#which was already so difficult to let go of

[chaldeanu]

think twice ノ sunday

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 3.9k ノ fem reader — reader is sunday’s subordinate . i won’t say maid specifically (not this time lol) but you know the deal with my penacony fics hehe ノ nipple play . tit play . lots of touching and sucking ノ petnames — little bird . dove . darling . doll ノ a pinch of mind break . obedience and corrections . calling him “sir” ノ fucking against the wall . cumming inside . making a mess ノ sunday acting weird . lots of references to harmony and birds and cages and sins ノ proofread mostly done but i gave up — forgive any repeats or mistakes ♡

“now,” he trails off with a subtle voice. his gloved hand finds its place on your chest, squeezing your tit featherly yet enough to make you wince. “i remember we were talking about what would happen if you failed me again... and what if you successfully completed your task, yes?”

“yes, sir…” to say these two words is difficult, oddly enough, whilst your answer gets stuck in your throat and you fear that you’ll misspell even the simplest sentence. “and that i should always think twice.”

“exactly. think twice.”

you watch his palm slowly rise and fall to the rhythm of your uneven breaths. his digits gradually wrap around your clothed skin in a delicate but demanding gesture, a vine of obsession.

there is no way back — once sunday asks you to do something for him, there’s no refusal possible.

only compliance.

the young leader of the oak family glances over his shoulder as you feel another person behind you, but he silently orders them to leave before they can notice anything going on between you two. however, that short, tense situation was enough to harden your nipples from the cold sweat. something he immediately felt under his fingers.

“your body betrays your feelings right now. are you nervous or excited? tell me, which one is it? and, kindly, please don’t lie to me.” his whisper travels to your ears so clearly that you wonder how anyone can remain unbothered by his sultry voice — you certainly cannot.

“b-both.”

he reaches out and strokes your face lightly while tilting it up just enough to make you look into his eyes. then he descends lower and grips onto your chin to keep you in place; you involuntarily let out a moan of shame and delight. his smirk grows wider, for he takes great pleasure in playing with your tit while hearing all these cute sounds and seeing your confused expressions. when his other hand also finds its way onto your clothed breast and both of them circle the nipples so gently, your knees tremble.

trying to pull away from the sensation that is almost painful, but you regretfully fail since he presses your back against a wall with no further escape. sunday leans forward to bring himself closer, as if he wanted to catch each of your shaky exhales and have them only for himself.

to gather a moment to breathe is a miracle; time counts with the pounding of your heart. but the break lasts shortly before he’s on you again, this time to pinch your nipples in a torturous fashion. you find yourself melting under his touch, face growing hotter and hotter with every second of this silent assault.

“already a mess when you’re still fully clothed. it makes me wonder how you would act if i used my tongue instead… would it feel good for you? oh, my poor little angel… i hope you aren’t imagining it, not right now… correct?” he teases, only to pull down the frills of your deep collar with one quick motion.

how pitiful it is that you will probably ruin such a pretty set, he thinks with a gentle smirk, evaluating the sight of your revealed cleavage, squeezed deliciously by the laced hem from both sides.

he kneads at your soft breasts without hurry and occasionally pulls at them playfully while pinching your hard buds in between, and your mind blurs out from the sensations. his beautiful face comes closer to yours with his shimmering gaze fixed on your own, the glow resembling honey gold and drowning you in an ocean of warmth.

the luxurious perfume reaches your nose when he leans to kiss you. everything inside screams that maybe you really should refuse him and withdraw. lips on lips, like velvet caressing the skin, lulling you to believe that it’s only wise to stay obedient under his grip, all while his breath fans over your features until you close your eyes out of anticipation.

that’s expected, and he chuckles knowingly at your blind expression — he stops being shy. he takes hold of your wrist and moves your own hand to press it to your mouth just when you are about to moan too loudly, covering needy whimpers as he descends to nuzzle his face against your tit.

teeth biting on the inside of your cheek, driven crazy but faithful, like he wanted, because you don’t want to disappoint him. sunday kisses around your sensitive peak while purposely avoiding its centre, just to tease you even further and see how frustrated you can get from his games. his free palm continues to squeeze it roughly to your dismay, or perhaps it’s entirely because of that.

the same pair of lips that had been sucking on your boob is now moving up to your jawline so softly that it sends shivers through your entire body while they brush past your skin and reach your ear, his breathing not much steadier than yours.

“i believe that you must be suffering a lot here, am i correct? look at your poor body shaking already.” the harmonious voice fills up your mind; the whisper flows right into your consciousness.

to emphasise his point, his hand reaches for your leg, slowly crawling up until it rests upon your inner thigh. but just as he moves his glove further inside to make contact with your covered heat, his thumb just barely grazes your sensitive clit over the thin fabric and makes you mewl in desperation immediately.

tease until you are nothing but a trembling mess — it’s his favourite, how he always takes his time playing with you in more ways than one. you bite back the wail before it gets louder by reflex and hide your face in the crook of his neck, letting his palm run along your outer folds through your underwear.

stimulating, yes, but not giving enough.

“how pitiful it is that you try so desperately to conceal yourself. do you want me to see what i have done to you or not, angel?”

a ragged whisper is all you spew out while your vision turns cloudy; liquid diamonds gather between your lashes as his thumb presses against your throbbing bundle of nerves and circles it in agonisingly slow motions.

at the same moment, he brings his lips down to your other exposed tit to suck your hard nipple leisurely with such delicate gestures. that is, until he bites the pebbled skin roughly and your voice responds. you try to shift yourself to slip away from his attention, but he merely giggles together with the flicks done back and forth over your clit, drawing another high-pitched moan out of your chest.

how close you are to falling apart — sunday knows each reaction from memory. his hot touch travels lower to where the lace of your undergarments is sticking to your skin, your panties soaked through completely from his persistent work, and he slides one digit in between your puffy folds with no difficulty.

the silk feels divine, a godly presence bestowed upon your body, as it presses up against your bundle of nerves until you’re unable to articulate any of the desires that tighten around your heart.

“poor little bird, can’t endure it without sliding down a wall. dove, you would fall completely if it wasn’t for the support i offer. just what shall we do about you? your sweet whines… they’re driving me insane, darling.” you feel how he breathes against your sensitive chest, goosebumps appearing even though he’s so warm.

as he says these words, his gloves carefully unwrap your clothes, uncovering more of your bare thighs. a shaky exhale leaves your lips at the special attention he gives to the entrance of your cunt, brushing his fingers delicately in circular motions while whispering tender things into your ears.

it feels so good. it’s useless to deny the cravings — the delirious flame he feeds so tenderly to let it burn more. he knows exactly what he’s doing with his experienced hands, pressing deeper inside so easily thanks to your dripping essence, right before withdrawing them just as abruptly. you mewl at his cruel treatment, and your hips instinctively chase after his fingertips.

this little rebellion takes your entire courage to finally muster up enough strength to grab his shoulders, to steady yourself, and to force him to slow down.

he lets you do as you wish for a moment, taking pleasure in your impatience whilst he rubs himself between your folds to soak the fabric with your juices until it sticks to your dewy flesh, causing you to grind against him needily again. and yet again, he stops.

“why should i spoil you that much?” he asks; meanwhile, his digits slide away from your swollen nub. “or, should i rather say — why must you continue to look so innocent? i love how you try to hide your true face. no one can see the gloss of your skin, soiled under my kisses, or how your body responds to my words. i could watch you all night, just like this, if i only could…” he smirks mischievously at your incessant tantrum, a smug glint flashing across his eyes as they return to your own.

you gasp and whimper pathetically in reply since you’re unable to form coherent words anymore, much less make proper retorts. he watches your features twist with shame, gently cradling your face while leaning closer to breathe onto your skin with an exhale filled with yearning, his lips barely grazing the arch of your brow.

and then suddenly, the tension disappears, and sunday pushes you forward with no effort. with his forceful arms, he forces your legs wider and swiftly slams his own hips between them, embracing your waist and burying his nose into your soft neck. he immediately sinks his teeth into it with no hesitation, leaving you squealing from shock and pleasure alike, his grip so harsh that he will surely leave marks that will remind you of his demands later.

“dove, please, open my pants. quickly, now…”

you comply without question, knowing he’ll reward you handsomely for this, and shakily take ahold of his belt, which is cold under your touch and somehow gives you a pleasant thrill that only increases with each second. the buckle is decorated with a gilded pattern of polished metal, and your hands tremble slightly as they move to unfasten it.

the moment you’re busy undoing the clasp, he grip the fist around your wrists to prevent you from finishing the job — he does it himself, quite impatient, and holds you close enough for his pink cockhead to press against your clit hidden behind the dewy lace.

sunday grins triumphantly with a certain amount of arrogance; he takes pleasure in watching you tremble beneath his own frame, savouring your strangled gasps and whimpers, but that is not enough for him to release his hold on your cottony limbs.

you let him move your panties to the side to rub his tip with slippery strings of arousal, clinging to his arms like a trembling leaf to a branch whilst he’s busy doing so. your chest heaves erratically as your nipples brush against the fabric of his suit, worsening their fatigued state.

soon he cannot stop himself from teasing you further, so he presses his palm over your sensitive clit and spreads your slick all over your pussy before inserting his two digits back into your heat. with a single thrust, he drives his fingertips straight against your most sensitive spot, a jolt of ecstasy coursing through you along with it, nearly disrobing you of the last shreds of your sanity.

“no, sir… please, i want you— your cock, please…” you beg.

but sunday does not listen. he only smiles softly while observing your squirming figure underneath his pristine form before murmuring, his tone as gentle as a lullaby.

