, the cold night’s air hitting your face as the glass slid open.

it had been a tiring shift, and you just wanted to get home to your boyfriend.

he supported you when you brought up the idea of getting into stripping, and was actually happy for you… or so you thought.

as soon as you got home, the sounds of erotic moans and the bed frame thumping against a wall reverberated against your ears.

your eyes widened, and you immediately ran to your bedroom, not bothering to slip out of the uncomfortable heels on your feet.

there he was, your boyfriend, balls deep inside your best friend.

“k-keep going john!” she’d squeal, eyes squeezed shut as she approached her orgasm— a confused and ugly pout appearing on her chapped lips as she peered up at YOUR boyfriend. “what is it?” she’d inquire, turning her head to the direction the man was looking at, her expression falling as she realised…

“it’s not what it looks like, i swear! let us explain!” they’d shout in a panic, scrambling to throw their clothes on to preserve at least a little of their dignity, their pleas falling on deaf ears as you backed away from the bedroom, back hitting against the hallway’s wall, your head coincidentally bumping a photo of you and your ‘loyal and loving’ boyfriend, whom you thought you’d marry, off of the wall.

you wasted no time in turning around and dashing out the door, sore fear carrying you towards your car where you dug into your purse, trembling hands gripping onto your phone.

you pulled the device out, staring into your reflections as your tears fell against the screen with little splashes, the sound of the two people you trusted most begging for forgiveness and spewing whatever excuses they could come up with.

you looked down at the receipt in your expensive handbag, eyebrows furrowing as you thought out your next decision. you didn’t want to dwell on it too long, and quickly plucked the piece of paper out and dialed in the number— his number, the man from your strip club.

you don’t even know why you did it, maybe because you were angry, sad, stressed…

“helloooo?” his voice rang through the speakers unnaturally loud, his tone falling silent at the sound of sniffles. “um..?”

“hello,” you whimpered into your phone, tears falling down your cheeks as your breath began to quicken, watching your own boyfriend and best friend walk back into your house, clearly going to continue their little “drunken mistake” you had walked into. “can i come over? what’s your address?” you almost sobbed, hoping that he’d recognise you. “this is… shidou, correct?”

“oh, my lovely name!” he’d cry out, immediately adding you as a contact as he typed in his address for you. “don’t cry sweetheart,” he’d coo, voice growing low. he had to admit, the sound of your tears turned him on slightly. and it was finally his chance to fuck your enticing pussy, oh damn— he was hard again. “how far away are you, babe?” he’d hum, standing up from his couch as he strolled towards his bedroom, feet falling against the carpet in heavy footsteps before he opened his drawer, flicking through the various toys stored in there.

“i-i’m around 10 minutes away, see you soon.” was all you said to the blonde, slim fingers wrapping around the gear stick, your pretty manicured snails sparkling under the streetlamp’s dull light, flickering under the starry sky.

shidou was quick to open the door as soon as he heard a few light knocks, his muscular arms trapping you in a bone-crushing hug. “are you alright?!” he’d say, his large hands not so discretely creeping down to your plush ass.

“m-my boyfriend cheated on me.” you sniffled, standing still as you let shidou’s hands wander, too many tears slipping from your eyes to care about anything else.

he frowned, leaning down as he kissed the corner of your eye, before a grin spread on his face. “it’ll be alright〜” he said, before licking softly at the salty tears streaming down your face; causing you to whimper out a quiet moan from the feeling.

from that point, you honestly didn’t remember much. he just tucked his hands beneath your thighs, picking you up and carrying towards your bedroom as his nose nuzzled your tear-stained cheeks.

so you found yourself sprawled out on the creepy man’s bed, the very same man who had waited at your work and begged to do many questionable things with you. he propped one of your pretty legs on his shoulder, occasionally kissing at the skin of your ankles as he roughly rolled his hips into yours.

tears rolled down your cheeks, sobs of pleasure leaving your plump lips. your body bounced back as shidou pounded into you, his thick cock ramming right into your sweet spot, your tear-filled eyes practically rolling into the back of your skull.

“r-ryusei!” you mewled as he leaned down to your neck, his sharp canines biting down on your collarbone. he licked and sucked in response, a pornographic moan slipping from between his lips, wet with your spit from the previous make out sessions.

“sorry, sweets.” he’d giggle, kissing at the forming hickey, grinning to himself at the sight of the bruise. perfect, he thought.

you both knew this was only because you were feeling vulnerable and alone, you just wanted someone to fill you up and fuck you til’ you couldn’t even remember your boyfriend— no, ex’s actions.

his knuckled grazed your cheeks, the back of his palm gently wiping away your tears before he slipped two thick fingers past your lips.

your back arched off of the bed, sweet moans and whimpers being muffled by the fingers pushed into your mouth. you sucked gently on his fingers, tongue swirling obediently as your thigh twitched, you were getting close.

he knew it, he could tell by the way your moans grew quieter and how your breath quickened. “it’s okay baby, you’re close aren’t ya? just sit tight and mmh-“

he tilted his head back as you clenched down on him, gushing all over his big cock and heavy balls without warning, an eager and desperate moan leaving your lips as your eyes screwed shut, long and curled eyelashes fluttering.

he fucked into you with a few more thrusts, relishing in the way your pretty little pussy feels after waiting for so long.

soon enough, he grew closer and closer, pulling out of your greedy folds before shrugging your leg off, his fingers parting from your lips with a soft ‘pop!’ before he jerked himself off, shooting ropes and ropes of his sticky cum onto your breasts, smiling at the bruises ranging from a deep shade of red to a pretty purple littered across your body.

after waiting for you for so, so, long, the many nights he spent stroking his cock to the thought of you and your naughty smiles, your dirty looks, your enticing curves…

oh shit, he’s cumming again.

he collapsed onto you, panting softly as a hand reached to push a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “ya feeling alright, sweetheart?” he’d ask, a sultry tone in his voice as he narrowed his eyes at you, a thick finger tracing your arm. “ya think you can handle another round?” he teased, poking at the fat of your hip.

he didn’t even wait for a response, simply planting his big hands onto your waist, flipping you over and pushing your head into the cushy mattress. he grasped a pillow, propping your ass up before slipping back into your folds. it was fairly easy, considering the amount of times he had made you cum that night.

he knew this was temporary, but he couldn’t help but think of you as a sweet little cumdump, a perfect cocksleeve for his large dick.

“ya take me so well, sweets〜” he’d chuckle, a breathy moan escaping his lips as he settled, before harshly pounding back into your pussy.

the wet and sloppy sounds of his bald slapping against your asscheeks echoed against the walls, your loud moans being swallowed by the bedsheets as your hands clutched at whatever you could.

with a particularly delicious thrust, he had you squirting all over his dick, a satisfied smirk on his face as he continued, a hand slamming down against a cheek.

you whined, tears forming in your eyes once again.

“ryuuu—“

SLAP!

“come on, pretty baby. just keep that mouth of yours for moaning, alright? don’t wanna hear—“ he thrust into your folds, groaning before he continued. “i don’t wanna hear another word come out of your mouth other than ‘daddy’ or ‘yes, that’s it’ okay?”

you couldn’t even comprehend any of his words at this point, mind consumed by the way his tip was kissing your cervix, fucking you better than you’ve ever felt before.

why didn’t you let him hit earlier? if you knew he was this good you would’ve dumped that cheating son of a birch earlier.

“right there—!” you scream into the comfy bed, and ryusei grinned in response, slapping your ass once again.

“ya like that? my cute little slut.”

maybe it was wrong for him to call you ‘his’.. but he couldn’t help it, not with the way you were taking his dick so good, just like an obedient little whore. his obedient little whore.

“mine, mine.” he found himself growling about making you his as you came once again, your jaw slacked with drool dripping down your plush lips, eyes crossed together as you mumbled agreements to whatever he was saying.

“nobody’s ever fucked ya like this, huh?” he asked, a hand planting itself in your roots as he tugged, pulling your face up as he leaned down to your ear, his words almost barely being heard.

you nodded in response, a sob leaving your lips as shidou tugged again.

“tell me, tell me who’s fuckin this needy little girl so good? who is it?” he hissed, voice growing louder and louder with each harsh thrust of his hips.

“y-you areee!”

“who?!”

“daddy ryusei!”

@erea01 @shironagi @isagispuzzlepiece

note: i am working on another request, so be ready!! love ya :3

[okkotsuus]

jjk + domestic acts !

featuring: yuuji i. megumi f. nobara k. yuuta o. maki z. toge i. satoru g. suguru g. toji f. kento n. sukuna r. choso k.

contents: short head canons. fluff. established relationship. 900 words.

yuuji cooks for you. whether it be making you dinner when you come over for a date or making your lunch for school. he would be the type to make super cute bentos with the pictures made with seaweed. he also cuts everything into the sizes you like. he always waits to take the first bite so he can better see your reaction when you do. the smile and glow in your eyes fill him more than any meal could

megumi walks to the side where cars come from. whether it be walking on the side of the sidewalk closer to the road, closer to the middle lane in a parking lot, or walking between you and oncoming traffic when crossing the road. he always has a hand on you too just in case, usually, he prefers to rest it on the small of your back, but he also wraps his arm around your waist.

nobara buys things you like or she'll think you like them whenever she goes anywhere. she loves bringing the spoils of her travels back to you, a metaphorical tail wagging. she also gets things that remind her of you, like something from a show you watched together, or the candy she saw you eating before she left. like a crow who collects shiny things to bring back to the nest.

yuuta waits up for you when you get home late. if it's you coming back late from a mission, he'll be in the common area. if it's you coming back from a home visit, he'll be on the porch to help you with your bags. if it's you coming back from class and he gets back first, he's waiting outside your room. if he knows that you'll be gone overnight he sleeps in your room, not very peacefully, but it allows him to at least get a few hours.

maki orders for you. whether its placing reservations, ordering your food, or making a complaint for you, she's got it handled. she knows that these things can make people nervous and she doesn't every want you to feel like that if she can prevent it. whenever you go out as a class and she can't, she makes panda or yuuta order for you. because toge kinda can't.

toge leaves you notes. he leaves them on your bag, on your pillow, on your door, anywhere you have to look. usually they're a little compliment (ex. "your hair looks really pretty today") and a little doodle of him, you, or some random thing. he writes them on these little note cards that have onigiri designs along the border. it's how he makes up for not being able to say sweet nothings to you.

satoru carries your things for you. unless it's a cursed tool or something that you may need in a moments notice, it's in his hands. when you go shopping he is happily trailing behind you with all of you things. if you're going on a trip he carries both of your suitcases, he tries to carry all carry-ons as well but if he can't he'll give you the lightest one(s). he carries all the groceries in one trip too.

suguru always drives. if you need to go anywhere he's got his blacked-out benz's keys twirling idly around his finger. he puts his arm behind your headrest so he can turn around fully when backing out. puts his arm in front of you if he has to suddenly break. keeps his hand on the center console so you can hold hands. you get the aux, he likes your music.

toji doesn't pay attention to anybody but you. whether it's some random person flirting with him from across the room, he doesn't spare them a second thought unless you bring it up. sometimes he doesn't even notice cause he's too busy watching how the amber glow of the dying sun highlights your face and makes your eyes sparkle when you turn to him.

kento does the mundane things for you. if you're complaining about needing to fill your tank, he'll do it and pay for it. he starts you coffee for you so that when you wake up it's already made and cooled down. he starts the bath for you when you get home. he lays out your keys, purse, and other things on the table for you before he leaves.

sukuna scares away any and all danger. curses, humans, sorcerers, you name it; none of them with bad intentions dare to even look at you with him around. if they think you're alone and try to take advantage, he's already behind them. sometimes he disposes of him while you look away from him, he's back intact by the time you've turned around, a small splat of red on his cheek? its surely just the jam from the crepe you bought him.

choso listens to everything you say. he listens intently, his eyes never leave you except to briefly blink or if he sees motion. he looks at you like you're preaching when you're talking about this cloud that you saw that looked like a turd. nods intently and lets out soft 'mhm's while his elbows rest on his knees. leaned towards you like plants lean towards the sun.

okotsuus 23

[elvisalltheway101]

••••••••••it’s impossible•••••••••

summary: Reader just can’t sleep, she never can. Elvis walks in just in time to help shush you to dream land.

author’s note: HEHHEEHEHHE! I’m back hunniessss. So I wanted to get this out before all the nasty deeds come flying out of my drafts. And let me tell, they’re gonna be nasty. Anyway, this is inspired by ahem, ✨me✨ I don’t have diagnosed insomnia but I’m rlly thinking I’ve got it. Lmao I’m too broke to care, ain’t nobody got that government money 😭🤧.

author won’t shut her chapped lips: so I really hope you guys enjoy…hehe the fluff for now. It’s gon be hell’s butter on bread real soon 😭.

•••••••••• ••••••• •••••• •••••••

You huff to yourself in frustration. Tears flood into your doll eyes, only making the dark room fuzzy and cloudy. You purse your lips and frown, having absolutely no idea why you’re not getting any sleep. You were so tired earlier today, throughout the longing day, and now wide awake in bed.

You cross your arms, giving up as your chest heaves up and down in irritation. Thoughts, stupid thoughts that have nothing to do with anything just continue to swarm and bug you.

Is this even normal? You scoff to yourself finally, rolling your eyes that makes the tears streak down your cheeks. You rub your sweaty palms to your eyes, adjusting to the darkness and squinting at the dark, navy blue clock across.

You read, 1:13 am, and you groan. Throwing yourself back into the fluffy, silky sheets, and jumbo pillows arch into your back. You truly don’t know what’s wrong with you. It’s impossible to sleep like this! It’s impossible.

The sound of the bedroom metal, cool shiny door handle being twisted and opened clears your thoughts for a second. You glance back and meet the warm glowing eyes of your darling love. A soft sigh leaves your pretty lips as you look away and trail your gaze into your lap.

“Darlin’? Why ya still up? You’re usually asleep by the time I come back from work.” A warm, honey-sweet southern accent stuffs the room, a pinch of concern is present.

You shrug and frown, furrowing your brows and sighing heavily. You slump, your pretty pastel pink nightie hugs you loosely as one of the straps falls off one shoulder. “I-i dunno…I’m tired but I can’t sleep.” You admit, tilting your pretty head up to look him back in the eyes.

There’s an understanding spark of blue in those pupils that meet your eyes, he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. Walking slowly over to the bed, the soft sounds of his footsteps thudding onto the red, thick carpet are the only things that busy the room.

“Oh…gotcha, hunny? Is something on your mind?” He whispers out softly, crawling slowly onto the big fluffy and soft mattress. You don’t bother to look up though, still so absorbed and worried in what’s going on with you. Hell, you don’t even know what’s on your mind.

Everything seems to fall and not matter when a large pair of big chubby arms embrace you into a warming hug. “Baby, c’mon, ‘s okay, ya don’t gotta answer. I jus’ wanna sleep wit’ my yittle baby, mhm?” He whispers ever so gently into your locks of hair, the sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo fill his nostrils. You only nod slowly in agreement, wrapping your arms around his big frame. He’s almost like a huge soft, brown teddy bear.

His arms engulfing you into a bear hug keep you to his prodding belly that bulges into your side, and that only adds to this intimate, loving moment. Slowly falling to your sides, he pulls you closer and lets one hand slip away to swiftly grab the thick, velvety red blanket. Pulling it up your chin, only ending it up to his shoulder but he’s already warm enough in love.

You feel your eyelids already starting to droop, suffocated in his delicious spicy, strong scenting cologne, with the feels of his tickling chest hair that peeks out from his shirt. You nuzzle your face into his chest, sighing softly in delight and satisfaction.

“It’s impossible, ta tell the sun to leave the sky it’s just impossible.”

You hear the soft tone of his words, so light and an airy fluff. The scent of cherry coke and the faint scent of smokes from cigars lingers in his hot breath and warms above you, and you can feel his chest rise slightly as he takes in another breath to continue.

“It's impossible to ask a baby not to cry It's just impossible.”

He laughs out softly into your curly, puffy locks, gently shoving his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling the sweet, pretty scent of that new cherry strawberry perfume. “Can I hold you closer to me. And not feel you going through me? But the second that I never think of you Oh, how impossible”

He whispers out warmly against your skin, and your eyes close for bedtime. Your long lashes fluttering like a butterfly’s wings, as his voice continues to soothe you.

“Can the ocean keep from rushing to the shore? It's just impossible”

He shakes his head to himself, and you feel a soft peck of his plump, hot lips press to your collarbone. His nose pokes against the silver necklace he had customized just for you, shimmers with its glittering font that reads: Your love. “If I had you, could I ever ask for more? It's just impossible”

He smiles and nods slowly, his heart fluttering at the memory of you and him buying it from the shop. When he draws in a long, wandering breath, he adjusts his arms on your body tighter and full of passion. “And tomorrow should you ask me for the world Somehow I'd get it, I would sell my very soul And not regret it, for to live without your love Is just impossible”

He finally ends, ending with a hushed warm whisper. Finally pulling his face out of the warmth of your neck, he cups your doll jawline and scans so lightly of your calmed facial expression. You look so peaceful and restful as your eyes shut and you’re finally asleep. Leaning down to press a loving kiss to your smooth cheek, then holding, cradling you to his shoulder with a happy sigh. Shaking his head to himself and resting his own chin onto the peak of your itty bitty little pretty head,

“It’s impossible.”

