#which is brushing those golden locks after the night bath

[deathberi]

#mimatoweek2023 . : * ・ ° ☆ . 。 DAY 5: MOVING IN TOGETHER

[blindmagdalena]

Ruiner

18+ 2.6k incubus!homelander x f!reader. extremely dubious consent, cunnilingus, comeplay/eating, vaginal dp, dirty talk, tail fucking, mild mindbreak, transformation, possessive behavior, breeding kink, marathon fucking, multiple orgasm, tail oral? mild breathplay.

After weeks of exhaustion, no matter how much sleep you get, you wake to a strange visitor in your bed. In a dark and honied voice, he promises you the pleasures found only in eternity.

written for monsterlander mania. check out this illustration by @luckytiggertalia!

For weeks, your nights have been plagued by a strange restlessness. No matter how early you retire to bed, you wake up heavy and groggy. It’s as if you close your eyes for a second, and then instantly wake twelve hours later, as unrested as ever. By the time you go to bed tonight, you’re nearly in a state of delirium, collapsing atop the covers without bothering to change your clothes.

The sun hasn’t set yet, but your eyes are too heavy to stay awake. Your whole body aches in misery.

“Please, just one… One good night,” you plead, bordering on tears as you curl up, nuzzling into your pillow. You fall asleep almost instantly–as you always do–and pray to anyone or anything willing to listen that this time, you actually rest.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake. Strangely, it’s still dark out. You can’t remember the last time you woke before the sun rose, too exhausted to imagine it. Your head lolls from one side to the other, seeking out the LED glow of your clock, but you can’t make out the numbers. They’re bleary, and to your misery, you’re still heavy with fatigue.

The weight is more than that, though. You don’t just feel heavy, you feel something upon you. In the dark, you can make out a shadow above you, tracing the silhouette with your eyes, which widen as you see two glowing crimson spheres returning your stare.

“Hey you,” the figure above you purrs in a low voice so deliciously warm and sweet, you swear you feel it on your tongue. “Really did a number on you, didn’t I? You’re just so damn… tasty,” the figure coos, leaning down into the dim light of the moon spilling into your room, allowing you to properly see who is speaking to you.

You see strong features. Pronounced cheekbones, a broad, flat nose bridge, and the second the light hits them, those eerie red eyes shift into a handsome endless blue. His head is topped with a clean sweep of golden blonde hair, and when he tilts it, you see the distinct curve of long, twisting black horns jutting out on either side of it. You feel a scream build in your lungs, but it stays there, tight and unescaping in your chest. You realize you can’t move. You can’t speak.

“But I can admit when I’ve gone overboard, okay? And since you’ve been so good to me, I’m gonna be good to you,” he tells you, dragging a single finger down the line of your throat. It’s clawed, you realize belatedly, and you hear it cut through your clothing as easily as shears through paper.

You try desperately to choke out something, say anything, but it’s as if your throat is being held in an invisible vice lock. You’re shocked you can breathe.

“Shshshhhh,” he hushes, warm hands pulling the shreds of clothing from your body. You know your room is cold, but all you can feel is the heat rolling from the body atop yours like a burning hearth given flesh.

“Relax. It’s me. And we’ve had so much fun together, you and I,” he says, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. The contact sparks like a shock of electricity, making you gasp. With that jolt comes a flash of images one after another, the blurry edges of them falling somewhere between memories and dreams only half remembered.

You’ve been here before, felt the lick of this heat against your skin. Your own moans echo in your ears like a cacophony of overlapping instances of self. Every inch of your skin feels hot, like you’ve just been submerged in a scorching bath. Flashes of nights spent in the throes of ecstasy assault your mind, and at the center of it all, a pair of lucent rubied eyes.

“That’s it, see now. See how you’ve been mine all along,” he murmurs, lips brushing the hollow of your throat. His tongue drags a hot trail down your chest, dipping to the side, where he sucks a mark into the swell of your right breast. He pulls away with a soft pop, and kisses his way to your nipple. This time, you can feel the inhuman length of his tongue coiling around the sensitive hard bud like a serpent before you feel the pull of his lips sucking at you.

He takes your opposite breast in his clawed hand and massages it with his palm, coaxing more noises from you, more exquisite pleasure. The miasma of his presence is so overwhelming, you can feel it in the weight of the air. Every breath you take feels heavy in your lungs.

Bit by bit every drop of panic drains from you, replaced by sweltering shameless enjoyment. The more you allow it, the better his hands feel. His mouth feels best of all, a wicked thing that makes your skin feel so good it burns.

He uses his knees to spread your legs, and that’s when you feel the press of something thick between your thighs, dragging up the slick mess he’s made of you, pressing against your lightly throbbing clit. It moves strangely, with articulate deftness that defies all expectation. You jolt, a moan escaping you. “What is that?” You rasp, unsure of when you became able to speak again.

“Me,” he tells you, and the feeling disappears. A second later, you see an appendage rise up behind him. A tail, you realize. It’s as black as his horns, long and ridged on the top. The bottom reminds you of the belly of a snake, with smooth scales that layer seamlessly down. You watch, transfixed, as he brings it to his lips and opens wide, taking it into his mouth. You see just a flash of gleaming, sharp fangs. When the tail pulls away, it’s coated in a shiny, thick layer of saliva. 

It disappears, and you feel the pressure of it at your pussy once more, slowly and painlessly easing you open.You feel each and every bump as it slips into you, firm but malleable. You writhe, letting out a jagged moan. You realize you can move when you reflexively grab onto his hair, though the knuckles of your right hand bump his horn. Instinctively, you take hold of his horn, giving it a sharp pull that makes him moan.

He pulls off of your breast with a wet pop, both of which have grown tender under his attention. “More,” he encourages you, tilting his head to tug against your grasp. You comply, taking both of his horns into your hands and pushing his head down, down, down.

“Good, that’s good,” he growls, claws dragging tantalizing lines down your body, the sharpness of them drawing faint welts on your skin. He grabs your thighs and leans in to tongue your aching clit, pulling another moan from you. “Take, sweetheart. Take as much as you want. Take like I take from you,” he says, words like an inferno breathed on the most sensitive part of you.

You swear you can feel strength returning to your body. Your eyes no longer burn with desire for sleep. For the first time in weeks, you truly feel awake again.

His tail pushes deeper inside you while his impossibly long tongue draws figure-eights over your clit. You throw your head back and yank on his horns, back arching. You bounce your hips, fucking yourself on his tail while grinding against his tongue. He laughs against you, humming in pure delight at the way you hold him in place, shamelessly using him for your mounting pleasure. The vibrations drive you steadily to the brink.

You feel feverish with need, sweat prickling your skin. His mouth feels silky and hot against you while the ridges of his tail make you writhe with every push and pull. You come hard, clenching down on his tail, legs tightening on either side of his head, yanking his horns hard enough that he makes a shuddering noise of pleasure against you.

The euphoria is so intense that your vision turns white, but it doesn’t last. The waves fade out, and you’re left breathing heavily, wanting more.

“More,” you voice immediately, even as your legs shake. He messily licks his lips, swiping your shiny slick and his spit from his chin with his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. “I need more,” you say fervently.

He crawls up the length of your body like a stalking tiger, settling his weight overtop of you. He kisses you, licks the taste of sex and cinnamon into your mouth. His tongue curls around yours, pushing almost to the back of your throat. He breaks from you with a ragged breath. “You’ve kept me so well fed. Now it’s my turn to give you everything,” he vows, reaching down between your bodies. 

Your brows furrow, lips parting on a silent cry as you feel the blunt, wet head of his cock pressing into you just above his tail. He moans, holding you still while he slowly sinks into you. 

“Been so fucking perfect for me. Sweet little cunt, always dripping for me before I even touch you. You want to feel like this forever, don’t you? But why be my pet when you could be my equal, hmm? I can make you like me,” he whispers, punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips that brings him a little deeper each time. “And we’ll eat, fuck and live how we want for all eternity. Tell me that’s what you want.”

You keen, spreading your legs wider in an attempt to adjust to the added girth. You nod eagerly. The last thing you want to do is leave this exquisite agony behind, return to the mundane monotony of your life beyond this burning inferno. 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he coos, cupping the side of your face. The sharp claw of his thumb drags across your cheek, barely light enough not to break the skin. He rocks his hips gently, alternating those thrusts with the slide of his tail. “Before I have to break you… Tell me that you want me to keep you.”

You grip his shoulders, struggling for breath. You feel so unbelievably full as he fucks you, floating on the overwhelm of sensation, but you’re present enough that his words send a shiver down your spine. “Yes. Yes, I want you to keep me. I want you to be mine forever,” you say, not wanting to lose this again. You don’t want to forget. You don’t want him to stop. You’re addicted to this. To him.

He moans loudly, dipping back down to kiss you. He hikes your legs up around his waist and thrusts in deep, swallowing your answering noises while he picks up a punishing pace, pounding you into the mattress hard enough that the whole bed shakes, headboard slamming against the wall.

“Fucking… tight,” he moans as you get closer to another climax, his voice frayed and eager. “I won’t insult you by stopping when you come. I’m going to fuck you so full of my come, you’re going to taste it,” he growls, hips snapping harder with each word, his tail and his cock fucking you until the tether in you snap, and you’re coming again, dragging your nails up his back while he mercilessly pounds you into the bed. 

He’s just as unrelenting as he promised to be, growling into the crook of your neck. You gasp when he sinks his teeth into your skin, holding you in place and fucking you like an animal until he, too, succumbs to his pleasure, his groan muffled into your flesh while a rush of heat fills your stuffed cunt even fuller.

You’re sure that’s the end of it.

You’re wrong.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still hard inside you, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every thrust.

“No breaks for you,” he rasps, lapping at the bite he left at your neck. “This is your only purpose now.” He hauls you hips up, lifts himself up on his knees so that only your upper back and head are left on the bed.

You hear a noise behind him that sounds like tree branches snapping, and two enormous, leathery black wings unfurl from his back. His eyes glow like burning coals in the darkness. You give a shuddering moan as his tail slides out of you, reappearing over his shoulder.

He brings it right to your lips.

“Open,” he murmurs. You do, parting your lips and welcoming the silky slide of his tail on your tongue. He tastes like salt, sex and warm spices. Your eyelids flutter as you suck every drop, moving your tongue greedily over the tip of it. He bows his head back down against your shoulder, moaning in your ear so hungrily that you realize it must feel good for him. You suck harder, and sure enough, he shudders, holding your hips while he fucks you faster.

“Ffffuck, you’re so fucking good for me. Take me so good. Perfect pussy for breeding. Won’t spill a fucking drop, will you?” His rhythm never falters despite how ruined his own voice sounds. He pushes his tail deeper into your mouth, fucks your throat the same way he fucks your cunt, making it hard to breathe.

He comes again, dragging you over the threshold with that same intense rush of liquid heat. Your whole body trembles, and you’re lightheaded from lack of oxygen. His tail slips from your lips only to be replaced by his thumb hooking the corner of your mouth. He peers inside, and his lips split into a wicked grin. “Good girl,” he rumbles, prying your mouth open wider, inspecting your teeth. Confused, you roll your tongue along your top teeth, and only then do you understand.

You have fangs.

Before you can express your disbelief, he kisses you again, rocking against you in comparatively leisurely thrusts, luxuriating in the soaking wet mess he’s made of your cunt. “Just a little more, sweetheart, and you’ll be just like me. You and me? We’re gonna eat this whole fucking world alive.”

You lose track of how much time goes by. You lose track of how many times you come. How many times he comes. He fucks you until your pussy is raw and your voice hoarse. He kisses, licks and bites his way over every inch of you. It’s as if he desperately wants to devour you, and the only thing holding him back is his promise to keep you. 

You don’t have a single thought left in your head other than taking his cock deeper, feeling more of him, tasting more of him. You’re so cum-drunk it’s made you stupid, focused only on the pleasure he has to offer you. It should hurt, you think, and yet all you feel is resplendent euphoria.

He changes you. You grow more than fangs; your nails turn to claws, and you can feel the weight of horns on your skull. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he moans, coming inside you again with a shuddering moan. You feel his tail twist around yours.

“So fucking perfect. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chants deliriously, adjusting your body against his own as he starts to thrust again.

The sun never does rise. You’re not sure that it ever will.

You don’t care, though. Not so long as you’re his, and he’s yours.

[dazedandconfused-15]

Dom billy giving you a bubble bath after a long day at work, he sits behind you and rubs your puffy pussy calling you his good girl and ur just his subby girlfriend crying cus hes hands are so thick and perfect 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫❤️❤️

Here you go😇😝

Warning: 18+, sexual content.

Dragging yourself to the kitchen, the full moon's leftovers from a restless night still haunt you. As soon as you got home earlier, you laid down on the couch to get a few minutes of rest. Surprise surprise, that turned into a solid hour nap. You hate leaving the dishes in the sink, so as soon as you see them you start washing them before preparing dinner later.

-Babe?

-In here! – you answer, rubbing your forehead with your arm. A lock of hair falls on your face and you blow it away.

Billy enters the kitchen and puts the house keys in the bowl, his eyes on you. -Hey.

You give him a tired smile, rinse a breakfast bowl under water, and place it on the dish rack. -Sorry, I forgot to wash the breakfast things. When I got home I just had to sit on the couch for a bit but fell asleep. I was exhausted.

Billy comes up to you as you rub a dish with the sponge. -Not a big deal. Leave it here, I’ll do it later.

-I’m almost done.

You sigh as he turns off the tap, resting a hand on your arm. -It's Friday. I’ll do it. Just c’mere.

You grab the towel he holds out to you, drying your hands. You turn towards him, finding yourself trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. His blue eyes roam over your face. He has a spot of motor oil on his cheekbone, which you brush away with your thumb.

-What’s going on? D’you have a bad day? – he asks as his fingers graze the skin of your hip under your shirt.

-No, no. Just...just a long one, that’s all.

Billy hums. He moves closer and kisses the corner of your mouth as his lips linger there, his mustache teasing you deliciously. You can smell the faint scent of cigarettes in his kiss.

-Alright. Let's get you in the bath. Relax a bit', huh? - he asks, his big hand goes up your back and wraps itself around the back of your neck, warm and reassuring.

A bath sounds like a good idea.

A few minutes later, your body sinks in the bathtub as you let the warmth of the hot water envelop you. The bubbles shimmer like iridescent jewels. The rhythmic sound of their bursting orchestrates a gentle melody.

-Aren't you coming? – you ask Billy.

He is sitting to your left, his arms resting against the edge of the tub. He reaches out a hand and brushes your lips with his thumb.

-I thought you wanted to be alone for a while.

You shake your head, kissing his thumb. Billy gets the message and stands up, undressing. When he sits behind you and grabs your hips, drawing you closer to him, you lean your back against his chest with a satisfied hum. His hands rest against your belly. You never cease to be amazed at how your bodies contrast with each other. His golden skin seems even more tanned against your fair one. Your legs trapped between his are small.

Wrapped in the warmth of his body and the warm water, you let out a long sigh trying to ignore the tension in your shoulders. You try to disconnect yourself from thoughts of work. It's no use at the moment.

-You need to stop worrying so much, y'know. - Billy says at one point. His thumbs draw circles on your belly, which relaxes your nerves a little. 

-I know. It's just...there's so much to do. I don't even know if it's gonna work.

You just opened a coffee shop in Hawkins. Things are going well so far, but there's still so much to do. Robin and Max are a great help. Taking care of the marketing and branding part has taken a lot of work, and you all really want this business to work. You are finishing up the recipes and adjusting some aspects of the interior design, but the pressure is a lot.

-Don’t be so negative. The food’s great. Have I tried it or not?

-Yeah...

He nudges your jaw with his nose. -And what did I say? Like the pancakes, what did I say when I ate those pancakes? You know I'm always straight-up with you, especially with this stuff.

You hum in acknowledgment, folding your left leg and resting it against his muscular thigh. -You loved them.

-That's right. I'm not the only one. When you guys gave Eddie one of those blueberry muffins? Man, he cleaned up the whole tray.

You let out a laugh at the memory of that episode.

-You worry too much. S'gonna be great.

-You're right. - you murmur, feeling tingles spread through your belly as his hands creep further up.

-Now you just need to relax. - his breath brushes your ear as his thumbs grazes your nipples, which immediately stiffen under his touch. -Yeah?

You nod, his thumbs sending direct signals between your legs as he rolls your nipples between them.

-Let me take care of ya.

A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his fingers graze the petals of your sex. His hand is big enough to cup it entirely. It is as if an electric shock is going through your body. You can feel the blood rushing down there as all of your nerves wake up from his touch. He knows your body by heart, knows exactly how to touch you, what gets you squirming for him. You had a couple boyfriends before him, but none of them was able to touch you like him. Not even close. And it wasn’t a matter of time either, because Billy got you gushing all over his hand the first time he touched you in that parking lot a year ago. His finger rubs your clit in slow circles, you can feel the wetness build up no matter the water surrounding you. You instinctively arch your back, seeking contact with his hand.

-You're so eager, aren't you? - Billy reprimands you as he bites your ear, slowing down his movements. -Are you gonna be good and stop moving?

-Huh huh. – you bite your lower lip as you strain to relax back against his torso.

You feel his hard length pressing against your lower back, and it only increases the need for release. His fingers are spread to each side of your labia, and he begins to slowly massage you up and down, your throbbing, hardened clit rubbing against the palm of his hand.

-Mh, yes. - you whisper with a gasp at his touch.

The water around his arm has cleared from the foam and you can see his large hand rubbing you, turning you on even more. His other hand is on your left breast, playing with your nipple poking out of the water.

He pants against your ear as he brushes your slit with his middle index finger and you automatically twitch with the need to feel him pushing inside your hole.

-Such a greedy pussy. - he rumbles. Then his words cut through you in his slow, accusing tone. -Can you feel how wet you are?

-Mh, just need it so bad...

-What do you need, baby? - he asks, knowing fully well what you want as he circles your entrance with his finger. Waiting for you to say the word.

-Your fingers. – you breathe out, and it takes all of you not to thrust your hips forward and swallow his finger.

-Where do you need 'em?

You feel your cheeks burning. You have always been shy. Billy is the opposite of you. Has always been. He’s all cheeky and uninhibited and doesn’t care if he falls into the vulgar. And he demands the same from you. You can't escape him.

-In my pussy. - you whisper, and he hums in appreciation, his voice rumbles against his chest.

-Atta girl.

He pushes his finger inside you, filling you to the brim. You gasp, tilting your head back, feeling the metal of his ring against your labia, waiting for him to start moving. And when he does, you let a low moan. You instinctively pull your right leg out of the water so that your calf rests on the edge of the tub to be spread for him and give him more access, water dripping onto the floor from your foot.

-Yeah, just like that. Open wide, baby. - Billy whispers, and almost pulls out his finger to add another one, tearing a high-pitched groan from you.

You lift your head from his chest, watching in rapture as his big fingers move in and out of you in the water, the heel of his hand against your pubis. The air in the bathroom is hot and humid, your body is on fire. A drop of sweat slides down you temple. You never want it to end, but at the same time, you feel the burning need to release.