“don’t worry, angel, i will fill you with everything that you desire… so just wait a little longer. for now, i want to ensure that you’re ready.” he explains, stroking your walls with ease.

despite your protests, you can’t help but whimper. your mind turns into a mush, lost in the sensations, and all you can focus on is how your entire body aches for him — aching for something that you're not yet sure about — but all he does is just pump inside until he can’t find any resistance within. you hear yourself babbling out an apology at some point, but that makes you look pathetic.

when he notices it, his expression immediately changes into a frown.

“darling,” he coos, saccharine sweet, as if speaking to a frightened kitten. “you aren’t feeling guilty, no? for showing me how much you enjoy this? such silly thoughts do not fit you at all. especially when you should know by now that i’m more than glad to accept.”

he looks directly into your eyes after finishing the sentence, his golden pupils locking you in place. they burn brighter and more fiercely than any fire. what lies beyond his gaze — perhaps it is passion itself, raw and untamed yet neither violent nor destructive. it merely wants to consume your entire existence so thoroughly that you may never come to realise how completely it devours you until there’s nothing left.

maybe the only reason he won’t go all out is because you willingly give yourself to him repeatedly, the very proof being the liquid of your love leaking from the crevices of his palm.

before you can respond, sunday leans his upper half over to take you by surprise with a swift kiss, successfully muffling your cry when he grabs the underside of your thighs and sets you over his aching cock. your cunt’s already welcoming him with wet melodies, spilling all over his shaft.

although his fingers have made your body loose enough for the entire length to slip into your needy pussy in a single motion, it’s no easy task. it surprises you at first, as he pushes right through the ring of your hole with relative ease and slides all the way back in one continuous thrust until his pelvis presses flush against yours, but that soon dissipates when you clench desperately around him.

you sob, feeling him cover you entirely, every inch of his skin connecting with yours while his salivating tongue enters your mouth to steal the rosy kiss, a promise unbroken that once again you let yourself be claimed by sin. he tastes as delicious as he looks and as he smells — something like expensive incense mixed with a faint trace of sweetness — which makes you unable to resist sucking on his lips harder than before, which causes a chuckle to rise from his throat.

after breaking apart to allow air between you two, sunday leans towards the crook of your neck, his beloved harbour where he can hide from the world, and nibbles gently over the pulse point, like a snake inflicting its venom.

you shudder, losing balance for a moment and slipping by an inch or two from his grasp because he lets his hand cup your chin instead of supporting the underside of your thighs. you have to react, wrapping your calves around his hips like a rope that will bind you two together. and he tilts your face so that you may gaze upon him, directly into his eyes.

“i would like to apologise for the short notice… however, you are taking me in so wonderfully that i do not have it in me to stop. it almost feels as though your body is melting under me. am i not correct in assuming that much, my dove?”

a timid nod from you makes him grin from ear to ear.

“well then, if that is so, i must repay your generosity in full. i could not bear to disappoint you, after all.”

“that’s not it! i didn’t mean—” you stammer out, but it takes a great deal of effort just to talk through the haze in your mind. you feel like you’ve been injected with some kind of poison. his words. sentimental orders. every time his length prods against your fluttering walls, your heart seems to swell in your chest as though you were an overflowing river bursting out of the banks, threatening to spill over.

he chuckles once more before bending down and planting a firm kiss at the junction where your shoulder meets your neck.

“of course, i know what you meant to say. that’s why i don’t plan to stop even if you ask me to, though that isn’t necessarily required since you’re doing so beautifully without using your words…”

he moves his mouth back to your ear so that you can feel the breath tickle against the erogenous flesh; he whispers anything, everything, meaningless compliments to fill the void of the grand ceiling above, his voice reverberating through your bones and resonating in your system like the strums of a harp.

slow but steady strokes push his balls forward against your folds. his cock brushes against the roof of your soaked walls, hitting upon spots that send waves of ecstasy surging up your spine and shooting straight into your brain, but the sensation lasts for a mere second, and he is already withdrawing to repeat the motions again, giving you no time to adjust and instead merely causing more warmth to flood your groin while you struggle to comprehend what’s happening.

his pace gradually hastens, and the muscles of his arms clench in a manner similar to your own thighs squeezing around his hips as they threaten to cramp under the immense pressure building within them. your nipples slide across the slick material of his suit and continue to graze against his chest. you can feel his heartbeat drumming out an irregular rhythm beneath your breasts, but it matches perfectly with yours, nonetheless.

the air in your lungs vanishes suddenly, and your hands tighten their grip on the silk of his shirt in an attempt to steady yourself. a particularly sharp shove against your sweet spot causes a yelp to burst out of your throat without warning, bringing forth tears that flow freely down your cheeks. bucking your hips against his and slamming your legs together, squeezing him with all your might, both physically and emotionally — like the cage he wouldn’t mind being trapped in.

it’s so overwhelming. it’s too much. his scent, his sweet praises, and his talented touch roaming your heated skin. your knees quake as you try to remain upright and avoid collapsing altogether.

but sunday does not falter or relent in the slightest. his palms firmly grab onto your ass, helping you rock against his erection. the wet squelches and slaps echo around the room, growing louder and more frequent, and your nails dig into his shoulders.

“wonderful. your tightness feels just wonderful, my dove. i hope that you will continue to cling to me as such in the future, too,” he sighs, pressing his lips to your jawline before moving along and nuzzling at your collarbone, licking up a trail from your neck to your chin with his tongue. you respond to his affections eagerly, tossing your head from side to side whilst lust engulfs your brain, allowing your mouth to fall agape so he can swallow your moans of pleasure greedily and suck your saliva from your mouth.

he snaps against you, practically rutting you into submission until your juices ooze everywhere around his cock and create a slippery mess on your thighs that drips drop by drop on the floor, syrupy strings of what is called ‘making love’.

he’s obviously getting off just as much as you do from this profane connection, judging by the way his breaths grow ragged, struggling to maintain equilibrium amidst laboured gasps, and his pupils are blown out completely until all you can see are ultramarine circles ringed with bright yellow light.

“and… my adorable doll, you deserve nothing less than the best. i swear that i’ll spoil you… oh, i promise to spoil you rotten,” he utters between his groans, noting the sheen of sweat coating your skin.

with your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his length ramming your honeyed spot repeatedly, it isn’t long before you cannot stop yourself from crying out loudly, releasing all your pent-up feelings. your walls clench spastically around his shaft until they reach a new height of sensitivity; it overwhelms everything else, and your climax hits, a lightning running along your nerves, knocking the air from your lungs in a strangled gasp.

“that’s it, love. you look beautiful, so please let yourself go, angel… aah—!” he grunts as soon as his hips lock against yours, his cock twitching rapidly inside you while pumping cum deep within your womb, the white essence mingling together with a squirting fluid that drenches his lower abdomen.

the shared orgasms happen at once.

the highest form of harmony for your bodies to sync so perfectly; you can’t help but tremble in absolute delight, savouring the closeness of having your lover pour all of himself into you as he did. feeling the way he fills you up and douses your insides while simultaneously drawing out the delirious experience until his countenance blurs before your eyes.

with little steps and fatigue pressing you down, finally coming to your fucked-out senses. before you can gather the thoughts, he pulls out with a shattered gasp, putting your panties back where they should remain, trapping the mixed slick of his cum and your juices between your battered folds and the silk fabric.

too much. he always gives you too much of his love — and too little space to breathe in this carnal abyss, it seems.

yet, there is no better place to drown in the heat of passion, for you cannot imagine anything greater than sunday smothering you in all your most exquisite desires, risking his reputation just for a moment of entrapment that doesn't feel suffocating around his throat. you're cradled in his embrace and sighing shallowly, feeling the hot stickiness dripping from your thighs, spreading beneath you like a sinful halo on the ornate floor.

“do you still remember your lesson from today?”

“that i should always think twice before taking action…”

“exactly. yet, it appears that you did not apply that wisdom when opening your legs for me, sweet little bird,” he notes, embracing your body like you are a piece of art and kissing your damp forehead tenderly.

“i apologise, sir… i—”

“no, that’s quite alright. i want to be your first choice. always.”

[mssainz]

PART 2 | INTRUDER

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

Summary: YN found out that Carlos invited his ex to their wedding.

Warning: Angst, typos

“We can make it work. Long distance relationships will work. Trust me, trust us please. Break up is not the answer,” Carlos pleaded to her. She pulled her hand from Carlos.

“Carlos, it will be difficult for us. Yeah, it might work but it would be a torture. It would be something that we do not want,” She explained to him. 

His tears were running nonstop down to his face. “No, please. Lia please, don't do this to me. Lia, we can work it out. Lia please.” Carlos begged for her to stay. He insists that long distance relationships would work for them but her thoughts say the opposite.

“I'm sorry Carlos. Maybe in the future, we can meet again. If that happens maybe we are really meant for each other. But for now, we have to let each other go. I'm sorry,” She said, ending the conversation and leaving Carlos devastated.

After the breakup, Carlos has to keep his composure to continue with his life, with his career. He tries to ignore the pain and voidness that he is feeling. He occupied his mind and time with working out, playing, watching, and anything that would keep him busy.

While watching his favorite cartoons, someone whispered in ears. 

“Aren't you too old for this?”

“YN?” Carlos' eyes widened as he saw her best friend whom he hadn't seen for years. She immediately opened his arms and they shared a warm embrace.

“I miss you, when did you get here?” Carlos said, beginning the conversation.

“I have been here for an hour or two already. But you're so occupied watching some kid's show or something,” 

“Hey, cartoons are not just for kids,” Carlos revoke.