•••••••••

I hope you enjoyed! It’s been a while so…my apologies if it’s not as detailed as before. Anyways, love you lovesss

tagging my hunny dolls: @bigdaddyelvislover @jhoneybees

[banngtannies]

DRABBLE #1

— Pairing: Yandere!vminkook x Female! Reader

— Genre: Mafia au, Yandere

— Summary: Love hurts, it causes anger, jealousy, obsession, why don’t you love me back?

They will do anything to keep you by their side.

— Word count: 3.5K

— Tags/ warnings:  YANDERE THEMES, obsessive behavior, manipulative behavior, talks about murder, self-arm, toxic relationships, manipulation, cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of past bullying in future chapters.

Notes: This is my first time publishing my work. i have never been able to finish something but i finished this one month ago and i’ve been so insecure to post it soooo. i heard it’s good to post something even though you feel like it’s not good enough just to improve in someway! I already have planned the next drabbles. the timeline will jump back and forth and i’m really excited to write the next following parts. Also english is not my first language so please bare with me (but also let me know if you see any mistakes😭) if anyone reads this i hope you enjoy it!

——

You tried to not think about it too much. You tried, as your parents delivered the news, as you saw your sister’s face, the way it started to glow. You try not to think about it too much now, when you see her walking down the aisle, your father carrying her towards her future husband, a proud smile adorning his features.

Your father looks euphoric, invencible. Carries himself like he owns the world. He looks too happy, too happy for someone who just buried his daughter’s future. He ruined her life.

Momentarily, just for a second, you imagine what would happen if you stopped everything. Maybe make a quick distraction, take the gun out of one of the bodyguards, pretend you will shoot yourself or anyone at the wedding if they dare to not let your sister go. Such a morbid thought, maybe if you were brave enough you would stop this. You would’ve planned something, anything, to get your sister out of this situation but you don’t.

You were scared, a coward. But also the mafia was bigger than you. The Jeon’s were bigger than the mafia. and who would dare to go against them? not certainly you.

You feel something wet on your cheeks, pretty sure it was tears, they were already blurring your vision and fogging up your glasses. Your mother lets out a scoff.

“I told you to wear contacts.” but you don’t reply. You don’t even look at her, you keep your eyes on your sister, her shiny long black hair cascading down her back. “Get a hold of yourself. People are watching” she whispers harshly against your ear.

Biting your tongue, you nod.

When your sister gets to the altar, you dig your nails into your skin, your chin bobbling a little. Suddenly you feel an arm graze yours, from the corner of your eye you can see it’s SunHee.

Your one and only friend.

“It’s gonna be alright.” she takes your hand, giving it a squeeze. Your hand trembles against hers. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You let out a breath and swallow the pathetic cry that wants to rip out of your throat.

“Trust me.” she says this time more sternly “Everything will be fine.”

You bob your head and look ahead once again. And as the pastor starts speaking, and seconds turn into hours you realize it’s over. The veil has been lifted.

“Now I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Your sister has been kissed by the devil. There’s no turning back now.

——-

The chattering around you is not big enough to drown your own thoughts. Neither is the champagne that is being passed around. You’re on your second glass on an empty stomach, you’re pretty sure by now you should be fine. Less worried, less anxious. But no, you still feel like a ticking bomb, anxiety crawling all the way up to your chest. You’ve been taking deep breaths ever since you and your family arrived at the wedding reception, tugging the ends of your dress.

You haven’t been able to talk to your sister and you don’t think you will anytime soon. Your mother has been making sure you don’t cross paths with her and if you do, it’s quick glances. Your mother has been glued by your side. You can feel her eyes from the other side of the room, watching you like a hawk.

As another waitress passes by, you extend your hand to take another glass but the tray is pushed out of your way. You recognize those hands.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” A deep voice says, making you shiver. “Don't serve more to her. Tell that to the others too.”

The waitress nods cordially and continues his way to the other guests.

“Y/N.” The way your name rolls out of his tongue, makes you grimace. You never liked it. It held a distinctive tone, as if talking to a child.

“Taehyung.”

He shifts closer to you. His body heat enfolding yours, you could smell his perfume.

“Are you okay?” he says softly, almost in a murmur.

“No.”

“Do you want to-

You turn your body to him, facing him fully. It caughts him off guard, making him stop on whatever he was about to say.

“Please don’t pretend you care.” and with that you leave, on trembling legs and heavy tears, threatening to spill out from your eyes.

Could this night get any fucking worse?

Making your way to the bathroom, you see another waitress coming from the left and without any much thought you take it from his hand, almost making the man fall on his back.

“S-Sorry.” You whisper dumbly, gripping the tray as if it was some sort of support and continue your way to the bathroom.

You breathe in relief once you see there’s no one there. Putting the tray full of glasses of champagne on the sink, you take two glasses as you settle yourself down on the floor. You drink one instantly, hiccuping after another one.

Your head starts to feel a little fuzzy but you don’t stop, not until there’s only three left and the bright bathroom lights seem brighter than before. You let out a giggle.

Standing up on wobbly legs, you wonder how much time has passed. Maybe not so much, since no one has bothered to get into the bathroom after you got in. Making your way to the door, you struggle to open it, making you frown.

“Stupid door open up.” you mumble while you twist and pull but nothing happens. You keep trying and trying until a silky voice halts your movements.

“Sunflower?”

Your chest feels heavy, like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs and suddenly you feel like throwing up.

“Sunflower?” he hums, making the hairs on your arms stand up, goosebumps covering your skin in seconds. “Are you in trouble,sunflower? do you need my help?”

You stumble back, almost falling on your ass. You feel cold and sweaty. Like needles are penetrating your skin. The handle starts to jiggle.

“Sunflower, i know you’re in there. But don’t worry, darling, i will get you out.”

The handle twists painfully slow as your heart sinks in your chest. Taking a step back this time you do fall. Just in time as he opens the door, his sardonic smile greeting you.

He closes the door behind him and you hear a click.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The sound of his chelsea boots hitting the marble floor matches the beating of your heart. You’re trembling and all the champagne you’ve drank threatens to spill out of your throat. Soft hands get a hold of your chin, his thumb tentatively running down your throat. You let out a whimper.

“My my, look at you, sunflower. Did you have too much fun?” He giggles sweetly, showing his pearly white teeth and moon eye smile.

To any other person Park jimin was the charming prince, a soft voice with gentle features. He looked so innocent. But for those who belonged in this life knew that looks could be deceiving. He was deadly as he was sweet.

Your lips tremble and you try to get away from his hands but he holds you firmly. His eyes hardening as you try to put some distance between you two.

“Always so stubborn. Do we have to tell every single waiter out there to not serve you alcohol or are you finally gonna behave like the good girl you are?” His thumb presses down harshly on your neck and you wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is beating.

You swallow, your throat feeling dry and rather than answering him, you look at him. You know he’s not done, with the way he’s staring at you, his dark eyes almost burning yours.

“You’re lucky I was the one who found you here and not him. You know that right?” His jaw tenses while he speaks, his plump lips now formed into a thin line. He’s pissed. “Nod if you understand”

And you do, automatically, like a robot.

“Now, sunflower, you’re gonna clean yourself up.” you nod again and the ends of his mouth quirk at that. “You will go out and smile. Maybe laugh a little too. It’s your sister’s wedding, darling. Cheer up. It’s supposed to be fun.”

You shiver at his latest words and you almost tremble. You try to not let it show. How his wording of choice affected you, how you physically revolted at them. But Jimin sees right through you. He always did.

He smiles once again, his fingers gently caressing your face.

“Always so pretty when you cry.” He murmurs softly, his gaze focusing on your face and then it goes lower, stopping at your lips.“See you out there, sunflower. Don’t forget you still owe me a dance.” and with that he leaves.

——

You drank too much. You regret it deeply and now you’re sleepy. Your eyes threaten to close every five minutes, it’s annoying really, trying to keep yourself awake. You have to pinch yourself or dig your nails into your skin, maybe a little pain will wake you up. So you do, you pinch and dig until there’s a red spot on your arm, until it burns.

You don’t stop until you see Sunhee coming your way, her arm entangled with Taehyung's. You stiffen a little.

“You need a bed, immediately.” Says your friend sweetly while she runs her hand through your hair.

She looks at you with so much pity. And you hate it. You know Sunhee truly cares about you, too much, sometimes you feel like a burden. Always by your side, always wiping your tears, always defending you. Sunhee deserved a friend, not someone who needed to be babysat.

She continues to touch you, patting your head lovingly and you don’t miss the way Taehyung eyes her hand, dark orbs observing every movement, the way his hand tightens on her waist, making her stumble back a little, her hand no longer close to reach you.

“You’re messing up her hair, honey. You don’t want Y/N’s head to end up looking like a bird nest, do you?” he tells her with a playful smile, making Sunhee laugh.

She pokes him on the stomach funnily, making him laugh too, but to your ears it doesn’t sound as truthful.

“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry Y/nie.” She says with a cheeky smile and then proceeds to peck her boyfriend’s lips. “I’m gonna get more wine. Do you want some?” Taehyung declines and then Sunhee Looks at you. “Y/N?”

Once again you feel those eyes on you. They’re so heavy. so intense that it makes you breathless. You shake your head and Sunhee nods. “Alright. i’ll be right back.”

When Sunhee leaves, the room feels smaller. Suffocating . You wish you could disappear, you wish you could be invisible. You just wanted to be left alone. Before you knew it, that same perfume invades your senses. He’s so close but you don’t dare to look up.

“Look at me.”

And even though his deep voice gives you goosebumps, you ignore him. You’re tired. So tired.

“The night just stared, YN. don’t be so sulky. I hate seeing you like this” He continues to say, his hand now on your arm and you hate it so much. You hate his body touching yours or the way he talks like he cares, like he’s being sincere. “This is a new beginning for us. For all of us.”

This time you look up, slowly. A small mocking smile adorning your lips.

“There is no us.”

And he mirrors you, his eyes now demonstrating a shine they didn’t have before. He loves your eyes matching his, his heat engulfing yours, the way you talk to him even though it irradiates with dislike. He loves it.

“But there is. There is for me, for Jimin and for him. It has always been an us, and there always will be.”

You press your lips in a tight line. You won’t cry again, not in front of him or them watching.

“Why are you doing this? I thought you were different.” and even though you don’t let your tears fall your voice cracks, betraying you.

He seems taken back for a few seconds, and you swore you could see something else in his eyes besides mirth. But it’s gone as quick as you perceive it.

“I told you I will always be by your side. Didn’t I?”

And before you can reply, Sunhee comes back, drink in her hand and the other around her boyfriend’s neck.

“What are you two talking about? Are you gossiping without me?”

Taehyung eyes you briefly before looking back at his girlfriend, giving her one his usual seductive boxy smiles. He shakes his head and says. “Not at all. Just movies, love.”

—-

Your feet hurt when you go back to the hotel for standing up so much, you’re glad the night is over. Your mother complains beside you, talking about how you didn’t even dare to look at your sister while she was dancing with her now-husband. How disrespectful you were for denying Jimin a dance.

“I didn’t raise you for you to have such poor manners. This is why you’ll never get married, you’re ungrateful and a brat. No one wants to marry a brat.” She barks and huffs but you’re too tired to care.

Also, you’re used to it.

“I’m sorry, mother.”

“You better be.” she spits back and walks ahead of you.

You sigh, your feet hurt so much, this is why you avoid wearing heels. You will never get used to them or the pain that comes with it. You plop yourself down in one of the stool bars located in the lobby, from your peripheral vision you could see your mother getting on the elevator. She didn’t wait for you. Good. You didn’t want to hear anything else that came out of her mouth and also you needed to rest. Just for a few seconds.

Your phone vibrates and you see it’s a message from Sunhee.

Sunhee

did you guys get to the hotel??

Y/N:

yess. we arrived safely.

Sunhee:

Good. see you tomorrow y/nie. sleep well!!

Y/N:

you too. love youuu.

Sunhee:

love you toooooooo.

You smile at her text. What would you do without Sunhee? clicking out of the chat, your heart drops when you see your other unread messages. You don’t dare to reply. He’s muted for a reason and it will stay that way.

You decide to open youtube to distract yourself, letting your head fall on the bar counter. You blink slowly, once, twice, thrice and before you knew it, your breathing got slower and so did your racing heart. You let the darkness overtake you.

You fall asleep.

And it feels great, until you feel it. Calloused hands tenderly touching your face, it makes you gasp. And if it wasn’t for the hands that were previously caressing your face, you probably would’ve fell off the chair. Those hands that feel scorching hot on your waist, confining you side by side.

It’s terrifying the visceral reaction your body has when you feel him, when you see him. The exposed toned chest, the tattooed neck adorned with chains, you know him so well.

All those years and you’ll never get used to it. His touch.

The muscles on his arms seem to tense when you tighten your grip on him. You were starting to shake like a leaf and all it took you was to look up at the devil. He smiles at you and you can’t help but look down. That indisticve mole of his, right under his bottom lip and newly done piercing seem to greet you. He licks them, as if inviting you to get closer.

Time feels like it has stopped and your breathing shortens when he cuts the distance between you two even more. His chest touching yours. Your entire body seems to be overcomed by electricity.

“Angel eyes.” He murmurs, dark big eyes pinning you down, his hands now on your hips, his thumbs going in painfully slow circular motions. You could almost feel his eyelashes grazing your cheeks. It makes you visibly gulp. “Why weren’t you replying to my texts, hmm?”

He stares at you deeply, as if he’s ready to pounce on you. It makes the hairs on your neck stand up, you don’t like it at all. When he looks at you that way, as if he’s ready to devour you whole.

At the lack of your response he hums, inspecting your face while he plays with his lip ring. His big hand is now holding your face by your chin. He smiles once again, showing a perfect set of white teeth. He looks delighted.

“Why are you so quiet? won’t you congratulate me?” His voice displays excitement while his thumbs trace your lips.

The rings on his finger feel cold against your skin and you wish you could get away from him.

“To be honest, I'm quiet worried about you. You look a little troubled, angel eyes. What’s going on inside that little pretty head of yours? Come on, you can talk to me. After all, we’re like family now.”

Your jaw clenches at his words and your stomach churns in disgust. God, you really wanna throw up.

“We-We’re not family. You will never-

His thumb on your lips silences you completely. His breath now tickling your right cheek makes you itch all over. You feel his mouth close to your ear.

“And thank fucking god for that. It would be terrible if you were. Don’t you think so, angel eyes? cant go around wanting to fuck a family member. ” he says lowly and then his tongue travels from your neck all the way up to your lobe, leaving a wet trail and you can’t help let out a yelp, immediately pushing him away with all the strength you could muster.

Jungkook's eyes widen comically and so does his eyebrows. He lets out a hearty laugh.

“You never fail to make me laugh. You’re so fucking adorable, angel eyes, i wish i could i keep you next to me all times.”

“You’re sick.” You spit.

“That 's no way to talk to your brother-in-law. What would your mother think? her daughter and that nasty mouth of hers. Luckily I won't tell a soul.” He croons mirthfully, sporting his go-to sardonic smile. One you know so well. The one that has been haunting you for the past ten years, even in your dreams you couldn’t get away from him.

Your hands form into a fist and you’re pretty sure you’re shaking but not from fear but from rage this time. You hate him so much. You hated him so much that you fantasized about killing him. Nothing would bring you more pleasure than seeing him gone from your life, from your sister’s. Forever.

“I’m good at keeping secrets, remember?” he continues, getting closer to you once again. Feline eyes almost cutting through yours. “That’s why we get along so well, don’t we? sometimes I think that’s why you and I-

You stand up abruptly.

“Shut. up.”

He holds a finger to his chin, as if he’s actually thinking about it.

“I can find a few ways to do so but I would need your help.” He says tauntingly. The ends of his mouth twitching slightly. “Ever heard of face-sitting, angel eyes?”

And before you know it you lunge at him, your fist colliding with his chest. And you feel pathetic instantly . Your small moment of bravery dying as soon as you touch him. Jungkook is so much stronger than you. Any attempt of physical harm from you feels like a faint tickle to him.

A laugh bubbles out of his chest. It makes your ears ring, because it sounds so real, as if it’s coming from a child. But wasn’t that really Jungkook? A child in a man’s body.

What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine.

What he wants, he gets. Always throwing a fit when things didn’t go his way, punching things, smashing things, killing things. Your mother talked about brats but she has never met one like Jungkook.

The vibrations coming out of his chest while he still laughs at you made you realize this: he was truly enjoying this. You will always be his source of laughter, something he could toy with, make fun of, pick at it and then later on ridicule.

He hugs you, after he pins your arms down, his chin resting on your shoulder. You feel him inhaling the scent of your hair.

“My sweet angel, this is just the beginning for us. For all of us.” You don’t know when you start crying, maybe when he snuggles into you even more, when you realize this is your reality now. There’s no way to escape. maybe there never was. You’re trashing against him, but he holds you tightly.