-More. - you whisper, resting your head back against his shoulder. You move your hips to meet his movements, but as soon as you do Billy pulls out his fingers.

Your sex contracts around nothing. You feel frustration rising in you and you’re about to say something but Billy wraps his hand around your throat.

-What did I say? - he murmurs, his lips against your skin.

His voice is a warning in itself. If you move, he gives you nothing.

-Sorry. It just feels so good. Please, Billy.

You turn your head meeting his blue eyes, begging him with your gaze. You press your lips against his for good measure. Billy grunts, his tongue finding yours as he lightly tightens his hand around your throat. The pleasure and slight adrenaline of the gesture mingle, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His eyes lock into yours as he slowly pushes his three fingers inside you. Your eyes flutter as he fills you again. You feel him increase his pace and you no longer contain the sounds that leave your mouth, your breath mixing with his. Then he curls his fingers and hits the spongy skin inside you, and something uncomfortable mixed with something beyond pleasure makes you close your eyes. Your leg begins to ache from its position against the edge of the tub, but you can't bring yourself to care, desperate as you are for the release. Your hips though, start to move on their own again, meeting his fingers urgently.

-God, yes ... ah ...

And just like that, he pulls out his fingers again.

You turn to look at him, frowning in dismay. Billy shakes his head, his hand slowly rubbing your swollen sex. -You're not listening.

-I’ll listen! I promise. I won't move. Just, please... - you moan, straining not to move against his teasing hand.

His fingers linger on your swollen labia. -What a brat. - then he roughly pushes his fingers inside you, without warning.

You cry out against his mouth and he silences you with his lips. His tongue follows the movement of his fingers and you almost roll your eyes at how erotic and overwhelming all of this is.

-Can you stay put baby? Want me to make you cum? Huh? - he asks, curling his fingers inside you.

You answer with a noncommittal sound, your toes curling every time his fingers apply pressure against that patch of skin. You feel yourself reaching the end quickly, feeling like you’re sliding down towards the edge of a ravine with alarming speed.

Billy tightens his grip around your throat, forcing you to open your eyes. He looks at you under his long dark lashes with a certain hunger. -Want you to watch me when I make this pussy come.

-Huh huh. – you nod eagerly, your nose brushing against his. -Please, yes.

Your legs start shaking as he keeps hitting that sweet spot, the familiar warmth in your belly starts spreading until you can't take it anymore and you cry out, contracting violently around his fingers, your flesh pulsing rhythmically, your eyes nearly crossing from the intense and long pleasure, so good it almost hurts.

-Yeah, such a good girl. - he whispers, his fingers moving gently inside you as you ride out your orgasm. Your legs give out as you loll your head to the side against his chin, your eyes fluttering shut, feeling utterly spent. Billy kisses your forehead, his hand now gentle around your throat, his thumb caressing your jaw.  -You did so well for me.

You just let out a sigh, feeling lulled by the warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne surrounding you, feeling at home.

[livinlavidavili]

On a peaceful day during the year of 41 BBY, the Force celebrates the birth of two beautiful, united souls, sending them to wander the galaxy and forge their own paths in hopes of one day meeting each other. Their destinies cannot be changed, nor can their journey- for it is their experiences that will shape who they are, and make one the better half for the other. 

One such soul is born on Tatooine, to a kind, discerning, gentle young mother who will do nothing but sit and hold her child for days after he is born. He will have hardships, and he will face difficulties that he wouldn’t even wish on his enemies as he grows older and encounters all sorts of situations on that dry planet of his. He will be radiant, a golden soul like no one has ever seen before- but he will also possess darkness. That darkness will frighten many, possibly even himself. And that, dear luminous beings, is where the other soul comes in. 

The other soul, born with pure, white light bathing her, is the epitome of hope and strength and joy. She will have a strong mind, and an even stronger heart- though it will certainly be put through its own turmoil, in her lifetime. 

It is her purpose to see the darkness within the other, and help guide him away. Just as it is his purpose to keep her from falling into the oh-so-easily-misconstrued theory that Jedi are supposed to refrain from all things that breed selfishness. Forever leaning on the other for support and love, the relationship they will form is something onlookers would sell their own soul for. 

Born to a couple on the planet of Stewjon, her path, unlike the first soul, gets a headstart with hardships. 

The second sweet Lili is born, her parents rejoice at the delivery of a beautiful baby girl, their celebrations continuing for at least a week after. Friends come and go to look upon her beauty, and her brothers Ewan and Owen spend almost every waking moment snuggling with her or asking their parents ‘when Lili can play ball outside’. 

For two years, this joy and adoration continues. The mother sits with her sweet girl and brushes her hair out after baths, singing and giggling with her as she braids the beautiful blonde locks she was blessed with. And the father, while less emotionally available as he is with all his children, still tucks her in at night and reads her a bedtime story- especially on the evenings where sleep does not come easy to her. 

During storms, Ewan will come to her room (unless of course she climbs into his bed first) and snuggle with her, holding her oh, so tightly until her anxiety goes away or the storm ends. And as for Owen, well… still very much a growing boy himself, Owen sits and colors with her at any chance possible. He wants to be an artist- and since his little sister liked to draw so much, too, what better excuse could he find to sit and draw with her? 

And then one day, on her way home from a ride in the woods nearby, the mother catches you, her sweet, flawless daughter floating a rock. As if it were nothing. Just as her baby boy many years ago had possessed such gifts. Such… horrid, terrible gifts. 

How could the Maker do this? How could she be gifted with a precious angel of a girl, only to recognize her powers just as they had seen in her older brother? Who, now, they’ve learned, happens to have found his way to the Jedi Temple anyway. These people truly never give up, it appears. 

And so, having learned from past mistakes that Jedi seem to be indestructible, and unable to put herself through another round of her child screaming as her husband held them underwater, she takes a few moments in the horse stables to collect herself for the next steps. 

But how can she truly collect herself when her heart, once again, has been cracked into two? Over a child- a child which will now disgrace their family, especially among those who learn of her gifts. Their family will lose such high ranking in Stewjon society, she may lose her titles of leadership in all female societal groups! Again! 

With a deep breath, she moves back out to the garden where her former angel was last seen, stopping just a few feet in front of you. Gods help her if she gets too close to that… monstrous magic of yours. Especially since you don’t know how to use it. 

“We- we must take a trip,” she breathes. “Just you and I. Alright? This instant.” If Ewan were to learn of what she was doing, he would try to stop it at all costs. She cannot be stopped- you have to go. 

[xjoonchildx]

snapshot | jhs x reader

summary: after a day at the beach, hoseok has some surprises in store for his longtime love

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, smut, fluff OH MY GOD SO MUCH FLUFF y'all i apologize

word count: 4.7K

notes: this fic is a commission fic for the lovely @wwilloww as part of the @armyadvocates fundraising initiative to stop hate crimes against AAPI. miss willow asked for an old house, candles and soft smut as well as a mystery box. i did my best to deliver on all counts because willow is amazing and deserves all good things.

thanks go to @hobi-gif @ladyartemesia and @btsarmy9593 for beta reading parts of this story, thanks so much for keeping me on track ladies! a very special shoutout to @sahmfanficbts who helped me come up with a very *key* part of this plot.

warnings: no one dies? no one is in danger of dying? who am i? standard smut, unprotected sex. liberal sunscreen use. low air quality due to paint fumes and sawdust. references to yoongi, who we can assume is cranky offscreen, references to @untaemedqueen first suggestion of what was in the box.

Warm.

Hoseok is so warm right now, inside and out. He stretches his long body out on the length of his beach lounger, enjoying the feeling of the sun beating down on his skin. His buzz is mellow and pleasant. He lets his eyes drift shut, lulled into a lazy calm by the sounds he can hear all around him.

The steady lap of the waves against the shore. Kids laughing as they run around on the sand. Off in the distance, a bluetooth speaker thumps out a song that’s too far away for him to recognize. And after a few minutes, another sound.

Your bright laughter, carried to him on the breeze.

God, he loves that sound.

“You are such a lightweight,” you tease. Hoseok can hear the smile in your voice. “Two beers and you pass out on me.”

He cracks one eye open to find you standing beside his lounger. The early evening sunlight streams through the strands of your dark hair and warms your bronzed skin, bathing you in a kind of golden halo. He gazes up at you, languid and content.

“I’m not passed out,” he argues with a slow grin. “I’m relaxing. Come relax with me.”

Hoseok doesn’t give you a chance to accept his offer, leaning up to grab your hand and pull you down into the narrow space beside him. You laugh when he wraps his arms and legs around you like a starfish, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“I’m just enjoying the perfect day,” he murmurs, nosing at the back of your ear, “With my perfect girl.”

“Flatterer.”

Hoseok can’t see you rolling your eyes, but he knows you’re doing it anyway. Just like he can’t see the way you flush and he knows you’re doing that, too.

“We should eat,” you say after a while, shivering when he strokes the pads of his fingers up the soft skin of one bare leg. “Grab something before we have to take the bikes back.”

Hoseok hums under his breath as he slides his palm up the curve of your thigh, boldly searching for trouble under the hem of your sundress. You bat his hand away and he laughs, hugging you tighter.

“Alright,” he agrees in a whisper, ghosting his lips down the nape of your neck. You jolt in his arms when he sinks his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, nipping playfully. “Just a quick bite.”

There’s not much difference between a sundress and a négligée is there?

Certainly not from where Hoseok is sitting, anyway.

He studies you as he rides close behind, watching the way your hair whips in the breeze as you pedal. One delicate sundress strap slips down your sun-warmed shoulder, exposing just a bit more of your back. Then the wind grabs a hold of your sheer skirt, lifting it just long enough for Hoseok to get a glimpse of the pretty white panties underneath.

God, he loves those panties.

Could stare at them all day, really.

But instead he forces himself to pedal faster and take the lead, grinning when you take note of his advance and glare. It’s for the best because while you think this is just some meandering evening ride, he’s the only one who knows where you’re really headed. For the best because if he falls off his bike and breaks his face because he’s too busy staring at your ass, the entire night will be ruined before it has the chance to start.

It’s quiet on this street just a few blocks from the shore.

Dolmeori Beach is rockier, more wooded than the beaches preferred by most tourists and that’s always suited Hoseok just fine. When he was a kid, he’d steal away when the weather was warm and hop the train here from Gwangju any chance he got.

It’s always felt like his place, his personal piece of sea and sand.

Pine trees loom high over the pavement, canopies so dense they block out much of the waning sunlight streaming down from above. The shade beneath the leaves makes the heat bearable, but it also makes it hard to judge the time. Hoseok steals a quick look at his watch.

Right on schedule. He hopes Yoongi followed his instructions to the letter.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” he teases over his shoulder, and he chuckles at the sound of frustration you make as you pedal faster to catch up. It takes a few seconds for you to coast into position at his side.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” you fuss, “Wanna clue me in?”

Hoseok turns his head to smile at you, sly like a fox.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

The realtor had said the place would need a little love.

Turns out, it needs a lot more than a little. But Hoseok was able to see right past the weathered wooden porch and salt air-worn paint right away. When he found this place online, he knew it was the one.

He slows his bike to a stop as the two of you make your approach, taking note of the warm light that glows just behind the frosted glass pane in the front door. Looks like Yoongi came through.

“What is this place?” you ask, skidding to a stop beside him. You stand over your bike on tiptoes as you survey the house, brow knit in confusion.

“It’s a surprise,” Hoseok grins, hopping off his bike. He shoves the kickstand into place and offers you his hand, which you accept with a suspicious smile. “Wanna go in?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrug. “We’ve probably already stolen these bikes. What’s a little breaking and entering on top of that?”

Hoseok laughs, leading the way to the front door.

He cringes when the porch floorboards creak loudly beneath his feet, making a mental note to put that project next on his to-do list. You stand with arms crossed, watching silently as he crouches down to lift the mat at the front door, fingers feeling beneath for the concealed key.

You stop him with fingers wrapped around his forearm when he gets to his feet.

“Wait,” you whisper frantically. “We can’t just walk into someone’s house, Hoseok.”

He chuckles before leaning down to kiss the adorable confusion right off your face. Then he slides his key into the lock and pushes the door wide open.

“Not someone’s house,” he corrects, watching you peer skeptically inside.

You step slowly through the threshold and scan the candle-lit front room before turning to him with wide eyes.

“Our house.”

“You bought a beach house.”

It’s the third time you’ve said it by now, and not once has the hushed observation been directed at Hoseok. You said it when you brushed your fingertips over the freshly-dried spackle on the living room wall, said it again as you passed your hand over the base coat of stain on the mantle over the fireplace.

You say it again as you turn to him, jaw slack with disbelief.

“You bought a beach house.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok admits sheepishly, uncertain of your reaction. He tries to see the room the way you must see it now, candles and tools scattered across the tables, floors covered in drop cloths, cans of paint and plaster stacked up in the corners.

Yoongi had done a decent job of clearing up most of the clutter before he left, but judging by the astonishment on your face, he’s probably been romanticizing the mess in here.

He’d really hoped to have a lot more done the first time he brought you here, but he’s learned the hard way that some home renovation projects don’t go as smoothly in real life as they do on YouTube. The process has been a bit of trial and error, with a lot more error than he’d originally counted on.

“I know it doesn’t look like a whole lot right now,” he says, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, “But it’s going to look great when I’m done. Yoongi helped me sand all week.”

You shake your head like you’re coming out of a daze.

“Oh my god Hoseok, no -- ” you vow with a shaky laugh, “ -- no, this is incredible. This is amazing. I’m in shock.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok grins, relief melting over him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted -- ”

“ -- Wait,” you interrupt, one brow quirked high as you step closer. “You said… you said something important. You said this was our house.”

“Did I?”

You narrow your dark eyes at him and he chuckles uncomfortably, nerves kicking in for the first time tonight. The feeling -- and the occasion both call for more booze. Which he’s prepared for.

“Are you going to give me a tour?” you ask.

“Later,” he says. “After.”

“After what, Hoseok? You’re killing me slowly with all this suspense.”

“Hang out here for a second,” he instructs, ducking into the small kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

It takes him no time at all to find the bottle of Moet he’s stashed in the fridge and the clean champagne flutes tucked away into the corner of his dutifully-dusted kitchen cabinet. He double-checks the contents of the box on the counter, making sure everything is in place.

Then he takes a deep breath.

Your brows lift in surprise when he walks back into the room with that box in his hands. You watch him set it down on the floor, saying nothing when he turns back to retrieve the champagne and glasses.

When he finally returns, you’re on your knees -- examining the package. Lips pursed thoughtfully as you press your fingers to the gold flecks on the fabric lid.

“Hoseok,” you whisper, flicking your gaze up to find his. “I have so many questions right now.”

You look so damned beautiful in this candlelight -- like you brought your golden glow from the beach indoors. Like you absorbed the sun’s rays and you’re emitting them now like some kind of superpower.

“Have a drink with me,” he murmurs, “And I’ll answer them.”

Something in the room shifts then; the temperature changes. The silly fun of the afternoon evaporates, leaving behind something heavy and heady. Hoseok knows you feel it too, when your half-smile slowly drops and you pull your lower lip between your teeth.

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Let’s have a drink.”

You watch him with those focused dark eyes as he pops the champagne. The drink bubbles over the lip of both flutes as he pours, on account of his haste and shaky hands. Then you take one of the glasses in hand and offer him the other, which he quickly accepts.

“To this surprise housewarming,” you declare, raising your flute for a toast.

Hoseok clinks his glass against yours, taking note of the way you watch him carefully over the lip of your glass as you’re tilting back the flute to take a sip. He decides he can’t keep you -- or himself -- in suspense any longer.

“You know how special you are to me, right?”

You make a face.

“Did you bring me to your new house to break up with me?”

Hoseok’s startled laugh turns into a cough and tears prick his eyes as champagne bubbles blaze a path up his sinuses.

“Yes,” he says dryly, once he’s managed to collect himself. “I figured dumping you by candlelight sounded like the most romantic option.”

You tip your head back when you laugh, light playing off the curve of your neck, your collarbones, the tiny gold pendant that sits in the pretty dip at the base of your throat.

God, he loves your skin.

Hoseok looks at you long and hard before lifting his flute to take a long drink.

“This is for you,” he says quietly, acknowledging the box out loud for the first time.

“What’s in it?”

“A human head,” Hoseok snorts, flinching when you reach over to pinch his leg. “Don’t be a pain. Just open it.”

Your eyes light with excitement as you smooth your hands over the lid and Hoseok can’t help but smile. But your excitement turns into confusion the moment you open the box and find the neat row of plain white envelopes inside.

“What is this?”

“Quit asking me questions,” Hoseok deadpans, pouring himself another drink. He tops off your glass, too. “And start at the front.”

You shake your head with a wry smile as you work the first envelope open, slipping your fingers in between the paper folds to fish out the contents inside. Hoseok sips his champagne as you produce the polaroid photo, head cocked to the side as you study it.

It was cold that day, he remembers that. You’d been bundled up in a pretty scarf and matching belted coat. In the photo, the mid-morning sun flares behind you, illuminating your profile as you squint up at a display of laminated menus.

“This is me,” you murmur, mouth quirking into a disbelieving smile, “At the coffee truck outside of work.”

“Yup.”

“We’d just started dating.”

“Yup.”

“How did you take this without me noticing?”

“Easy,” Hoseok laughs. “You stared at that menu for five minutes straight. I’ve never seen someone take coffee selection so seriously. Thought you were gonna order the most complicated drink in history.”

You roll your eyes but you laugh. So does he.

“Turn it over.”

You flip the polaroid over in your hands, eyes moving over the neat block handwriting on the back.

coolest girl i ever met

“This is the day I knew I liked you,” Hoseok murmurs, “Like, really liked you.”

Your eyes are a bit glassy when you look up at him now, the corner of your mouth tugging into a soft smile.

“You were that sure that fast, huh?” “Yeah,” he admits, scratching self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I was.”

You move onto the next envelope, this time prepared when you pull out yet another polaroid picture. This one is harder to place, taken in the dark, mostly black but for a few splashes of vivid light.

“I don’t know this one,” you frown, ghosting your finger across one particularly colorful blur of red and gold. “I can’t make it out.”

You turn the polaroid over, looking once again for Hoseok’s neat block letters.

she’s into me

You laugh out loud.

“That was the lantern festival in Cheonggyecheon,” Hoseok explains. “I’d invited you, but you’d had plans, remember? And I was just going to get Yoongi to go with me but you called me last minute to say you’d decided to come.”

“I remember,” you say with a smile. “Yeri invited me to a movie, but I cancelled on her. I wanted to hang out with you instead.”

“Yeah, well that’s the night I knew you really liked me.”

“Cocky,” you smirk, reaching for another envelope. “But warranted.”

Your eyes light with recognition the moment you pull the next picture out. You’re crouched down at the edge of his mother’s koi pond, one finger making ripples on the surface of the water.

“First time we ever went to Gwangju together,” you muse quietly. “First time I met your parents.”

You flip the polaroid over.

pretty sure my mom loves her more than she loves me

“Okay, this might actually be true,” you tease, taking a sip of your champagne. “Your mom and dad love me.”

“Yeah, well that was the day I decided I loved you, too,” Hoseok chuckles. “The point where I kind of knew there was no turning back.”