“Yeah, yeah don't get feisty I'm just kidding,” YN replied, teasing her best friend.

Ever since YN came back, they were inseparable. For months, they are always together allowing Carlos to forget what he's been through. He was just happy whenever she's around. Not until he started to realize that he is actually falling for her best friend. 

Carlos knew that his parents always wanted him to marry you ever since. They were actually against his previous relationship because they only trust YN to really take good care of him and love him for who he is.

YN and Carlos started dating and got engaged. They were preparing for their wedding, when an unexpected guest came back to Carlos’ life.

“Carlos,” A woman from a far called for him.

“Lia,” Carlos responded as soon as she saw the woman in black. YN was so confused with the sudden change of expression of his fiancé. 

Lia walks towards him, not minding YN beside him. YN was shocked by the sudden gesture of the woman who she just saw.

“I'm here now. I miss you,” Lia whispered in his ears, which YN clearly heard. Carlos just stands there frozen, also hugging Lia.

YN cleared her throat to catch her fiancé’s attention. “Uhm, Lia this is my fiancé, YN. And YN, this is Lia…” 

“His ex-girlfriend” Lia continued his sentence. YN felt uncomfortable how casual it is for Carlos to introduce her to his ex-girlfriend. It was so awkward for her how sweet her gestures are and how Carlos just let her be.

YN quickly glance at her message popping at the lock screen of his fiancé. Carlos immediately swipes the notification and grabs his phone.

YN and Carlos decided to have a simple private wedding. She was looking at the guest list. There she saw the name of his ex.

[vampiricgf]

☆ SUNBEAM STRAWBERRY KISS

ᝰ googling "how to make strawberry crepes" shouldn't have been so troublesome

frat boy satoru x reader, reader is shorter than him, use of petnames (baby, princess), set in the same universe as my frat boy au, sfw he's just bad at cooking but tries really hard for you :(

With a groan Satoru leans against his elbows on the countertop. Why was this so difficult? Every video he'd watched made it look like a breeze, you just spread batter thinly over the griddle and then flip it. Simple.

His eyes find the pile of soggy, ripped cast offs laying forlornly on the counter. So why had every attempt ended the same? Nearly torn in half at the crucial moment of the flip, or left half cooked which shouldn't even be possible given how thin they were they should've cooked in minutes.

Groaning he stands, running his hands down his face thinking about how he'd gotten here. Strawberries weren't in season yet so he'd spent a good bit of time tracking some down after you mentioned the other day that strawberry crepes were your favorite and it was always exciting for you when restaurants had them back on their menus.

The filling was boiled, sieved, and smashed to perfection already and he'd been up late last night following an instructional video on how to make the cream filling. He'd even saved some of the sugar syrup to drizzle on top when it was all put together.

But now his stomach was doing flips and not the welcome kind he gets from looking at you or hearing your laugh. These are from the idea of disappointing you, serving you a plate of ripped, pathetic almost crepes and having you do that polite thing people do when they're served something awful but it's by someone they care about so they won't just say it's bad. His heart can't even take the barest thought of you not liking something he's done.

With a deep breath, centering himself, he decides to keep going. There's only a little batter left, so maybe he'll get a lucky break or a hail mary and these will be the ones that come out perfectly.

With his shoulders squared he took a measuring cup full of the batter and spread it on the still hot griddle, in one smooth circular motion just like the video. So far so good. The smell of slightly sweet warming batter filled the kitchen, making him grin. There's no way this one could come out bad, but the moment was nearly upon him again.

The dreaded flip. It's okay, you can do this. Just slide the spatula beneath them, easy does it, and then flip. Gotta have confidence.

The groan that rings around the kitchen sounds more similar to a wounded animal than a man, and in a huff he throws the newly torn crepe into the mountainous pile of failures. Maybe he should put a plaque there. Monument to Gojo Satoru, man who couldn't even make his girlfriend a plate of crepes.

Fuck.

Would it be so bad to just go out and buy some? Maybe some plain ones so they could be half home made, it would still count since he made the filling right? Would you be able to tell? Would it disappoint you?

Oh no.

He can hear your sweet giggle floating down the hallway towards the fraternity house kitchen before he sees you and immediately he breaks out in a cold sweat. The idea of you seeing his failure monument was too much, too embarrassing. He's supposed to be good at everything, you can't see this.

Quickly he grabs the plate of reject crepes but he's moving too quickly, trying to make them disappear too hurriedly and in the blink of an eye the plate goes flying from his grasp as he smacks his left hip off the edge of the countertop, shattering against the tile floor.

Wincing it takes all his presence of mind to not immediately let out a stream of shouted curses, but of course at just that moment the door opens and there you are.

Perfect, magical, gorgeous, infuriating you.

"Oh my god Satoru, are you okay?"

You rush over without thinking and he loves you for it, leans into your touch against the side of his face with a whine in the back of his throat.

"M'okay baby, I can get that in a second." His own voice sounds so melancholy to his ears, it's enough to make him visibly droop like a wilted flower. He doesn't want you cleaning up his mess, not when it was supposed to be a nice surprise for you.

"What even happened, were you cooking something?" You eye the mess behind him at the stovetop, pots and pans sitting in the skin soaking in now cooled bubbly water.

"Yeah... It was supposed to be a surprise. For you." He winces again, rubbing gentle circles against his throbbing hip bone but he doesn't miss the tiny smile you give him.

"A surprise for me? What were you making me Toru?" You let go of him, wandering behind towards the bowls containing the fruity syrupy filling and the thick, fluffy cream before gingerly swiping your pinky through each one.

"Strawberries! Wait, you remembered about the crepes?" You said incredulously, turning back to him with wide eyes.

God you're so sweet, so cute.

Sheepishly he smiles back at you, "You said they're your favorite so I wanted you to have them."

You come back in front of him, on top toes to reach his face before planting an adorable kiss to his cheek with another giggle. It nearly makes him melt, a Satoru puddle that would seep out around your feet with little cartoon hearts floating above it. He loves the way you make him feel, soft and warm. You deserve the world, not just strawberry crepes.

"I don't want all the work you did to go to waste, how about we pop those in the fridge and try to find some crepes at the store?" You talk animatedly, already moving to cover and place the bowls in the fridge and he can't help but stare at you incredulously, like you were some kind of psychic.

His long strides carry him quickly across the kitchen to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing your back into his chest, humming with his cheek pressed to your head. You even smelled like strawberries.

"That sounds good, princess."

[mohammedayesh]

🚨: Urgent ‼️

The majority do not know about the Nuseirat massacre. Let me tell you about the most difficult day in my life and the life of my family. After we were displaced from the area east of Deir al-Balah because it had become a dangerous area, we went to the Nuseirat area, where the largest operation in the history of the occupation took place in which 4 prisoners were freed, but unfortunately they killed about 270 Palestinian people. At this time, the bombing was very intense, as the place we were in was damaged by artillery shells, even though half of it had been bombed already. After we hid in the stairwell area in the house, considering it the safest place in the house, after two hours of fear and continuous bombing, I was surprised that you are still alive, Ahmed. I am... I am very surprised how I am still alive after all this. I think death at the time was better than these feelings. I hope to intensify your assistance to reach the largest possible number of donors so that we can try to leave the country as soon as possible. If the Rafah crossing is opened, I wish you a life full of peace. No. I hope you live such difficult days. Thank you to all the donors. I will put some pictures after the event and put the donation link.

In fact, the story is much more difficult than the words

[cheeeeseburger]

Do you dream of me? (cause you're a dream to me)

Fernando Alonso x Reader

A/N: They could never make me hate you, fake dating trope. English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes!

As soon as Fernando opened the car door for you and you stepped out, all dolled up, cameras flashed everywhere. This was a part of being Fernando’s girlfriend that you were still getting used to. Actually, you weren’t used to any things related to dating him, since in reality, you were not really together.

Fernando had asked you to be his fake girlfriend two months ago. Initially, you just laughed at him, but he was not kidding at all. He wanted to work on his PR, and a good romance story always does the trick, right?

“Please, just think about it. I’m not crazy! It would only be for show. It would be fake dating.” You were impressed at his romcom knowledge. He definitely knew the literature, to use words like fake dating. Still, that was not enough to convince you.

The thing is, Fernando was your boss. You had been his assistant for over two years now, and he knew you were single and available. Saying no to his proposal would put you in a difficult situation. It’s not like the whole fake dating thing would only benefit him, though. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to accept.

“You would only have to come to a few events with me, which you already come to as my assistant! You would just have to pretend we’re together. Of course, you would receive compensation for your services.” Fernando said. He did not get why you suddenly gasped.

“I was about to say yes, but I’m not a hooker or an escort, Fernando! How dare you suggest these things to me?” Frankly, you were insulted. He answered immediately, panicked: “No, that’s not what I meant, of course not! I just meant that since you’re going to, um, work extra, I will pay you more, that’s all. You’re too much of a good girl for all of that, anyway.”

Goddamn. You blushed intensely. You would definitely be a good girl for him, if you were actually dating. Oops.

“Wait, didn’t you say you were going to say yes?” Damn him for actually listening to you.

You blushed a little: “I mean, it’s just that I have, let’s say, a situation, that could be fixed if we publicly dated…” You looked away, embarrassed.

“What is it, muñeca?” He genuinely looked concerned for you. He really was a caring boss, huh?

“It’s just that, um, there’s this guy…” You did not want to continue the rest of the sentence. You were the colour of a ripe tomato.

“And you want to make him jealous?” He raised an eyebrow. Oh wow. Has he watched Anyone But You on a flight recently or something?