He will never let you go.

None of them will.

“We told you we will always be by your side, didn’t we? We will keep you forever.”

[gingerylangylang1979]

Sydney, Love, Beauty

I don’t know if many others noticed but Syd seems to have glammed up a little in the later episodes of S2. It’s very slight, you would almost miss it but it’s there. She has on shiny sheer lip color (yes, her lips always looked so dry last season, thank you), a sliver of eyeliner, and a touch of mascara. I also noticed her lighting is much improved showing off her perfect skin.

Syd has always been attractive but it just really stuck out to me that after the arrival of Claire she’s looking just a tad more dolled up. Is it connected? Did the makeup artist just decide to experiment more? Will we see more changes in the future?

As a black woman I’m obviously going to analyze this more. Black women are always going to notice how we are portrayed onscreen aesthetically. I remember being so pissed, along with much of the black TWD fandom, about how wamp, wamp Michonne’s wigs were. Were we being reasonable? Would any of us have amazingly groomed dreads during a zombie apocalypse? It wasn’t like the white women had fresh blowouts. Was it on purpose or an oversight?

Back to Syd. They could keep Syd looking the same. They could change her to look more glam. Either choice has implications.

A lot of people read Sydney’s style as signaling that she’s a lesbian. That could make sense. Plenty of lesbians style themselves like Syd. But it could also mean nothing. I have two black women friends that dress very tomboyish and both are very straight. They are like sisters to me. I could testify in court they love dick. But especially for black women any sign of non feminine coded style signals gay. I think this feeds into people having a hard time seeing Syd as interested in men or having the show’s sex symbol attracted to her. She could turn out to be gay but I doubt it given the slow burn with Carmy. She could be bisexual which leaves possibilities open. But I think it’s very interesting that the production choices didn’t decide to make Syd a girlie girl when the writing is making her an object of men’s affections. Part of me is really into that.

On the other hand part of me would love to see her have a glam moment. But this could be potentially problematic. Syd has style but also seems to dress for practicality. So if she is consciously making an effort to look more feminine where is it coming from? Is she just growing into a new look? Is she trying to catch Carmy’s eye? Are the producers consciously trying to make her more appealing to the general audience as a romantic lead?

Personally, I would love to see Syd switch it up a little but not go too far. I would love her to have a more modern hairstyle. Box braids are classic but I want to see a more sophisticated, trendy style. Someone posted about her getting knotless boho braids or passion twists. I’m into it. I just feel like Syd is up on design and I want to see her step her game up as her career rises. I don’t mind the little bit of makeup we saw and would love to see a slightly bolder look if she has someplace to go that’s not a restaurant. On that note, can we please see her somewhere that’s not food related? I also wouldn’t mind seeing her in some lighter colors in her street wear. Her wardrobe was so dark this season.

What I don’t want to see is her doing like a full extreme makeover and that’s the thing that seems to be the catalyst for Carmy to realize he loves her. I feel like that’s fine in some white girl Cinderella story but leaves me cold in a black woman’s love story. And if they do a silk press and that’s her glow up I would be super pissed. I’m not anti her ever having straight hair but if it’s like oh, now the white boy falls for her I will ride at dawn to FX.

I wonder what Sydney’s perceptions of her looks are. She seems confident in so many ways. But, yeah, why did she decide to randomly have a glossy lip? Does she view herself as pretty? Has she dated? Has she been told she’s beautiful?

I’m rambling but my point is she can glow up a bit but I never want the messaging to be she had to “get pretty” to get the guy. If she makes changes I want it to be because she’s evolving, maybe a little flirty, but not thinking she has to be a different person to get who she wants.

[ladylooch]

Hi I accidentally sent this in before seeing that requests were closed but since they’re open, did you see my request of the reader losing her virginity to Nico?? And he’s so sweet and gentle🥹 ilysm

Flower Picking with Nico Hischier 

A/N: Oh sweet, sweet 🌸 anon. Here you finally are! I know it took awhile, but here it is in all its smutty, sweet, shiny glory. Also peep how I always write Jack 😂 Sassy but funny. That kid cracks me up (before anyone asks, no I still can’t write about him because I’m too old! 🫣)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, Loss of Virginity, Swearing. 

The lights on the red carpet are blinding. You can barely focus any which way as people call out to you and Nico, desperate for the perfect picture. Nico’s hand on the small of your back is grounding at least. He leans closer to your head, resting his mouth on it for a moment.

“You’re doing great, baby. Just a bit longer.” You squeeze his back in acknowledgement.

Being in the spotlight has never been comfortable for you, ever. But, you’re more than willing to do these uncomfortable things for your perfect boyfriend, especially on a night where he is nominated for a prestiges award. It all feels a bit like a formality because in your heart, he’s already a Selke winner.

Once the pictures are over, autographs and interviews are next. You stand proudly off to the side, watching him do his work with your hands laced in front of you. Nico checks in on you frequently, making sure you’re as comfortable as can be.

“I’m doing great, babe. Stop worrying about me and enjoy the night.” You assure him after the tenth time he’s wandered over. 

“You’re smothering her.” Jack rolls his eyes at his captain. “Chill.”

“Why don’t you go fix your hair or something? Looks like you just rolled out of bed.” Nico chips back at him. 

“I’m just living in the moment, man.” Jack shakes his head, internal groan showing on his face as he is shuffled to the next interview.

“Nico, you’re done.” The Devils PR director says, waving us into the arena. We wave goodbye to Jack and shuffle out of the oppressive Nashville heat.

“I’m sweaty.” You groan, waving at your face, praying your make up isn’t actually melting off like it feels.

“You look gorgeous though.”

“Yeah? I’m glistening?”

“Glowing.” He wiggles his wide brows suggestively. “I know a way we could get sweaty later.” 

You pause, feeling a little panicked that he has figured out your surprise. When you heard Nico was a finalist for the Selke months ago, you knew exactly what to give him: your virginity. Yes, you’re well into your mid-twenties and yes pretty much everyone you know has already experienced sex, but you’re different. And that’s perfectly okay with you and Nico. You’ve had extensive conversations together about why you have waited and what you need before giving that part of yourself to someone. 

Truthfully, you’ve known for a long time it’s Nico you want to give this too. He treats you so well. Tonight is just the latest example of how he cherishes and protects you. You know he will take this piece of you and honor it forever.

But then he doesn’t actually win the Selke.

And you’re a little bit pissed because you think he deserves it. He squeezes your hand, then brings it to his lips to kiss before clapping for Patrice Bergeron after his video acceptance speech.

“Should have been you.” You huff at Nico, watching his face intently.

“It’s an honor to even be nominated.” He reminds you what he has been saying, but you can sense his disappointment. You find out later from Twitter that he came in second in voting and that cheers you both up.

After the awards, you find yourself at a restaurant with Nico and his family. You’re struggling to participate in the small talk which Nico notices. Usually, you’re animated and chatty with his family. You love them; they love you, but you can’t focus on anything other than what you’re planning in your hotel room later tonight.

“You tired?” Nico asks with his arm around your shoulders. He pulls your temple to his lips, awaiting your answer.

“Yeah.” You turn to him, brown eyes meeting yours with an inquisitive look.

After another round of drinks and dessert, you and the Hischiers take off to the hotel by the arena. You say goodbye to his parents and siblings in the lobby, then walk hand in hand to the elevator. You’re sure Nico can feel the sweat beginning to build in your palm.

“Dang. I’m tired too.” Nico groans as you enter your shared room. He kicks off his shoes immediately while you toss your shoes and clutch onto the chair by the TV.

“You’ve had a long day.” You murmur, swaying back over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers there. You use them to bring his face to yours. Nico pulls you tighter to him with a hand on your ass, giving it a light squeeze as you make out. Your tongues touch, tangling together before sliding out of the way for softer kisses. You can feel Nico growing against your stomach. You savor the feeling of reciprocated need building between your thighs.

Butterflies forcefully flutter in your stomach as you ghost your hand over his zipper. Then you get bold, sliding his belt apart and dipping your hand to touch him bare. Nico groans into your mouth. You stroke along his shaft, feeling the rigid pulses as he grows. He bucks his hip into your hand a bit while his eyes drown in desire. He presses two more soft kisses to your mouth before stepping away from your touch.

“Need a sec.” He murmurs, giving your hand a squeeze and moving to the bathroom. The soft click of the door makes you bite your lip. He does this when the desire to pin you down and fuck you becomes too strong for him to resist. Tonight, he doesn’t need the space, but there is no need to ruin the surprise before it starts.

You make quick work of your dress, leaving it in a pile on the floor. You whip your underwear off next then climb onto the bed. You’re not sure how you should sit except that definitely not cross legged because what the fuck is that? Instead, you pull your knees up, then cross your feet for some modesty. You can’t help but bite down on your tongue nervously biting back the slight nausea from the butterflies swirling inside of you. Maybe you should have brought the lingerie you were debating on after all….

Nico emerges from the bathroom, working at the buttons of his shirt.  Your heart leaps into your throat when he comes into your line of sight. He freezes when he sees you.

“Hi.” You whisper, hoping it doesn’t sound as choked as it feels coming out of your mouth.

“Hi.” His smile is modest as his brown gaze strokes along your bare skin.

“I want to have sex.” You blurt quickly. Shit, that was not how you had planned it in your head.

“Are you sure?” He crosses the room instantly, hands gripping your ankles. “I don’t want you to feel pressured by the big night we’ve had.” Nico licks his lips hesitantly.

“I know. But I want to do this with you, right now. I’m so proud of you, Nico. I want us to share this moment together, on this amazing night for you…. For us.”

“I am dying for that. But I need you to be sure.”

“I’m so sure. Think of how many other nights I wasn’t.” He stares into your eyes, pausing for ten more seconds before he leans forward to kiss you. It’s touchingly tender, a sweet press that melts your body. You untangle your limbs, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. “I’ll take care of you.” He mumbles, stroking the bare skin of your back. 

“I know, Neeks.” You smile against his mouth, tongue coming out to graze along his bottom lip.

“You kinda already did some of my favorite part though.”

“Oh.. Uh.” You stutter, breaking away. You begin wiggling over to the side of the bed where you dropped your dress to the floor. “I can put it-”

“Baby.” He chuckles, slapping your bare ass. “Stop. We’ll have plenty more moments where I can undress you.” You flip onto your back, his eyes take all of you in, circling around your breasts and then falling to the apex of your thighs. “I was right though, that dress looks better on the floor.” He slides his hand along your stomach, wrapping it around your hip to pull you closer to him. He leans over you. “You know you can back out at anytime?” 

“I do.” You confirm, staring back into his chocolate brown eyes.

“Okay.” 

You and Nico have fooled around plenty, so he knows your turn ons. He starts with your breasts, savoring the soft moans you speak into the air. His fingers stroke your nipples into pointy buds, perfect bullseyes for his mouth to find. His tongue caresses your skin gently causing cascading tingles to spread along your limbs. Then his hand moves down, nudging your thighs apart so he can stroke you. His fingers on your bare skin is a craving you never knew you needed indulged.

His fingerprints paint along your clit, building into a steady circle that has your muscles squeezing tight in your core. Nico kisses your mouth greedily, devouring your lips and tongue like he didn’t just feast at dinner. While he touches you, you grope for the buttons on his shirt to get him naked. He eventually pulls back from you to drag the shirt over his head. His pants go next. When he reaches for the band of his underwear, you stop him. You pull them down his hips and large thighs, groaning at the way his cock bounces free. It slaps against his abdomen then falls into your waiting hand. You wrap him in a tight grip, bringing your face to his throbbing head. 

You’ve never done this for him before, but you’ve imagined it. A lot. Your mouth opens, you swirl your tongue along his head then bob down his shaft until you can’t take him any deeper. Nico’s strangled groan fills your ears. He reaches to your chest, rolling your nipple as you begin to bounce up and down faster.

“Baby, baby, baby. Stop.” Nico begs. You pull off of him immediately, eyes turned downward with worry. “Hey, no, don’t be upset. That feels so fucking good. I’m not gonna make it if you keep going though.” He brings your mouth to his with his fingers under your chin. “Fuck. Couldn’t even tell that was your first time. You’re a pro.” He licks along your lips teasingly. You feel pride stretch your chest, flushing your cheeks with excitement.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile.” You admit as you watch him walk over to his bag. He pulls out a box of condoms.

“Anytime, baby. Except right now because I’m dying to fuck you.” A small moan slips through your lips at the way he says fuck. “I just got tested not that long ago as part of my physical, but I think the first few times we should use condoms.”

“Okay. I’m on the pill.” You remind him.

“I know.” He kisses you, then rips open the box and pulls out a purple wrapper. “I’m not gonna lie, I brought these hoping this would happen.” You like that and reward him with a smooch.

He rips the wrapper open, tossing it onto the floor carelessly. You bite your lip, watching him roll the latex down. You feel like you should look away, but can’t. When he is fully suited, he comes between your knees, adjusting your legs wider t accommodate his body. He kisses you again and you wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart as he adjusts you both for what is next.

“Tell me you’re sure?”

“So sure.” You repeat again. “Have me."

Nico laces your fingers together with his on either side of your head, then slowly begins to press forward. You close your eyes, taking in a measured breath as he gently nudges in, then right back out.

“Okay?” He asks. His breathing is heavy, nostrils flared as he checks on you.

“Yeah.” You nod too. 

He pushes in again, deeper now. This time it’s uncomfortable. He pauses there, leaning down to kiss along your breasts. His tongue slurps at your nipple, pooling warmth in your lower belly. He probes in further as your head falls back. Nico grins when he removes his face from your breast.

“I think you’re gonna like this, baby.” He chuckles, kissing along your jaw, then sucking at your throat as he pushes in to the hilt. Your hands unlace from his, instinctively going to his back. Your finger nails scratch softly at his skin.

“Me too.” You moan back to him. It feels exquisite. Slightly uncomfortable but also the best thing you’ve ever felt. Nico is doing everything to ease any discomfort or tightness. You’re so turned on and eager to feel what the next stage is like.

“Ready for more?” 

“Yeah.” You say back instantly. He smiles fully at you, then drags back so he can begin to leisurely pump in and out. Your breathing hitches again and he slows more, watching your face for any signs of further distress. They’re not there. “I’m good. More, Neeks.” You ask him. He closes his eyes in a long blink and quickens his pace, savoring the feeling of finally having you this way. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out. You arch your back into his thrusts and he grips your hips, pressing his thumbs into them to pin you back down.

“Take it easy.” He laughs, leaning over you again. “Let me control the pace.”

“Then go faster.” You urge. 

“Why are you chirping me?” His smile presses into your neck.

“Because I want more of you.” You whisper, turning to capture his lips.

Nico begins to fuck you faster. It’s toe curling and intense. The sound of skin connecting fills the hotel room as you writhe beneath his toned body. His hips are perfect tempo setters. You clutch them with your fingers each time, feeling their power as he pumps into you. The whole things is overwhelmingly beautiful. And better than you even imagined it would be.

“I love you.” You say to him. Is that cliche to say during sex? Especially your first time? You’re not sure but know you have to say it. He pauses his thrusting to cup your face, kissing your lips with delicate presses. It’s so intimate, him filling you completely while sliding his tongue along your lower lip.

“I love you too. So much.” He pulls away to look down into your face as his hands glide your legs to wrap around his waist. His hips begin to move again. Goosebumps of pleasure break out down your body at the change in position. 

“Oh… my god.” You moan, thrusting your fingers into his hair and tugging. You turn your face into his cheek, wet mouth sucking his skin. “D-don’t stop.” You quiver with each one of his pumps.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans as he keeps the pace. You agree. And tell him so by squeezing him with your orgasm. He follows suit, filling the latex while buried deep inside of you.

Everything slows down after that. Your legs fall slightly from around his waist. Nico breathes heavily above you; your abdomens sticking together from sweat. A light breeze of bliss travels from the top of your head to the tips of your feet. Your heart swells in your chest, feeling so connected to Nico after sharing this moment with him.

“How are you doing?” He asks quietly, face still buried into your shoulder. His hair tickles your skin when he pulls away to see you.

“Good. Great actually.” You insist with a grin. He matches yours with one of his own. He grips the edge of the condom, then slides out of you. You feel empty when he is gone and wonder how quickly you can get him to do this all again. 

“I’ll be right back.” He kisses you, then gets off the bed to head to the bathroom. His bare butt is quite the sight as he walks away. When he returns, he has a washcloth. “This should help with any discomfort.” He lays it between your thighs and you realize it’s warm. You smile at him, reaching your arms up to bring him into your chest. His lips press against your breasts as he nuzzles his face into them. “You might be sore tomorrow.”

“Okay.” You murmur into his hair. He’s so worried about you, wanting to walk you through everything. “So when can we do that again?” Nico chuckles into your skin. He wraps his arms around your back, spinning you both so you’re on top of his chest, looking down at him. Your hair cascades along your shoulder blades and down your spine. His fingers tangle in it there, kind eyes meeting yours.

“Give me 15 minutes and we can go again.” You bite your lip to suppress the wicked grin forming.