You look up from the photograph then, eyes glassy with emotion when they find his. Candlelight flickering across your face as you look at him fondly.

“You still feel that way?”

“Hell yeah, I do,” he laughs, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Keep going.”

The next polaroid is a selfie of Hoseok in bed but it’s by no means sexual. There are dark circles under his eyes and his skin has a sallow tint. Next to his pillow, the bedside table is littered with cold medicine and empty cups.

“Is this when you had the flu?” you ask, flipping the polaroid over. The neat block lettering on the back confirms your theory.

she took care of me

“You were so pitiful,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. “Wrapped up in your blankets like a burrito. I swear, men have zero tolerance for discomfort.”

“I nearly died,” Hoseok protests dramatically. “But you dropped everything to come take care of me. That’s the day I knew you loved me, too.”

Your smile is brilliant now, open and sweet as you reach for the last remaining envelope. Hoseok takes another swig of champagne, slugging it down as you pull out the polaroid and study the image.

You are wearing your delicate sundress, leaned up against the wooden railing that separates the sand and rocks. Standing just next to your bike, nose in the air as you breathe in the salt carried on the wind.

“This is today,” you murmur, brows knitting together when you flip the picture over and find the back side blank. “And you haven’t written anything here.”

“Yeah, well,” Hoseok starts and stops, clearing his throat. “I haven’t had a chance to write it in yet.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the day I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh.”

You blink. Once, then again. Hoseok can hear the shaky breath you take in when your mouth parts in surprise. He sets his champagne flute down, sufficiently bolstered by the booze.

“So that’s what I’m doing right now. I’m asking you to marry me.”

You’re still mute with shock, eyes wide as they go from Hoseok to the picture and back to Hoseok again.

“But uh, the longer you don’t say anything, the less confident I feel about this entire plan,” he chuckles awkwardly.

You take him off balance when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist. He keeps you both from toppling over with a palm flat to the floor, laughing as you pepper his face with kisses.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you sigh, pressing your lips to his temple, his neck, his jaw. “Yes. To you and to these amazing pictures and to this beach house. Yes to all of it.”

You pull away from him to grab the champagne, eyes flashing mischievously as you take a drink straight from the bottle. “Yes to champagne, too.”

Hoseok feigns shock. “Naughty.”

You kiss him deeply then, thoroughly, enough for him to feel the remnants of the carbonation on your tongue. You tease him with a barely there roll of your hips and his cock responds instantaneously, at the mercy of the warm friction he can feel straight through the thin material of his board shorts.

“You know what I’m thinking?” you murmur against his mouth.

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah,” Hoseok chuckles, sucking a breath between his teeth when you bite the skin just below his ear.

“We have a lot to celebrate, right?” you reason, tone light. “But we came here for a housewarming.”

You lean back just far enough to pull your sundress over your head, tossing it carelessly aside, leaving you in nothing but those pretty white panties he loves so much.

“So we should warm it.”

Hoseok grins, pulling the champagne bottle out of your grip. He turns it up just like you did, finishing what’s left before setting it back down.

“I like the way you think.”

The only bedroom in this house is buried beneath a two-inch thick layer of sawdust right now.

Not that making it to a bedroom seems high on your list of priorities.

The fact that you’re both sitting on top of a drop cloth on Hoseok’s living room floor isn’t stopping you from threading your fingers into his hair, slipping your tongue into his mouth, grinding against his lap.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” you laugh, pressing your bare breasts to his chest once he’s managed to untangle himself from your limbs long enough to shrug out of his shirt. Your pebbled nipples drag across the lithe planes of his chest and his cock jumps in his shorts.

“Clever.”

“That’s me,” Hoseok murmurs against your lips, deft fingers slipping beneath the damp cotton between your thighs. He slides the pad of one long finger across your wet slit and you gasp, rocking against it.

“Gotta get you out of these panties,” he laments, pulling one nipple into his mouth and working it with his teeth. You shudder in his hold. “Quick.”

“What are you in such a hurry for?” you tease, circling your hips to chase the perfect pressure of his fingertips. “We have all night.”

“We have about three more minutes if you keep grinding on me like this,” Hoseok laughs, shifting your bodies to lean you back onto the floor. “So give me a break because I want to enjoy this.”

You lie back for him dutifully, dark hair spilling onto the drop cloth around you, skin gleaming in the candlelight. Your gold pendant twinkles at the base of your neck.

God, he loves the way you look like this.

Flushed with excitement and anticipation. Like a feast laid out just for him. He rids himself of those pesky board shorts as fast as he can, leaning over you on hands and knees.

“You’re gonna marry me,” he muses, burying his face into the soft skin under your jaw. “You already said yes, can’t take it back now.”

Your laughter is echoing in his ears as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, across the bronzed planes of your shoulder. He can taste the day on your skin; the ocean salt and sunscreen mixed with that flavor that’s so uniquely you.

“I don’t want to take it back,” you sigh, whimpering when Hoseok kisses a path down the velvety skin between your breasts. He travels lower, kissing just below your bellybutton as he starts working your panties off with one hand. “I’m gonna keep you.”

Hoseok chuckles as he tosses your panties away, off to somewhere unimportant. What’s important is the way you take a deep breath and hold it when his mouth hovers coyly over your cunt.

“Look at me,” he directs, peering up at you from beneath heavy eyelids. You open your eyes to meet his gaze, candlelight dancing over your pretty face.

“I love you,” he breathes, lowering his mouth to make contact with your clit. The air leaves your lungs in that moment, a soft exhalation of air that makes the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end.

“I love you too,” you sigh, hips jerking at the contact, fingers digging hard into his hair. “So much.”

He knows you by now, knows how you like to be touched. Your rhythmic panting goes a bit ragged, when he slides two fingers into your cunt, crooking up to stroke you the way you like while his mouth works your clit.

God, he loves this part.

The part where you lose any semblance of control. The desperate sounds you make when you start to come apart beneath his mouth and hands.

“Hoseok -- “ your voice is strangled when you call out, “ -- Hobi, I’m gonna come.”

Something about the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. He grits his teeth when your nails dig almost painfully into his scalp as you start to tremble, shuddering against his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothes, pinning your hips down with his strong hands, keeping you from pulling away from the pleasure that borders on pain. “That’s it. Sound so good when you come for me.”

Hoseok stays face first in your cunt, nose and tongue pressed against you, until he’s certain the last wave has come and gone. Between his own legs, his cock pulses painfully, leaking pre-come at the thought of finally being inside of you.

Your body twitches with the aftershocks of your release as he slowly kisses his way up your thighs, your mound, your stomach.

“How was that?” he asks with a teasing tilt to his mouth, stealing your ability to answer when he kisses you deeply, fitting his slim hips between your legs. He reaches down to grab his stiff cock, sliding it across your slick entrance. You clamp your thighs together to tighten the drag and he groans at the friction.

“Amazing,” you sigh, dragging your nails over his ass, up the lean muscles of his back. “Perfect. You should let me return the favor.”

His dick practically jumps at the suggestion, stomach contracting hard at the prospect of feeling your pretty mouth wrapped around it. But Hoseok is too worked up, too riled up by the alcohol and the excitement.

“Can’t tonight,” he pants, arousal shooting up his spine when you wrap one hand around his now-wet cock. You pump him lazily, trailing soft bites from his jaw to his shoulder. “Need to be inside of you.”

“Yeah, I’m ready for that too,” you admit, guiding the blunt head of his cock to your entrance.

He surges forward then, pushing past the tight grip of your fingers, groaning as he’s enveloped completely by your warm cunt. You whimper at the stretch, locking your legs around him, gasping when he bottoms out.

He pulls back to the tip only to drive in again, earning another strangled moan. You’re squirming beneath him, breathless and dewy, looking like some kind of wet dream.

“I’ll never get over how good it feels to be inside of you,” Hoseok admits, burying himself as deep as he humanly can into you.

You’re so wet he can feel you spilling out onto the base of his dick and for one fleeting moment he wishes you knew how good this feels for him. How wet and hot and tight you feel around him. How being inside of you like this makes his brain go haywire, reduces him to only instinct and need.

You lift your hips to meet each snap of his, the wet sound of your joining echoing off the walls in this mostly empty house.

He hears you moaning his name in between the other sounds you make, in between the panting and mewling that makes his balls tighten. You grip his forearms as he grinds against you, kissing you in between desperate breaths.

“I think I’m gonna come again,” you gasp against his mouth. “Don’t stop.”

“Oh, fuck,” Hoseok groans, pulling back to get to his knees. He hooks one of your legs over the crook of one strong forearm, using his one free hand to press a thumb to your clit. His rhythm falters as he watches himself slide in and out of you, hypnotized by the sight of his body joined to yours.

You lift your ass off the floor, back arching as you chase the pressure of his fingers. Hoseok strokes you desperately, feeling his orgasm looming menacingly at the base of his cock. It takes just a few more strained pumps of his hips to set you off.

The second he feels you clamp down around him, Hoseok folds back over you, arms braced on either side of you as he thrusts through his own orgasm. He shuts his eyes and groans as he empties his cock inside of you, thrusting until he can’t anymore.

He collapses onto you, heart racing as he tries to catch his breath.

“Don’t leave me,” you groan when Hoseok peels his damp skin away from yours to get to his feet.

He strides across the room, completely nude, grinning when you turn onto your side and go up on one elbow to ogle him.

“Just for a second,” he calls out, pulling out every unorganized drawer in the kitchen until he finally comes across a pen. “Gotta finish something.”

He makes a show of holding it in the air as he walks back into the living room, opening the gold-flecked box, and pulling out the last unmarked polaroid photo.

You’re smiling the entire time you watch him pen the last caption on the last photograph.

she said yes

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[english8muffin]

Vogue morning routine

Y/N Y/N/L’s guide to effortless natural makeup

Summary: you are asked to do the Vogue Beauty Secrets video and your two boys decide to join the party

Word count: around 2000

Warning: none, just pure floof!

I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language (+ this is my very first fic)

HEADLINE Henry Cavill’s new girlfriend, designer Y/N Y/L/N reveals her everyday morning routine in recent Vogue video: Y/N Y/L/N shows off her secrets to the perfect fusion of European and Asian beauty.

You stood in the spacious bathroom of the hotel room, only wearing a big, fluffy, white robe, that was actually Henry’s. But since the man was in the gym, you took the opportunity to lend it and bathe yourself in his musky smell, that calmed your nerves. Last night you started panicking, thinking you would probably look stupid for the entire world to see, luckily Henry and Kal tried to calm you down with cuddles and kisses.

This was the first ‘interview’ you would do, being such a young, successful entrepreneur really caught the attention of the media. When you first started your small online shop, you never would have thought you would end up here. Five years later, with a steady income, the job you always wished for and the man you had a crush on since the first time you laid eyes on him. Being a creative, it really made your heart soar with happiness, seeing all your products, your babies, in new homes where they would make others happy.

You were really proud of yourself. Henry was as well, and he made sure you and everybody around you knew. You were apprehensive at first, being with such a well known actor, who was also much older than you, it made you nervous of what people would say, what the media would say. You didn’t want to tarnish Henry’s image. You knew there were people with a much bigger age gap, but still, people were ruthless. So you both decided to take it slow, being careful with going out in public and social media posts.

You stand in front of the large mirror, which had a camera attached to it and open up your makeup bag. Right before you went into the bathroom, you made yourself a nice cup of tea, trying to stay calm. “Hi! I’m Y/N and today I am going to show you my everyday makeup routine,” you say with a smile, “I am not a dermatologist so please don’t take what I say too seriously.”

You grab a small white washcloth and hold it up, so it was in the frame, “First, I am going to wash my face and put on a few drops of serum,” You dampen the cloth and wipe it over your face and neck. You put a few drops in the palm of your hand and pat them into your skin. “Now I going to use my jade roller to massage the serum into my skin. It’s quite funny seeing so many people use these nowadays. In ancient China they were mostly used by the elite to keep there skin ageless. They would call jade the Stone of Heaven. It’s really helpful for the people who wake up with a puffy face like me,” you chuckle.

Somethimes you’d wake up with puffy cheeks, which led to Henry calling you his chubby bunny in the morning.

“Just a quick tip, and this is for everybody, make sure you always use SPF. I personally use SPF 30 and this one is shine control, since I tend to get an oily skin, but you can also use a regular one or a foundation with SPF in it. Believe me when I say your skin will be thankful.”

You grab the small tube of sun cream and show the amount you’ll use. You even convinced Henry to wear SPF everyday. At first he said he didn’t think it would make such a big difference, but when he realised you were going to be the one to put it on him, he was convinced about its benefits and adamant to wear it everyday. After working the thick cream into your skin, you put on some lipbalm and rummage through the pouch in front of you. When you find the product you’re looking for, you hold it up. “Now, I am going to put on a bit of concealer, this one is from Maybelline. After this, I will use a lighter shade under my eyes and on my acne scars that I have here,” you point and circle around the small cluster of scars on the sides of your cheeks.

Before blending out the concealer, you smile at the lens and put in two bright yellow hairclips, to keep your dark locks from falling into your face. “I probably should have done this at the start,” you laugh. The nerves creeping up a little. It wasn’t that you where a shy person, but knowing thousands of people will watch this, did something to you. You were always a very easygoing person, who could talk with pretty much everybody. But knowing people were going to watch you do something so intimate in a way, and would probably comment on it, scared you a little. While you would be 100% yourself, doing something as mundane as getting ready. If they didn’t like you now, then they probably won’t like you later. And that was what made you so afraid.

The bathrobe falls a bit down your shoulder, but you ignore it, since your hair fell down your shoulders in big waves. “Okay, brows. I used to block them in really dark when I was younger, but now I try to keep a light hand. I’ll use this Got 2B Glued as a brow gel afterwards. The tails of my eyebrows tend to move if I don’t use a strong enough gel. If you’re Asian you will understand the struggle.”

You quickly finish your brows, put some bronzer on your face and eyelids and take out your liquid eyeliner. “Am I the only one that acts like I’m a beauty guru whenever I do my makeup? Like, I’m just acting as if I’m used to this, right now, but to be honest, I was really nervous to do this video for Vogue,” you admit, “they will probably regret asking me,” you chuckle. You finish your eyemakeup with curling your long lashes, thanks to your mother’s genes, and add a coat of mascara.

You take in a deep breath, excited to show everyone the product you had been waiting for. “The next thing I am really proud to show you guys, because I designed the packaging. This is the new limited edition blush and highlighter palette from Dior, which they created for Lunar New Year!” You beam with pride, holding up the elegant looking palette. It had a darker toned glossy finish and the borders were the traditional Chinese looking frames, which were 3D and were surrounded by a wild variety of peonies. In the middle of the lid was your Chinese calligraphy in big golden brush stokes that said ‘year of the Ox’, the clasp was designed so it resembled an antique Chinese coin and on the side hung a jade charm.

“You can pre-order this palette now, I think they will put a link-thingy in de description. I wish you all a happy and blessed Lunar New Year, 祝农历年新年快乐牛年大吉!”

Just as you’re about to add some blush to your cheeks, the bathroom door creaks open and a curly-headed, sweaty Henry pops his head in. Fresh from the gym, and were you thankful for his new intense workout, because he was truely a sight to behold. A cheeky smile graces his handsome face when he spots you in front of the mirror, only wearing his robe, which made his grin widen.

“what are you doing in here? Are you hiding from me? Playing hide and seek is it?” he teases and rakes his large hand through the tousled curls, but just as he’s done speaking, he sees the camera behind you, and blushes. “Oh, I didn’t know you were filming, I’m sorry darling,” he smiles and gives a small wave in the direction of the camera. You led out a giggle, cheeks turning red already, if he’d keep this up, you wouldn’t need to add blush. You couldn’t focus anymore, he looked so attractive, only wearing his black gym shorts and a tight dark blue tank top. Damn that camera, otherwise you would have jumped him. Henry, thought the exact same thing. Seeing you, only wearing his robe and your hair still a bit wild from this morning’s cardio, made him hold back a moan. Those two cute, yellow clips in your hair could have fooled him, because you were anything but innocent.

Before he’s about to close the door again, he blows you a kiss. But his actions are stopped when a big bear makes his appearance. Bolting past his dad’s legs, Kal comes into the bathroom. Henry tries to catch him but misses. The black and white akita excitedly sniffs his head around the sink, trying to see what you were up to with all the stuff lying on the marble counter.

“Kal!” Henry whisper-yelled, trying to stay hidden behind the door. But you could still see his massive body crouched down behind the wood. It was rather funny, seeing the large man so panicked about getting his dog to listen. It kind of reminded you of that one video from BBC were a professor was being interviewed and his baby and nanny showed up in the background. While Henry tried to get Kal’s attention, the dog just sat next to your legs, and smiled when you pet him behind his ear. He was your good boy.

You both knew there was no other option but to keep Kal here, once he saw you do your makeup, he wanted to watch and get his ‘makeup’ done as well.

Henry also saw the look in Kal’s eyes and let out a sigh. Might as well stay with his two loves. He stood up from his position and walked to you, wrapping his sweaty but oh so save body around your figure, and placed a prolonged kiss on the exposed skin just by your shoulder. So far for taking it slow… He pressed himself thighter against your back, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and intertwined your hands, slowly rocking you two back en forth. “You look beautiful, my love,” he whispered, so only you could hear it, at least you hoped the camera wouldn’t pick that up. You let out a little giggle, like the inner schoolgirl you were whenever he was around you.

“Kal loves when Y/N does his makeup as well, don’t you boy,” Henry explains with a smile and looks down at the bear by your bare feet. Kal gives a small ruff and sweeps his tail eagerly. “Did you show them what you made,” he asked you with a wide smile, and looked straight in to the camera, “she worked really hard on that design, so I hope you all like it,” he declared proudly.

You ended up doing your makeup routine with your two boys in the background. Henry left for a few minutes to shower in the second bathroom your hotelroom had, and came back clad in a pair of light jogging trousers and a sweater. Even though you were inside, it was still a bit too chilly to walk around in short sleeves, being mid-winter and all. He just sat on the small wooden bench by the door, still in frame for everybody to enjoy and behold. His hair now damp. He was reading in a book and patiently waiting for you to get ready, occasionally looking up and laughing when you would wet your hands or Kal’s special makeup brush in the sink and pretend to do his makeup. The dog would bark excitedly and give you kisses. “Wow Kal, you look so pretty,” Henry told the big floof with the chuckle.

“Okay, this was my -somewhat- everyday makeup routine! Thank you guys for watching this chaotic mess, hope you laughed a bit, bye-bye, 再见!” How do those vlogger end their videos? Smash like and subscribe?

Behind you Henry looked up from the pages of his fantasy book and arched his brow, “Hey! No shout-out for your special guests? See you all next time!”

WOOHOO!! This is my very first fanfic, I really hope you enjoyed it. Liking, reposting and commenting would mean a lot to me! If you do repost this, please do not edit or copy my work. I worked really hard on this.

Much love, Nahmi xxx

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[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.

Chapter 1:

It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.

“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.

“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.

The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.

“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.

“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” you grumble.

“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.

“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.

You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.

“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.

Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.

“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.

“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.

“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.

You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.

“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.

“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.

“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.

Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.

“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.

“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.

“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.

You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.

“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.

“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.

You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.

Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.

“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.

Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.

“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken

You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You guys?!” You call shakily.

“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.

She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.

Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.

“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.

“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.

You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.

“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.

“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.

You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”

“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.

“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.

“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.

The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.

“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.

The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.

“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.

“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.

“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.

Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.

“Yes!” You all shriek together.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.

“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.

“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.

The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.

“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.

“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.

“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.

“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.

“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.

“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.

“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.

She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.

“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.

It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.

“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.

“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.

“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.

“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.

“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.

There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.

“Did we get it?!” You yell.

You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[stovetuna]

Oh! Oh! Your Tony-finally-accepts-Steve-Loves-him fic was so lovely. A+ 🥺

And the reverse-ish! The first time Steve realizes Tony doesn’t actually believe him when he says I love you and how Steve both reacts and comes to term with the situation (does he plan on talking about it? Love offensive with super romantic dates? Figure out that the solution to this problem a marathon not a sprint?)

aaaaaahhh I am gonna EXPIRE

can you imagine?? the moment I think about it my heart absolutely BREAKS in the best, most bittersweet way, because oh, Steve. you really thought the moment you kissed Tony the first time—you were sitting next to him on the living room sofa, a whole empty seat on either side of you because you were so unnecessarily close together, but then you were struck by the thought not close enough, and you were in the middle of listening to and watching Tony watch the Lost in Space reboot (so many science critiques you didn't understand a lick of but you are more than happy to play audience to the things Tony cares about, loudly) when you leaned forward and placed a lingering kiss on the corner of Tony's motormouth, which apparently was all the invitation Tony needed to crawl into your lap and press his warm, warm, warm lips to yours and kiss the breath out of you—he understood.

because it was so easy to go from best friends to romantic partners, and you had years of friendship between you to hearken back to. Plenty of moments when you thought you'd made it clear to Tony that you loved him, that you cared about him, that you admired and respected and yes, deep down (not that deep, really) were very much attracted to him.

you thought.

so when you kiss the first time, you think he knows. when you go on your first real date and play footsie all night under the table and hold hands the whole walk home, you think he knows. when, a few days later, he slides inside you, deep and hard and wet, and butterfly-kisses the tears from your eyes and tells you how beautiful you are as he fucks you, wailing, into the mattress, you know, down to your soul, to the basest atoms of your existence, that Tony loves you as much as you love him.

but something isn't right, because even as weeks, months go by, and you move into Tony's suite and fall asleep wrapped around him almost every night (except those when he's in another country, and the bed is almost as cold as the ice, or when he's consumed by some project in the workshop and loses track of time), and you tell each other "I love you" out loud multiple times, and say it without words in a million other ways, you get the feeling that Tony. doesn't. believe you?

you're baffled. genuinely, it doesn't make sense. you've loved each other for years. even when you fought, bloody and fierce and deeply, horrifically wrong, you loved each other. it wouldn't have hurt nearly as much—felt like a piece of you being ripped away, phantom pain aging you inwardly until every step in any direction that wasn't toward Tony was agony—if you didn't.

but even though Tony says it back, and he does, every time, even when you're yelling at each other after a battle goes "tits-up," thank you, Logan, he has this look in his eyes, and the only word you've been able to put to it is doubt.

at first you think it means Tony doubts you—your feelings, your intentions, yourself and all the baggage that entails—but that thought quickly passes. because you know he doesn't. you know, from experience, that Tony's worst thoughts and feelings very rarely have anything to do with anyone other than himself. which means Tony doubts himself. maybe even reality. not in a "you might be a Skrull" kind of way, but in a "this is too good to be true" kind of way.

and doesn't that just break your fucking heart.

for months you watch this doubt flicker like a guttering little flame in Tony's bright blue eyes, every time you say "I love you, Tony" with your voice. it's never there when you're brushing your teeth next to other in the morning, bumping hips and giggling like the children you never got to be; it's not there when you silently hand him his coffee and kiss him on the temple on his way out the door to a morning meeting, grousing on the phone even as he blows a kiss to you before the elevator doors close; it's not there when you sit down next to him after a battle, on the steps of some middle-of-nowhere courthouse that just got blown up by some no-name villain, taking unspeakable comfort in the radiating heat coming off the armor that kept Tony safe in combat, and without having to ask or say anything at all Tony takes the helmet off and you lean your foreheads together and just breathe each other's air, too relieved and too exhausted to kiss; it's not there when you make love to him, slowly, excruciatingly sweet, your hips rolling in a steady, undulating wave between Tony's long, golden thighs, his arms loose around your neck, his gorgeous voice gone raspy and quiet from screaming through two orgasms already, and you tell him to look at you as you come together one last time.

it's only when you say it. put words to it. make it real. that's when that banked ember of doubt flickers to life, and it feels like you have to start all over again. which isn't a hardship, per se. not at all, really. it's an honor and a privilege and an absolute pleasure to be a part of Tony's life like this. it's also frustrating, and infuriating, and dangerous, but that was always the case. the only difference is now, you can have make-up sex.

you fight about it first. it starts out in earnest, a forthright—if frighteningly vulnerable—conversation over dinner that turns into a shouting match to rival anything from the war that of course gets cut short by the Avengers alarm going off and having to Assemble before you can clear the air. he almost dies in the battle, short-circuited by an exceptionally advanced EMP that takes out the RT (and whoo, boy does that make you spiral, thinking back, to the moment you did that to Tony, almost killed him, and thinking those thoughts while you keep vigil at his bedside for days makes you wish harder than you ever have before in your life that you could drink yourself to death), and you're too relieved when he opens his eyes and the first word out of his mouth is your name, like he's the one who should be relieved, to bring it up again.

you love him. he loves you. it works. better than that, it's good. and eventually—quickly, even—you learn. you learn tell him in every which way you can think of, without words, how much you love him, and why. you text him pictures from your runs through Central Park (he makes the photo you sent him that spring, of the adolescent raccoon emerging from a hollowed-out tree, his lock screen for a week before he changes it back to a picture of you in bed drooling onto your pillow). you help him take off the armor when he's dead on his feet. you feed him. you train with him. you listen to him ramble on about bad movie science and cheer when Matt Damon mentions him in that Mars movie. (You literally cry laughing when Tony picks up the phone at the end of the movie and calls Matt Damon and tells him to text him next time, "I'll come pick you up, just stop getting lost in fucking space, asshole!")

you kiss his scarred fingers, with their fresh cuts and scrapes and bruises from working in the shop, with a reverence. you draw baths for him and don't join, even though it's one of your favorite things to do in the world, because you can just tell Tony is going through something and he needs the space to work it out for himself. you're always there to fish him out when the water gets cold, and by that time Tony's ready to tell you about whatever's eating him.

you call him every foul, dirty name in the book when you fuck him loudly against the wall and sob yourself hoarse when he makes love to you for what feels like hours, so slow and deep and steady you honestly lose track of how many times you come. you clean him up after and tuck him in. you kiss him on the forehead before you go on your morning run, every morning without fail (except for those when you're apart, and you still, even after almost two years, catch yourself mid-motion sometimes, about to kiss empty air—you text Tony about it and he laughs every time).

you learn to be patient. you learn to show more than you tell. because you realize that Tony was lied to his entire life, about so many things. Lied to his face about who he was, who he was going to be, who he never would be allowed to be. Told over and over again by liars and cheats and villains and friends and lovers and family that he wasn't worth the effort of loving. that he would never be loved for anything other than the black credit card in his wallet, the cars in his garage, the houses and the private jets and the clothes and the money and the things he invented—the things he made—that were supposed to help people but only ever ended up killing them.

money, and blood.

it's no wonder he doubts.

so you set yourself to the long and genuinely joyous (if at times frustrating) task of convincing Tony that not only do you love him, more than you've loved anything else in your life, ever will, but he is lovable. not worthy of love, not deserving, and he is those things, but inherently—he is a sweet, caring, kind, fierce, sexy, strong, dangerous, incredible, dorky, suave, fumbling genius of a man and he is loved for those things.

it takes time. good things always do.

you've had a little velvet box hidden away in your bottom bedside drawer for four months when Tony wakes up and sees you in bed with him, realizes you've been watching him sleep—so peacefully, the furrow between his brows erased, as you play with his slightly overgrown hair (you wish he'd keep it, but it's a hazard, in your line of work). you kiss him on the forehead and say good morning, sweetheart, because it is, even if it is pouring down rain outside.

maybe especially because it's raining outside. because here you are, high up among thick grey clouds that smother every inch of the city, so it's just you two, in this bed, together in your own little world, and you're watching that stubborn ember of doubt in Tony's eyes finally get washed away.

read part one

[bookishofalder]

Unexpected [Prequel]

Summary: The night everything began.

Warnings: Language, Smut, sweet Spencer Reid (we know we need a warning for this). WC: 2,434

“Goodnight, Tesoro! Kid! Addio!” Rossi sang happily, leaning ever so slightly against the stoic as usual Hotch, who rolled his eyes at the BAU’s patriarch. He did grin though, which Spencer appreciated considering he was the only one at the party not to indulge in the multitude of mixed beverages you and Penelope had concocted. A rare smile from Hotch was certainly a good way to ring in the New Year, especially when it resulted in your sweet laughter before you closed and locked the door.

You sighed and Spencer glanced down at you, a smile pulling at his lips when he took in your tired, soft expression. It was probably the alcohol he’d enjoyed throughout the evening-seriously, why did he have so many margaritas? And what was in those peppermint drinks? They didn’t taste of alcohol! But a wave of affection for you so strong swept through him and Spencer didn’t think before pulling you close, his arms circling your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Your hair smelled like roses.

You hummed happily in response, stepping into the embrace, relaxing against Spencer. “You know, I think it’s customary to kiss someone when you ring in the New Year, (Y/N),” He heard himself say, his eyes on a picture on the wall behind you. It was a favourite of his from when he’d taken you to the Santa Monica Pier after closing up a case in California. Spencer and you, arms around each other's shoulders as you stood on the beach with the Pier in the background. Spencer was stooped because he was so much taller than you, and you were laughing widely when the photo had been taken, golden sun kissing your features.

You leaned your head back to meet his gaze, your eyes glassy and wide. Giggling, you replied, “I always thought that was silly, meant for couples to just show off how happily domestic they are!” You rolled your eyes, but you hadn’t moved out of his arms. And actually, Spencer didn’t want you to, he liked how close you were, how safe and right it felt to hold you.

He cleared his throat, his voice deep despite the cringe-level response he came up with, “It can be...friends, who care deeply, too.” Christ.

Oh, but you didn’t cringe, or laugh, or pull away and affectionately ruffle his hair as he might normally expect. No, your response was anything but expected for Spencer, his words seemingly taking a moment to sink in and, still holding his gaze but with a much more intense one of your own, you wet your lips. He didn’t even hesitate, your subconscious response all it took for it to feel almost painful that he wasn’t already kissing you.

So he tightened his hold on you at the same time he dropped his head and captured your lips with his own. And as much as he must have caught you off guard, you weren’t done surprising Spencer; you moaned and parted your lips for him, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. He felt your arms secure around his neck, your body arching into him as you pulled him closer, your bodies responding to one another with equal fervour.

With a groan of pleasure from the sensation and bliss that was you pressed against him, Spencer broke the kiss to trail gentle kisses along your jaw, his voice just a breath. “Sweet girl, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He trailed down your neck, delighting in the sound of your whimpers, at the feel of you, his best friend, trembling with need and desire in the familiar front hallway of your apartment. It had been just so easy to cross that line that seemed to always cut between you both.

You tugged him suddenly, backing up and taking Spencer with you to your living room and your cozy couch. When your legs hit the edge, you stumbled slightly and giggled when Spencer clumsily steadied you. Breathless, you started eagerly working to undress him, your hands working to unbutton his shirt as your eyes burned into his with unbridled lust and desire, the longing so intense he was sure he’d burst into flame under your gaze. Spencer didn’t delay when you guided his hands to remove his pants, shoving them and his underwear down quickly and then dropping to sit on your couch.

He tried to pull you with him, but you gave him a coy smile, leaning out of his grasp. “You’re gorgeous, you know that Spencer? Fucking gorgeous.” You breathed, your eyes raking over his bare, lean body, fixing hungrily on his hard, weeping cock. Wordlessly, as Spencer gazed at you in reverence, you reached behind you and unzipped the back of your low-backed dress, which promptly fell to your feet. Your hands were shaking.

The fire within Spencer seemed to take a new hold over him when he realized that you were nervous. His heart swelled and stuttered at the intensity of his desire to care for you, to make you feel as safe as possible.

“Come here, sweet girl,” He reached out for you, helping to settle you into his lap, your matching underwear and bra still on. When your core rubbed over Spencer’s length you both hissed at the sensation; he pressed his large hands into your back, fingers splayed, and captured your lips again. He could feel himself coming undone as you quivered in his arms. He ground his hips into you, groaning, “Fuck, can I touch you?”

“Please Spence,” You whimpered, and he realized your hips were returning his urgency, seeking friction desperately. “N-Need you, please. I need you so much, Spence.”

Fuck, you didn’t have to tell him twice. With surprising ease and prowess considering how intoxicated he knew he was, Spencer dropped one hand to first trail his fingers teasingly across the outside of your cotton underwear, before he pushed the fabric aside and ran two fingers through your folds. Spencer grunted at how wet you were already, “You have me, you’ve always had me, sweet girl. Come on, touch me,” He urged you, groaning sinfully loud when you reached around to grip him, held his cock steady and sunk yourself onto him.

“Oh, shit, Spence,” You cried out, face tightening as you struggled to accommodate him, “Fuck you’re so much bigger than I ever imagined...filling me so well,” You gasped, more broken moans spilling from your lips, mixed with his name. Spencer took hold of your hips, helping you steadily take more and more of him, groaning in pleasure at the feel of your tightness enveloping his cock.

He had never seen anything in his entire life as beautiful as you.

It hurt him, your beauty hurt Spencer it was so raw and he couldn’t bring himself to look away from your face, as much as he wanted to see you taking his length. He just couldn’t tear his eyes away from your blissed-out expression, the way you tried to open your eyes and meet his gaze only for them to snap shut again as you took another inch of him. Spencer was hooked, obsessed, so much further fucking gone than he had been before when he was just a sad soul in love with his best friend.

Now he was a man on fire. And he never wanted to stop burning.

When you were fully seated in his lap, Spencer pressed one hand to your lower back and brushed the other over your face, pushing back some stray locks of your hair, “You’re doing so well, (y/n), take your time. Fuck, you feel so good,” He grunted when you clenched around him in response.

Interesting, he thought. It was almost as if his praise was...

Spencer tested out his theory immediately, “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” Clench. More wetness. A soft sigh spills from your lips. Fuck.

And just like that, Spencer lost it. Realizing that his praise, his assurances, turned you on more? That was a power, a level of mutual trust he never expected in his wildest dreams. With a gasp, his grip on your hips hardened and he started thrusting up, effectively forcing you to bounce over his length. Yet, you took it in stride, your hands instantly seeking his shoulders for support before you were rolling your hips almost lazily each time you landed back in his lap.

Neither of you was moaning any longer, no. Spencer was talking around his pleasured cries, pulling as much bliss from you as possible by keeping up a constant stream of praise and kind words that he meant, right down to his soul he fucking meant every word. And you...you were a goddess, his name on your lips between screams and gasps, nails digging into his shoulders from how hard you gripped him. It was funny-as much as you couldn’t keep your eyes open, Spencer was unable to do more than blink, unable to tear his gaze from your face.

To spend so long painfully in love with you, hiding the depths of his feelings for years, pushing back any hope that might have cropped up that you felt the same, had been torture. Torture he happily bathed in, day after day but now you were actually in his arms, whimpering his name. It was a gift, a treasure he couldn’t believe he deserved, and he wasn’t going to miss a moment of flawless, captivating you coming apart for him.

“Sweet girl, you are so beautiful,” Spencer moaned out, cursing when your velvet heat squeezed him impossibly tighter.

He adjusted his hips, tilting just so to perfect the angle. The most delicious sounds fell from you as he found the right spot, and that was when it happened. You managed to open your eyes, wide and bright, meeting Spencer’s and gasping at the expression on his face. At that moment, you sent one another toppling over the edge and falling into oblivion.

It was a paradise Spencer had never know the likes of. The universe opened up for you both, and he wondered how he could have spent his entire life deprived of such exquisiteness, the pleasure and love swelling and consuming him-fuck, was this Nirvana? Heaven? He didn’t know, couldn’t think straight as he roared, his movement stilling as your hands slipped into his hair and you started to crumble into him. He caught you, steadying you enough that he could keep watching your face as you broke into a million pieces, as you both shattered into millions and millions of pieces.

“Spencer! Oh! Ooooh...”

“(y/n), I love you, I love you.”

His eyes had snapped shut briefly from the overwhelming sensations, his orgasm overtaking him before he could check to see if you’d heard his quiet confession. He couldn’t bring himself to worry over it when he began to spill inside of you, holding you tight against him, his entire body jerking in bliss. It was easily the longest orgasm of his life, dragged out by the way you whimpered and clenched him as you were swept through your own.

It could have been minutes or months, truly Spencer couldn’t have quantified the time it took until he was slumping into the couch cushions and you were boneless in his arms, your face nuzzling into his neck. Still hard inside you, he could feel some of the overflows of your climaxes spill out and drip down his thigh.

You were gasping for air, trembling lightly as his hands came to hold your head and he finally closed his eyes properly. Colours, a never-ending rainbow of colours dancing behind his eyelids, the galaxy within his grasp with you in his arms. Nothing else mattered-it was only you.

Everything was you. You were everything.

Realizations of the depths of his love for you hit Spencer like meteors; he felt as though he’d never stand again from the weight of it all, his heart impossibly heavy in his chest. How could he ever be worthy of the trust and care you had just bestowed upon him? He simply could not be deserving of such a divine, world-shattering experience. Not with you, his funny, bright, deeply caring best friend. Not with the woman who had been with Spencer through the worst, had seen the darkest parts of him, it didn’t seem right. It must be a mistake, a fluke, and yet...

It wasn’t. You told him as much when you finally found the strength to lean back slightly and press your lips to his, cutting off his train of thought by thanking him, telling him it had been better than you ever dreamed, that you had never felt for anyone like you did for Spencer. As if he weren’t already completely obliterated, your admission now rocketed Spencer into orbit and he knew, he just knew there was no way he’d ever forget this moment.

He’d been on your couch many times before this, you cuddled in his arms, and yet it felt like the very first time. Here in the dark, early morning hours of the first day of the year, it was the beginning of something, of an adventure he couldn’t understand and yet wholeheartedly knew he was ready to leap headfirst toward, as long as it was with you.

With renewed energy, Spencer stood, gathering you in his arms and carrying you to your bedroom as he kissed your lips languidly, eager to continue dancing amongst the stars with you, for as long as you would allow. And as he lay you down on your bed, drinking in the expression of love on your face, he knew there could be no way he would ever lose these memories. He stripped you of your underwear and spread you, keenly aware of the level of trust and anticipation you held for him. Spencer knew he could never forget, happily spending the next several hours worshipping your body like a starving man with his lips, his tongue, his gentle teeth.