“Oh God no, absolutely not! It’s the opposite, really. I went on one date with him, and he can’t get a hint. He always comes tries to talk to me, even though I told him multiple times that I was no longer interested. He’s an engineer at Ferrari, so he’s always around. It’s getting scary.” Telling your boss your horror dating stories was really, really embarrassing.

“What? That’s not okay!” He looked pissed. “Muñeca, this is not right. You should have told me. I could have fixed the issue. I would have helped you.”

You flushed. It was cute to see your boss so worried about you. “Anyway, that’s why I’m tempted to say yes to be your fake girlfriend. Maybe that other guy will back off.”

“I didn’t know you went on dates. You’re always busy helping me.” He crossed his arms on his chest.

“Well, he’s always around since he works in F1. He just asked me out and I said yes.” You were avoiding his gaze, afraid of being in trouble for some reason.

“Why didn’t it work out?” Ok, now you were definitely looking everywhere but at him. The real reason was too humiliating too say out loud. Why did he care anyway?

“It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.” He noticed you were mortified but did not pick up on it. You sighed: “I think we should do it. But I’m still going to have my job after, right?”

“Of course, muñeca. You’re too essential in my life for me to let you go.” Apparently, he was not above flattery to convince you. Apparently, flattery was a great way to bribe you.

“It’s a deal, then.” You shook Fernando’s hand. You immediately shivered at his touch.

“You’re mi amorcito now.”

Oh God. What did you get yourself into?

Anyway, you felt Fernando’s hand on your back, softly guiding you towards the entrance of the party at a high-end hotel. As usual when there were cameras around, you put on a show. Your performance was Oscar worthy. He spun you around so people could admire your look. You blew him a kiss. You leaned on him while he put an arm around you. He kissed the top of your head, and you whispered in his ear.

“I think we’ve really fooled them.”

“It’s good, but it’s only the beginning. I’m not done with you, muñeca.”

To anybody on the outside, you two looked like the hot, exciting, and loving couple of the moment. Sometimes, it looked that way to you too. It was hard to remember that this was not real when he kissed you, or when you were in his arms, or just when you were with him in general. Playing pretend with him was so easy. It was fun, even. You were getting showered in gifts and kisses by your boss, who just happens to be a man you find really attractive. You could have dne worst for a side hustle, right?

The media was having a field day with your relationship. Some thought the age gap was a bit weird, but most people just thought that it was cute that Alonso fell in love with his assistant. You had even seen a TikTok edit of you two. You looked hot in it, so that was nice. You were the it WAG of the moment.

The other drivers were also freaking out that Alonso, a long-time bachelor, had finally met his match. You had to act extra lovingly in front of them, just to prove to them that he had finally settled. Also, Fernando just liked to show off a pretty young thing like you in his arms, because the rest of the grid was definitely jealous.

You made you way inside, making sure to always close the gap between you and Fernando. You were constantly flushed, because him touching you did wonders for your nerves. Small talk was hard, but it was even more difficult to do with his arm around your waist. You pulled on his arm.

“Fernando, baby, I need a drink.” The word baby slipped off a little too casually for your liking. He seemed to like it though, because you felt his possessive grip at the nicknamed. He smiled, pleased.

“Alright, amorcito. What do you want?” He led you to the bar, the crowd letting him pass easily. This was another advantage of dating an F1 driver. Also, he always paid for all your drinks, which is an added bonus, right? You needed a drink to survive the night anyway.

“I want to get drunk. Not passed out drunk, but drunk enough that there is a risk that I will get up to dance on a table.” He laughed at that, and you smiled him. The urge to kiss him was strong. Technically, you could do it, since you were in a public place with people watching your every movement. So far, you had always let him kiss you first, because you were simply too shy. Anytime you felt his lips on yours, forgetting that this was not real was way too easy.

“I would want to see that, muñeca.” The music was loud, and he spoke in your ear. You shivered. Oh yes, more than one drink would be needed. “I’ll have a whiskey sour, and a cosmo for the lady,” Fernando said at the bartender. It was cute that he remembered your drink of choice. But you needed more than a Cosmo to ease your nerves right now. Forget about being classy.

“I’ll have three tequila shots as well, please.” You nearly had to shout for the bartender to hear you. Fernando looked surprised.

“You were not kidding, huh?”

“I won’t embarrass you by being too drunk, I swear. But it’s just that there are so many people here, and I’m kind of nervous.” He put your hand in his and started to draw circles on it with his thumb.

“It’s okay, mi armorcito. These people are not important. The only thing that matters is you and me. I want you to have a good time, muñeca.” You softened at his words. Even though you had not gotten you shots yet, you managed to have enough courage to finally kiss him. He was surprised at first, but he quickly recovered and pulled you closer to him. You pulled away, blushing, but only because the bartender put your drinks in front of you. He smiled at you and his gaze lingered on your mouth.

You drank your shots back-to-back without even making a face. “That’s a good girl,” said Fernando, sipping his whiskey. He knew what he was doing. The alcohol hadn’t even kicked in yet, but you were feeling bolder already.

“Are you into good girls, boss?” You drank innocently from your Cosmo, batting your eyelashes. It was his turn to get flushed. Maybe he had a thing for authority?

“When they look like you, sure. And you’re always so good to me, taking care of my every need. Well, almost.” He winked at you. Surely, the few sips of his drink were not enough to get him to say things like that purely because of the alcohol. Was this really coming from him? It was a delicious thought, almost as delicious as your Cosmo.

“I know this is fake, but baby, if it wasn’t, I would fulfill your every needs. And I mean, all your needs, boss.” You put your hand on his arm to really send the message. The tequila had finally hit your system. His desire for you was obvious in his eyes.

“Amorcito, you would be my favourite assistant of all time, for sure. I would never let you go.” He pulled you close to him, with his hands around your waist. He was looking at you so intensely that it almost felt like love.

You let yourself daydream. “Nobody could say a thing, because pleasing your boss is the goal of being an assistant, right?”

“Exactly, muñeca. But since they don’t know that this is fake, they couldn’t say anything if, let say, they caught us?” He smirked at you, softly brushing the loose stands of hair away from your face

Oh, you knew were this was getting, but the alcohol in your blood and his handsome face were telling you to go along.

“Absolutely, baby. I bet you’d like it, too.” You finished your drink and ordered another shot.

“What, if we were caught?” He nearly choked out his whiskey sour.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t you like it if someone was to walk in on you having me on your desk? If people heard me screaming your name?” The look on his face was priceless. Toying with him was fun. 

He leaned to whisper in your ear: “Don’t give me ideas, amorcito.” He lingered there for a moment, breathing against your neck. You were breathing rapidly. If you only tilted your head a bit, your lips would be near his. It was tempting, so you did it. As he went in for the kiss, you suddenly pulled away, then downed your last shot. You were not done playing with him.

“I want to dance. Come on!” You pulled on his arm, and Fernando had no choice but to follow you on the dance floor.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

He was a surprisingly a good dancer. It must be the Spanish in him. He made you feel hot all over. You left the dancefloor feeling very turned on and with a few new hickeys on your neck as a bonus. This happened all the time in fake dating movies, right? You had not broken any rule.

Fernand pulled you to the bar to get something to drink. Things were not PG anymore. His hand was on your ass to guide you instead of on your waist like it was earlier.

“Do you want another Cosmo, muñeca?” You shook your head.

“No baby, I want to get a special treat. Can I please have a sex on the beach?”

He raised an eyebrow at your request, but he still passed it along to the bartender with another whiskey for him. He was not nearly as drunk as you were, so he had no excuse regarding crossing the line between what is real and what is fake.

“You know, amorcito, I could give you the real thing,” he said to you as he passed you your drink.

“What, sex on the beach? I already did that,” you answered, laughing. He looked positively shocked.

“An innocent girl like you? I don’t believe it.” He also didn’t want it to be true.

You smirked. “You remember that the reason I accepted to date you was to get rid of a guy that was like, obsessed with me?” He nodded, wanting to hear where this was going.

“Well, the reason why he can’t get enough of me is because I rocked his world on a beach!” You looked away, embarrassed even with all the alcohol you had consumed. He put his hand under your chin to force you to look at him.

“Muñeca, is this for real? That’s why he won’t leave you alone? He was not happy.

“Yes! But I don’t want anything to do with this guy. He didn’t even make me finish,” you whined. Fernando brushed your lower lip with his thumb. Somehow, you just knew that if it was him instead of that engineer, you would have come. Multiple times, for sure.

“Poor amorito.” He caressed your hair with his free hand. “You know I would never do that to you, right?” You chuckled lightly.

“Oh, I know.” You whispered in his ear: “I had a sex dream about you once.” This was a lie. You had multiple dreams where he had rocked your world. In multiple ways.

You started to give him a few kisses underneath his ear, in that spot that you knew he liked. He grabbed your ass to bring you closer to him.

“What? Amorcito, you must tell me how it was.” He was getting overwhelmed by your confession and the trail of kisses you left on his neck. You just laughed against his throat.

“Baby, I don’t dream and tell.” First of all, you could not believe you had actually told him you dreamed of him. No way in hell would you reveal the fantasy you had of him. He was still your boss!

But Fernando really, really wanted to know. He spun you so your back was against the bar and held you by your wrists. He got centimeters away from your face. “You will this time, muñeca.”

Ok, so he was not playing around anymore. Does the fact that this was the hottest thing you had ever seen in your life says a lot about you? About your relationship with your dad?

“You have to promise me you won’t mock me, okay?” You were suddenly shy. Maybe you should have ordered another sex on the beach. Wait, no. All of this started because of a stupid sex on the beach. A tequila sunrise would have to do next time.