Nico Hischier is going to turn you into a freak.

[cyberrose2001]

Could you do a pt2 with pregnant reader, like Optimus finds her throwing up with morning sickness. Would really appreciate it. Love your writing.❤️❤️

TFP Optimus x fem!reader

trying out different writing styles so sorry if this feels a lil different to the previous part

SO this is pt 2 of this -> Read here!

There will be a pt 3 so keep an eye out for that, but for now, enjoy! <3

Warnings: Emetophobia, mentions of sex, pregnancy

Word count: 1201

As much as you loved getting dicked down by your alien robot boyfriend for the first time last night, you heavily underestimated the following effects. Unfortunately, waking up to the feeling of your body trying to eject the contents of your stomach was not on your agenda for the day. So, you try to crawl out from under a servo that held you, desperately trying not to throw up all over his shiny chassis.

The idea of you being pregnant never crosses your mind as you ungracefully stumble off the giant berth, almost faceplanting, and run for the nearest toilet, sink, or whatever you may find first. Then, with your mouth salivating at the impending feeling of throwing up, you find a conveniently placed trash can at the room's doorway. You practically throw yourself at it and heave your guts into the poor trash can.

It's unusual because you don't remember eating glowing bright blue soup for dinner last night before you had the pounding of a lifetime from your boyfriend. You weren't sure if you even ate dinner last night, too preoccupied with the jealousy of your cousin and the fact that Optimus had offered to put a baby in you. Yet the thought of you being knocked up still evaded your mind as you leaned over the bin and threw up a few more mouthfuls of the disgusting-tasting "soup". Your nostrils singed from the smell, and the sensation of your oesophagus melting away makes your eyes water. And honestly, the trash can is probably having a better time than you are presently.

Being a relatively light sleeper, Optimus notices your absence from under his servo and awakens to the pathetic sight of you hunched over the bin. Concerned, as one would be by the view of their significant other vomiting, he leaps out of the berth with the gracefulness that you had failed to execute yourself and rushes over to your side.

"Are you alright?" Optimus hovers a hesitant servo over your back, unsure what to do. Then, after recollecting himself from being hit by a wall of stench from the contents of the bin, he peers his optics around to your face; you're sweating bullets, your hair still unruly from last night's antics and clung to your forehead.

You spat out the remnants of your saliva mixed with whatever the hell you just threw up and lifted a shaky hand to pull your hair out of your face, "Just peachy."

Optimus ignores your sarcastic tone and reaches his servo to pull your hair out of your face, gathering the now slightly wet strands behind your head like a makeshift ponytail.

"Shall I call for Ratchet?"

No, for Primus sake no. The last thing you'd ever want was for Optimus to drag the cranky medic out of his recharge to point and laugh at your miserable, sweaty state. Not to mention his horrified questioning about exactly why you're throwing up glowing blue Gatorade. Not that you knew, either. That's an awkward conversation for another time.

"Please don't." You beg, wiping the corner of your mouth with your hand, "Just… get me some water or something… pretty please?"

Optimus, though very reluctant to not advise his medic of your current predicament, obliges and goes to fetch you a bottle of water. You've trained him well. He returns in record time and passes it to you, and you make no haste to unscrew the cap and scull as much as you can.

"June, perhaps?" Optimus suggests, a servo returning to your back, "I understand that she is proficient in human health."

"Yeah, I guess she will be fine." You grimace, looking down at the swirling patterns of what once was your stomach contents, "Though I'm not sure if there are any cases of glowing throw-up in her medical books."

-

"Glowing what?"

"Puke. Bioluminescent blue puke."

June Darby considers herself a seasoned nurse. She has seen just about everything, but this? Unheard of. She tries to wrack her brain on everything she has ever learned through her many years of medical experience but comes up with nothing as she is now forced to stand there looking like a lost, wet cat.

She clicks the pen in her hand with deep thought, a crumpled piece of paper retrieved from her pocket in the other, "Do you remember eating anything strange? Have you done anything unusual at all that would've caused it? Exposure to chemicals, or…"

You felt the blood simultaneously drain from and flush to your face as you remember getting down and dirty with Optimus for the first time last night. Well, you were sure there was plenty of exposure to chemicals in the form of your boyfriend's transfluids. Drumming the old crusty hospital gurney beneath you with your fingers, you wonder whether or not you should tell June that you had let Optimus make sweet love to you for the first time.

And that's when you remember why he fragged you in the first place. You wanted a baby. And sweet Primus, it's all just hitting you square in the face now.

Could it be that you're pregnant? It starts to add up. The morning sickness, not to mention the abnormal glowing throw-up and the fact that you actually begged Optimus to put a baby in you and complied with the most enormous load of cum your body has ever taken (it's taking a lot for you not to drool at the thought). It makes a least a little bit of sense.

"June, do you happen to have a pregnancy test on you?"

-

After an awkward conversation with June about your recent endeavour with Prime, with her secretly being incredibly impressed, she gave you a clean-ish bill of health. Next, she sent you to the bathroom with a packet of pregnancy tests, with her being on standby in case you pass out from nausea, excitement or the sensation of a potential baby that may be in your uterus currently.

You open one test and place it on the bathroom sink, then pull your pajama pants down to your ankles in preparation for your first time peeing on a stick, akin to a dog. You giggle.

Task successful. You pull your pants up and wash your hands, counting every second the cold water hits your skin. It gave you some time to think. Would a regular pregnancy test even register if the fetus isn't human? Would it show up at all? Was Optimus truthful when he agreed to try and conceive a child, or was it just the lust combined with robot hormones doing the talking?

You didn't have enough time to answer your little pop quiz as you're alerted to the small beep of the Clearblue stick still sitting on the bathroom sink.

Pregnant.

Holy shit. You were having a baby.

An uncontrollable tsunami of emotions floods your senses as you pick up the stick, getting a closer look to ensure you aren't dreaming. It's real. It's so real that you're resisting the urge to climb to the top of the base and scream it out for everyone on Earth and potentially Cybertron to hear.

I'm gonna be a mom.

[cauldron-of-oddities]

Pretty Things

Powder had always loved pretty things. Shiny things, useful things, things to tinker with. She was unfortunately a bit clumsy and not always useful at getting stuff (though only Mylo ever told her off) it really ruffled her feathers, though. It left her feeling all sorts of useless.

So when she met Ekko who had a knack for finding all the best shiny things, and pretty baubles, and liked to tinker like her, and for one reason or another decided he liked her too it was a done deal. They'd be friends. And then he said her hair was the prettiest blue. She then decided they'd be friends forever.

She thought Ekko was pretty too, with his white hair that almost glowed, and with warm eyes and all his warm tones. He also gave the best hugs ever, and he seemed to want them all the time. She was all too happy to oblige. She wanted them, too.

She wondered if he heard it, how her heart would flutter every time he came by just because something he found was for her. Or when something went wrong and his arms would wrap around her and comfort would sink into her, like being wrapped in a blanket made of the warmest down. She wondered if she should tell him how it made her feel.

When she was eleven and he was twelve, he braided her hair for the first time, how calm she'd felt, content to just be for a moment. She hoped it would last forever. And she wondered, could she keep him forever with her? That peace flew right out the door when her sister flew in. “Oi, Love birds. Dinner!” The voice of her sister breaking through with teasing laughter.

‘Love birds’ Oh. Oh, why did that thought make her feel all fizzy inside?

Ekko's birthday came. She’d fretted an eternity over a gift. Only his change was so quick that she'd have to wait for him to open it. His shift had been every bit as enchanting as it was supposed to be. She blushed at how bold she'd been. But he'd looked so soft, and he was just so pretty. Ekko had given her a quick peck when she said that last remark, though his chest had puffed up pridefully. And then she'd just had to touch.

Hidden in her shared room burying her hot cheeks in her pillow, the moment returns unbidden. He'd been so, so soft, she'd stood there just running her fingers over him like some sort of hypnotised freak, what would he think of her?!

Flopping onto her back, she holds up Bunny, her sister's toy once, and now hers. Her confidant for when she was too embarrassed to talk to Vi. Powder can't wait until it's her turn to shift. She hopes she's something blue, a bluebird, or maybe a jay.

Her brows scrunched together, she raised Bunny above her head and worried out loud “What if he thinks I'm a weirdo!” Then she bit her lip and then very quietly, “Will I be as beautiful as Ekko?”

“You will be Powpow.” Vi's leaning there on the doorway to their bedroom with herarms crossed, a raised eyebrow, and a fond smirk.

“And I don't think he minded, he sure wasn't making any effort to get away. Might need to have a word with him.”

“But he did nothing!” Powder rushed out. Vi's chats or rather talon noogies were notorious. “Awe, baby sis got a crush!”

Oh, how she wishes she could fly out the window and hide in some high up place to let her escape the embarrassment.

She's thirteen today and how she'd waited for this day. Now she could finally join the others, be as fast, as graceful, as strong as them. She'd shed the feathers of the klutz and her true ones would appear. She looks to Ekko, Vi's gentle teasing from last year chirping in her ears. There’s a lovely smile on his face, the one he had when he found something particularly good, so she must be something pretty right?

“A crow!” Mylo shouts. The hope shatters. “Damn” he sniggers “Nice symbolism for the jinx.”

No, no, that can't be right. A crow, a being of bad luck. A crow, a wicked thing, not a pretty wanted thing.

Not like Vi, all fierce and great with her golden eagle self.

Not like Mylo, all strut and swagger like a pheasant.

Not like Caggor colourful and resourceful like toucan.

Not like Vander, protective and strong, the bald eagle himself.

Not like Ekko, soft and wise … and beautiful.

She didn't match. It's all wrong! Her feathers ruffled, and flight comes all too easy to her. She can't stay.

The highest tower she could find seems as good as a spot to wallow in her misery. She's as puffed up as she can be, and so consumed by her own dismay, she doesn't notice Ekko land behind her until he makes a soft noise. She looks up only to turn away again.

She hears him shift, and then the gentle touch of his fingers running over her head and back. She practically melts, he's touching her like she did him and then the sweet words soothing away her greatest fear, he saw her as he always did. "You're you." 'My friend' is what she hears, too.

He keeps running his fingers over her back, and it's wonderful. Maybe she's not too bad after all, he found her, and Ekko only ever found all the best things.

What he says next has her heart stutter, and were she human she be completely red, its the sweetest devastating blow:

“Do you know how beautifully blue you glow?

the link to 'Blue'

[dawneternal]

Just a Favor | pt 5 | Gwynriel

✦ Hopefully the description of the temple makes sense! If not, I'll do a little doodle of it lol I love thinking up places and things that might exist in Velaris

✦ Warnings: all fluff my dudes

✦ Word Count: 1.6k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Gwyn stood in the training ring, moving through positions with a wooden sword. When she arrived in the ring early and found it empty she had been too nervous to stand still. So she’d kicked off her lovely satin slippers and began practicing any movements that her fancy clothes would allow.

Nesta had leant her a nice dress, a simple teal silhouette with a layer of embroidered gossamer over top. She’d worn her sea-glass earrings and swept her hair back with a matching comb. She knew she looked pretty. But it only served to make her more nervous. Maybe she was overdressed.

But as Azriel appeared at the far edge of the ring, all of those worries dissipated. He had dressed up too, in a black sweater and black pants. Shiny boots not yet worn from training and fighting, and little gold hoops in his ears. His hair was slicked back from his face, and as nice as it looked, she missed his usual messy curls. At least he looked as unsettled as she did, hands shoved in his pockets as he made his way toward her.

“Hi,” She whispered, unsure if he would even hear it.

“Hi,” He said back, a smile spreading over his face, “You look beautiful. You didn’t have to dress up for me.”

“Who said it was for you?” She asked with a smirk, and Gods he wanted to kiss her right there.

“I don’t see anyone else waiting to whisk you away,” He chuckled.

“Are you whisking me away, shadowsinger?” She straightened, eyes glittering with interest.

“If that’s okay. Winnowing or flying?”

“Winnowing,” Gwyn said quickly, swallowing hard, “Definitely winnowing.”

Azriel waited for her to slip her shoes back in and then offered an arm ignoring the humming of the bond in his chest as she tucked her hand into his elbow. He winnowed them away into the heart of Velaris.

When Gwyn’s vision stopped swirling, she found herself standing in front of a tea shop. Fae-light lanterns swung in the breeze, hanging from the faded awning. Potted plants lined the sidewalk in front of the sparkling windows, some she recognized as tea plants. Then Azriel was leading her inside. It was cozy, lovely art covering the walls and mismatched tables and chairs tucked into every corner. A rich and spicy smell filled the air and it made her relax a little.

Azriel nodded to the woman behind the counter, who winked at him as he led her to the back of the building. A few doorways led in different directions, one most likely to the kitchen. The shadow singer opened the middle door, revealing a stone staircase lined with fae-lights.

“What is this?” She asked, peering down the dark stairway.

“Something you’ll like,” He said, placing a hand on the small of her back to urge her forward. She hoped he did not notice her shiver.

Gwyn swallowed her nerves and started down the stairs. As they descended, she realized she could hear the bubbling of water. When they reached the bottom and their destination was revealed, Gwyn paused with a gasp. They were in an alcove cut into a small cliffside above the Sidra. Mossy stone made up the walls and arched ceiling, candles and lanterns hung from above to give them light. Water trickled down in little man-made waterfalls, running through carved swirls in the walls and into little pools in the floor. A carved railing separated them from the churning river below, and a few benches sat before it. Beyond the bank across the river, the city glowed and hummed with life.

“What is this?” She asked again in a whisper.

“It’s a temple,” He answered, smiling at her awe, “To the spirit of the Sidra.”

He turned her around so she could see the mosaic behind them, depicting a river spirit among swirls of fish and water. Then he moved to sit on one of the benches, beckoning her to follow. She sat beside him and gazed down at the river, illuminated by the lights of the city.

“It’s beautiful,” She murmured.

“I thought you’d like it,” His smile grew to a grin, “You fit right in.”

She smiled up at him and that anxiety returned, filling her stomach with butterflies. His eyes looked as wild as they had that morning, and she swore he took a deep breath. She found herself blushing, though she wasn’t entirely sure what caused it. Maybe his handsome features, carved out of the moonlight and the lights of Velaris. Maybe the fact that they were alone in such an ethereal place. A place meant for telling secrets.

“I’m sorry again for flying away,” Azriel swallowed hard. His smile had faded.

“That’s the third time you’ve apologized,” Gwyn chuckled.

“And it’s still not enough,” He shook his head.

“I think you’ve made up for it, shadowsinger,” She whispered, daring to let her eyes lock on his. She watched his lips part, his breath catch in his throat.

That kiss was worth it all, she thought but didn’t say.

“I have to tell you a story,” Azriel said, his voice low and soft. His fingers twitched, like he had almost reached for her hand and decided not to.

“Tell me,” She gave him an encouraging smile, though she was barely able to hear her own voice over the thundering of her heart. Azriel turned his gaze toward the water and drew in a long breath.

“A few years ago I met a very brave girl. Sometimes, selfishly, I wish that I had met her on a different day. At a different time. So that I wouldn't know what it was like to see such pain in her eyes. But since then, I have watched her claw her way out of the darkness and I have only ever been in awe.”

Gwyn stared at him, lips parted and tears in her eyes. He did not have the courage to look at her yet.

“And then she went into the Blood Rite,” Azriel’s voice broke, pained from the memory, “And I worried I'd never get that chance to tell her how incredible I think she is. But I should've known better because not only did she make it out but she won the whole damn thing.”

He could not help his grin, the beaming pride in his eyes.

“But that made me lose all of my courage completely. I'm not worthy of her. Not in the slightest. So I gave up any idea of telling her how I feel. She is beautiful, and kind, and fierce, and full of so much light and love. And I know I'll never compare. I still live in the darkness. I'll probably stay in the darkness.”

The shadowsinger swallowed, still gazing down at the river. Gwyn watched him speak, the moonlight kissing his features. Her heart was so full she thought it might burst and she wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he was the one who was beautiful and kind and fierce. But he had more to say.

“And then, a few days ago, she asked me to kiss her. And I said yes because I am selfish and I wanted any affection I could get from her. And I never imagined….” He trailed off, a lump growing in his throat.

"I wanted it to be you who kissed me,” Gwyn whispered, “I was never going to ask anyone else. I guess if you said no, I would have eventually. But I always wanted it to be you.”

Azriel finally met her eyes.

“Gwyneth,” He hardly ever said her full name anymore, but she loved the way it sounded on his tongue. Smooth like golden honey.

“Yes?” The world stopped, time frozen as she waited for him to continue.

“I flew away because I was surprised. Because I felt the bond snap.”

Gwyn looked down, heart leaping into her throat. The words she had not let herself imagine. The thing she had hoped for but would not name. Her future had been teetering close to the edge and it had actually fallen the way she wanted it to. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were full of tears.

“I can't comprehend why,” He croaked, "I can't explain why. Part of me wants to apologize and tell you I'm sorry that it's me. And part of me just wants to ask you to accept me anyways, even if I don't deserve it.”