Some of the memories may slip away, but surely not even alcohol could steal the way you repeated that you loved him as he plumbed your sweetest depth. As he brought you to your peak, over and over. As he brought your bodies together again and you travelled the galaxy in one another’s arms even as the sky outside began to brighten and then, eventually, sleep lulled you both to its warm embrace.

No, there was simply no way he would forget. Spencer could never, ever forget.

Right?

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

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@mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711

[weelittleweasley]

illumination (r.w.)

prompt as requested by anon: after a long day of work, ron suggests running you a bath as a reward to unwind.

pairing: ron weasley x fem!reader

warnings: nudity, thigh rubbing (nothing too crazy, very innocent)

word count: 1.9k

Strings of sentences, directions, names of potions, spells, laughter, chatter, and thoughts danced in your head, whirling around like a chaotic band of ballerinas as you walked down the hall, rubbing your shoulder with a grimace. As if the thoughts weren’t annoyance enough, your shoulders and back were killing you from being hunched over a desk and work table for hours. 

Exam season had arrived at Hogwarts which cost you your social life, free time, and some nights, your sleep schedule. Whatever the cost was, you promised yourself that this year would be your year, grades wise. You had spent most of your time in the library, occupied with books and notes and parchment, memorizing formulas and ingredients and spells. So many nights you left the library, brain throbbing at how much you were working the midnight oil.

You weren’t alone in these endeavors. You had study companions, but it wasn’t the same as hanging out normally. Rather than chatting or gossiping about exciting things, the chatter and murmuring was usually about a test or material that someone didn’t understand. Needless to say, exam season was boring and lifeless.

As you slumped through the hallways, rubbing your shoulder in pain, you groan as you lay your eyes on the moving staircase. You were already so exhausted and the last thing you wanted to do was deal with the moving staircase. You just wanted to get back to your dormitory so you could take a power nap before heading back to the library to study with Hermione. 

“Give me these,” a voice speaks before reaching over and grabbing the pile of textbooks from your arms. Before you can speak out in protest, you turn to meet the gaze of your doting boyfriend and your lips instantly curl up into a smile. “Darling, I don’t mean to sound rude, but you look exhausted,” Ron tells you, inspecting your face that carried dark circles under your eyes. “Still very beautiful, but very exhausted.”

You lightly giggled before leaning into Ron’s side as he wrapped an arm around your waist, as the two of you started up the moving staircase. “I’ve been working relentlessly for weeks now, Ron,” you huff as you trudge up the stairs, legs feeling heavy as you lean your weight onto Ron who supports you effortlessly. “I spend nights in the library as if it were my own bed.”

Ron gives you a sad smile, knowing just how hard you’ve been working to maintain your stellar marks. He knew that he would kiss you goodnight in your room, but you would slither out later to make your way to the library. He watched you as you ate your meals in the Great Hall by his side quickly before rushing off, claiming you were late for a study group meeting. He knew this was weighing on you like a ton of bricks and he hated seeing how tired and bored you were. “I’m sorry, love,” he pecks your temple as he laces his fingers with yours before bring your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. He wished there was something he could do to help take the stress off of you. 

“No need to apologize,” you smile up at him lovingly, brushing his red hair away from his eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just can’t wait for this to be over so I can actually go back to spending time with you,” you sigh as you reach your common room entrance, grabbing the books from Ron’s arms as he huffs in defeat. “Once all of this is over, I’m all yours again. We can do something fun together, I promise,” you squeeze his hand as he ducks down to press a kiss to your lips gently. You sigh into his kiss and pull him closer to you, relishing in the tender moment. 

You missed Ron dearly. Studying and spending time in study groups really threw a wrench in spending time with your boyfriend. Ron wasn’t offended, he knew you had work to do, but he wished that you two could spend more time together. And you knew Ron felt the same. Ron wished he could kiss away all of the sleepless nights, frustrated crying, and pulling at the roots of your hair in sheer irritation. He knew you needed a way to take a load off and keep your mind off of exams for just a few hours. 

Suddenly, Ron pulled away sharply, excitement in his eyes as a smirk danced along his lips, the grip on your hips tightening. You giggled, “Uh oh. I know that face. What’s going on in that head of yours?” Teasingly, you knocked on his forehead as he rolled his eyes.

Ron joked back, “No use checking up there. Little to nothing going on nowadays,” he says, making you laugh. “But I do have an idea. I may not be completely useless...”

You shake your head, “What are you talking about?” Ron smiles widely before grabbing your hand, pulling you away from the entrance of the common room and back up the moving staircase. “Godric, Ronald Weasley, where are you taking me?” you chuckle as he drags you up the stairs excited like a child on Christmas morning. 

But Ron says nothing and drags you up multiple flights of stairs before reaching the fifth floor of the castle, breathless from running up the stairs. He is smiling widely, watching your reaction as you stand there clueless. He gestures around him to see if you recognized where you were, but you just shrugged, still catching your breath from being forced up multiple moving flights of stairs. “Oh come on!” Ron exclaims. He starts walking towards a statue of Boris the Bewildered as you furrow your brows in confusion. Ron whispers something before a door slowly creaks open. Ron looks at you with a proud smile on his lips before gesturing to you to follow him. “Being a prefect does have its perks, (Y/N),” he winks as you walk towards him and into the mysterious room.

As you step into the room, you are greeted with the luxury of the Prefect’s Bathroom. The bathroom is gorgeous to say the least. A large golden bathtub that is surrounded by beautiful windows covered in stained glass mosaics of magical creatures, sunlight streaming through them, casting colorful shadows on the marble floor. The room was bright and warm, smelling of freshly hung linens and lavender. A very different atmosphere than the common showers.

You flip around to face Ron who has his hands buried happily in his pockets as he watches you take in the surroundings in awe. “Ron, I can’t be in here,” you whisper excitedly. “I’m not a prefect. If they catch me in here, then-”

“Then I’ll take the blame. ‘Salright. It’ll be worth it just to see you relax for a couple of hours,” Ron cuts you off. You open your mouth again but Ron interjects. “And don’t worry about the study group. Hermione runs it and she’s not gonna miss one person. It’s okay, (Y/N). You can take this time for yourself to relax.” You sigh happily at your boyfriend’s words. He wanted to do all of this for you and the fact that he was risking getting in trouble for it made your heart soar. Ron was always kind and thoughtful, but this was a different level. “I can stand guard at the door and make sure no one interrupts you,” Ron starts rambling when you don’t respond.

Instead, you just grab his face and pull him down for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close. Ron sighs into your touch and wraps his arms around your waist, giving you a squeeze as you giggle into the kiss. You pull away and speak, “It’s perfect. Thank you. And no need to guard the door,” you pull out your wand and with a flick of your wrist, locking the door. “I want you with me,” you tell him as Ron’s eyes widen and he gulps. You lightly laugh before starting to unbutton your shirt. “Help me?”

Ron shakes his head, excitedly as you laugh yet again, his fingers undoing the buttons of your shirt whilst you undo his. Soon enough, all of your clothes are discarded into a heap on the marble floor until you and Ron are bare naked. Ron cannot stop gawking at the sight of you naked before him; it’s nothing he hasn’t seen, but every time he sees you nude, he can’t believe that he managed to get a girlfriend who was as gorgeous as you. 

You grab his hand and excitedly hurry over to the bathtub that teems with bubbles, steam radiating off of the water that was freshly poured into the large tub. When you step in, you can feel your body immediately relax as you sigh. The further you walk in, the more your muscles release and make you sink further into the warm, soapy water. You let the water wash over you, cleaning you from all of your stress and worries, the soft sunlight shining down on you as you bathe in the tub. 

Ron watched intently with a soft smile on his lips as he sat in the tub, watching you bask in the glory of the amber sunlight. Your hair sloppily pulled up and away from your face, a fuzzy halo formed around you, like a drunken angel. His angel. The sunlight glimmered on your soft, supple skin, drops of the clear water tracing down each curve of your body. Ron couldn’t believe how angelic you could look without even trying. He watched as you gather bubbles in the palms of your hands, blowing on them gently, making them fly through the air. As you lightly laughed, the melody of the sound filled his ears making him shiver. The boy was helplessly in love. 

“Come over here, won’t you, darling?” Ron calls out to you as you comply with a happy smile on your face. 

Ron pulls you into his lap as you gladly straddle him, playing with the hair at the back of his neck, gazing into those eyes you grew to fall in love with. Ron’s hands gently massage your thighs, soothing the aching muscles as you sighed into him. “Thank you for doing this,” you tell him before kissing the tip of his nose.

He smiles and speaks, “No need to thank me. It’s what you deserve.”

You lean into Ron’s chest, resting your head on him, listening to the rhythmic thumping of his heart against his chest. It proudly beat on as Ron’s fingertip traced gently up and down your spine, repeating the lulling gesture as you allowed yourself to close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation. Ron placed gentle kisses on the top of your head as you cuddled farther into him as he smiled to himself. He had the whole world in his arms. 

Ron continued to rub your bare back and thighs, causing you to drift off into a lazy sleep. He noticed instantly that you had fallen asleep, your breathing had slowed down and you laid flush against him. Ron smiled down at you, watching your face rest with sleep, lips parted as you gently breathed sleepily. 

The sunlight illuminated half of your face whilst the other half rested on his chest. The image was worthy of being hung in a museum. Ron’s strong arms wrapped around you, protecting you from harm, whilst you lazily slept, not a care in the world. 

“My angel,” he whispered to himself, knowing that you wouldn’t hear him. You continued to be fast asleep on his chest and Ron enjoyed every second of it, wishing that this moment could last forever. Him and his angel.

[shatouto]

YOUR BABY VADER IS SO GOOD I NEED TO GIVE HIM ALL THE HUGS. please tell me he gets like. a weighted blanket or soft clothes. or! or! or! anakin and obi-wan go to the market because nobody knows that anakin was vader, and anakin gets some nice clothes in pretty colors and theyre very soft and he gets some ingredients for cooking and droid parts to play with and everything is nice and good for him

GOSH thank you!!! aww i love that idea sO MUCH just reading your prompt makes me feel warm fuzzy inside. im not sure which baby vader you’re referring to (because there are so many of them in my wips and i love it) but i’ll assume this is the au ive been writing with @obiwanobi. so pls enjoy this near 2k of tooth-rotting fluff; i took some liberties

who likes sweet things

The clinic smells like bacta, as clinics do. But instead of sterile durasteel walls, the floors are carpeted and the walls are painted and the windows are curtained and everything is multicolored and joyful. Across from Anakin sits a healer - a kindly woman, very small in stature, with large, gentle eyes, wispy hair and pointed ears. She chats happily with Obi-Wan while working in tandem with the medical droid to secure the prosthetic to Anakin’s elbow.

“...disheartening, isn’t it?” She chirps, her three-fingered hands deftly fastening bolts around the cap and manipulating the droid to screw down the simple plating. “I can’t count the number of innocent civilians who have come here to fit a new limb. Just last week, I constructed an entire exoskeleton for this young lady. Poor girl, so young.”

“That is so good of you. I am glad for the young lady to find you. She came to the right place.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Those of us who have some sense all know Healer Saada’s prostheses are of the highest quality in all of Coruscant.”

“Ah, young man. Flattery gets you nowhere. Have you learned nothing as a youngling?” Saada shakes her head at the Jedi, then turns her great eyes to Anakin, ears perking. “And you. You’re a rather quiet boy, aren’t you?”

Anakin presses his lips into a tight, blanched line. This woman may not be a Jedi any longer, but she is not Force-blind. He glances to Obi-Wan, breaths bated.

Obi-Wan rests a hand on his shoulder. “He’s quite shy, Healer Saada. Please do not worry.”

“Oh, poor thing.” The healer hops onto a moving droid. It rolls towards the counter, where she sorts out some bottles while asking, seemingly in an absent-minded manner, “Where did he come from?”

Anakin catches his gaze the moment Obi-Wan looks at him. Obi-Wan parts his lips, as if ready to lie.

“Tatooine,” Anakin mutters.

Astonishment freezes across Obi-Wan’s face, and Anakin turns away. The admission isn’t for her, though he supposes he doesn’t mind her knowing. She’s just a person. She doesn’t even know his name, or what he has done, or what the dead Sith Lord has made Anakin do to earn his demise. Obi-Wan does.

“So far away!” the healer comments lightly, turning around with a soft smile. “What a great trip you must have made.”

“Indeed he did. He lives here now,” Obi-Wan clarifies. Anakin opens his hand, and the healer places a stretchy ball in it. She instructs him to practice squeezing it to get used to the new artificial limb, before sending them off.

They exit the clinic and out under a vast starlit sky. Gentle winds whirl overhead as they climb into their speeder, heading for the usual park where Anakin takes his walk. The night has gotten cold, yet the darkness is unusually diluted. As they pass by downtown, music wafts up alongside the scent of butter and frying oil. Anakin looks down to see a sea of lights over a town square, and colorful awnings draped over kiosks of all sorts. There seem to be many people there, eating, laughing, hand in hand. He eyes them closely, fingers tightening on the side door of the speeder.

“It’s a celebration, Anakin,” Obi-Wan supplies, as they come to a stoplight. Anakin turns around, and his heartbeat ratchets up when Obi-Wan reaches over to brush a lock of hair from his forehead.

“What are they celebrating?”

“Harvest season. It’s an old tradition, I’ll give you that. Coruscant barely has a greenhouse on it, let alone agricultural land.” Obi-Wan chuckles, then quiets down into a thoughtful smile. “Though I suppose the election result is as good of an occasion to celebrate as any.”

“Election?” Anakin asks, just as they pass by a great billboard with the face of a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman in a night-purple cape. The speeder is going slow enough for him to decipher the words written beneath it. Obi-Wan keeps saying he’s a fast learner, so he tries to read at every turn. “Chancellor… A-Ame…” He frowns. “Amidala?”

“Very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s eyes crinkle at him for a second before returning to the path ahead. “Padmé Amidala is the new Chancellor now. It was a rather close call. She is well-loved by many people, but not quite so in the Senate.”

Half of those words mean almost nothing to Anakin. “Why?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan hums. “One could say the Senate hasn’t been loving its people so much, in a while.”

Obi-Wan grows pensive, as he oft does. The faint, warm light from below and the cool starlight from beyond color him in an otherworldly tint. His profile is startlingly delicate, from the slope of his nose to the soft fluff of his whiskers and beard. Even the flutter of his lashes is graceful. Then Anakin remembers he shouldn’t stare. His eyes strays towards the bright lights and jovial music beneath.

“...But I am hardly brave enough for politics,” Obi-Wan muses, after a stretch of silence. When he looks Anakin’s way it is with some tiredness in his small smile. “Say, Anakin. How would you like to stop by the night market, for a change?”

They lower their altitude as soon as Anakin nods his agreement. Obi-Wan parks their speeder, draws up Anakin’s hood, and takes his right hand. Anakin’s synthetic nerves light up, even though it’s only enough transmission for him to feel touch and not warmth, it being a very standard model of prosthetic. His face warms up under the hood of his cloak. He’s glad Obi-Wan doesn’t notice.

They let themselves be carried by the stream of the crowd, of parents jogging after excitable children toddling about with sweetmeats in their hands, sugar on their cheeks; of young couples, one’s arm around the other’s waist, sharing bites of fluffy sweet bread or sips of mulled wine. Light shines golden and amber through bottles of syrup and jars of honey, glitters on the crystal sugar and drizzled glaze on heaps of candies in open boxes. The smell is divine whenever they pass by a warm stall with steam bannering overhead.

Anakin shivers lightly, even though the crowd blocks most of the winds. Obi-Wan tugs at his hand. “Let’s get you something warm.”

He follows Obi-Wan. A paper cup is pressed into his hand, ample and warm against his skin. The drink smells and tastes sweet with a note of toasted bitterness, the texture creamy and rich on his tongue. There are floating white chunks of some sort of confectionery in there.

“What’s this?”

“Hot chocolate.” Obi-Wan raises his identical cup and touches it to Anakin’s. “Do you like it?”

”Yes,” Anakin says, and Obi-Wan’s smile warms his belly more than any hot drink.

They continue on their path, still a straight line from one end of the market to another. Anakin’s wide eyes travel from stand to stand: here a string of patchwork puppets, there a counter of carved wooden figures; and perfume vials, colorful figures (“It’s artisan soap, Anakin”), bouquets of everlasting tissue flowers tied in silk ribbons. There are clothes: soft robes in various colors, touted as “warm in winter and breezy in summer,” per the merchants; tunics with blossoming patterns embroidered at the collars or sleeve hems. There are kiosks of datatapes, illustrated by sparkling holograms of a High Republic castle, or a great speeder model, or even some holodrama character whose name Anakin can’t remember.

And then a booth takes his breath away. Glimmering under the light are shelves after shelves of mini household droids, custom-made transmitters, and a variety of artfully wired core processors. Replacement parts bathe in the blue glow of holograms depicting the corresponding droid models; and below all of this is a row of toolboxes of gleaming silver and shiny ivory, even iridescent inlays of mother-of-pearl. The booth seems to be one of a kind in the vast entirety of the market.

Anakin stands, transfixed. His fingers itch, and one of the tools begins to quiver and lift into the air, unbeknownst to the seller who has his back to it. He wants it. The thing will be his.

“Anakin? Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s hushed voice rustles by his ear, jolting him back to his senses.

The tool drops down with a small clang, barely audible in the noises of the festivity. Fear bursts coldly in Anakin’s chest - he shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, his Master would be very unhappy if he found out his young foolish apprentice had tried to waste his time playing with droids again. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, bowing his head, even as Obi-Wan squeezes his hand.

“Do you want that?” Obi-Wan asks, softly.

Anakin peeks up. The empty paper cup is still slightly warm in his hand, and he crushes it absentmindedly, tightening and loosening his fingers just to have something to do. “I, uh…”

Obi-Wan’s hand covers his own, gently prying the crushed paper cup out from the curl of his fingers. “I would love to get it for you, if you want it. It’s the toolbox on the bottom shelf, second from the left, isn’t it?”

The light on Obi-Wan’s smile is a honeyed gold, pooling stars into his eyes, and Anakin is transfixed again, not quite by the tinkering booth this time. He looks down as his face warms and his heart still pounds hard, and slowly he nods.

—

They come back to Obi-Wan’s quarters with a small armful: a new set of robes in muted, ashen pink; a box of tools with carved handles that are probably more fancy than they need to be, but still practical enough; a new array of spices and condiments; and a great tin of “absolutely decadent powder for drinking chocolate, Anakin, I can’t believe I let you persuade me into buying this.”

“You are the one who likes sweet things,” Anakin counters, arranging the new addition into their pantry. Obi-Wan laughs aloud by his side.

“Now how could you possibly know that?”

“I cook. I know that.” Anakin shrugs, and admits, “...and Ahsoka said so.”

Obi-Wan’s brows shoot up. He’s quiet for a few seconds, but the wide smile that follows only seems all the more brighter for it. “Best friends now, aren’t you?”