He kissed your cheek and slowly moved to your jaw. “I promise, amorcito. Just tell me, please. I have to know.” A man begging was always a sight to see.

“Okay, baby. I’ll tell you.” Just thinking about it made you feel hot all over. “In my dream, we were in Monaco. You had parked your car, the green Aston Martin, and… You were fucking me against it. But I mean, really fucking me.” You were blushing, but he was the one who had turned scarlet. You continued: “Remember, this is a dream, okay? A paparazzi took a picture of you, um, having me against your car, and it was all over the medias. But we didn’t care, in fact, you printed and framed the picture, and you hung it in your living room in Monaco. And we fucked again in front of it. That’s it.”

Okay, that wasn’t so bad. Your face was heating up, and you were worried since Fernando hadn’t said anything yet. Had you gone too far? You could always blame it on the alcohol. One thing for sure, you had definitely crossed the line of fake dating.

“Eres el sueño de mi vida, amorcito.” Fernando pulled you close to his body to lead you to a dark corner of the room. He pushed you against the wall and he was immediately all over you. You couldn’t help but moan when you felt him palming you.

“Fernando, baby, is this still us fake dating?” He answered between two hickeys on your neck.

“None of this is fake, muñeca. It never was.” His lips crashed on yours. It just felt so good to really have him, without pretending. You had to remember you were in a public place, otherwise your dress would have been on the floor ages ago.

“I swear I’m going to start screaming your name soon, baby. I need you so bad. Can we please go back to the hotel?” He smiled at your eagerness.

“As much as I would like everyone to hear you, including the other drivers, I think we better leave, amorcito.” He reluctantly pulled away to grab your hand.

“Don’t worry baby, the Monaco GP is in two weeks, everyone will hear me and see me screaming your name there,” You winked at him and pulled him outside of the party.

You clearly had an eye for design, because the picture of you two really did look great in the apartment you shared in Monaco.

[dark-konohagakure2]

can you write about hokage!naruto who's tired from all his responsabilities and asks for a cute shinobi to be trained so he can use her mouth as stress reliever every time he needs it!!

tw: dub/noncon, blowjobs, infidelity, power imbalance, praise, throat training, dildo gags, age difference, public humiliation

All characters depicted are 18+

Naruto has been under a lot of stress lately, being the Hokage is as difficult as ever, not to mention he recently got a new addition to his family in the form of an adopted son. Naruto's troubles seem to be never ending, so he decides to invest his resources into something he really needs: a stress toy.

Of course Naruto would never use Hinata as a stress reliever to suck him off all day, he loves her too much for that, so instead he has a slightly younger shinobi picked out and "trained", of course she doesn't know what the training entails before it's already too late and she has a dildo gag locked into her inexperienced mouth.

The training isn't too intense for the poor girl, and it only lasts a few weeks, but it is utterly humiliating. The gag is locked with a seal that won't release until she has completely lost her gag reflex, so sometimes she'll have no choice but to go out in public with the gag in, letting everyone in the village instantly know that she's the Hokage's new personal cockwarmer.

When her degrading training is finally finished, she'll be forced kindly asked to go to the Hokage's office to "assist" with his daily paperwork. Naruto himself is actually quite nervous about being sexual with someone other than Hinata, but it doesn't take him long to get very used to it.

"A-ah, fuck..! All that training really paid off didn't it..? Now just stay quiet, I still have all this paperwork to fill out, so you'll be down there a while..."

Despite his initial nervousness, Naruto quickly gets used to the feeling of having her warm, young mouth around his shaft, and she doesn't even gag anymore thanks to the training, which boosts his ego somewhat. The feeling of her mouth servicing him makes the endless paperwork much more bearable now.

Naruto also likes that he has the opportunity to be as rough as he wants with her. His wife is a delicate woman in the bedroom, so Naruto can use this well trained girl to fulfill his darker desires, like making her choke on his thick cock for hours on end.

Naruto will use her mouth like his personal cumdump, shooting his load into her mouth over and over again until he's satisfied. He's often too busy with work to have sex or masturbate, so the Hokage is very pent up and needs an outlet for his sexual frustrations.

On most days he isn't done with her "services" until the tail end of his day, since he can't resist how good her oral skills feel. Once he's finally done, Naruto will send her off, being sure to remind her of her job from now on.

"G-Good girl... I'm done all my work for today, so you're dismissed for today. I'll definitely see you again tomorrow..."

Naruto is very glad that he acquired something to make his job as Hokage both more bearable and pleasurable. While normally this would mean he can get his work done quicker, he's in no rush to go home when he has such a perfectly wet hole for his cock under his desk.

[alpydk]

Fire and Ice

My contribution to the art/fic trade with @orangekittyenergy - Tav's can be very personal, so I'm praying that this is okay. I really enjoyed this and let it all just go where it needed which probably explains the length written in the last few hours... I like writing, it's productive daydreaming.

Word Count - 3339 words - Angst/Comfort, happy ending

Fawn cursed the depth of the wizard’s chest as they squeezed into the alleyway, her half-elf body forced so closed to him she could feel the tensed pectoral muscles against her own slight frame. He’d gone to talk only for her to place her palm against his mouth, her eyes a glaring signal that now was not the time for a lecture on the making of deals you did not plan to keep.

The Zhentarim mercenary ran past, his footsteps heavy on the sundried cobbles of the city streets. Baldur’s Gate was no longer their potential turf, all because of the involvement of a group of meddling adventurers. She’d known what was going to happen, her dealings with them all those years ago not allowing her the true freedom she desired, but after all this time, after Gale’s belief that she was a noble person, she couldn’t go back into negotiations with them. Her brother would be disappointed, but this was for the best and maybe, with luck, one day she could save him from them as well.

She felt the moistened heat of Gale’s breath upon her hand, his eyes growing impatient, his own hands fidgety around her waist. They crept around to the base of her back, pulling her in a little closer, and she felt the effects their perilous situation was having on her wanting companion. He’d once read a book, he’d explained, and she’d believed him wholeheartedly after that night, what the effects of danger had on desire. What had once been her quiet, well-spoken wizard had become as unrestrained as the magical energies at her own command.

Her hand lowered from his mouth as the danger passed, a hunger in her own eyes spurred by the closeness of his physique. The sweat from his brow brought strands of hair to stick, his sandalwood scent merged with her own, his lips would taste of the morning’s fresh bread.

“Fuckin’ magic users. They’ve probably gone and cast some invisibility or some other bullshit.” “Yeah, but they can’t have got too far. You check the sewers; I’ll try the park.” “Why do I get the sewers?” “Because you already smell like shit. Quite complaining.”

The elf listened as the two mercenaries parted ways, leaving her and Gale with the chance to escape. Her shoulders wanted to relax, but the playful smirk of the wizard, the hand that gripped her hip a little too tightly, would not allow her the possibility. “Gale… We both know this isn’t the right time.”

He brought his face to her neck; heated breaths merged with soft kisses. “Maybe, but how many more opportunities will we get like this?”

She sighed at his words. She knew he was right, as usual. The upcoming battles would grow more difficult: Orin, Gortash, The Netherbrain. There were so many that one or both of them might not come back from, so many moments where they could be torn apart from one another, where she could lose him, as she had so many others before. His fervent kisses became more eager the longer she took to resist. His tongue ran up the arch of her neck, her hips pushing instinctively into his within the confines of the shadowed alleyway, her hands beginning their own dance trapped between their compressed bodies.

“Oh shit, sorry.” A child stumbled upon them, trying to use the alleyway as a shortcut home.

Fawn tensed and used the momentary distraction to pull herself from Gale’s grasp, her heartbeat raised, her own sweat beading under her russet tones, joining the scarred line across her eye. She slid herself from his hands, out from under the shaded canopy of the buildings and into the stifling city sun. The child gave a small laugh and squeezed past Gale with ease, running down the alley to their unknown destination. 

---

He tensed up, running his hands down his robes, a combination of patting off the dust from the brick wall behind him and making himself look like the presentable magic user he was and not the desperate sack of physical urges she always turned him into. He patted his side once, twice, before looking down. “The child has pilfered my gold pouch…”

She chuckled at his misfortune. “Yeah, they’ll do that if you’re not paying attention. You need to keep your wits up about you. Try to focus on less pressing matters.”

Her playful smile did not go unnoticed as he emerged into the sunlight, his lips moistened from yearned kisses, cheeks blushed as Elverquisst. He didn’t know what it was about her that drove him to these uncharacteristic moments of insanity. He’d suspected it was the Weave coursing through her veins, binding the two of them together, trying to entwine as it naturally would, or maybe it was the way her glance always saw through him. Ever since the portal incident, it was as if she’d read him like he was one of the simplest tomes known to man, and he’d happily let her trace her fingers over every weathered page.  

He sighed, knowing there was little point in chasing the urchin. A few measly gold to him would mean a week’s worth of food for the child, most likely a refugee of the city, or one of the many orphans growing up into a world of thievery and the Guild’s politics. Taking Fawn’s delicate hand into his own, he stepped forward. He saw the gentle dusting of ash, the crackling of a lightning bolt leaving its reminder on her ivory skin, and he ran his thumb over it, revealing the beauty that lay beneath. He made a note to place a kiss there later in the evening, a starting point of the map he planned to use on an awaited exploration of mounds and crevices.

As they walked through the streets back to camp, their attentions split between each other and the potential lookouts trying to find them, Gale spoke. “A friend of the family… I always was curious why Roah said that to you.”

The half-elf lifted her hazel eyes to him, and he could see the calculations going on, the wall she kept up so readily now being further supported with a cold distance. “That’s just the phrase the Zhentarim use. She meant nothing by it.” Her voice wavered a little, an uncertainty in the strength of her lie, and he felt her pace quicken a little as if she were trying to escape the situation she found herself in.