“Azriel,” Gwyn reached for his hands and held them, “You are one of the most incredible people I've ever met. You are the only one who sees yourself as this broken thing. And I am not so whole and complete myself, but I can love you with every piece of me that I have.”

“You could love me?” Azriel's chin wobbled as he stared down at their joined hands.

“I think I already do,” Gwyn whispered.

Azriel pulled his hands from hers and brought them to her face, holding her gently. He studied her for a long while, memorizing the exact moment she had said the most wonderful words he'd ever heard. Gwyn wrapped her hands around his wrists, smiling up at him as she let him digest what she'd said.

“You don't have to accept the bond today,” He said, “When it snaps-”

“I know,” She gave him a shy smile, “I…I think I need to consider whether I'm ready for that. But I want you to know that I will accept it. I will be your mate.”

“I didn't dare hope to hear you say that,” He whispered, pulling her closer, “Ever.”

“I'm full of surprises,” Gwyn grinned at him with eyes full of starlight. Then she leaned in and kissed him.

[dayseternal-blog]

Summary: When Naruto finds out Hinata is weird...

Written for NH Fair, NH Month 2023 Day 2 Prompt: Maid Cafe

Rated T.

Unexpected Miracles - Short One-shot

So there’s this classmate.  New friend.  She’s pretty.

Glossy hair.

Cute smile.

Squishy cheeks.

Shiny eyes.

Clear skin.

And always put-together.  Talks nice, laughs nice, well-mannered.

She’s just simply nice, never a bad thing to say about anything or anyone.  And so pretty, he feels like he should try harder to be fashionable and cool if he’s going to try to act on his attraction.

As a nerdy gamer and manga fan who’d rather spend money on building a good computer, he only puts in passing effort to look presentable at school.  A low maintenance haircut, a good collared shirt, and basic jeans.

He can tell they probably run in different circles of people.  To be honest, he wouldn’t have thought to notice her if she hadn’t sat next to him in their literature class.  He wouldn’t have even tried to talk to her if they hadn’t needed to do partner discussions.  He would have never thought to exchange contact information and message her if she hadn’t offered to split the cost on textbooks with him.

And this, too, is something he never expected.

He’s standing across the street from a maid cafe.

He’s watching his nice, pretty classmate walk around in there, and she’s dressed in a fluffy maid outfit, complete with the fluffy little headband-thingy, the fluffy wristbands, the fluffy apron, the knee-high socks…

When he found out she works part-time at a cafe, he boldly suggested he stop by to visit, and she sweetly said, “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that, Naruto-kun.  I’ll just be working, so it’s not worth your time.”

He didn’t think much of it, other than that it was kinda weird she didn’t tell him the name of her workplace.  And by some miracle, he just happened to see her while heading back home from shopping for a new external hard drive. 

His pretty classmate is actually on a whole other, previously unknown level of weird.

Who’d have thought that behind her picture-perfect fashionable exterior lay the type of girl who adores the maid aesthetic?

The traffic light changes, he crosses the street quickly, and without hesitation, he pulls the door open.

The little bell above rings, and a maid greets him with a joyful smile.

But he only has eyes for his classmate-friend, and seeing her much closer in all her fluffy glory is absolutely amazing.  And it’s crazy how the uniform makes her seem even curvier than he thought.

She doesn’t notice him at first, but eventually she does, and the angelically shocked look on her face is priceless.

This is the first time they’re seeing each other outside of campus.

In his worn t-shirt that proudly spells out the name of the RPG game he loved two years ago and in decidedly comfy yet dorky khakis, he is absolutely not the same Naruto she usually sees.

“Hi, Hinata.”

“N-N-Naruto-kun?”  She steps up to him quickly, and the blush glowing over her face and neck is really the most incredible sight.  “What are you doing here?”  She’s blinking quite a bit, unable to meet his eyes, and he realizes she might be stressed out.  Or embarrassed.

“I was shopping for a new hard drive.”  He notices how she’s starting to look a little upset, so he admits, “You look really cute.”

To his relief, her eyes dart up to meet him, and she smiles a tiny bit, the blush at her cheeks deep and red.  She bites her lips and her shoulders wiggle, the movement accentuated by the puffiness of the sleeves and the ruffled apron straps.

“Are you a friend of Hina-tan’s?” the other maid asks.

A gleeful smile wiggles out onto his own face, and he glances back to his classmate-friend.  “Hina-tan?”

Hina-tan’s hands come up to hold her cheeks.  She bends over to whisper in her coworker’s ear, “Yes, Naruto-kun’s my friend,” and the other maid’s lips purse together in a thrilled sort of expression.

“Well, will Naruto-sama be dining in with us today?”

So he’s officially a friend, not just a classmate!  He quickly glances at the pink menu on display that shows sparkly photos of uber-cute food and desserts.  That are a little pricy.  “Maybe another day.  I just wanted to stop in to say hi.”

“Okay.  We hope you come again soon!”  The other maid bows, Hina-tan bows, and he gives her a lingering look and smile before leaving.

-

So there’s this guy she’s been sitting next to in class.  Heart-stoppingly cool.

Tall!

Short, light hair.  Like that “best friend of the emo-love interest” type of characters in all the shoujo manga she read growing up.

Strong eyes and warm smile.  Like he always seems to know what’s going on in class, participating a lot, but it turns out he’s just really good at faking it.  “Yeah, I don’t do the readings very often, but the discussions are always interesting!  So I’m really enjoying the class!”

Healthy, tan skin.  Call it her dreamy-rebellious side, but she has a thing for guys who look like they don’t care about traditional beauty standards.  (Don’t expect to catch her without sunscreen on, though.)

He talks with a kind of roughness that also just sounds of sunshine and carelessness, but everything he says seems sincere.  Like whatever comes out of his mouth is thoughtlessly flung out into the open while also being the most kind encouragements or clever jokes.

He’s funny.  Nice to mostly everyone.  When they’re together in class, she can almost forget about all the stress of college life, all the stress of the expectations from her father.

Naruto’s just so cool, it’s a miracle he even talks to her.  It’s a miracle he includes her in his conversation, despite how quiet she is.  It’s a miracle he even messages her, and she supposes that he must just be that nice and sociable.

Just absolutely one of the coolest people she’s ever met, and so she knows he absolutely would be weirded out by her secret hobbies.

So.

Why was he here in her workplace calling her “really cute” and “Hina-tan” with a huge smile?

How did he find out her secret so quickly after asking her about her part-time job???  Isn’t that coincidence too much?  Why must the world do this to her???

To her great relief, she finds his message soothing her worries after her shift is over.  “Sorry to surprise you like that today.  I was really just passing by and happened to see you.  Btw the maid outfit really suits you!”

Pleased heat rises to her cheeks.  A kind of giddiness flits about her heart.  “Thank you 😊  I was happy to see you”   On reflection, yes, she was surprised, and she would’ve liked forewarning, but of course she was still glad to get to see him.  Outside of the classroom.  So it feels like their relationship has deepened past an initial friendship.  Afterall, only her childhood friends know about how she likes to dress up and pretend she’s in a different world.  None of her family knows.  And…based on his reaction, maybe he’s not weirded out at all?  “And I hope I didn’t make you feel like you couldn’t stay.  You are welcome to visit again”

Surprisingly, he responds fairly quickly.  “Only if Hina-tan is my server!”

He’s calling her by that nickname!!!  “🙈 Okay, I’d be happy to!  I work on Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday”

The following week, he’s got a huge grin on when he greets her in class.  He’s even more open and friendly to her.  And, as expected, he visits the maid cafe that Saturday with an antisocial-looking boy who seems like he’d rather not be there and a fashionable girl with pink hair.

She hopes the girl is just a friend of his and not something more.  He hasn’t said anything about a girlfriend…

After she’s taken them to a table, he introduces her to them.  “This is Hinata, my friend in my lit class. Hinata, this is Sasuke and Sakura.”

“Hello,” she greets, noticing how Sakura has a big smile.  “Thank you for coming today.”

“Ohh, it’s my first time in a maid cafe!  I’ve always wanted to try one.  I’m so glad Naruto invited us to come here!  You look so adorable!”

“Thank you,” she replies.  If Sakura actually is Naruto’s girlfriend, she can’t be too upset about it when it seems like she’s really nice.

They order the only meal items, the nya-nya cat omurice, sweet curry doggy, and sleeping bear croquette, and when it comes time to pay, Naruto pays for his own dish.  Sasuke pays for Sakura’s.

Hope rises in her heart once more.

“If you’re not busy tomorrow, you should join us at the movies!” Sakura invites.

“Oh!  I might be able to.”  She chances a glance at Naruto and he’s nodding.

He smiles.  “I’ll send you the details.  I hope you can join us.”

His warm tone makes her feel all fluttery inside.  “Okay.”

As they’re leaving, she notices Sakura giving him a light punch on the arm, and they’re elbowing each other in a friendly way.  He turns, catching her stare, and he gives her the cutest smile, yet.

“I hope you can join us.”   His words replay in her mind even after they’ve left the cafe.

She might be jumping to conclusions…she may be making wild assumptions…but she thinks… She thinks that maybe…she was just invited to something like a double-date.

To Naruto’s message with the movie details, she replies, “I can come.  Thank you for inviting me!”

“Great!  See you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow :)”

-

Thanks to Sakura and Sasuke’s cooperation, he’s been able to hang out with Hinata this weekend.  It turns out that Hinata enjoys anime, too, and she had been wanting to see this live-action adaptation.

And now that the movie is over, the couple is pretending they have to leave, and he’ll be able to ask her out on a real date.

“Thank you for coming out with us today, Hinata!  Sasuke-kun and I have to go, so we can’t have dinner with you guys, but this was really fun!”  Maybe Sakura should be trying to be an actor instead of a doctor.

“Thank you for inviting me.  The movie was really good.”  Hinata is picture-perfect polite and soft-spoken as usual.

“It was fun.  See you guys.”  Even Sasuke is approving of Hinata, having commented after the maid cafe that she’s not annoyingly try-hard cutesy the way he worried she would be.

“See you guys later!  Thanks for coming out!”  He bids goodbye to his childhood friends and turns to face Hinata.

She turns a shy smile up at him.

“So…would you like to get dinner with me?”

“Okay,” she agrees quietly, smiling, and the hyper-awareness surrounding them in their new solitude is too much for him.

He decides to just address it, and with adrenaline running smooth in his veins, he asks, “Can we call it a date?”

Her eyes widen, her cheeks pinken, and she nods with a bigger smile.  “Yes, I’d like that.”

He finds himself mirroring her expression.  “Alright,” he cheers.  “Anywhere you want to go?”

“Mmm… how about we just walk around to look first?”

“Sure!”

He’s glad he happened to find out about her part-time job.  Because, to be honest, he thinks he wouldn’t have thought they might be a good match.  He wouldn’t have known she’s more than just a pretty face and a nice attitude.  He would’ve been content to exist as her classmate-friend, just a friendly face in their literature class.

He wouldn’t have found out that she’d like a date with him, too.

And now, he can’t help but wonder what other unexpected miracles await him with her.

[kaigarax]

Passion

Bachira Meguru x Reader

Quote: "Fall in love with someone you'd die for."

“I knew you or I would’ve died. Or maybe even both of us. Yet I cried when the moment came. I cried so desperately that I didn’t think I’d ever stop. And I cried, not just because you died for me but because I knew that I’d never get the chance to see you smile again.”

‘Click.’

“Now ain’t that just some of the sappiest garbage I’ve heard in awhile.” Ego Jinpachi exclaimed.

“Really?” Bachira asked, “I thought it was quite sweet.”

Ego sighed, “and that sentiment is why you will die in the arena.”

“Then I guess that would make two of us.” You said softly as you gave him a slight nudge of acknowledgment.

Ego eyed the two of you from the top of his mug before taking a deep gulp. There might’ve been a ‘tsk’ of the tongue or a rolling of his eyes if the two of you had been able to see it. But, alas, at least the hard man had enough decency to keep some of his harsh criticisms to himself. Especially as the modestly dressed capital woman, Anri, smiled, her voice gentle as she agreed, “I quite liked that speech as well from last year’s Victor.”

“And that,” Ego said, pointing to her accusingly, “is why District 7 hasn’t had a Victor in almost twenty years now. Half hearted effort and pointless sentiments.”

Ego and Anri shared a look. It was accusatory, annoyed and almost desperate. Yes, Bachira figured, that was definitely desperation. What he couldn’t figure out, on the other hand, was why?

“Well?” Ego asked expectantly.

Now you and Bachira shared a look.

Bachira wondered if the man would get up to leave after clearly being outnumbered in this argument but he had sat in place. Tapping his fingers impatiently while his eyes burned holes into the heads of this year's two tributes, yourself and Bachira. Almost as if he were waiting for everyone else to leave his compartment.

You leaned towards Bachira, your warmth serving as a gentle reminder that he wouldn’t be alone going into this. The two of you had never been that close (actually Bachira never had friends in the first place) but he found it… nice? No. The moment was too somber for it to be nice. Then perhaps comforting?

Yes. That was it.

It was comforting.

---

“Oh, Bachira,” You looked at him from your place at the window sill, “you’re still up?” The moonlight made you seem almost ghostly, the warm hue from this morning long forgotten. Your hair looked clean and shiny as it hung uninhibited by anything as it usually did, freely framing your features and face. Bachira might have even thought you pretty if not for the tired look in your eyes. No, that was a lie. He thought you were pretty. In fact, he always thought you were pretty, even when covered from head to toe in dirt.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “you can’t either.”

You patted the spot across from you, “if the constant poking and prodding wasn’t enough to keep me up then the cameras and loud voices from this afternoon definitely were.”

Bachira grinned, propping himself up onto the window sill and across from you, “that and the looming threat of imminent death.”

“Ah yes, imminent death. How could that have slipped my mind.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” he chuckled, “it happens to the best of us.”

Your tired eyes looked up at him, shining silver in the moonlight.

There was a book in your hands, tucked tightly to your chest. It was old and tattered and almost reminded Bachira of something. Though he wasn’t all too sure of what that ‘something’ might’ve been.

“You’re sweaty.” You said.

“I prefer to call it a post workout glow~”

“Well, at least you’re able to do something productive with your excess energy.”

“What do you do?” Bachira asked, “to work out the nerves and relax?”

“Back at home I used to read but it definitely doesn't seem to have the same effect out here.”

“You could always come and work out with me.”

“While a very kind offer I think I’ll have to decline. I’m afraid I’d be too sore. I’m nowhere near as fit as you so working out too much can only do me harm in the arena.” You turned to look out the window, “the moon’s quite beautiful tonight, isn’t it.”

“Yeah,” Bachira smiled, his eyes locking onto your awe stricken expression, “it is. It sucks that it takes us entering into a death arena to finally appreciate it though.”

You laughed, “very true, Mr. Bachira.”

“So what’s your book about?”

“It’s a romance novel.”

“Oh~” Bachira moved so that the two of you were sitting side by side instead of across from one another, “exciting.”

You leaned against the boy despite him still being sticky from his workout, “more sad than exciting, actually.”

“How so?”

“Well, it’s a story similar to our own. A girl volunteers for her sister and ends up falling in love with the boy that ended up having to come with her.” You smiled, “of course, the boy is already in love with her by the time the story begins.”

“Do they make it? The couple?”

“I don’t know.”

“What! Why not?”

“Because I’ve always been too scared to read the end. Better to speculate about the ending, ya know.”

Bachira could only shrug in response.

He certainly didn’t think being stuck in suspense was fun. In fact, even the thought of not knowing the ending was enough to keep him up for the rest of the night. He’d have to find a way to wrestle that book from you and read the ending himself before the end of the night. Not that he’d have to.

The edge of his hand brushes up against yours.

“Do you think it ends happily?” Asks Bachira.

Your hand stays right there. Not jerking away from his own but not close enough to be touching.

You shake your head, “no.”

You don’t move to take his hand and he doesn't move to take yours either.

“Ya know,” you begin, “I used to always think about this moment when I was younger. Though I never really thought that I’d actually be standing up here.”

“Me neither.” Says Bachira, though if he thinks back hard he doesn't think he ever really had a guess of if he'd ever be here or not. It was never really something he’d ever let cross his mind. Not when he was all his mother seemed to have.

“Well, out of everyone I could’ve been paired with, I’m happy it’s you.”

Bachira smiled, “me too.”

“No wait. I'll take that back.”

“What? No take backs!”

“Yes, take backs.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to die.”

And with that he definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night. How could he when you were so close.

And for a while, you and him no longer speak. But it’s okay. Neither of you need to speak right now. Not when there are no more words that need to be shared. There can never be anything more shared without an important line being crossed. A line that should never be crossed. Afterall, while the two of you could be allies entering the arena you would have to eventually fight the other.

Most certainly at least one of you would have to die.

Bachira smiles, watching as you slowly lean your head on the side of the window. He debates going to grab a blanket to cover you when you fall asleep but decides against it. Even if you did find a safe haven here you would be very uncomfortable the morning after. Instead, he’ll take you back to your bed.

Your heart seems to be louder than the large clock in the middle of the room as Bachira finally looks to stare out the window.

You were right.