“No,” Anakin huffs and closes the pantry door. He doesn’t say more. Ahsoka gave him her old voicebook plug-in and lent him her comics; in exchange, he would pack her this spicy meat stew whenever she needed to leave for some time. They struck a fair deal, is all.

Obi-Wan doesn’t say more, either. They settle on the couch, Anakin almost rushing to fish out the toolbox from its paper bag. Finally having two hands to work with again, he examines it with zeal. It’s a good set of tools, he knows it; he hasn’t been allowed to touch these things for years, but he still knows. It’s in his blood. He can still wire standard circuit boards for protocol droids (the slightly outdated type) with his eyes closed; can definitely assemble a cleaning-type mouse droid from scratch if he’s allowed to scavenge for parts. He smiles down at the lacquered handles and the durasteel glint, picking up and balancing each microscrew, each hexagonal wrench, each tiny plier.

“...I hope it was enjoyable for you,” Obi-Wan speaks up, all of a sudden.

Anakin turns to him, not bothering to wipe off his smile. “It was.” He chews on the inside of his cheeks. “I’ve never had so many things. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan studies him for a long moment, more intent than he ever did. By the look on his face, Anakin expects him to say many things, but he doesn’t. He just pats Anakin’s elbow, where the prosthetic is joined, and murmurs, “You’re welcome.” His eyes have a moist sheen to them, smiling though he is.

[itstheimpossibledream]

Candlelight

Pairing: Geralt xOFC

Warning : Fluff w/Smut, unprotected sex, mention of bodliy fluids, size kink-ish, Oral ( female receiving)

Summary : Geralt rolls into town and the town’s brothel owner has to have him. I’m toying with the idea of Geralt having poor self-esteem or body image?? That’s right she’s giving you predictable tavern vibes with a twist. Let me know what you think! 

All mistakes are mine please do not use or post my fics without my permission!Also feel free to interact submit requests, prompts all dat !

Word count:2,896

He entered the tavern with a sort of brooding charm. The entire room slowed the second he stepped inside. He must be used to people looking at him, he walks past them slowly, setting a pouch of money on the counter.He was served his drink and the room exhaled in unison, as the other men began to return to their conversations.You worked the room sitting on a lap here, showing your bosom while pouring a pint there, a fairly normal night. You could feel him watching you as he drank his ale. You flitted around the tables as men spoke of how Witchers killed both monsters and men. How they were a made up people, capable of magic. In all honesty it seemed a little exaggerated. The man at the bar before you was very dull looking, with the exception of his bright eyes. He seemed strong but, most definitely in need of a bath and a laugh. He had a hard face and remained silent as you refilled his drink. The night wore on and one by one the few men left in the pub began to break off with one of your girls, moving to the rooms further upstairs and outside for quick hookups, to cherish the few hours left before the morning light. You filled the Witcher's drink again and silence crept over the room. As the only two left  in the pub there was an expectation of communication at some point and yet nothing was coming from his end.

"Rough day ?" you ask jokingly 

you notice his jaw clench as he fixes his lips to respond.

"Something like that ." he grumbles before taking another drink. If he didn't want to talk that was fine but, at the very least he had to remove himself from your establishment.

"I'll be gone in a hour."he states as if foreseeing your next comment. 

"Unfortunately, we're closed now." you retort. 

"I'll blow out the candles when I leave." 

"No.You'll leave with me." you said matter-of-factly,covering yourself with your cloak and heading towards the door.

"Okay." he replied calmly, pushing back from the bar and retrieving his sword from the stool next to him. His large frame towered in front of you and you contemplated if this was actually a good idea or, if you had simply spoken to soon. He must have read the dumbfounded look on your face because he quickly made up the distance between the bar and the tavern door, opening it wide and letting in the slight crispness of the night air. He motioned his arm toward the door and you quickly finished blowing out the last of the candles,  graciously accepting his invitation into the night. 

"Do you lock up this way every night?" you wonder what made him ask that, did he plan to come back another night and break in?Or was he simply trying to make small talk ?

"No, usually the men tend to need the attention of a woman a bit earlier."

"Hmmm" you heard his deep voice grumble from behind.

“I imagine your presence here had them intrigued.” you offer politely.

"Why are you walking behind me and not with me?" you asked, turning back to look at him.

"For safety." he mumbled.

"Safety?" you ask through a laugh "I own a brothel."

"Exactly." he says, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

"So because I own a brothel I must know nothing about protecting myself and-"

"Because you own the only brothel for miles and you offered a stranger to come home with you while paying no attention to the man who's been watching you since we started walking. " He said, turning to glare at the stalker.

You immediately turned and looked past him to see a man scrambling down the cobblestone streets. He was right, maybe you could have been a bit more careful. 

"So you know the location of every brothel?" you smirk up at him.  

"I'm not proud of that." the voice drills lowly

"What's that supposed to mean?" you respond poking him in the ribs. He doesn't laugh, or even smile 

"Means it's easier, as a witcher to live out of sight." you looked up at him much more serious this time. It hadn't even crossed your mind that a man so obviously special could consider himself an outsider.

"What are you looking at ?" his voice was deep and monotone.

You allow your hand up to his face to trace a fresh scratch on the side of his eyebrow. The finger slowly drags downward, over the hair on his chin. He lowers his mouth to you and before thinking about it you meet his lips. He immediately pulls back, before you even get the chance to breathe, you motion to the building behind you to let him know that you've arrived at your home. He lifts a strong, veiny hand to wipe his lips and your heart slightly sinks with the thought that he immediately regrets kissing you. He moves a handful of hair from his face, behind his ear and sighs.

"Look, I don't have money for this. And in any other situation I would give my last dime for your services but-"

" I wasn't offering my services." you retort coldly

"I'm sorry I wasn't trying to-" You could tell even despite the stone facade he was embarrassed now. 

"A completely reasonable misunderstanding ." you say opening the hard wooden door and stepping inside. You turn to look behind you "You coming witcher?" you ask tilting your head and allowing yourself to lend him your most seductive smile. 

"Mph" he grunts, stepping in and closing the door behind you. 

Your lodgings were small but accommodating. He began to work on making a fire as you whirled around the room collecting herbs and other ingredients for dinner. By now the fire was beginning to bring itself to a roar and you set the cold pot , filled with its contents into the hearth.Your mind swirled with ways to seduce the man, or perhaps magic beings like this were entirely incapable of having sex, maybe he knew where all those brothels were because he just longed for company. 

"I ate earlier,  at your establishment." he mumbled deeply, breaking you from your thoughts.

"I don't cook at my establishment." you say calmly "I don't eat there either." you resume pouring a dram and moving to take a seat at the table in the center of the room. You offer him the other glass and he accepts in silence, claiming a seat opposite of yours. You had never crossed a man who didn’t want something from you, that is what made this silence so unbearable. 

"You don't talk much do you ?" you ask smugly 

"Hm." he grunts as his lips turn up into a slight smile. "No."

"Guess it's up to me to force you to speak then." you say, tossing back the rest of your drink and moving towards his chair. There was a space between his legs and the table, you stood there and began undoing the buttons at the nape of your dress. With one last clasp, it was undone and joined the floor. You stood before him in your chemise, entirely visible but putting on the most sultry face you could muster.  He stared at you coldly, whether shocked or off put by your forwardness, no one could say. There was no inkling as to what he may be thinking as your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You looked down at yourself wondering if the grey haired gentleman in front of you had even been with a woman before, judging by his bone structure he must have. He was much too handsome to have remained a virgin, especially while frequenting brothels. But, the lack of light in his eyes made you quite sure he was void of interest. You brought your eyes back up to meet him as he ran a hand through his hair, golden eyes unmoved. 

You decide to remove all room for doubt and you pull at the strings of the chemise, letting it lightly float down to meet the rest of your dress. Delicately stepping out of the circle of dresses enshrining your ankles you further entreat into his space. You feel a cold hand slowly brush up your thigh. Finally some feedback, however silent it may be. 

" Still nothing to say?" you asked looking down at him, you could see him processing the fact that you were offering yourself up to him for free, that even the two of you being alone together would in no way be considered modest or preserving of your dignity.Then again how much did you really have left. You were after all a prostitute, turned business owner, now standing in front of a mythical man you weren’t even sure was capable of a sexual relationship. Moreover, tomorrow he would leave your home in daylight and everyone would speculate that you had had him that night anyway. 

Most of your girls lived in apartments above you, this was the hour in which they slept or serviced their own men. A ruckus you had learned to sleep through but, you doubted the man below you would be as capable. His hand works painfully slowly up your thigh. Goosebumps arise on your skin as his hand turns inside to cup the top of the thigh of your alternate leg. You feel your eyes flutter in anticipation before he presses a thumb perfectly onto your clit, his other fingers rub against the lips of your opening. His eyes shone brightly in the dimly lit room, intensely fixed on you and your pleasure. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he didn't have to say anything to make you want him. The fire crackling  from the hearth set a pace for the night’s festivities.As his hand worked your mound, you could feel yourself becoming wetter, you even allowed a small whimper to be released from your lips. You see the crease begin to deepen at the edge of his lips, could it be that this stone of a man was actually beginning to smile? You whimper again just to tease him, begging to see more of his smile. He doesn't give you what you want. He simply grunts and moves his hands, to lift you onto the wooden table behind you. For a moment you're actually embarrassed, ironic considering your history of selling yourself prior to being able to purchase the tavern but, it had been a while since you had actually been with a man; so focused on your entrepreneurial endeavors you had managed to leave bedroom endeavors entirely by the wayside. It had been good for you, resigning from that work but, the second he walked into your tavern you wanted him, that could not be denied. You clenched your legs together,in both shame and anticipation. You could feel yourself dripping onto the table below and willed it to stop, despite the knowledge that he now had complete control over you. He pushed your knee apart with one hand, when you didn't willingly open up for him, he forced you to with a more audible grunt. Your breath cuts short and you can tell he notices, despite your attempt to hide. He opens your legs wide for him and scrapes his chair loudly on the floor before you,moving closer. You can feel the heat creeping up your chest and neck as you hold your breath in anticipation. 

"Relax." He whispers into your sopping wet core. You look at him between your legs and he quickly averts his eyes, not allowing you the satisfaction of seeing into him. His tongue laps at your clit and instantly you are unable to contain your sounds. You begin to writhe swinging your hips on the wooden table as he sucks on your clit, bringing a finger to play at your opening. He pushes his finger in and out of you slowly, humming into your core. You can't help yourself anymore, reaching for a fistful of his silver hair pushing his lips closer to you as you grind into his mouth. You pull back on his hair slightly in an attempt to get him to slow down but, all it manages to do is make him return to you hungrier than ever. His fingers pump into you needlessly, as his mouth works you over. You become acutely aware of the volume of your breathing and the want to say his name, practically a need to say his name. To give him the satisfaction of hearing how successfully he is pleasing you. It dawned on you that you had never even asked his name and he hadn't bothered to learn yours. 

"Not yet." he says, pulling back from your heat and standing up.You watch as he pulls gingerly at the laces of his pants, fingers working dangerously quick to expose himself. In no time he is forcing himself inside of you moaning deeply and rutting into you with a dangerous ferocity. You use one arm to prop yourself up onto the table and another to dig your fingernails into his buttcheek. He lets out a low growl and you feel a wetness on your cheek as he forces himself into you, creating a space made perfectly for him. He moans into your ear again and you are forced to relish in the fact that you have finally elicited the desired response from this solid rock of a man. He fills you more and more, encroaching in on the space between your legs, pumping harder into you. He spills into you; overflowing out of you and onto the table. You wrap your legs around him a bit longer, holding him inside you, loving the fullness he’s granting you . A fullness you haven't felt in a long time.You throw your head back in complete release, unabashedly revelling in the comfort of this man. He rocks into you slowly, simply not wanting to stop but, you can feel him growing softer inside you, he would definitely need some time to recover. He pulls himself out of you and you can feel the essence of your  love-making drip from your core to the table. He places his palms on either side of you, focusing on steading his breathing in an attempt to recover some form of dignity and decorum.You peeked behind the chair to see his sword had been leaning up against it.

“I should go.” he says, dipping down to pull up his pants and fumbling with the laces.You quickly grab for his hand.

“Would you like to share a meal with me?”you asked earnestly. He seemed surprised by your willingness to continue spending time with him. You weren’t afraid of him .

“That’s fine.” he gruffed, sitting back down onto his seat. You nakedly grabbed dishes and served him from the pot, reclaiming your seat opposite him. 

“Do you normally do everything without clothes?” he asked not looking up from his bowl.

“Does it bother you?” you asked taking him in. He looks at you plainly.

“Only someone who is uncomfortable with themselves would be uncomfortable being naked around their own home.” you claimed cleaning the spoon in your mouth.

“If your body had as many scars as mine you might feel differently.” he said quietly 

“Do you not think you’re beautiful?” you asked, setting down your spoon, with serious intrigue. 

He chortled clearly confused by your question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been described as such.” he mumbles shyly. 

“Well you are!” you press “ I don’t know why you can’t see it.” you smiled at him.

“I’m not hungry.” he said pushing himself back from the table.You looked at him in bewilderment, had you truly ruined the moment that much? He made his way over to your side of the table, gingerly lifting you from the chair and throwing you over his shoulder. It was terribly masculine and thrilling to be over his shoulder, to feel like his property. He walks you towards the drape that disguises your bedroom for the rest of the living space, pulling it back and laying you on the mattress below. You stare up at him planking above you on the mattress, jaw firm, eyes intensely glowing in the candlelight. He moves a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I think you’re beautiful too.” he says softly. 

“Well that’s all anyone notices about me.” you laugh

“No.” he tsks with his tongue. “You are brave, and smart, you go after what you want. I admire that.” he whispers as the white sheet lightly blows behind him over the mattress. 

You raise your mouth up to kiss him and he smiles into you. 

“I’d like to be more gentle this time,” he says, eyebrows furrowed,as if you would resist. You crane your neck up to kiss him again and he falls into you.This Witcher was nothing to be afraid of, and even if he could never be in a long term relationship, he was a moment of comfort. A moment in which it was good to know that there was someone out there like this who could fight all the monsters. 

[ohplagg]

Normal Girl

Also read at AO3

Summary: Nora is living her best life by being the normal middle school student that she always longed to be with her new friends and her two parents that love her so much.

WARNING: This story makes mention of abuse, suicide and suicidal thoughts. Individuals suffering from anxiety, depression and/or suicidal thoughts may not have a safe experience reading this. Viewer discretion is advised.

Thank you @noragamibigbang for organizing this.

See my partner’s ( @maybemacdc ) wonderful artwork that goes along with this!

Get up.

I hear the faint sound of an alarm clock, its signals the start of my day. I know I need to get up but the warmth of my bed and the peace in my bedroom cuddles me in a soundless lullaby.

Get up now.

The cold morning air hits my skin as I reach my arm out of my covers to turn off the alarm making me a bit more aware of myself than before but not enough. I decide to curl up in my bed once more, savoring the cozy air that my blankets trapped during the night.

You’re going to be late.

As I finish rubbing off the sleep from my eyes and brushing off the black hair strand stuck in my mouth I peak my head out of the covers. While staring into the celling, waiting for the moment I have enough courage to leave my warm bed, I hear two calm knocks on my doorframe like there were right on cue.

“Good morning love, come help me with breakfast when you’re ready~” I hear my mom call out as she walks away from the doorframe.

I sit up on my bed and I admire the sunrays peak through my window. Little particles of dust dancing in the stationary air as they bathe in the sunlight.

I walk over to my closet and change into my freshly clean school uniform. It’s your typical sailor middle school uniform with the red bow tie, white shirt with a blue collar and a matching blue skit to go with it. I make sure I wash it every night so it dries overnight. I briefly enjoy the softness of the fabric as I straighten the skirt with my hands, getting rid of any wrinkles that were created when I put it on.

Now that I’m dressed, I head over to the mirror. I stare back at my reflection, my messy from sleep black hair begging to be brushed.

My hair has always been pretty boring. It has no color and no texture, not to mention that its so short that I can’t do any fun hair styles with it. Not that I have tried any. Maybe I can try something today?

As I think that, I open a box of ribbons I’ve been collecting for years but never worn. I first try on a big red bow, I then try a blue one, and then a bright pink ribbon but they all make me look stupid. This is stupid.

You’re stupid.

I finish trying on my last ribbon which is a white thin ribbon. This one I put it across my head like a hair band. It looks okay I guess but what would people say? I bet they wouldn’t stop pointing it out and making fun of me.

“That looks cute! Are you wearing that?” I get startled by my dad’s voice. I turn around to see him frozen in his tracks as he was walking pass my bedroom door.

“I’m not sure…?” I tried to say no but something about his loving and warming smile told me that I wanted to hear his reply to my hesitation.

“You should” he simply said and then left.

Dad would never lie to me and if he thinks that I look cute with it then I guess the ribbon isn’t that stupid.

Maybe I should wear it.

I think I will.

--

After deciding to leave the ribbon on and finish getting reading for school, I head downstairs and help my mom by setting the table while she prepares breakfast. I see my dad sitting on the TV-couch with his laptop and a bunch of work documents scattered all over the coffee table. We all are busy with our morning tasks while the morning local news is playing on the background.

First it was politics news but I’m too young to care and stress about that yet so I don’t really pay attention to it. Then it’s the bad story news which this time was something about how the police just arrested an abusive father who hurt his kids physically and mentally.

What a way to start the morning. Did the news anchors really need to say such graphic and gruesome details?

As always a feel-good story gets told right after, this time is about some rescued stray-kitty-siblings that were adopted by this high school girl or something, I honestly didn’t pay enough attention to it, I couldn’t stop thinking about the prior story.

I try to picture it but I can’t imagine my dad turning violent on me and doing me harm, how could any dad do that to his kids? The idea of not only not having my mom but also getting physically harmed by my dad made me feel nauseous.

“Darling. Stop playing with your food, you’re going to be late.” My mom snaps me out of my dark train of thought.

That’s right, my parents are both here and they will never hurt me no matter what. They love me and will protect me. I don’t have to worry about any of that. But I actually do worry because I’m about to be late if I don’t hurry up and eat. And with that I devour my food as fast as I can without getting a stomach ache.

--

“Ittekimasu!” I yell at my mom as I close the front door feeling the cool but not cold spring air hit my skin.

“Itterasshai!” I hear my mom faintly yell back to me.

I head down the streets on my way to school. As I walk I take in my surroundings; I hear some birds singing, some cars driving by, some other kids heading to school and some old lady gossip. I pay extra close attention to the gossip. Ever since I started walking to school on my own I realized that I didn’t know much about the world outside of my notebooks so this is the only way I keep up with the world beside the morning news my dad puts every other day.

Today’s gossip isn’t the usual though. The ladies are also talking about that horrible gruesome story the local morning news covered, I hear them talk among themselves how they actually knew the wife before she committed suicide.

“I don’t think she did” one of them comments while looking over her shoulder as if she was about to say her most guarded secret, “and with the most recent news I’m pretty sure he killed her.” She finishes while nodding her head as a matter of fact.

Gasps roar among the ladies and I find myself gawking at the possibility as well.