“My love, I know there have been many a moment my propensity to read into behaviours has led to disorder, but I cannot help but notice your aversion to this line of questioning.”

“You wizards…” She sighed deeply, releasing his hand as she walked further ahead of him.

He stopped for a moment, trying to register her words. Again, this would be the argument of the evening, as it had been a few times before when things became uncomfortable for her. She would claim that all wizards were too curious for their own good, that their unnatural abilities with magic are what lead them to unbridled ambition. Once, she had stumbled over her words and inadvertently blamed him for his own folly, and only once had he blamed her reckless use of magic for the reason she had no loved ones to speak of. This was not the way he wanted things to continue going.

“Fawn, wait.” He took a few quick steps forward and kept pace with her, trying to quench the rising flames as quickly as he could. “You know I meant no harm with my line of reasoning. I simply wish to understand why the Zhentarim have turned on us as ardently as they appear to have.”

“And you expect me to know? As if I’m some omnipotent goddess watching over all?”

He shook his head at her words. Clearly, time would be the best solution to remedy the matter at hand. He considered his options: continue with her in stony silence, or take a different route, allowing them both the chance to clear their heads. There was little distance until the campsite and the risk of being captured was practically zero now that they were out of the busy city streets. “You make it very clear sometimes that you are not a goddess. I apologise for my blind devotion.” His words hurt as he spoke them, too final, too reminiscent of words he had wanted to utter during his year alone.

---

Fawn watched as he turned from her, his footsteps growing quieter as he took the eastern path from her. She wanted to run after him, to apologise and explain everything, but it had always been easier to push those around her away. To protect them and herself. She thought of her brother when she was a young girl, how he had left the first moment he could. She hadn’t understood fully at the time, but as she grew and trained under their father, it became clearer. Their mother was gone, leaving nothing but ex-military routine and training, her sorcerer blood a disappointment in her father’s cold eyes.

She walked the path to camp alone, knowing she had been wrong to speak as she had done. She longed to be back in that alleyway, lustfully bound to Gale, his body pressed against hers, and only the present moment existing between them. No tragic pasts, no doomed futures. The tents fell into view with the setting of the sun, shadows extending like creeping tendrils. She was thankful that they grew no further than permitted; the Shadowlands finally resolved of its dreadful curse that took so many lives.

Gale sat outside his tent, a book in hand, the pages turning with a little more agitation than either of them liked. Soon he would begin to cook, and with it, calm down enough for her to approach him, restarting the cycle of their relationship once again. She thought not of the future, instead finding comfort in the recent past, of Moonrise Towers, and royal blue sheets beneath her, of words of love and comfort.

---

He saw her come back to camp, her quick glance placed over him, but he refused to lift his head to her. He was angry, though he was unsure at which of them it was directed at. She had yet again pushed him away, but again he had questioned her motives rather than trusting her. Fawn had believed him from the start of his history with Mystra and the orb. She’d granted magic items without reservation, had held his hand softly as the pain had been too much for him, and then there had been Moonrise; a night that he believed would be his last. Long before that starlit evening he had realised his love for her, but it was only then that he had summoned the courage to admit it to her, and she had replied in kind. From that night he’d given her everything he could of himself, his honesty, love, body. If she requested it, he would happily give his life for her.

Now though she departed for her tent, an armour put up that he was unsure he could break through. He moved to the campfire, his hands mindlessly preparing the evening meal, his eyes watching the flickering flames that danced over the firewood. Gale sat alone for some time; his mind lost in thoughts of how he could remedy the situation. The pot boiled away, the savoury broth releasing the homely aroma into the air. His shoulders relaxed and his jaw unclenched from its involuntary position.

Quietly placing herself beside him, he noticed Fawn lift the wooden spoon and stir. “Smells nice,” she said softly, testing the waters of conversation.

“Well, I always strive for the best. In both magic and cooking.”

The silence hung heavily around them, neither knowing what to say nor how to apologise, if they should apologise.

Fawn brought the spoon to her lips, giving the broth a silenced blow before taking it into her reddened lips. “It tastes nice, too. Could use a little salt, though.”

“Always the food critic, never the cook.” He smirked at her, trying to ignore the pleasure he felt on seeing her tongue licking at the tip of the wooden spoon. Easily distracted by the movements, the cookery, and her presence, he found it difficult to focus on the matters he wanted to discuss with her. He coughed nervously, bringing himself back on track. “Are we going to discuss earlier or refrain from the topic altogether?”

She shuffled awkwardly, placing the utensil back in the pot sharply. “And say what, Gale? That again, you have sought answers for questions you yourself have made?”

“I seek answers to the secrets you hide from me.” His voice came out more exasperated than he wished, and he took the momentary silence to compose himself. “When I was a young wizard, and not the fallen Chosen you witness before you, I had a Drow elf as a… Well, a close friend. She would often chastise me similarly to how you do and always strived to do better than me, as if it was a competition.” He took a pinch of salt and added it to the cooking pot that lay between them both. “She often spoke of khaless, trust, but especially misplaced or foolish trust; something she saw in me so often as I worked to become the best I could be. And she was right in what she observed. I do trust too easily, and I certainly love far easier and with more of my heart than is wise.”

He hoped she understood his words, his long-winded explanation, an apology for who he was as a person, for the pressure he placed on her simply by being honest with her. He watched as she exhaled; her gaze focussing softly on him. He was unsure where this conversation would lead, but the balance needed to be disrupted. He had given all, and now it was her turn.

---

Fawn knew she had pushed and pushed, but it had now gone too far. Emotionally closed off was the term her brother had used in mockery so many years ago. She may have struggled to wield a sword as much as father had wished, but she had mastered the concept of psychological warfare. “Do not share yourself or else they see your weakness. Do not let your mental guard down or your heart be pierced.”

Gale spoke, and she listened. Together they had been as fire and ice and slowly her heart had begun to melt. “We have a similar word in Elvish, kessuk. It translates to stupid,” she said, trying to hold on to her walls so desperately.

Gale gave an awkward chuckle. “Maybe it is that which she was truly insinuating.” He lowered his head, the heart of the subject now approaching. “I suppose what I poorly attempt to articulate to you is that maybe I have been kessuk, as you so bluntly put it.”

Her mouth fell open at his words, the belief that he was in the wrong almost an insult which hurt her. “No. No. How can you even think that?”

“My dear, I love you and you know I would offer my love to you for a thousand more nights to come should the opportunity unveil itself, but, and I say this with nothing but the starlight of my heart that shines for you, I do not know how much more I can give. There are times I feel you may not be on the same proverbial page as me, and in some lonelier moments, even in the same book.”

Her heart broke at his words; that this was possibly the end for them, now nothing but starlit nights fading to dawn, of darkened alleys bathed in sunlight. “But…” The tears built up in her eyes and she looked away before Gale could see her weakness.

His voice was soft as he spoke, not demands but innocent questions that she couldn’t ignore. “This is what I speak of, Fawn. You shut me out, all of us. What will it take for me to see the heart that has beaten in tandem with mine? To feel the selfless love that I know is buried deep beneath the surface.”

Her hands sat in her lap, struggling to find a place of rest. The sorcerer rarely felt fear in the face of danger, had stood against the gods and their orders, but at this moment she felt vulnerable, as if Gale was seeing every crack in her armour as clearly as the scar on her face. “I left Baldur’s Gate before things got too bad, but until then, I was in a rough situation.”

She went on for some time telling him of her childhood, of the mother she never knew and the father who couldn’t accept what she was, of her brother who introduced her to the Zhentarim and the odd jobs she unknowingly did for them before understanding who they truly were. She spoke of Roah and their passing acquaintance, of how she had left the city and begun to build a life of her own, wielding her magic that flowed so naturally. As her tale continued, Gale grew closer to her, his hand resting on hers, a weight that brought her calm. The fire dimmed, and the food cooled, but every secret was told, every emotion bared for him to see and reject if he so wished.

---

He looked at her with sympathy, understanding all too well how a childhood under a soldier could be; training schedules and emotions hidden being the law of the home. Their lives had run similar paths at the beginning, but turned out differently. Both, though, had been ones of loneliness and finding their own way. Whilst hers had been one of potential crime, his had been of isolated study. He had grown to love too easily; she struggled to love. His magic had led him into the arms of a goddess; hers had driven her away from the arms of her father.

As she fell quiet, he knew there was little he could say. All questions had been answered, and the truth finally revealed to him. The woman who sat in front of him glowed brighter than she ever had. Under the mask had been revealed a strength and reliance that only made him love her more. He brought his arms around her and pulled her in close, no longer lustful hands of trailing desire yearning for her, but a desperate need to protect her and love her as she was in that moment. He felt her warm breath on his chest, smelt the floral aroma as he nestled his face in her hair.

--- 

A small part of her felt exhausted, as if she had endured a battle and emerged from the rubble battered and bruised. His arms around her felt like a home she had never had, a safety and connection with another person she had only ever dreamt of. He’d listened to her, accepted the past she had run from and now still embraced her as fondly, if not more so. She lifted her head to his, her soft lips brushing up against his, wanting in her eyes to give him everything, to no longer hold back from him in any aspect of their relationship. “I love you, Gale.”

His hands drifted up her back as their lips met, as the stars shone just for them, and time halted its ever-journeying march. For a thousand nights more, they would share in moments like this, some frantic and passionate in darkened alleyways, some in the desperate eagerness of sun-drenched fields, others more leisurely from the sanctuary of Gale’s tower as the rains fell from the heavens. A thousand more nights of a future together; Gale and Fawn burning with starlight as one.