The moon is very beautiful tonight.

---

“And how about you, Mr. Bachira?” Asks the announcer, his voice filled with excitement and joy, “any special ladies in your life.”

“Well, there does happen to be one that I’ve stumbled across recently.”

“Oh, do tell! Do tell!”

Bachira turns to look at the camera, giving his warmest and most dashing smile. Of course he obviously does it for the cameras and guidance but a small part, a teeny tiny miniscule part, does it for you. He isn’t all too sure why but he knows deep down that there’s a part in his chest that wants yours to race as well.

“Getting the chance to know her has to be the absolute best time of my life.”

“Wow! Quite the praise this young lady has received!” The announcer leans in, curiosity both a professional interviewer and curious onlooker seem to mix in, “and what has she done to earn such praise?”

Bachira grins, not one of those dashing smiles but a genuine smile that goes along with his fluttering stomach, “that’s for me to know and you to wonder.”

The crowd applauds loudly as Bachia makes his way back to where you’re standing. The rest of the Tributes eye him for a moment before looking back at the crowd and current interview.

The back of your hand brushes against his.

“You did well.” You say quietly.

Bachira smiles, “thank you Miss. (L/n).”

---

“Don’t get too close with her, Bachira.” Says Ego, his voice methodical and cold.

‘Of course,’ he thinks but instead he answers, “why not?” despite already knowing the answer.

Ego rolls his eyes, seemingly done with holding himself back, “because it’ll only complicate things when the two of you are in the arena. While it’s a good idea in front of the crowd but you shouldn’t be doing something like that when the cameras can’t see you.”

“And if I want to?”

The cold man sighs, “then it’s your funeral I’ll be attending.”

---

It’s quite enough to hear a pin drop, Bachira thinks as he quietly sits beside you waiting for the moment he’s called to be judged. He’s shivering ever so slightly in his seat, though from the cold or nervousness he isn’t too sure.

One girl is staring at her hands, as if trying to recount all the knowledge that she’s acquired throughout the span of her life. Another boy is looking up at the sky, seeming to be praying to a deity that is unknown to Bachira. And then there’s you, leaning towards him, with a book in hand. It’s the same one that you were reading that night on the window sill. Actually, it’s the one he’s always seen you with.

Bachira thinks that you’ve likely reread that book at least a hundred times by now.

He’s actually had a chance to borrow it from you. Only for an hour of course but that was enough. Not enough to read the book but enough for him to learn about you. Like all your favourite lines in the book that you’ve underlined or the parts that you’ve reread so many times that the words on those pages have begun to fade.

He knows that you dot your eyes with small circles instead of simple dots as seen from the little notes you’ve written in the corners of the pages; and how you’re horrible at writing poems as seen evident from all the cringey words written between the margins and lines. But he likes them. In fact he had even-

“District 7. Bachira Meguru.” Says the cold robotic voice of the announcer. Though, humorously, Bachira thinks it might have more emotion than the current District 7 Victor.

“Good luck.” You say, breaking the silence of the room.

Everyone turns to look at the two of you, almost as if they know something the two of you don’t.

Bachira does his best to give you that daredevil grin he remembered you saying you liked, “of course. You too, Miss (L/n).”

And he feels rather invigorated as he enters the room to be tested. Not just because he knows he'll do well but because you wished him luck.

It’s weird.

Why would such a thing make him so happy in the first place?

Bachira isn’t all too sure why.

No. He takes that back.

The two of you are the only ones to wish someone luck. Or at least the only people that he’s heard.

---

On the eve of entering the arena Bachira finds you back in your spot on the window sill.

You look back, hearing his footsteps as he makes his way towards you.

Silently, you scooch over.

He takes a seat directly beside you, not bothering to leave any space.

Tonight, he will ignore everything his mind has been telling him. Tonight he listens to his heart. Tonight, he chooses to sit beside you.

You’re warm, like always. And he’s sweaty but you still lean towards him tonight, finally resting your head on his shoulder.

“Are you scared?” You ask.

“No,” Bachia answers, “and yes.”

“Me too.”

“But I think you have a pretty good chance at winning.”

You laugh, “you’re only saying that.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh. And what makes you say that Mr. Bachira?” You ask, doing your best to mimic the announcer from what feels like so many nights ago.

“Because you’re smart.”

And you can only laugh in response. Bachira knows it’s because you don’t believe him but it's true. Even if you don’t think so, he knows it’s true. Afterall he doubts he’d be here if it wasn’t for you.

His heart aches and his stomach is doing that weird fluttering thing again.

Is it the Capital food? It’s been doing that ever since he got on the train and doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon. He had considered seeing a doctor but didn’t want any rumors starting over it. He didn’t want anything to get in the way of him getting sponsors like a sickness so common among the sick.

But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if those sponsors instead chose to look at you.

His hand brushes up against yours.

“May the odds be ever in your favour, Bachira.”

“Call me Meguru.”

“Okay,” you say in that soft voice that he remembers you speaking at the end of the reaping, “Meguru.”

And suddenly his heart feels warm again. Of course, this time he knows for certain why.

His heart had said it.

His smile and his eyes had said it.

The crowd had said it.

Even he had said it before his mind finally realised it.

He finally grabs your hand. It feels so small and tiny on its own. So unprepared for what's to come. But that’s not what he’s thinking of. He knows for certain that it doesn't matter. Not just because you’re smart but because you have him.

“I love you (Y/n).”

Fall in love with someone you’d die for.

[simply-ozul]

yippe!! my first post yaaay :D

dont know wut to think of it so ill let you be the judge lemme know how you like it!

enjoy <3

Robin Buckley x Nancy Wheeler || just a fluffy oneshot ft. flustered Robin and adoring Nancy

Just a Lovely Thing Like You is Fine

Nancy was never one for huge gifts or gestures; she usually preferred spending private quality time with her loved ones at home, on a picnic, or even a walk through the park. It’s the little things, y’know? At least, for her it is. Seeing as she spent the majority of her teen years hunting and being hunted by interdimensional monsters and sociopathic murderers with unexplainable mind abilities.

However, it was a little different with one Robin Buckley. Nancy knew the girl was dirt poor, to put it simply. She couldn’t afford fancy gifts, or shiny jewelry, but Nancy didn’t really want any of that anyway. Despite this, Robin still insisted on proudly presenting things to her girlfriend.

She’d write her little letters with mixed phrases from different languages she’s learned over the years, giving little translations on the back of the page with little colored heart doodles all over the paper. She’d make little crafts that Nancy absolutely adored, and she knew Robin poured all her love and appreciation into the little lop-sided clay swan holding a little stick that was poorly shaped into a shotgun she’d given Nancy for her birthday.

Nancy placed it carefully on her bathroom sink so she’d be able to look at it during her morning and evening routine, smiling the entire time.

However, Nancy’s favorite thing Robin gave her was something so simple and cliche. Flowers. Nancy wanted to laugh at herself in disbelief sometimes. Flowers? Really Nancy?

But then again, Nancy could argue that the little adorable twist Robin put to it made Nancy’s heart swell, squeeze and melt all at once. She’d always show up to Nancy’s door, hands and knees covered in dirt while it had somehow smeared everywhere else on her body. She’ll never forget the first time Robin gave her flowers.

As soon as Nancy pulls open the door, her eyes widen in surprise. Robin. Sweet, sweet Robin. The shaggy-haired girl held a clutch of beautifully bright wildflowers in her hands, the stems uneven and slightly bent or broken in some areas. The taller raised the fist of color, eyes big and puppy-like as she looks at Nancy with a ducked head. The brunette can see the light dust a pink glowing beneath her freckles—as well as noticing the smear of dirt across her cheekbone.

“Um… I got you flowers.” She mumbles shyly, before straightening in a rush to continue. “And I know you’re not really a huge fan of gifts or whatever, but… I was walking home after dog-sitting and I noticed them in a ditch, and they were so colorful and felt like a perfect gift so I couldn’t not pick them, y’know? I tried to pick them as carefully as I could but it was really hard to hold and pick flowers at the same time, and I basically ran to your house to give them to you, and some of the petals fell off and I just,” Robin pauses, forcing herself to quit her babbling. Nancy can only blink, mouth slightly agape as she listens. “They’re pretty. They reminded me of you.” She finishes with a shrug, shuffling on her feet.

After an awkward amount of silence, Robin backtracks. “I get it, you probably think it’s stupid, right? I mean, wildflowers? They’re practically weeds and store-bought ones are so much prettier. Even then, flowers are such a dumb tradition anyway—“

“You picked them for me?” 

Robin chokes to a stop, head jerking a bit in surprise.

“I- yeah? Did you want ones from the store instead…?” She trails off with a squeak. The flowers in her hand sink as Robin deflates.

Nancy can’t help but smile, huffing through her nose. She finally pushes through the doorway, stepping in front of her girlfriend. She looks at her through her lashes. Her hand reaches up to brush against the tight hold Robin has on the flowers, and her fist loosens. Nancy gently pries the flowers out of the tense girl’s grasp, bringing them up to her face, partially to smell them as well as hide her face.

“They’re beautiful, Robin.” Nancy whispers. She can’t stop the giggle escaping her throat when Robin dramatically deflates in relief.

“Holy shit. I was worried you’d hate them or something. I spent like thirty minutes picking out the prettiest ones and now there’s dirt under my nails and it sucks big time, but it’s so worth it now that I know for sure you like them. I mean, you do, right?”

Nancy laughs, bringing her unoccupied hand up to caress Robin’s cheek. The fumbling girl pauses, breath hitching, unable to help herself as she leans into the touch. Pushing herself onto her toes, Nancy leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of Robin’s mouth.

“Thank you, Robbie. I love them.” Robin freezes, eyes wide and sparkling. Nancy’s brows furrow in concern; had Robin stopped breathing? She’s about to check when the lanky girl clears her throat and nods, rubbing her sweaty palms against her jeans while she looks away. Nancy bites her lip at the red that blossoms up from Robin’s neck to across her cheeks and nose, trying her hardest to keep her grin from growing. Her cheeks hurt, she doesn’t care.

“Good, good. That’s good.” Robin stutters. She looks shyly to Nancy once again, opening and closing her mouth for a moment. Nancy raises a perfect eyebrow questioningly. Finally, she squeaks out,

“Could you do that again?” Nancy laughs.

[sexynetra]

36. “Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m dating you or babysitting you.” SCREAMS sashnetra 🫣🫶🏻🫶🏻

I had maybe too much fun writing this one 🫣🤭 anyways I don’t know what this au is however whatever it is… I kinda love it. Also it’s in the same universe as the haunted house one. These girlfriends are menaces. :)

———————

Sasha was getting too old for clubbing. She’d much rather lounge on the couch in sweats, watching syndicated television and smoking the biggest joint she can roll. Clubs were too loud, too many people, and her body always aches for days after going out.

Unfortunately for her, her girlfriend was the perfect age to want to go clubbing every weekend.

Not that Sasha joined her every time. She had her limits after all. But she was hard pressed to say no when Anetra turned those big shiny brown eyes on her. Whenever Anetra gave her those soft hopeful looks, Sasha knew she would turn the world upside down to get her what she wanted.

So she found herself at the club, nursing a glass of white wine as she watched Anetra finish her fourth drink since they arrived. Anetra set the empty glass on the bar counter and spun around until she spotted Sasha, face lighting up as she weaved her way through the other patrons, coming up to Sasha and plopping herself down to settle on Sasha’s thigh, smiling goofily and leaning in to place a kiss on her girlfriend’s cheek as Sasha’s arm wound around Anetra’s waist, keeping her steady.

“You look so sexy, Sash. Everyone in this club is gonna be so jealous when I go home with you…” she giggled, leaning against Sasha.

Sasha couldn’t help but be endeared by the younger girl's antics, moving her free hand to push Anetra’s hair out of her face.

“Pretty girl,” she murmured, admiring the drunken glow radiating from the woman on her lap. “Such a pretty girl. I think it’s time to drink some water, okay baby?”

Anetra pouted immediately at that. “Don’t need water, Sash. Besides, Jell-O shots are half off right now…” she trailed off, wiggling her brows. When Sasha just cocked her brow at that, Anetra pout deepened, placing her hand on Sasha’s chest where her locket rested, turning those damn puppy dog eyes on as she looked at Sasha.

“C’mon babe, please? We’re out at a club and I want you to have fun too… we can get the shots and then go dance. I wanna show you off, make everyone here jealous.”

Sasha melted slightly as Anetra pleaded with her. She liked to think she was good at resisting people’s attempts to get their way, but that all flew out the window with Anetra.

“Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m dating you or babysitting you… one glass of water and then we can get the shots and I’ll come dance with you,” She murmured, pecking her lips.

Anetra rolled her eyes but smiled, giving a mock salute.

“Yes mommy,” Anetra drew out the name, watching the hunger flash behind Sasha’s eyes before turning away and waving over the bartender, a smug grin on her lips. After all, she knew exactly how to get whatever she wanted, and keep both her and Sasha happy.

[iambutmortal]

No Slow Dancing in the Dark

Summary: Feyre will do anything to get out of the Spring Court, including make a deal with the God of Night. Rhys is willing to do whatever it takes to make her his.

Pairing: Feysand

Word Count: 6k

Content Warning: Dubious Consent, Public Sex

Read on AO3

The biggest possible thanks to @ladynestas​ for beta reading

The sun was shining when the God of Night came to get his wife.

Rhys strode into the Spring Manor, hands tucked in the pockets of his black jacket, the picture of casual grace, to find Feyre sitting alone at the table. The curtains were pulled shut against the sun, casting the room in darkness that wouldn’t be unfamiliar in his own palace. He watched from the doorway as she picked listlessly at the food piled up on her plate, spearing a piece of fruit and inspecting it before setting it back down.

He hadn’t seen her in twenty years, not since her wedding to Tamlin, but she was just as lovely. If he didn’t know she was a goddess, he could almost pretend she was an exceptionally pretty mortal, blessed with large blue eyes and light brown hair so shiny it almost looked golden.

Truly the only thing that gave away her immortality was the subtle glow that seemed to emanate from within her, illuminating the dark room.

In a world of monsters, Feyre stood alone among them all, uniquely lovely. She could've walked straight out of one of those paintings Rhys knew she liked to make under the cover of darkness.

But Feyre’s beauty was not the reason he’d come.

“The goddess of art wants to make a deal,” Rhys all but purred, interrupting whatever contemplation Feyre was in the midst of. 

She turned to face him, taking in the dark clothing, the eyes devoid of pupils, nothing but swirling galaxies and the purest black of night.

Rhys expected trembling, to see terror etched across every inch of her body. It’s what always happened when he appeared, ready to fulfill the bargain they hadn’t actually expected him to make.

But Feyre just cocked her head, more curious than anything.

“There you are,” she said, setting her fork on the table, that piece of fruit still on it. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m not a dog to be summoned.”

Feyre glanced out the window, at the sliver of sunlight peeking through the gap in the curtains. “Odd for the God of Night to show up in the middle of the day.”

A smirk spread across Rhys’ face. “If I showed up every time someone tried to make a bargain in the middle of the night, I’d have no time for anything else.”

Feyre’s gaze was cool, assessing. “And? Has mine sufficiently intrigued you?”

She knew it did. It was so rare for another God to call on him, for them to need anything from him.  What had caused the pretty little wife of Spring to run into the woods in the pitch black of darkness, to light the offering candle that must have cost a small fortune, smuggled in without her husband being any the wiser, to offer herself up to him. The gods were told to fear him, knew better than to make a fool's deal. So what was so bad it had sent her to him?

 “Remind me of your terms,” Rhys said, instead of asking the questions he burned to.

Feyre lifted her chin in defiance, staring him down. Rhys just waited. Let her see what she wanted, see the God of Night who wanted nothing but to make others miserable.

She broke first. “I want out of this house, this court.”

“Things not going well with Tamlin?” Rhys asked. “Strange, you seem to get along so well at night.”

Feyre’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. “Have you been watching me?”

Rhys’ chuckle was pure danger. “Darling, I hear everything that goes on in the dark.” He tapped a finger against his forehead. “It’s enough to drive a weaker God mad.”

“But not you?”

“You’ll find, Feyre, that I am much, much, stronger than any of the other Gods you’ve encountered.”

Feyre hummed noncommittally. “Do we have a deal then? Will you get me out?”

“Without even knowing my terms? Things must be dire.”

He watched the panic play out over her face, no doubt mentally cursing herself for her slip up.

“But since I’m feeling generous, here are my conditions,” Rhys said, flicking an invisible piece of lint off his black jacket. A few small stars flew from it, twinkling down onto the carpet. Feyre watched their arc with blatant awe. 

“Spend one week in my court and I’ll set you free, dissolve whatever bonds of matrimony exist between you and Tamlin. And,” Rhys said, cutting off whatever comment Feyre was about to make, “if you want to go back to Spring at any point, I’ll return you.”

“What’s the catch?” Feyre demanded.

“If you go back, you’ll owe me one week a month for the rest of your immortal life.”

He could see Feyre weighing her options, the debate openly warring on her face. “Just one week in your court?” she asked.

“One, single week.”