“He wouldn’t do that” one interrupts the buzzing gossiping that had been unleashed. “The husband was really in love. She was his whole world. I wouldn’t be surprise if he went crazy with grief because of her death.” She tries to defend the man from the accusation of killing his own wife.

The ladies continue their gossiping but by now I’m too far to hear it anymore. My thoughts remain stuck in that conversation while I make my way to school. A husband so overwhelmed with grief that he took it out on his own flesh and blood that he raised since they were babies.

Imagine being the kids, they were around my age if I recall correctly. Just thinking about how I could be living that nightmare makes me feel sick to my stomach. Not only were they dealing with the loss of their mother, but also the loss of their father. The pain and the fear they must have felt while seeing their dad turn into that monster as the days went by. The uncertainty of being chosen as the punching bag that day. The hopelessness and loneliness they must have felt.

Thinking about it almost feels too real. I feel my palms become sweaty and my heartbeat drowning any noise from the outside world. I urge myself to take in deep breaths and to remember that that is not my life. That my dad is not like that.

Thank the gods that my dad is not like that.

--

I arrive to school and I see Nana and her group waving at me, waiting for me at the front gate. They tell me to call them my friends but I’m not used to having those yet. You see, I’ve always focused on school and academics first and I never gave the idea of having friends even a consideration so this is all really new to me.

Nana is my favorite of the 3, she’s the one I can easily talk to. Turns out she and I are pretty similar in the sense that we both like to be right and get in fights because of it. Of course, she gets into physical ones while I only do intellectual ones…. for the most part. Look, it wasn’t my fault that one time with Yukine.

Sure, I did throw in the first punch but he started it when he said I copied from him. Well, he really didn’t said it, but he insinuated it and if you ask me that’s more than enough reason to get punched. Besides I would never copy him. I don’t need his second-best-in-school answers because I have my own first-best-in-school answers, so ha!

According to him he caught me “starring” at him “several” times which is not true. Why would I stare? Maybe he was in my field of vision but that doesn’t even make sense because just the sight of him is annoying, it always has been. Ever since we were 6 with his “I’m going to one-up you” attitude he always had with me. Ugh, so annoying!

And there’s nothing about him worth looking at either. There’s nothing eye-catching about physique like his unusual golden locks. And why on earth would I stare at someone who is so focused in whatever test question he’s answering that you can’t help but admire his soft expression as he solves the math problem? It doesn’t make sense.

It kind of does.

Whatever.

But all that is in the past now and if I’m being honest I’m really happy I fought with Yukine. Because of that fight I met Nana and her fraternal twin brother Shiigun and I’m also closer to Yukine now than before. My life has definitely become a lot more fun than before.

Thanks to Yukine’s better social skills I get better along with everyone in school including teachers and staff. I really like that about him. I think that’s the main reason why he is so nice to me too. I really admire him for it.

Yukine and I are still rivals though, don’t get me wrong. We are still argue and fight but now we know each other a little bit better so we know that we don’t have to be better than the other at everything. Even though I will always better than him in academics even he says otherwise. I’ll let him have his spotlight with social stuff.

--

The lunch bell rings and I immediately take out my study notebook and start studying for history, the exams are next week and I need to be the best. I would prefer to do homework right now but there isn’t enough time to properly do it so a quick overview of history will do for now. I can always do homework in the comfort of my home where no one can bother or distract me.

“-chan you need to give it a rest. It’s not good for you.” Nana interrupts my study time as she rests her hand over my notes to take my attention.

“Both you and Yukine are overkills, I swear you guys are the biggest nerds in the whole school- no, the whole world!” Shiihgun has a talent to sting me where it hurts. I know he doesn’t mean it in a mean way but I’ve always been insecure about how I’m perceived by others and he doesn’t help one bit.

I try to laugh it off as I’ve seen Yukine do it before since I’m guessing that’s what I’m supposed to do. I hope my laugh seems genuine and not painful or forced. Please, don’t let my discomfort show.

Yukine turns my way as we’re laughing off Shiigun’s mean joke. I guess acting isn’t my thing because as soon as our eye meet he casually makes his way to my desk, leans in (invading my personal space if you ask me) and in a whispers tells me that he thinks it’s pretty cool of us to be the biggest nerds of the whole world. If the coolest kid in school says so then I guess we are pretty cool.

I realize that I’m too distracted to focus back on studying and Nana has a point I need the break, so I guess I’ll take her advice and rest during lunch time. As I start putting my notebooks away I realize that I forgot to pack my bento box. I guess I was too distracted when I left home this morning.

“Eeh?! You forgot your bento?” I wanted to pretend that I didn’t forget my bento, that I wasn’t looking for it and that I wasn’t hungry but apparently once again my acting skills failed me because now Nana saw right through me.

“I didn’t forget it. I’m trying to eat less.” I poorly try to act casually. Maybe I should stop acting.

“Here. Have one.” Yukine offers me one of his onigiri. “I always bring enough to share.” He reassures me as he notice my hesitation.

I reach my hand out to take the onigiri, as I do I start smelling a scent. A scent with the smell of… toothpaste? That’s weird.

I take a bite of the onigiri and I’m reminded of that winter afternoon where Yukine sneaked freshly made onigiri from his home to share with me. I remember how we ate them under a bridge while I did paper boats out of leaves and trash that I found under the bridge. I remember that I was feeling upset for some reason, what was the reason? Something to do with my dad? But…. I wasn’t even friends with Yukine in winter.

This doesn’t make sense.

I shake off the confusion and decide to focus on the argument Nana is having with Yukine about who would win in a physical fight. I would bet this onigiri that Nana would beat Yukine.

--

After a long day in school where I couldn’t study as much as I would have wanted I thought I would have gone straight home to study everything that I couldn’t during the day but instead I’m walking in the direction of the river bank on my way to play badminton with Nana, her brother and Yukine. As I was getting ready to head home Nana stopped me and asked me to come with them.

I wasn’t sure at first if I should go but Yukine told me that if second best in school was taking some time to have fun then the best could also do the same.

On our way to the river bank I try to make some casual conversation with Yukine so I ask him what made them invite me to come along with them.

“We always wanted to invite you- well, I always insisted on inviting you. But you always seems busy.” Yukine explains.

“I was also busy today.” I challenged his logic.

“But not busy enough to say no.” he retorted with a cheeky attitude. After I gave him a look with an eyebrow raised he continued “But also last week this homeless creepy dude approached us asking if he could be our fourth player so we want to avoid him getting any ideas.”

“Was the dude in his twenties, had black hair, bright blue eyes, and wore a smelly sweaty dark track suit?” the image of the dude suddenly popped in my head with such a clarity that I had to ask.

Yukine looked at me with an extremely puzzled look. “No… Where did you get that from? Is there someone like that where you live?”

Now that I think about it, the man I just describe isn’t anyone that I know or seen. I wonder where did I get that mental image in my head. I must have seen him on TV.

“I don’t know..”

--

As we’re approaching the river bank we make a quick stop for snacks. The store where we stopped by is owned by a very lovely and young married couple. Yukine tells us that he sometimes works here on weekends helping move the heavy stuff and because of that he gets free snacks whenever he comes by.

“Yuki! You came!” A young lady with bright pink hair yells out in excitement as she rushes to bear-hug Yukine. I’m guessing that’s one of the owners.

“Yuki! Great timing! Can you help out this Saturday? The roof needs to be repaired.” A scary looking man asks while he gets the young lady off Yukine.

It seems that Nana and Shiigun also know this odd couple because it takes them no time to start chatting amongst themselves. Because of that I start doing what I usually do and entertain myself with whatever catches my eye.

I first focus on the discount signs they have scattered in different parts of the background, I then notice how they have some fresh fruit as well but what really catches my eye is the magazine and newspaper shelf they have, one usually doesn’t see those anymore and even less in a small store such as this one.

I start reading the magazine covers and I eventually drift to the headlines. As soon as I do I feel my heart drop.

It’s that news again.

To be fair, it’s to be expected. It was in the morning news after all. But that doesn’t make it any better. While I read that particular newspaper I notice that there’s more details about that story than what I had already heard in the street gossip and in the morning news. Now I’m learning that the man actually killed the daughter who was my age and the older brother manage to run away and he was the one that call the authorities.

Props to the journalist that wrote this thought because it feels so real that it feels like I’m actually that girl that got killed. Good thing that my father is a sane person, that my mother is alive and well and that I don’t actually have a brother.

“-chan, they are talking to you.” For the third time today I get startle back into reality. I turn around to see Nana who grabbed my shoulder to get my attention.

“What?” I asked confused turning to look at the pink hair lady who I guess was the one that talked to me.

“Say hi to Yato-chan for me!” She excitedly and with confidence said as she waved us goodbye.

Yato-chan?

“Bye Kofuku! Bye Daikoku! Thanks for the football!” Yukine yells back as we leave the store owners flirting to each other.

I try to question Kofuku’s comment but between everyone else already walking away, the already said goodbyes and my confusion I couldn’t say anything. Why did she talk to me like she knew me? Why did no one else think that was weird? And who is Yato-chan?

--

We arrive at the river bank and Shiigun and Yukine start playing with the football apparently Daikoku gave Yukine while Nana and I set up the badminton net. Nana instructs me where to stand with the other side of the net and then teaches me how to anchor the net on the grass.

“Come on, guys. We’re ready.” Nana calls out as she goes to the bags she and Shiigun carried out here to take out the rackets and the bird so we could start playing a match. As she calls out I finish anchoring the net to the grass. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t having fun being out here with my friends, just hanging out. I might even say that this is more fun that history homework.

Might.

I approach Nana and Yukine who were already tossing a coin to choose who got what side of the net. Shiigun had gone to retrieve the ball that had been accidentally kicked far.

“Look out!” I hear Shiigun panic at the top of his lungs followed by a hit to my head that knocked me down so hard and fast that I didn’t get a chance to do anything other than fall like a wood plank. My vision went black, my consciousness faded as I heard Nana and Yukine faintly scream my name.

--

Get up.

I hear a high pitched ring in my ear, the throbbing headache bringing me back to my senses. I know I need to get up but a piercing pain in my back freezes all my movements. The hard cold floor isn’t doing any favors either.

Get up now.

The cold wind hits my skin as I reach my arm up to feel my head.  I feel a warm liquid gushing through somewhere in my skull but I can’t really feel exactly where. I wish I could become more aware of myself than before but between the sharp pain in my back and the dizziness this headache is giving me I decide that I should probably go back to sleep and not think about the pain.

You’re going to die.

A jolt of electricity rushes through my spine. My eyes shoot open as if I were to die if I kept them close for a second longer. My body is screaming in pain as I try to sit upright.

Between the grunts and cries of pain that scape my mouth my eyes start noticing things that… I’m pretty sure they weren’t there before.

There’s a man standing over me. He looks like he’s in his late teens even though he feels older. As he’s wiping his sweat and what it looks like blood from his jaw with the back of his left hand I notice that his hair resembles a lot to an almond.

He doesn’t look injured where he’s wiping the blood so… whose blood is it?

I glance at his right hand and I see him holding a long black staff-looking thing. The staff is thin and black with a spiral form on one of its ends. It looks very rigid even though it feels like it can be bend and molded if it so desired. I notice that the same end that looks alive was dripping with blood.

My blood?

I turn back to this man’s face and I realize that he’s been looking directly at me this all time. His eyes move to focus on the different parts where I feel the most pain as if he were looking at something worth admiring. He then turns his eyes and looks directly at mine. His expression turns into what an angry but disappointed father would look like. As he did that I felt disgusted at myself. Is he upset that I got injured? But he did this to me!

That’s right. Father did this. I started recalling everything that happened before I lost conciseness. Memories come flooding back increasing the pain that I feel from the headache. After I had arrived with Hiyori to where Father and Yato were fighting- Father was so angry. He was so… ready to kill Yato. It felt terrifying but also familiar. It felt like those times where Father punished me for Yato’s behavior but somehow this time it was worse.

I don’t know what came over me when I rushed in and pushed Yato out of the way. Maybe I just wanted to return the favor of all those times he took the bullet for me or maybe I didn’t want to see him get hurt again at the hands of Father. Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with Hiyori after the fight, maybe I just wanted someone to get the life that they wish to have.

But now look at me. I don’t even know if Yato is even alive, I left Hiyori’s side and now I’m even wishing the end of this endless torture. Everything I do, everything I am is a waste.

Pathetic.

Hiyori said I’m allowed to make mistakes, that I’m human. I’m not and I never was. The bare thought of making a mistake and being looked down upon eats me up inside until my outer shell breaks leaving me no other place else to hide.

I wish I could let myself believe that excuse, I wish I could believe in myself, believe that it’s okay to not be perfect, that its okay to fail, that its okay to not be okay. But the fact that I fail at even accepting the reality that I can’t be perfect goes to show how big of a failure I truly am.

I wish I could blame him for making me think this way but this is all on me and that would have never changed.

I did try to change, that’s why I’m here right now dying at the hands of the one I once called father. I did try to be the person Hiyori wanted me to be. Be myself. I really liked her because of that. That’s why I here instead of her.

Ironic isn’t it? The person I hate the most, the person I fear the most, is the very person I never want to let down. Maybe that’s why I’m always so scared whenever he's near. Scared to be asked, scared of a conversation, scared of not doing what’s expected of me, scared of not being enough, scared of my own shadow, scared of myself.

Maybe I don’t hate him, maybe I just hate me.

I feel whatever this life I’ve had vanishing from existence, not even leaving a dead corpse behind. It’s pretty unfair right? I got two shots at life. Two opportunities. Most don’t even get one. But not me, I got two chances at live and in both I was unwanted, despised and casted aside. Maybe third time’s the charm? If there’s even a third time.

If.

“If only” right? Those are the famous words. If only there was a third chance at life. If only I needed just the first one. If only I didn’t die so young. If only Sakura didn’t showed up. If only she didn’t succumb to god’s greatest secret. If only I had instead.

If only the gods treated me better, if only I didn’t become a nora. If only someone wanted me. If only Yato didn’t rebel. If only I was a better sister to Yato. If only Yato didn’t replace me with Yukine. If only I was less judgmental of Yukine. If only Yukine and I had met while we were both still alive. If only I had friends. If only I went to school. If only I had met my parents. If only father didn’t take me in. If only father accomplished his revenge sooner.

If only I was allowed to live like a normal girl. If only I was born.

.

.

.

But I wasn’t.

[tales-unique]

FAULTS OF THE HEART  II

Chapter 2

That night is, quite possibly, the worst night of your life, so far. No matter how you try to position yourself you manage to aggravate your wound, rendering any progress towards sleep null and void in a matter of seconds. You hiss in frustration, sitting up after what feels like hours of fighting, deciding that there was no sense in trying while you were so wound up.

You decide instead to sate your curiosity about the place you have been brought to, starting with the room you’re in. It’s bathed in iridescent moonlight, the fire having long since burnt out, which gives it an almost ethereal glow. In its prime it must have been such a beautiful place to read and study but now it sits abandoned, a sad echo of former glory. All the books, though dusty and stained with age, look to be in good condition and, despite your fatigue, you untangle yourself from your makeshift bed to peruse them. As you edge towards them the wood creaks beneath your feet and you freeze, listening for any signs of life other than yourself in the building. When you hear nothing you release the breath you had been holding, gazing in awe at all the different books before you. Some of the names you couldn’t even understand, their beautiful cursive calligraphy written in a language that was foreign to you. Perhaps the man of the house was an avid collector of interesting books? You gently trace your finger over the spines, ignoring the burn of protest in your shoulder as you move away towards an old desk that sits under the bare window. The wood is chipped and covered in a layer of dust just like the rest of the room, the items scattered about its surface also buried. Your hand disturbs a stack of papers, the paper parched from years of exposure to the sun, to see if there’s anything you can gleam from them, but the ink is so faded that you barely make out the words. You frown at the inkwell that sits near a stack of books, some of which look like writing journals, the quill stuck inside the dried up ink. The feathering had mostly vanished, decomposed until barely any were left to cling to the brittle spine. This was someone's private space once, but not any longer. All at once the feeling that you were an invader hits you like a tidal wave and, with one last somber look, you back away from the desk to look at the door. For all you knew the man could have locked you inside, to curb any possible excursions without him knowing. The thought sent a spark of fear shooting through your system and with a brisk pace you came face to face with the door. It’s old, just as the rest of the room is, and the ornate handle is a deep brass colour under the layer of dust and grime. You hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle, sucking in a deep breath to try and calm yourself. Quickly, you tell yourself, before your fear petrifies you. The grip you have on the door handle is so tight you barely register how your knuckles are turning white, or how your shoulder aches in protest at the awkward angle you're bending at, as you peek out into the dark hallway. After a cautious once over you tentatively step out, careful to tiptoe your way down the hallway so you wouldn’t alert anyone to your presence. But it was already too late for that. The man, the lone inhabitant of the abandoned place, was already awake and wandering himself when you decided to leave your room. He had been angsty knowing there was someone, a human no less, in his castle, and so, like you, sleep evaded him. Your movements were easy to trace, the vampiric blood that flowed through his veins heightening his senses to an alarming degree. Hidden in the looming shadows he follows you, all while you are unaware, to see just what it is you’re doing wandering around at such an hour. At the end of the hallway you find a grand staircase and a hazy memory clouds your mind. You remember being swept up these stairs in the arms of your nameless rescuer, the receding image of the almost comically tall doors receding as your vision grew darker, your consciousness slipping in and out. There was even a trail of drying blood leading up to where you had been left, noticed only now that you were actively looking at the floor beneath your feet. You grimace, making sure to descend on the other side of the stairs. Once at the bottom you come to stand in front of those large doors, ever imposing, and a sense of apprehension settles like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach. Although you had no idea where you were the danger of leaving while still injured with no means to protect yourself loomed threateningly, and that alone made you hesitant. Swallowing your fear you gingerly tread towards the doors, careful in opening them lest you further injure yourself. Whatever you had been expecting, or not , when you stepped out into the night, you could have said with certainty that it wouldn’t have been impaled corpses . You freeze, your blood like ice. Corpses. Impaled. On spikes . Any and all doubts you had about the dangers outside being greater than the ones inside were now none-existent. The man who lived here, the one who had saved your life , was the same man who had done this to these people. A rational person with a sane mind wouldn’t willingly do this to someone, right? No, which meant you had to leave, and quickly, or you could be next. But, oh God , how would you get past them? You barely had time to register that they were more mummified than fresh, having been there for a while, since you were back-peddling as quickly as your legs could take you. Until your back hits something solid and more alive than the doors. You let out a scream, partially from shock and from the pain sent rocketing through your arm, twisting sharply on your heel to see the doors cast open wide and none other than the man standing there, blocking your path. “You’re up late,” he speaks with a casualness that unnerves you more than anything, his gaze solemn. Your chest heaves as you stare at him with wide eyes, panic surging through your veins. Inside you're a mess of emotions that will not be tamed. Utter chaos and turmoil. When you don't respond he lets out a defeated sigh, a weary sound that betrays how worn down he has become. "If you wanted to leave you could have just said so," he muses, frowning when you recoil away from him when he moves to pass you. He stops to look at the corpses that frame the entrance but there's no feeling there. Not anymore. His hate and anger and pain has faded into nothingness, a void he had hoped he would never fall into. You watch him like a hawk the entire time, body tense. At any point he could turn on you and you had to be ready . But the moment doesn't come. There's just him, standing illuminated in the moonlight, broken. "Where would I even go, if I could leave?" The words are quiet but you can't stand the stifling silence any longer. "You could go anywhere," he answers easily, resolute. You scoff, brushing your fingertips over your bandaged wound. It stings and you wince with a hiss. "And do what? I have no money, my arm is useless right now. I'd be dead in a day or two. And that's if I don't get found by the Baron's men first." It's true that the Baron was still a threat to you, even more so now that his hunting party had been cut down, so blood would be demanded. Just not yours if you could help it. "Who are you, anyway?" You ask, changing the subject. There's so much you want to ignore at that moment so you focus on him. There's a moment of silence before he finally responds and his voice has an edge to it that you can’t quite place. You get the feeling that he’d much rather remain nameless to you, but out of politeness he must give in. How quaint. "Your people call me Alucard," he replies, turning to look at you expectantly. You quickly stumble out your name, suddenly feeling like a caged animal under the starkness of his golden gaze. They almost glow in the light, giving him a predatory air. "Well," you clear your throat, quickly stepping past the, ahem, decorations , to stand next to him at the top of the stone steps, "thank you, Alucard. I'd have died if you hadn't helped me." It's the truth; you owe him your life, and he knows it. "You are welcome," he responds slowly, awkwardly, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes before they turn heavenward. "A beautiful night, isn't it?" He's trying to ease the tension and even though it doesn't help much you appreciate the sentiment. "Yes, it's nice," you answer softly. Looking at him as he is in that moment you find that he doesn’t seem so intimidating as you had first thought and you feel ashamed for having judged him so harshly so quickly. Not that it doesn’t diminish what you have learnt from your little excursion outside the castle. After all, there were dead bodies on his front step. Maybe there was more to this than first met the eye, maybe not, but you were determined to discover the truth.