[infiniteeight8]

Would love to see more of the 'can't let him find out' Alpha/Omega IronStrange series!

Edit: The first two stories can be found here.

-

Tony can’t stop thinking about Stephen.

The omega is usually so poised, so self-possessed. Seeing him so bedraggled after his heat had been a shock. It had been more than two weeks before Stephen had shown up at another Avengers meeting, and he’d still looked just a little too thin. Tony was certain that he’d needed every minute of that time to recover.

Is it even possible for him to recover completely from a heat that bad? Wouldn’t the wear and tear accumulate over time? It’s been five months since Titan, which means that that would have only been Stephen’s second heat since viewing all those futures. Had the first one been easier? Harder? 

When he finds himself researching heat disorders, Tony knows he has to talk to Pepper.

He brings it up after dinner, when they’re sipping an evening coffee. Or, well, he starts, but all he manages is, “Pep, I’ve been…” Been what? Thinking about another omega? Technically true, but misleading. 

“Is this about all the research you’ve been doing on heat disorders?” Pepper asks.

Of course she always simplifies things for him. “Yeah,” Tony says. “I found out recently that someone I know is having really difficult heats, and he swears there’s nothing to be done, and I—” Tony cuts himself off and makes a frustrated noise. “I can’t stop thinking about it and I don’t understand why.”

“It’s normal to worry about a friend,” Pepper begins, but Tony shakes his head.

“I don’t actually know him that well. Not that he’s not a friend, but it’s not that kind of worry. I get that kind of worry.”

Pepper gives him a thoughtful look. “Did you see him? Just after his heat, I mean. Is that how  you found out how hard they are?” Tony nods. “It’s probably a compatibility thing, then.”

“Compatibility?” Tony says blankly. He knows the theory, but… “Shouldn’t our bond cancel that out?”

Pepper laughs. “Tony,” she says fondly, “our bond is about as shallow as it’s possible for a bond to get. We don’t even sleep in the same bed regularly. It’s not capable of canceling out much of anything.”

“You can’t blame me for assuming!” Tony protests. “The whole point of us getting mated was to fend off criticism! Doesn’t it need to send out, you know, ‘taken’ signals to do that?”

Pepper shakes her head. “The rings and the paperwork do that. Pheromones are weak enough outside of heat that no one really uses them for signaling. Perfume and cologne generally mask them, anyway.”

“Huh. So because I saw him right after his heat—”

“—his pheromones were strong enough to register with you,” Pepper finishes.

“Not to be crass,” Tony says carefully, “but… he smelled terrible.”

“Tony, that probably means you’re more compatible, not less,” Pepper says, fighting down a smile. “He’d just come out of a heat so traumatic that it had you looking up heat disorders. His pheromones were obviously signaling intense distress. The more compatible you are, the stronger that signal is, and the more unpleasant you’d have found it.”

“Right.” Tony makes a face. “Biology is not my strong point.”

“I promise not to tell,” Pepper teases. 

Tony turns the idea over in his head a few times. Compatibility isn’t the be-all and end-all of bonding, he knows, but there are still stories. The intensity of the sex is the stuff of pornos, but the depth of the mating bond… that’s the real fairy tale. Perfectly matched pairs came damn close to sharing emotions. To have something like that…

“If you want to pursue something with him,” Pepper says softly, “you know I’d never stand in your way.”

Tony shakes his head. “He said he wasn’t capable of bonding.”

“Don’t assume it’s that simple,” Pepper says. “Technically, you’re not capable of bonding, because you’re already mated, but mating bonds can be broken. Whatever’s going on with him, it hasn’t stopped him from producing pheromones you can react to. Besides, bonding isn’t all there is to compatibility, or to relationships. Just…” she waved a hand, “keep an open mind.”

This is a side effect of my viewing our possible futures, Stephen had said. And then there was the moment of grief Tony had seen in his eyes.

“I get the feeling that nothing about this is simple,” Tony says slowly. 

Pepper gives him a small smile. “Well. You always do find things more interesting the more complicated they are.”

[embershroud108]

Arcane season 2 teaser trailer analysis part 1

Ok so since I’ve reengaged maximum Arcane brainrot, I decided to do a shot-by-shot breakdown of the teaser trailer and briefly comment and analyze every main shot. A lot of what I have to say I’ve already seen said by others, but this is meant to be a kind of master post (or posts).

Anyway, let’s begin

Part 1

We open with a shot of enforcers picking through the wreckage of the council room, which I love. Any theory that Jinx’s rocket doesn’t actually explode I think can be put to bed. It’s also a fantastic parallel to the bridge scene at the opening of season 1 so I think this will be the first scene of the second season. The first season opens with Zaun survivors of a catastrophic mass casualty event against them, and the second season will open with Piltovan survivors of a mass casualty event against them. Perfectly balanced. This looks like it could be a POV shot from a survivor (probably Jayce, Mel, or Viktor).

Another shot of the damaged council room, but this appears to be some time later. The lighting is different and it looks like it’s been cleaned up significantly. Ambessa says in a voiceover “Your council is dead!” This may not mean that every member of the council is literally dead. It could just mean that the council as an operative political body is metaphorically dead. But I think most of the councilors are probably literally dead. It’s unclear who Ambessa is talking to but the editing of later shots makes it seem like she’s talking to Caitlyn. Which I hope so because I absolutely love the idea of Ambessa becoming a toxic adopted parental figure to Caitlyn to parallel Silco as Jinx’s toxic adopted parent.

Next we see Vi walking through the aftermath of some kind of battle, stepping over pieces of wrecked chemtanks. This appears to be after a fight the beginning of which we see in other shots later in the trailer.

Note the widows and banner which indicate this scene is set in Piltover. Let me reemphasize that. Chemtanks in Piltover. Vi is still wearing her jacket from season 1 so this takes place before she becomes an enforcer. Her pensive expression makes me think that whatever has just happened is going to be a turning point for her. Maybe the event that ultimately pushes her to put on the uniform.

Speaking of putting on a uniform, next we get Ambessa putting on battle armor. First of all I’m loving this look. If this is what her champion design in League looks like I’ll be stoked (much better than her outfit in season 1). Difficult to tell where she is based on the background but we can presume she’s about to go into battle somewhere. “Wrath must be met with wrath,” she says in the voiceover, leaning into the theories about her going to war against the undercity in revenge for Mel’s death or injury.

Next we have an ominous shot of what looks like an armored war airship coming out of the clouds. Note the pink lighting indicating it’s around sunset/sunrise. The way this is edited makes it seem like this could be a Noxian warship, but we’ve seen no indication so far in the show that the Noxians have airship technology so I’m going to assume for now that this is a Piltovan ship.

Then we get a shot of a crowd of people running away from something and Vi running toward that same thing. This is kind of deceptively edited to make you think they’re running from the airship but I don’t think that’s it. It feels more like there’s just been an explosion or they’re running from the chemtank attack the end of which we just saw Vi walking through.

Next there’s a shot of a row of Noxian soldiers lined up with Piltover enforcers. This leans strongly into my theory that Piltover’s forces in the war are going to be heavily reliant on allied Noxian troops. Note how the Noxians are in front of the enforcers, almost as if they’re shielding them.

Next we see an angry Caitlyn with the shield bearer member of her team behind her. He’s looking at her like he may be a bit concerned about her. Note the cut lip and bruised cheek. Ambessa says in the voiceover “you will have justice.”

Then an epic shot of Caitlyn’s new badass Hextech rifle. Note that here she does NOT have the cut on her lip, so this probably takes place before the previous shot.

The general sense of these first 20 seconds of the trailer is basically: Ambessa is mobilizing for war because Mel is dead or injured, her Noxian assets are allied with Piltover, Caitlyn’s totally on board and they’re going to get reven-I mean *ahem* “justice.”

Then Vi emerges wearing her new enforcer uniform.

She’s nominally on board with what Ambessa and Caitlyn are cooking but she’s definitely not happy about it.

Next we get what I think is the beginning of the attack the aftermath of which we saw Vi walking through.

Chemtanks are attacking Piltover. Which is bonkers. The only player in Zaun that I feel like is crazy enough to do this is Jinx. Which, if this is an accurate assessment, indicates that Jinx is definitely not operating alone and is supported by at least parts of Silco’s former organization.

Probably Caitlyn’s reaction to this attack. Note she is not bruised here.

There’s also this shot of enforcers loading their rifles, but are otherwise relaxed. It looks like it could be the same location but before the chemtanks attack. I feel like this could be some kind of staging point near the border between the cities and these enforcers are preparing to go into Zaun when they are preemptively attacked.

Next we see Caitlyn (no bruises) addressing what is probably a group of enforcers about her threefold plan of action. She’s going to lead a “strike team” to 1) Locate Jinx 2) Dismantle shimmer and 3) Neutralize any agents loyal to Silco. Honey, if you’re planning to do all that, you’re going to need a lot more than just a “strike team.” You’re going to need a whole goddamn army. My guess is that this is an initial plan that doesn’t go particularly well.

Then we see a group of enforcers with riot shields entering (or going through) what appears to be a prison.

Is this Stillwater? Does Jinx (or someone?) attack and cause a mass jailbreak at Stillwater?? God I hope so.

Jinx’s iconic wanted poster. But so damn angry and scary looking. Has to be based on Caitlyn’s memory/description.

Then we see Vi running from several of Jinx’s chomper grenades. This appears to be in the same temple location where Vi and Jinx have their (first?) fight, shown more at the end of the trailer.