Rhys knew what she was thinking, weighing her options between Rhys’ monstrous court of Night and the beautiful manor in spring she called her home, debating if she could really spend seven days with him. 

But whatever Tamlin’s done, she must decide Rhys is her better option, because Feyre gave a single nod. “Deal.”

Rhys stalked towards her, pulling his hands out of his pocket for the first time. He knew the instant she saw those claws, dark talons growing from his skin and sharpened to fine points, watched as she flinched away.

Undeterred, used to that reaction, Rhys snapped up her fork, bit the piece of apple off it. “Deal,” Rhys confirmed, once he swallowed.

He didn’t give Feyre the chance to respond, didn’t give her the chance to say goodbye to anyone, before he was grabbing her lightly around the wrist and they were dissolving into darkness.

-

They materialized in Rhys’ private quarters, the palace high on the top of the mountain that housed the Gods of the Night. Daylight streamed in from the high arched windows, illuminating the two of them.

Feyre was still dressed in the typical clothing of Spring, a huge pink skirt exploding out around her waist, the top tight around her chest.

Rhys frowned. “Take that dress off.”

“Do you plan to parade me around naked?” Feyre asked, even as her cheeks flushed.

“Off,” Rhys repeated. He hadn’t planned on leaving her bare but now that she’d suggested it— Rhys shook himself. No, better to stick to the plan.

Feyre looked at him with wide eyes. “I can’t,” she said, gesturing to the laces up her back.

Rhys could barely contain his eye roll. Of course Tamlin liked to dress his wife up in clothes only he could undo, treat her like a doll. He strode to Feyre’s back, pretending not to notice her slight tremor as he raised one finger and sliced through the laces with the obsidian talon.

Feyre just barely managed to catch the front of her dress before it fell down.

Rhys surveyed her exposed back, the smooth, slightly freckled skin. 

“I see what Tamlin found appealing,” he said appreciatively.

“The mother foretold we would be married,” Feyre snapped. “Neither of us had much of a say, not when it was written in the stars.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Mother can always be reasoned with.”

Feyre whirled around, eyes narrowed. “Maybe if you’re her favorite.”

Rhys couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him. “Her favorite child is and will always be your sister. Elain knows her in ways the rest of us can only imagine.”

She huffed, tugging the dress a little closer to her body. “Notice Elain’s allowed to run free. And Nesta.”

“Poor, pretty Feyre, married to a handsome God. Such a burden,” Rhys cooed.

“You’re a prick,” Feyre snarled.

Rhys winked one of his galaxy eyes. “A prick who owns. Mine to do whatever I want with for the next week. So many possibilities, I could have you scrub my floors, dust the walls, maybe I’ll even make you clean the dungeons.”

The shoe went flying so fast he didn’t have time to dodge before it smacked him in the head.

“Fuck,” he growled, massaging his forehead.

Feyre already had her other shoe off, held aloft in one hand while the other desperately clung to that damned dress.

“I’m not going to your dungeon,” she warned.

Rhys growled. “You’ll do whatever I want you to do.”

This time, he had enough warning to duck.

“I’ll have two maids set up to dress you,” he said, making sure Feyre was out of projectiles before turning to leave. “Be ready by sundown.”

Let Feyre figure out if that was a promise or a threat.

-

Rhysand returned when Nuala and Cerridwen were halfway through painting Feyre. The sun was dipping low over the horizon, casting an orange glow throughout the room.

Feyre stood in the center of the room, utterly bare as the twin wraiths moved around her, spreading swirls of black paint along her exposed skin. Black shadows wrapped around her wrists, reaching down to the ground and pinning her in place. Clearly she’d been less than cooperative. 

“We’re late,” Rhys said. 

Feyre turned so quickly the wraith didn’t have time to move their brushes, paint smearing around her waist. 

“How dare you—“ she snarled.

Rhys cut her off with a click of his tongue. “You’ve messed up all their hard work,” he sighed. He waved a finger, the smudges fading away. “And I thought the goddess of art would appreciate their skills more.”

“It's easier to enjoy art when the canvas is willing.”

“Reconsidering out of our deal?” Rhys asked. “Should I send you back to spring?”

Feyre stilled, her face betraying a hint of fear.

“Thought so,” Rhys mused, stepping closer. He trailed a finger along her outer thigh, up the whorls of black, smearing it up her leg “A reminder,” he said, leaning close to whisper in Feyre’s ear, “that for the next week you belong to me.”

The goddess in front of him shivered, and Rhys didn’t miss the way her nipples pebbled slightly.

“Your movements won’t mess it up, but I want everyone to know where I’ve touched,” Rhys explained, taking a step back to let the twins continue.

They made quick work of her upper body, covering her arms and chest with more paint, stopping at the base of her neck. Rhys watched with interest as Nuala applied makeup, lengthening Feyre’s lashes and darkening her lips, while Cerridwen helped her into her outfit for the night.

Rhys had picked it out, two columns of glittering black fabric that barely covered Feyre’s breasts, joined with two panels in the front and back by a belt at her hips.

The clear hatred on Feyre’s face told him she would’ve fought had she not still been chained to the floor by the shadow cuffs on her arms.

“Are you going to cooperate?” Rhys asked, as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, “Or will I have to restrain you further?”

Feyre very nearly growled at him. “It’s not like I have much of a choice,” she countered.

Rhys shrugged, even as the shadows melted away. “I’m sure Tamlin’s waiting.”

Feyre’s face paled, and she took a step towards him. “Lead the way.”

The smirk on Rhys’ face was forced as they walked down the hall, his galaxy eyes trained on Feyre. What had Tamlin done that made him a better option?

They stopped just before the obsidian doors that led to the throne room. 

“Is that what you’ll be wearing?” Feyre asked.

Rhys glanced down at the black jacket, the same one he’d worn that morning. “Does my lady demand something else?”

Feyre sniffed. “Seems plain.”

He gave her a once over before snapping his finger. The jacket disappeared, replaced with a cloak of glittering stars on an inky black night. Rhys took no lack of pleasure in the way Feyre took in his now bare chest, the defined muscles under tanned skin and black tattoos painted across it.

“Better?” he asked. Feyre didn’t answer, averting her eyes to stare straight ahead at the doors.

They swung open without prompting, revealing the cavernous space. Spiraling columns reached up to the ceiling, so high above their head one could be forgiven for thinking it was the night sky itself. The only source of light was the moonlight pouring in from the singular window located directly behind the twin thrones on the dais.

The room was utterly empty, and Rhys’ shoes echoed in the cavern, matched by the soft padding of Feyre’s bare feet.

“Did you chase everyone else away?” Feyre asked, her voice teasing.

“Don’t worry Feyre, darling, they’re all just waking up now.” He led her over to one of the thrones, settling her on it before kneeling at her feet.

“Legs apart,” he ordered. Slowly, like it was painful, Feyre complied. The pink flesh of her cunt was gleaming, already wet. Rhys ran a single finger through her folds, holding it up to the light to inspect the shininess there.

“Naughty,” he murmured, even as he licked his finger clean.

Feyre’s face was a bright shade of red, even as she watched him intensely. Rhys watched her back, taking in the way her eyes widened as he slid his finger back in, pumping in and out.

She was wet, so wet it was practically dripping down his hand and Rhys added another finger, grinning when her mouth parted in pleasure. Feyre’s hips lifted to meet his touch, grinding against him.

“Stop,” she moaned, even as her back arched back, seeking more and more friction. 

Rhys didn’t, working her closer and closer to the edge, until he knew she was about to come. Her face was beaded in sweat, smearing the makeup so carefully applied. The paint along her inner thighs was ruined, the designs utterly wrecked.

Without warning, he removed his fingers.

“What?” Feyre asked, looking down at him with a face of utter confusion.

“It seems I forgot a part of our deal,” Rhys said, sitting back on his heels. “If you come, you’re mine forever, will stay in my court with me.”

She frowned. “That wasn’t what we agreed to.”

Rhys cocked his head. “You don’t say.”

Feyre sat up, shaking her head. “No.”

“A pity. Then let’s make a new deal.” Rhys stood to his full height, towering over her in the throne. “I won’t rip you to shreds, and you’ll agree to my terms.”

“You wouldn’t,” Feyre protested. Here was the fear Rhys had been expecting, the terror when she realized what she’d gotten herself into.

Because Rhys had no intention of letting her go, had been watching her from the darkness for a long time. The world of the humans that worshiped them was cruel and unforgiving, spawned creatures like him who delighted in suffering. But Feyre was the rare glimmer of hope that they created with their art, and he wanted her.

“I don’t think you know what I would do,” Rhys replied. He snapped his fingers, restoring their appearances, making it look like nothing had happened at all.

He sat just as the door swung open, admitting the members of his court.

The Gods and Goddesses trickled in, the patrons of all things better left in the dark. The gods of sex and lust, of jealously and betrayal.

 Next to him, he could sense Feyre scanning the crowd. He knew what she was looking for, her sisters. She wouldn’t find them here. As much as Elain belonged, with how well her dreams fit into Night, she preferred to keep much more pleasant company, to wander around the mortal lands. And Nesta kept herself apart from all immortals, except for his brother, if Cassian could be believed.

No, Feyre was very much on her own with him.

The night progressed as the usually did, gods dancing to the music, drinks flowing in abundance. Most watched Feyre with predatory interest, intrigued by this new goddess among them.

All the while, Feyre held herself ramrod straight, keeping her eyes trained on the wall across from them.

Rhys lounged in his own throne, receiving the line of Gods who wanted to talk to him, to ask him favors. He turned most of them down.

It was only at the end of the night, after the room was once again clear, that he turned to Feyre. “Let’s go,” he said, offering a taloned hand to help her up.

Feyre took it begrudgingly, rising slowly to her feet. Rhys couldn’t help but notice the slick puddle she left on the seat, the evidence of the desire she’d tried so hard to hide.

He led her to her room, only releasing her hand once they were in front of the door.

“See you tomorrow, Feyre darling,” he said.

She dropped his hand like he’d burned her and quickly stepped back. Rhys let her enter the room, waited until the door was nearly shut to call out.

“Don’t even think about pleasuring yourself,” he warned. “I know everything that happens in the dark.”

Rhys could just make out her muttered prick before the door slammed in his face.

-

Mor and Feyre were waiting for him at the breakfast table the next morning.

“Rhysie, you didn’t tell me you brought someone new,” Mor pouted, even as she continued to shovel eggs into her mouth.

“I’m sorry I don’t inform you of every little thing that goes on in my court. You’d have known, if you bothered to come around more than once every couple of years.”

Mor clicked her tongue, the feathers growing along her arms brustling indignantly. “I would’ve thought my favorite cousin cared enough to tell me.”

Feyre looked up from the plate of cheese and fruit she was picking at. “You’re cousins?”

Mor waved a hand. “In the way all the old gods are.”

It was true, the whole pantheon were connected somehow, all children or grandchildren or nieces and nephews of the mother goddess, but Mor was closer to him than most, had been raised alongside him by the Mother like a sibling, both of them emerging from the teeming darkness that existed before the world together.

Rhys plopped himself down at the table, stealing a few pomegranate seeds off Feyre’s plate. “No one warned you that eating the food of the Night Court means you can never leave?”

Feyre froze.

“He’s joking,” Mor rushed to explain, glaring at Rhys. “That’s one of the rumors the humans made up.”

Feyre still didn’t relax, set her fork down.

“You’re the worst,” Mor said to Rhys. She held her fork out to Feyre. “See, eating and not trapped.” She took a bite. “It’s good too,” she said, words muffled slightly by her full mouth.

Feyre stood abruptly. “I’m going back to my room.”

“Wait,” Rhys said. 

The stare Feyre leveled at him would’ve had a weaker man’s knees shaking. “Are you going to order me to eat, make a total joke of me?”

Rhys backed down, averting his eyes. “I want you to join me for breakfast every morning for the rest of the week.”

Feyre didn’t reply, storming off down the hall and back to her bedroom.

“I think you’re making a good impression,” Mor said.

-

Mor was with Feyre when he came to collect her that night. She was dressed much the same, and if she’d noticed the way the fabric of her outfit had gotten slightly thinner, a hair’s width narrower, she didn’t say anything.

Feyre was laughing at something Mor had said, the bright sound making Rhys’ heart pound uncomfortably in his chest.

“So tell me,” Mor said, lounging on Feyre’s bed with her hand propped on her hand, “how did Rhys manage to get you here.”

Rhys cleared his throat and Feyre’s eyes met his. He could’ve sworn she was begging him to help her, but he only shrugged. If Mor wanted to know something, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her. The truth goddess would find out eventually. Besides, he was as curious as she was, wanted to know what would drive Feyre to make a deal with him, what was so wrong with her seemingly perfect marriage.

“You know how Andras died last year,” Feyre said after a long pause.

Rhys nodded, although it was unneeded. Everyone knew how the god of the wild had been shot by a human, straight through the heart with an ash arrow. The mortals had wanted Andras’ land for farming, wanted to encroach into territory that wasn’t theirs.

Rumor said Tamlin had personally hunted down every man, woman, and child in the village in revenge.

Feyre swallowed thickly. “After that, Tamlin became…paranoid. He wouldn’t let me out of the house and I—“ Feyre trailed off.

Mor nodded sympathetically. 

“So now I’m here,” Feyre said with a bitter laugh.

Rhys checked the window, saw that the sun was hanging low in the sky. “And now it’s time for us to go.”

“Will you be coming?” Feyre asked, looking at Mor. Rhys hated the hope in her voice, even as he held out a hand to lead Feyre away.

 Mor shook her head. “It’s best I stay out of the Court of Nightmares.”

Rhys could tell Feyre was itching to ask more, to interrogate Mor the same way she had to Feyre, but Rhys signaled for her to go before she could. Let Mor tell that story when she wanted to.

Mor waved them out, telling Feyre to summon her whenever they needed to talk, and then they were back in the throne room, Feyre once again seated with Rhys kneeling before her.

“Open,” Rhys demanded

Feyre kept her knees pressed together, shaking her head. “I don’t want—“

Rhys didn’t let her finish, wrapping his clawed finger around her ankles and tugging them apart, spreading Feyre’s legs.

He leaned forward, running the flat of his tongue through her soaking cunt.

“Fuck,” Feyre screamed, back arching, and her head hit the back of the throne.

Rhys couldn’t contain his chuckle, alternating between long licks up her length and biting and sucking at her clit. Again, Feyre rode his face, desperately seeking the release she couldn’t have. And again, Rhys pulled away just as Feyre was at her climax.

“Will you be coming tonight, Feyre darling?”

“No,” Feyre panted, slamming her legs shut.

“A pity,” Rhys said, rising to his feet and sitting on the throne. He snapped his fingers, fixing Feyre’s appearance but leaving his own untouched. Let them see the wetness around his mouth, see that Feyre was more than an unwilling participant. Let word get back to Tamlin about what they did.

-

The rest of the week continued in the same way, Rhys deciding on the third night that he’d had enough of fixing their appearance, leaving Feyre to scramble to smooth her hair and close her legs so they wouldn’t see the smudged paint, the fabric covering her only getting thinner and smaller.

Rhys alternated between using his hand and mouth, driving her higher and higher. He pretended not to notice the way Feyre shifted closer to him every night, leaned a little more towards him as the gods danced below them. Just as he pretended he didn’t hear her in the early hours of the morning, using her own hand to pleasure herself while the other covered her mouth, like that could prevent him from hearing.

And every morning they had breakfast together, trading barbs over bread and fruit Feyre devoured, even as she shifted in her seat every time she saw Rhys’ hands, watching him open his mouth.

Last night he’d switched strategies, licking and sucking the dusty nipples that had been tempting him for days until they stood visible beneath her dress. Feyre had spent the night with her arms folded over her chest to hide the ruined paint.

But it was the last night Rhys was the most excited for. He stroked the object in his pocket, practically vibrating in anticipation. 

Feyre was waiting for him, standing in the middle of her room, the twin wraiths nowhere in sight. He’d ordered them to leave before sending up her outfits, knowing they would refuse if they saw what he had planned.

The scraps of cloth were a mockery. The two panels of the top, just wide enough to cover the pink skin around her nipples, were utterly sheer, hiding nothing. The bottom fabric was slightly thicker, only as broad as his hand’s width, and short enough that he could see the curve of Feyre’s ass.

It was a testament to how wrung out he’d left her that she hadn’t even protested, had put them on without complaint.

Feyre followed him mutely, sitting on her throne without being asked. Rhys knelt before her, but instead of touching her, he pulled out what he’d held in his pocket.

“I thought I’d do something special for our last night together,” he said, holding out the stone cock.

Feyre let out an involuntary whimper. “Please, don’t.”

Rhys ignored her, sliding the tip in. It was slightly thinner than his own cock, not that that was saying much, long marble ending in a rounded obsidian hilt that matched his talons. Feyre was so soaked it slid in without resistance, all the way to the base.

“Hold that,” Rhys ordered, rising up slightly to suck her breast into his mouth, sending the thin covering askew.

The moan that ripped out of Feyre’s mouth was feral as she pressed against him. “Fuck, Rhysand.”