[thesanhighlordofdawn]

Together- Thesan x Peregryn Captain (Slight NSFW)

Since Thesan and his captain don’t get enough love, I decided to write a cute fic of them together. There are some spoilers for ACOSF if you haven’t read it yet so be warned and enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Apon a mountain high among the clouds stood the high lord of dawn’s personal palace shining brightly with sunstone that seemed to hold the gleaming of a thousand sunrises within it. Within the palace guarded by the most trained and hardened peregryn warriors sat Thesan, the most neutral and peaceful high lord of prythian.

Thesan, who had spent most of his day hunched over a desk going through endless piles of letters and reports, let out a long sigh as he finally finished his last document for the day. Even with the war over and most cities and towns rebuilt there were still many different issues and concerns that seemed to be appearing, especially with the human queens and Rhysand news on Feyre’s life-threatening pregnancy. After meeting with Rhysand all those months ago who had practically begged on his knees for Thesan to help him with the dire situation he and his mate faced, Thesan had feared the worst knowing that even with his powerful healing powers, anything he could do was useless. When he had gotten a letter days ago telling him that Feyre and his son had survived he had been relieved, not just for his friend’s sake but also for the rest of Prythian. 

Rubbing the exhaustion from his face, Thesan stood up and signaled his messenger to send all the finalized documents to their respective places before heading out to leave his office. Ever so slowly Thesan reached his arms up, groaning at the cracks that came from his back after sitting down for so long. Looking out the window you could see the few remaining minutes of sunset left meaning Thesan had about another hour or two before he would able to see his mate, Zyair. Deciding to call it a day, Thesan cleaned up any remaining papers on his desk before he made his way to his room.

While walking down the halls Thesan noted to nodded and waved to any maid or guard still around. Most left around the end of sundown to head home to their families except a couple of guards who took shifts throughout the night. Reaching the master bedroom, Thesan waved the two guards away by his room for some peace and privacy. Both nodded and walked away leaving the sound of armor clanking and wings flapping in their wake.

Quickly opening and closing the door, Thesan instantly sighed as he dropped his high lord façade, immediately relaxing his posture and allowed the tiredness of the day to show. Looking over at the warm and inviting bed, Thesan almost decided to forget taking a bath and just fall asleep instead but, he desperately needed to bathe and let go of some of the tension locked in his body. With slow heavy steps, Thesan walked into his bathroom, relieved to see his pool-like tub filled with steaming hot water mixed with multiple scented oils and golden-like bubbles. The steady glow of golden pink walls and waft of lavender helped ease the headache that had formed from the day. 

Not wanting to waste another second, Thesan gracefully peeled layer by layer of his formal clothing away until he was completely bare of all cloth and jewelry. Slowly stepping in, Thesan hissed at the sting of the hot water as he slowly eased in until the burning sting that had surrounded Thesan’s skin ebbed away leaving a warming comfort in its wake. Closing his eyes, Thesan felt the tension and stress of the day start to seep out of his body leaving him with a feeling of weightlessness. 

For what felt like hours, Thesan sat and soaked in the tub enjoying its relief until the sudden sound of doors opening and closing snapped him out of his blissful trance. Eye’s open, Thesan sat up more, ready to see who was there until the sound of the bathroom door rang through the air and the head of his lover appeared through the opening of the door. Thesan, knowing he was safe, relaxed and smiled at his love. 

Zyair, who had been searching for his high lord, relaxed seeing him safe and content, opened the door as he was waved inside. Softly closing it, he made his way over, careful not to knock anything down with the sheer size of his wings. Thesan gave a soft smile at him as he reached the edge of his pool-like tub.

Thesan looked up to his lover and mate, staring straight into his beautiful onyx eyes, and gave a simple Join me?”

Zyair, powerless to deny his mate anything gave a simple “Of course” before stripping himself of his sweaty and dirty armor from hours and hours of training and fighting. Thesan watched and admired Zyair’s form as piece after piece of clothing was removed. His rippling abs and bulging arms shined with sweat from hours of work.

Zyair blushed slightly at the admiring, even though they had seen each other nude hundreds of times. Thesan knowing how shy his captain was and looked back up while offering his hand which Zyair gladly gave. Arranging comfortably, Thesan eased his back against Zyair’s chest leaving no space between them as Zyair quickly wrapped himself around Thesan after comfortably arranging his wings.

After sitting together for a minute in silence enjoying each other’s presence, Thesan turned and tilted his head whispering “I love you” before sealing his lips to Zyair’s. Zyair was quick to respond, brushing his tongue against Thesans bottom lip asking for permission which Thesan gladly gave, before deepening the kiss. Both fought against their need for oxygen as their tongues danced together. Eventually, both had to pull away. Both rested their foreheads against each other, panting as they tried to catch their breath. Even after accepting their bond months ago both still felt the constant frenzy to be wrapped in each other arms away from the rest of the world.

Zyair leaned closer and kissed the tip of Thesan’s nose before claiming “I love you too”

Thesan gave a low hum before asking “How was your day?”

Zyair gave a long sigh “Frustrating, after losing so many soldiers in the war it’s become difficult to find more men that are willing to join the guard. Anyone we can find that is willing has almost no experience in fighting or training ”

“My poor mighty warrior” Thesan laughed. Zyair gave a quick pinch to Thesan backside causing him to gasp and gave a playful splash. 

Zyair chuckled as he wiped the water off his face before nuzzling into Thesan neck asking “And yours?”

Thesan groaned at the thought “The documents and reports I’ve been getting seem to grow more every day, it doesn’t help that Beron and the human queens seem to be acting up.”

Zyair faced hardened at the reminder of the possible looming war that could break out, having read the report Thesan had gotten from the high lord and lady of the night courting days ago.

“Whatever happens we do together” Zyair stated, staring deep into Thesan’s eyes. Thesan gave him a slight nod, not trusting his voice as he reached for Jian’s hand

“Let me help you relax” Zyair mumbled while kissing the top of Thesan’s damp hair hoping that it would distract them both from the uncertainties the future faced.

Thesan gave a slight nod, shifting to get comfortable enough for whatever Zyair planned. Zyair immediately grabbed the shampoo bottle, pouring a generous amount in his hand as he started lightly messaging the suds through Thesan’s soft hair.

Thesan leaned his head into the pressure, almost purring at the feel of Zyair’s fingers through his hair. Once Zyair removed his fingers, Thesan took the hint to dunk and wash the suds out; repeating the same step with the conditioner. Once his hair was clean Zyair grabbed a nearby rag and bar of soap, lathering it up before brushing it against Thesan skin. 

Starting from the neck, Zyair washed every nook and cranny of Thesan, grazing softly of his nipples and chest before going lower. Thesan let out a series of soft moans as he felt Zyair move the rag lower and lower, softly going around and over his obvious arousal. Finishing soon after, Thesan turned around giving his love a grateful kiss before quickly withdrawing. Confused, Zyair looked up.

Thesan gave a soft smile before motioning him to turn around “Your turn”

Zyair quickly turned letting Thesan drag the rag up and around his chest. Zyair stayed silent for a couple of minutes enjoying the feel of his mate’s hands-on him before gasping suddenly at a new sensation. Turning, Zyair watched as Thesan softly brush his hand over the smaller, softer feathers at the base of his wing, carefully tracing up the ridges of the fragile bones. His wings flex and stretch against the satisfying ache that echoes through his muscles as a spike of arousal shot through him. 

“Unless you want to stay in this tub for a while or so I suggest we take this somewhere else” Zyair growled lowly, eyes shinning with unspoken promises.

Thesan inhaled sharply before pulling Zyair out of the tub and towards their bed before giving in to the carnal desire that had been building between them.

Hours after, the two laid together in each other’s arms. Zyair’s arms wrapped tightly around Thesan, allowing him to hear the steady beat of his love’s heart as he fell into a deep sleep. It was at moments like this that Thesan thank the Mother every day that they both had found each other, knowing how many times they had come close to losing each other, even before they had confessed their love for each other. Snuggling closer, Thesan allowed himself to fall into sleeps embrace knowing that whatever the future held, they’d face it together until the very end.

[countessmorgasson]

Your Wish is My Command

Spicy Nadia x MC! It’s been a long day, but Nadia still has some bossing around to do ;)

Gender Neutral MC

(Disclaimer: 🍋 warning)

When Nadia summoned you down to her chambers for her nightly bath, you were ecstatic. You hadn’t seen her all day- she was particularly swamped with meetings and preparations this week.

It was almost time for the annual masquerade.  Even with Count Lucio out of the way, the town of Vesuvia had grown accustomed to the yearly parties- and frankly, you had to admit they were fun when Nadia was in charge. 

Unfortunately for the two of you, preparations took over the entire day and most of the night, leaving Nadia too exhausted to even sit for dinner with you. Tonight seemed to be an exception.

You rush to fix your hair in the mirror- you want to look your best, even if you’ll be under the water when you’re with her.

You throw on your bathrobe and head down the hall...

-

Nadia’s already relaxing in the water by the time you’re there. She’s got a weary look on her face which soon brightens at the sight of you. Even so, she’s nearly radiating with tension. No wonder she’s already gotten in the water.

“Oh, good. Join me, darling. The water’s so warm.”

She beckons for you with her manicured hands. Her bathrobe’s long gone now, set aside and folded neatly. 

You don’t hesitate anymore. You used to blush at the thought of undressing yourself in front of her. As time passed, you’ve come to realize that she actually enjoys the sight of you, believe it or not. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” you start. Nadia waves it away.

“For you? I’d wait as long as it takes.”   

When your robe falls to the floor, you notice that playful spark ignite in Nadia’s expression; she looks you over with a raised eyebrow.

You know that look.

Wading into the water, the contrast between the warm bath and cold air draw goosebumps along your skin. You muscles react instinctively to the hot water and relax, letting you fall nearly limp in Nadia’s embrace.  The sun begins to set outside, and the golden skies pour in though the window that overlooks all of Vesuvia. Of course the nicest bathing chamber in the palace would belong to the Countess, but you? You still look around this room in awe.  You can’t believe you’re here sometimes- with Nadia. The Countess herself.

Soon, you’re running your hands over her bronze skin, marveling over how soft she feels. Was it even humanly possible for someone to be so... perfect?  That’s the only word you can think of, it’s perfect. She’s perfect.

She sighs when you work your hands into a soft massage, starting with her shoulders.

“I must admit, I’ve been looking forward to this moment since I woke this morning,” Nadia purrs.

“You planned out this far?” Why are you surprised? She thinks of everything.

Digging deeper, you press your fingers into her shoulders, down her back, along her arms until the tension begins to leave her body. Occasionally you’ll press a kiss to her shoulders, just because you love to hear the way she giggles when you do it.

The water’s cooled, and to your surprise, Nadia’s risen from the pool immediately. The light from the sunset continues to seep in from the window, setting a golden glow over her wet skin. 

“Going so soon?” You ask.

“Not exactly.”

Nadia approaches you, and in her hands is a box. You lean forward to get a good look. It’s a luxurious dream; massage oils and lotions galore. Flower petals, bath salts, all the works. 

“What do you say we find... a different way to keep ourselves warmed up?”

Yes. Yes! A million times yes, you think. Instead of responding aloud, your eyes just linger on the box while you make your plans. There are so many things you could get up to with those tonight... 

Finally, you manage to look up- Nadia’s patient gaze is fixed on you. 

“Absolutely,” you finally sputter, and you come to realize that you’ve got that dopey smile on your face. You can feel it, how the corners of your lips lift up into a curve- you must look so silly. 

You soon stop worrying about the expression on your face when Nadia starts guiding your hands over her skin- starting with her neck. You rub lavender-scented oils into her skin- slowly. 

She’s even scattered some petals across the bath- but you’re much too focused on what’s in front of you to admire them.

“You’re still so tense,” you mutter to yourself. 

“I suppose I am...” Your eyes meet, and your hands glide down onto her chest, her stomach...

Part of you waits for her to whine, or moan- something. But she’s still got her eyes locked on you and a haughty smile on her lips. 

“Don’t tell me you’re feeling shy all of a sudden, m/c.” She reaches forward and slides her fingers down your chest. “Perhaps asking nicely doesn’t do the trick.”

The words send a warm flush through you- and you’re all-too aware of how hard your heart’s pumping, but you don’t catch the smile in your voice when you respond. 

“You are the Countess. Maybe you should order me around a bit.”

“I see.”

For a moment you wonder if it’s magic, the way that her eyes send a thrill through you. Goosebumps break around your skin again, even in lukewarm water. Nadia holds her tongue and maneuvers the two of you around until you’re leaning against the wall of the pool, and she’s directly up against you. 

So close... you can hear her heartbeat... 

And she parts her lips to speak.

“Kiss me.”

You cup her cheek and lean in, but she catches your hand in mid-air and pulls away. 

“Not here.” She raises an eyebrow, and by now you’re too flustered to speak.

So you follow her orders, starting by kissing along her jawline. You shut your eyes, admiring the softness of her skin and the smell of her perfume. Taking your time, you leave kisses along her ear and down to her neck, half-expecting her to stop you again.  She doesn’t- she looks down on you with the most peculiar smile on her face- like she’s... smug. 

By now, you’re leaving sloppy kisses on her chest and breasts- leaving marks where no one else will see. You’re secretly so desperate to hear her moan; the only sound you want to hear is your name through her voice. But she remains quiet- knowing that it’s exactly what you’re craving. 

“M/c.” She’s icy enough to send more shivers down your spine. You break free, and she hoists herself up along the edge of the pool- leaving you at eye level with her hips- you have to look up to her to see her expression.

Almost as if you were on your knees for her.

“Please, Nadia...” your words somehow feel warm against your tongue. “Let me worship you.”

Just the idea of it gets you off- and Nadia’s amused smile proves that she’s taken notice.  

“Well then. What are you waiting for?” She tilts her head to the side expectantly, eyeing you up and down like she’s waiting to see what your next move is... or maybe she’s watching your body language- noticing the way your hands tremble as you fuss over her, or how you bit your lip before kissing along her thighs.

You almost forget about the massage oils. You scramble to rub more into her skin- starting with her legs. You’re going to take your time with her. After all, she’s looked forward to this all day- who are you to deny her what she wants?

When you’re satisfied with the massage you’ve given her, you lean forward and run your lips along her legs, showering her with compliments that you’re not sure she even hears.

“Go on, magician.” she eggs on. “Please me.”

Finally!

“...As you wish.”

Every inch of her skin smells sweet- tastes sweet. From her legs to her inner thighs to her hip bones, you kiss and lick like you’re hungry for her. You’ve melted into her hold, gently gripping her by the thighs before pushing your face in between her legs.

She twitches at the first touch, but strains to hold back any moans.  I suppose I’ll have to earn that, you smirk to yourself. 

You eat her out like your life depends on it. The moment your tongue reaches her you can feel her entire body settle into relaxation.

The water around you is going cold, but you hardly notice it. Your own heart pounds against your chest and you moan like you’re the one on the receiving end. You can’t help it- it’s just too good. She’s too good; the way her fingers brush against your hair when she pets you, and when a whimper escapes her lips... the pool could turn into ice water and you wouldn’t dare break away.

It feels so good to pleasure her- it’s an honor.

“That’s right, m/c... good...” Even her sultry voice begins to waver as she nears the edge, but you’re losing yourself in her. 

You almost don’t hear it when she comes.

A shudder, sigh, and then...

“M/c...”

Her grip on your hair loosens, and you rear your head back, admiring the blush lighting up her face. 

Before she can catch her breath, she lowers herself back into the water and embraces you again- pulling in for a deep kiss, tasting herself on your lips.

“!”

“Did you think I wouldn’t make sure you’re taken care of?” Even breathless, she sounds so seductive- so domineering. 

You must have really set her off- she returns the favor tenfold, kissing every inch of your neck and chest, just like you had to her. 

The two of you rock against the water, oblivious to the soggy flowers sticking to your skin. You’re lost in her again- the position you’re in has one of her legs rubbing against your sweet spot, sending you into ecstasy. You didn’t realize how close you were until you were on the receiving end. 

“Relax for me, dear.” Nadia purrs in your ear, locking you into place.

You grind against her a little harder- unashamed to let yourself moan for her.  It just feels... she makes you feel incredible. You can only hope you did the same for her.

The oil on her skin makes your movements so smooth, so easy to...

“Ahhh...”  You rear your head back and dig your fingers into Nadia’s skin, careful not to leave any more marks. 

You ride out your climax in a daze, only aware of Nadia’s hold on you and the smell of lavender. 

-

For a moment it feels like you’ve lost all your other senses.  Nadia has to kiss your forehead to bring you back to reality, and only then are you aware of just how cold the water’s gotten. How long were you two in here?

“What do you say we head to bed a little early tonight? I’ll have a bottle of Golden Goose sent up for us.” Nadia traces her fingers along your goosebumps, her own arms breaking out in chills as well.

When you look at her, it’s like you’re seeing a different version of the Countess. She’s actually relaxed for once- and it’s such a lovely sight to see.  If you could, you’d give her the entire world. You’d take on all her meetings, her responsibilities, just to keep that look in her eyes.

But for the rest of the night, it seems like a glass of wine and a cuddle will do.

“Anything you say, my dear.”