“Are you going to come?” He demanded, flicking his tongue against her nipple. He ran a hand through her hair, messing up the neat curls Nuala had styled it in.

“I can’t,” she begged, even as she leaned into that touch, parted her thighs further. Paint smeared against Rhys’ bare chest as she grabbed for his head, pulling him closer.

Rhys sighed, lifting his mouth off her breast. “Then we’re done,” he said, pulling out of Feyre’s embrace and rising to his feet.

The hideous whine that Feyre released went straight to his balls, and she slouched low in the throne, utterly spent.

He sat in his own seat, waited for Feyre to adjust herself as she did every night, to pretend nothing occurred.

She didn’t, her eyes remaining glazed over as the room filled too desperate to care. He could sense the stares, the way they took in breast she’d left exposed, the outline of the handle of the stone cock just visible beneath the the black gossamer, before quickly averting their gaze, too scared of what Rhys might do if he caught them to look any longer.

Not that Rhys could blame them, Feyre strung out and needy was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

He signaled for the music to start up, the beat of the drums bounding in time with his heart. Next to him, Feyre whimpered.

“What was that, darling?”

Feyre managed to shake her head, eyes still glassy. “Nothing,” she murmured, although Rhys didn’t miss the way her thighs closed together slightly, trying desperately to seek any friction.

Rhys responded by placing a hand on her bare leg, letting his claws scrape against the inside of her thigh with a barely perceptible touch. Feyre sank lower in the chair.

That’s now their night continued, Rhys just barely touching, stroking, getting closer and closer to Feyre’s core while she came more and more unwound next to him.

They were less than an hour from dawn when she finally broke.

“I don’t want to be trapped down here,” Feyre whispered.

Rhys’ snapped to look at her now alert face, the horrified expression at what she’d let slip.

“I would never keep you locked away like him,” Rhys spat. Beneath his grip, Feyre shivered.

Feyre’s eyes searched his face, looking for any hint he was lying.

“Do you promise not to keep me locked away, to let me out?”

“I would treat you as my equal in every way,” Rhys promised. “Where I can go, you can.”

Feyre nodded weakly and, on shaky legs, stood. She started to lower herself into his lap, but Rhys grabbed her waist, tugging her up lightly.

“Now Feyre, darling, you’ve denied me for this past week. Don’t you think I should be pleasured too?”

“Rhys,” Feyre whined, a noise truly undignified for a goddess.

“On your knees,” he ordered, voice uncompromising.

Feyre spared a glimpse behind her, at the crowd below them, before swallowing and slowly lowering herself to the ground. From this angle, the shortness of the back fabric showed the whole court her ass, the intrusion between her thighs.

“Make sure you keep that stone inside you, wouldn’t want my court to know how much of a cockslut you are, would you?” Rhys ordered, voice low enough only Feyre could hear. “How embarrassing to be so loose it slipped out.”

She nodded, one hand reaching down to unbutton his pants. Rhys’ length sprung free, long and proud, already hard after watching Feyre squirm all night.

“Suck it,” Rhys demanded, wrapping a hand in Feyre’s long hair.

Feyre parted her mouth, delicately licking the precum off his tip.

“More,” Rhys growled, and Feyre complied, taking more and more of him until his shaft was buried in her throat. Rhys tightened his grip on her hair, pulling her up slightly before plunging her head back down. Feyre gagged against him, and he held her there, nose pressed against his lower stomach for a long moment before releasing her.

Feyre pulled off him, still gagging slightly, eyes watering.

“That’s how I want it done,” Rhys said, before leaning back, the picture of casual grace.

The goddess on her knees before him met his eyes for a long second, taking him back in her mouth. Rhys couldn’t contain the groan that came low from his throat, already felt his balls tightening. As much fun as wrecking Feyre all week had been, it had left him dangerously close to coming himself.

One of Feyre’s hands cupped his balls and she hollowed her cheeks. Rhys’ hips came off the throne, jerking into her throat.

Feyre choked, her nails scraping against his balls. The pain only heightened Rhys’ pleasure. “That’s it,” Rhys murmured, urging Feyre on. His hands returned to Feyre’s hair, not to control her movements, but to ground himself.

The goddess at his feet pulled off him with a wet pop, a trail of saliva connecting her to his cock. she licked a long stripe along the bottom of his length, following the wet trail with her finger.

She sucked just the tip back into her mouth, and Rhys came, hot spurts shooting down Feyre’s throat.

“My turn,” she said, as soon as he was done.

Rhys chuckled, pulling her up into his lap. He reached one hand around each ankle, pulling her legs apart, one foot resting on each arm of the chair. If Feyre noticed the way the others stared, she didn’t seem to care, her head falling back to rest on his chest.

“Please,” she begged.

Rhys grabbed the stone cock buried in her cunt and pulled it out before thrusting back in. He fucked her with it, pumping in and out as Feyre fell apart on his lap, tears streaming down her face. With his other hand, he flicked at the hard bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, rolled it in his grip.

“I’m going to—“ Feyre cried and Rhys froze.

“No,” she begged, but Rhys was pulling the cock out of her. He threw it behind the throne, wrapping his hands around her hips and lifting her up. He slid down the throne, falling on the floor and placing Feyre’s hot, wet pussy over his mouth.

“I said I would treat you like my equal,” he said, and then his tongue was on her.

He ate like he was a man starved, tried to coat his whole mouth with the taste of her juices. Feyre fell forward onto her hands, rolling her hips against his face.

Rhys sucked at her clit, teeth grazing the hard bud.

He could hear the voices in his head fading, the sounds of the night falling away as the sun started to rise.

And then Feyre was coming over him, juice flooding his mouth as the voices went silent. She screamed, and Rhys gripped the back of her thighs, holding her against him as he worked her though it, tongue continuing to lap at that hard bud.

“Rhys,” she sobbed, lifting her hips off him. He let her roll off, sitting up. He ran his tongue around his lips, licking away the liquid that coated his face.

“So I belong to you now,” Feyre whispered. “Forever.”

Rhys couldn’t figure out her tone, if she was disappointed or not.

He pointed up, to the sunlight just peaking through the window. “Not fully.”

Feyre looked at him, a sly look on her face. “And if I wanted to stay? Would you let me?”

Rhys pulled her towards him, his cock already hard again. “They would have to rip apart the universe to get you away from me.”

Feyre sank down on him, head falling back. She was so tight around him, and her mouth parted slightly as she adjusted to the stretch.

Rhys reached down, wrapped his clawed fingers around her hips and helped her roll against him. Under his grip, he could feel the paint that coated her body changing, the smeared black slowly shifting, going back to the swirling pattern originally painted there.

Their pace picked up, hard, punishing thrusts of Rhys’ hips meeting Feyre’s own. She rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling.

And then Feyre was coming again, falling apart in his lap. The slight texture of the paint under his fingers faded away, sinking into her skin. The sight of the symbols of his court branding themselves on her body, had Rhys falling over the edge with her.

Feyre screamed as she continued to change, the fingers digging into his shoulders sharply as she grew long black claws that matched his, drew pinpricks of blood from him.

She was panting, and Rhys watched with feral delight as her teeth grew sharper, becoming long fangs.

He surged forward, their mouths meeting in a messy kiss. He could taste his blood in his mouth as Feyre’s teeth sliced him open, relished the pain.

“There will be no question from Tamlin who you belong to,” he said, hauling her into his arms and carrying her to his bedroom.

They fell into bed together, a tangle of limbs, of claws and teeth as they tore into each other, matched each other stroke for stroke, bite for bite.

The sheets were a mess when they were done, the black blood of the gods of the Night Court staining everything.

“I think, Feyre darling, that I should make you wait before coming again,” Rhys panted, once they were both spent, arms wrapped around each other.

“You’re a prick,” she purred, curling up against him.

And that night, when the God of Night and the Goddess of Art looked up at the sky from their twin thrones, the stars had changed. No longer was she to be Tamlin’s wife. She was Rhysands, for all eternity.

For when the artists seem to be driven mad, that’s Rhys taunting his Queen, drawing out her pleasure. And when art seems to flow better at night, it’s because Feyre is ruling alongside her husband.

[lala1267]

Is it wrong (Part 4)

Summary: Priscilla knows and gets her revenge

Warnings: slight blood, glass, mentions of cuts, violent imagery, age gap.

Notes: Idk if this is good.

Legs swaying and smile lurking on her dimpled cheeks. Lolita's hand muffled her childish giggles as Elvis ran across her little mind. He was like a haunting melody, a lovely life saver. The way his big hands felt around hers, the way his back velvet hair hung in front of his face, the way he puffed on his cigar, the way his head tipped back against the sofa, relaxing. The visible dust molecules floated around her in the sunlight. Her long blonde curls seeped over her upper body like a golden waterfall. Her black shiny school shoes tapped against the wooden floorboard. The pencil in her hand scribbled against the white paper, leaving a trail of grey led. She couldn't wait to see Elvis. She was like she was a magnet to him. She just couldn't seem to pry away from his rose red magnetic field.

She walked out of the school gates with a skip in her step. She quickly rushed home.

The next few weeks

Lolita and Elvis would send flirtatious letters to eachover. Sometimes, Lolita would even sign the paper with her cherry red lipstick kisses. She would spray her floral beach scented perfume on the thin paper before sending it. Elvis's heart would ache and dim into a cold grey as he spent more days from his little Lolita. Lolita's violets would whimper in agony as the colour disappeared from the once purple petals. Her flowers were hauntingly delicate. The green stem that was now a rusty brown was weaping over, bent over like a sorrowful willow tree. Lolita would run across Elvis's mind like a shooting star, making its way through the galaxy. Lolita was so cheerful and happy. It was like the sun lived inside of her golden heart that was glittered with glowing pixy dust. It was almost as if you could hear a twilight twinkling sound whenever you were around her. You could hear the echoe of her childish giggles that filled the pollenated summer air. As Lolita was a burning desire, Priscilla was a captivating darkness. Her long black hair and foxy eyeliner accessorised her alluring sexyness. She had a mystery to her dark void. She was a secret witchy mistress trapped in such a small body. She was underestimated often. She was a woman of destingtion, calm and calculated. Even though Priscilla's nights and seas were colored black velvet, she would unfold a core of sweetness. If you pick at her petals and shower her in diamonds, of course.

One windy night

Priscilla sat on the cream lever couch that was situated in the lavish living room of Graceland. Her fingers that were covered in shiny sparkling rocks rummaged through the bag of popcorn that sat in her lap. Her eyes softened as she saw baby Lisa gently fall asleep in her high chair. Priscilla lifted herself from the couch and placed the popcorn aside before picking Lisa up. She cradled her and admired her cuteness. She placed tone little pink kisses on her soft cheeks.

"Oh my baby, I think it's your bedtime."

Priscilla whispers as her tone lifts to talk on a baby voice. She places Lisa in the downstairs cradle gently before sitting herself back down. She is distracted at the sound of the letter box ingraved into the front door. It clangs. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks as the small white letter that is swiftly floating towards the ground.

"Post man, at this time..."

Priscilla seems to be worried, but her emotions die down once she remembers that it is probably Elvis sending her a little letter. A smile appears on her face as she walks over to the note. She eagerly picks it up and tears the envelope off. The rubbish travels to the carpet as her eyes scan the letter.

"To my little Lolita.

I will be coming back tomorrow, I can't wait to see your pretty face again. I have a big suprise for you honey, you will be so happy when you see it!

-E.P."

Priscilla's once cosy living room crumbles and sucks her into a black void. Her breath is snatched from her as spicy salty tears seap down her tense throat. She feels her heart burn and crackle like a bonfire in a dead forest. The once bright red apples that hung from the green trees were now rotting and decaying as the rusty brown leaves fell off onto the muddy ground. A waterfall of tears gush down her tournamented face like oozing blood from her stone grey heart that is gradually burning into a red flame. Her tears dropped to the floor as her fist strangled the letter. She instantly sprints up the stairs. The sound of her heavy footsteps rang like a doorbell.

Lolita sat in the dimly lit guest room of Graceland. The cold night wind blew the cottage white curtains away. A smile plastered on her pretty face as the black ink wrote flirtatious words onto the lined paper. Her delicate hands moved around over the paper. Her feet kicked as she tried to contain her energy. Her heart thumped a sweet melody against her ribcage. The moonlight shot stars into her tangled hair, leaving behind sparkling fairy dust. It was as if there were rivers sweetly perfumed with vanilla in her bright soul. Her big blue orbs scanned the black Inc words that were tattooed onto the page a thousand times. Suddenly, loud footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, quickly getting closer to the door that separated her and the rest of the house. Without warning, the Swan white door flew open and hit the wall, leaving an indent. Priscilla's face was glistening with her warm salty tears whilst her clenched fist grasped the white love note. Her teeth grunted against eachover, and her eyes were bloodshot. She was like a baulk of fury that would explode any minute. She stood in the doorway before pointed to the crinkled letter in her hand with her quivering finger.

"What is this?"

She asked through her teeth, trying her best to remain calm. Lolita's eyes widened as they met with the letter that was suffocated in Priscilla's now white nuckles. She was filled with an ocean of apologies, but not a word escaped her pretty pink lips. She was silenced. Priscilla took a dangerous step closer to Lolita, who cowered like the pathetic little girl she was. Lolita's head hesitantly tilted up to Priscilla, who was now towering over her seated position.

"I said what the fuck is this!?"

She yelled before throwing the scrunched up paper at poor Lolita's face, causing her to flinch like a scared puppy with its tail in between its legs. Lolita's watery eyes looked back up to Priscilla, who was at her boiling point, but still, not a word escaped.

"If you don't wanna talk, we can handle this another way."

She grunted under her hot breath. Priscilla's hands aggressively grasped Lolita's precious, lininen curls. The sting and pain on her scalp caused her to yelp helplessly. Priscilla pulled her powerless body to the cold, hard ground before jumping on top of her. Her long nails clawed at Lolita like an animal, scratching, hitting, punching, anything. Lolita's cries and screams meant nothing to Priscilla. She felt no remourse, no mercy. Priscilla was filled with rage. Her hands curled into a tight fist before landing numerous blows on Lolita's bright red face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are bitch!?"

She shouted at the top of her lungs like a mad woman.

"Huh!? I can't hear ya!"

She yelled causing her lungs to burn like a cigarette. Her face lit up red as she carried on her vicious attack on the small teen.

"Elvis is mine!"

"I'll make sure you'll never meet again like goddamn vegans!"

She yelled. Her shouts echoed around the dark room like a haunted melody. Priscilla stood up from weak Lolita, who was whimpered and sobbing like a baby. She turned around to rummage on the messy desk. She finally got her hands on an expensive perfume that Elvis had recently brought Lolita. Priscilla's grip was tight on the glass bottle as she turned to look at Lolita. Her arms raised in the air, holding the glass perfume filled bottle up. She aggressively threw it straight at Lolita. She watched as sharp shards of glass smash all over Lolita's poor body, leaving cuts for the perfume to seep onto like pink venom. Lolita let out an ear deafening scream as she felt the burning sensation of the perfume travelling into the bloody openings on her body. This only added feul to the fire. Priscilla wasn't going to stop until her screams would dissappear into the dense air. She wasn't going to stop until she was dead. She needed to feel every one of Lolita's bones crush. Priscilla quickly turned back around and grabbed anything she could from the table. She threw glass, makeup, decor, and hairspray at the weak little girl. The wooden floor was now decorated in little blood stains and glistening glass peices that shimmered like diamonds.

Her hands pushed the stool over. She needed to hurt Lolita badly. She stood for a few seconds, thinking. The screams and cries of Lolita just clouded the room. Priscilla looked at the desk before man handling it. She dragged it closer and closer to Lolita's beaten body until it finally fell on top of her. Lolita's screams and breaths were snatched from her as she felt the heavy wooden table crush her ribs, and the tall mirror break into sharp shards on her body. Immense pain coursed through her veins as her mouth was locked shut. The sound of glass breaking rang in Priscilla's ears as Lolita was deafened by the white noise.

Priscilla just towered over her, looking at the mess that she had made with her bloodshot eyes. Her chest heaved up and down, and her red nuckles relaxed. Her eyes looked at the painted red floor. Her brows furrowed as tears streamed down her face.

"J-just, leave my relationship alone, please."

She whispered breathlessly before rushing out of the room and into the darkness. Lolita's breath left her body as her consciousness also followed. Her glassy eyes fluttered shut as her blood oozed out of her body like slime.

Next morning

The smell of perfume lingers around the room. Lolita's eyes slowly drift open. Her blue eyes scan her position. The heavy table feels as if it is cutting her waist in half. Her body aches. She slowly lifts the table up. She sits up with slight pain before she gets up. She tries to stop her tears as she sees the number of nightmare blue bruises that were decorated on her body through a shard of the mirror. She gasps as she continues to examine her beaten body. She feels like a punching bag. She was quickly taken back by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

"Where is my beautiful baby Lisa!"

A manly voice excitedly shouts from the living room. Lolita's heart races as she has a feeling of ecstasy wave over her. Panic courses through her veins. She needs to hide this scene and her bruised body. It was only a matter of time before the truth came out.