And uh….unless Vi activates her shield she’s dead here in a second. Or Jinx is only taunting her and these are just paint bombs or something.

 Then we cut to an explosion at a different location. The pink smoke clouds indicate that this is also Jinx’s work but not necessarily. The guy in the foreground appears to have bat ears and looks a lot like Scar. Are the Firelights being bombarded?

Next we get a shot of two enforcers ready for trouble.

What appears to be the same two enforcers in the next shot in the middle of holding up and possibly arresting Singed. The scalpel in Singed’s hand indicates he was right in the middle of operating on someone…or something...

Cut to Sevika using Jinx’s gun. Which is wild. Maybe she’s just taken it from Jinx and is pointing it at her or she’s picked it up in the middle of a fight and is using it against a common enemy…lots of possibilities. Impossible to tell here if Sevika and Jinx are allies or enemies.

Then we get a shot of Caitlyn and her task force team facing down a Big Daddy of a chemtank. In fact it looks like a shimmer tank - a shimmer hulk in a mech suit. Fucking terrifying….

Caitlyn and her team (minus Vi, notably) are fighting on all sides. Note that this is before Caitlyn has her Hextech rifle (or possibly she’s lost it and is using a replacement ordinary rifle, though I think that’s unlikely). Does not look good for them but Caitlyn’s lining up a headshot.

Next we get the chembaron Smeech and his men looking very apprehensive about something, like perhaps they’re about to be attacked.

Seemingly the same characters and location but from the back. I originally thought this big statue might be Jinx (which would be bonkers) but now I’m fairly convinced it’s Margot, another chembaron, indicating that Smeech is in her territory. Perhaps he’s come to negotiate an alliance.

Ok, this has gotten long enough let's end part one here.

[freneticfloetry]

I'm trying very hard not to make this split snippet thing A Thing, but it's difficult when your ADHD brain won't settle. So it's yet another dual fandom day, this one dedicated to Lim, because she has made me unspeakably happy with Knave-verse happenings.

Shocking no one, neither of these is actually seven sentences.

Thanks to @carlos-in-glasses @heartstringsduet @strandnreyes @welcometololaland @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @bonheur-cafe @lemonlyman-dotcom and @liminalmemories21 for the tags.

First up, yet another slice of esta noche (which is so close to being done, damn adulting and my fickle muse):

TK takes his fiancé’s face between both palms and pulls him in until their foreheads knock together. “It’ll be okay,” he says softly, hoping Carlos can hear all the ways that he means it. “Now get out of here. The sooner you handle whatever this is, the sooner you can come back home.” They hang there for a moment, one with eyes wide open and the other’s sweetly shut, and there’s something suspended in the scant space between them, something precious and fragile and sacred. He’s close enough to count Carlos’ eyelashes. It’s still too soon when Carlos starts to move — brings his free hand up to squeeze TK’s hip, tips his head back to press his lips to TK’s temple. “I’ll text you.” “You better.” Throat burning, TK lets go. He musters up another smile, curls his fingers into fists and shoves them in the pockets of his sweats, just to keep himself from reaching out again. “Bye, baby.”

And once again, a wild FirstPrince appears:

“I’ve never actually… done this before?” Henry raises an eyebrow, and Alex rushes ahead with more words, as he is forever wont to do. “I want to. In case that wasn't clear. Like, fuck, I’m gonna enjoy the shit out of this. I just, you know… need you to tell me if it sucks.” His grip tightens almost involuntarily, at odds with the wide-open earnestness on his face, and Henry sucks in a breath and fists both hands in the sheets. By his estimation, there's enough resolve left in him to either respond in a way that's calm and collected or refrain from coming in his pants, but not nearly enough to do both. “Alex,” he says, hanging on by a thread despite the fact that he has literally dreamt about this, “I cannot stress enough what a virtual impossibility that is. The mere act of you breathing in the general vicinity has already made my top three.” Alex blinks, struck seemingly silent for once in his life. Then he grins, slow and wide and bright as the sun, even as his eyes eclipse. “Pretty sure I can do better than breathe on it,” he drawls, “but hey, if that’s what you’re into, sweetheart.”

Tagging in @never-blooms @paperstorm @reyesstrand @rmd-writes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @ladytessa74 @herefortarlos @three-drink-amy @walkinginland @orchidscript @carlos-tk @nancys-braids @whatsintheboxmh and @alrightbuckaroo !

[s0lar-ch3ri]

Paranomally Hotline #1: Introduction

Many people have their own beliefs. They follow in their own superstitions, read about all kinds of monsters, and we hear about new creations of creatures and places daily. Inspired from already set up and built legends, or entirely original myth, you may have made some ideas yourself. At the very least, you've heard of one. However, to the average person, a myth is all they remain.

Sometimes though, the average person isn't so lucky, and stumble apon a truth: these "tall tales" are fact, not fiction, and could come for you at anytime. With the knowledge that these creatures exist, surviving them can be difficult when nobody you turn to has an idea of what you're facing.

Not, unless, you're calling the Paranomally Hotline.

Specialized in dealing with all entities and creatures of out this world, the Paranomally Hotline believes those who call and will help guide you to safety. Available whenever you need (some places may have more or less then 24 hours available), someone skilled and trained for your kind of situation is there to talk to.

If you don't know who to call, ring the numbers-

"God damn, they play whatever on these fuckin things." A man, appearing about mid 30s, turns the TV off. He gets ready for work, brushing his teeth and getting food to eat. He waves goodbye to his wife, a woman with black hair, and walks into the busy sidewalks. Walking among the people, bag on his side, he keeps going until he reaches a corner.

The scene has changed. As he turns this corner, he runs, panicked, running out of breath. He can't run forever, and hiding feels like a death trap. A creature roars out behind him, and all he wants is to go home, back before this happened.

"Someone please come save me, Lord I beg of you now, spare my soul of this fate just a bit longer," he mutters to himself as he slips into an alleyway. Through his panicked thoughts, something slips into his mind, a crystal clear one: a phone number. As he turns on his phone, which he wasn't even aware still had battery, already has a number put in. Not in a state to question it, he hurriedly rings it.

"Hello, you've reached the Paranominally Hotline, here to help with all entities and paranormals, what's got your ghost?"

"Y-you gotta help me! Th-there's a- a thing! And it's chasing me! And- and- I just want to go home, see my wife again!"

"That's what we're going to do. Now, to help figure out how I can assist you, I'll need you to answer a couple questions. First, do you believe you are still in our world, or does it seem home to somewhere else?"

"Wha-what are y- Yeah, no, it- it's all red- the sky- and it's bleeding- oh my god I didn't notice, it's fucking bleeding- I gotta get out of here-"

"Alright, let's keep a level head sir. When did you get here, and if you remember, how?"

He jumped, hearing a loud roar from this creature. "T-today, maybe 3-30 minutes, 25, gi-give or take. I went into the closet at my job and- look, can we hurry this up? There's s-something ch-ch-chasing me, and I think it's going to k-kill me."

"Alright. This is a very necessary procress, but I have an idea on how to help. Can you make it back to where this closet was?"

"Th-that's the way the monster i- you're trying to fucking kill me!"

"Sir, please. I'm trying to get you home. If you can make it over, and I'm thinking of the right thing, grab the string of the lamp above and pull it to turn off the light."

"No- why should I fucking trust yo-"

Another roar plays out. It's closer.

"...Are-"

"If I’m fucking killed, call my wife and tell her I love her."

"Of course."

The man breaks into a sprint and heads out. His legs are aching, but he has to make it, he has to. Looking straight ahead, he goes straight past the beast, about 30 feet tall and blurry as it roars again, following behind. The man begins to silently sob as he sees the building he exited from up ahead. Running inside, he closes the door of the strange building and locks it as best as he can. He runs down a hallway, where a brown closet door awaits him. It's a dingy closet, brown shelves and a blue school chair. Nothing more or less. He slams the door shut as he hears breakage outside and the loud stomps of feet. Muttering a prayer, he grabs the string of the closet's lightbulb and yanks it down as hard as he can.

Everything goes black, but he finds himself on the floor of the closet. It's a storage one, filled with boxes and shelf racks, the same one he walked into, although one of the shelves has been knocked over just inches from where he once laid unconscious. As he questions what just happened, the reality of what he just faced, he hears his phone hang up, the caller name showing.

The Paranominally Hotline.

[tartagliatum]

mmm older childe carrying a lil extra weight on his waistline bc he finally settles down with zhongli, who loves nothing more than taking care of him. always a dragon at heart, gift giving is a major love language of his, and doting on childe feels like a behaviour intrinsically written into his DNA.

childe who's a little insecure when his clothes become a bit snug - not necessarily about his body, but because it means he's gone soft - and zhongli who shows him why soft is good. shows him just how much there is to love, how much more of him there is to grab and sink his teeth into. zhongli who kisses and praises his little stretch marks and worships every change in his body, any small difference that may have planted seeds of doubt in childe's mind.

worrying he and his insecurities are burdensome, zhongli assures childe that there's nothing more he loves to do than bring him to his favorite bakeries and restaurants and ply him with all of his favorite foods. watching his eyes light up, his tongue lick the crumbs from his fingers, his lips stain red from wine as he relishes every delicious bite, savors every rich taste.

zhongli is even happier seeing him enjoy his food; seeing him enjoy and settle into life, now that he has the time for it. the proof of this joy, manifesting in a soft, gently curving arc of a wider middle, in plumped thighs and rounded cheeks and a heavier frame when he sits in zhongli's lap, is only something to treasure. the archon more often that not finds himself touching childe with such affection; in public, in private, wherever they are, he cherishes the life they have together. he slides his hands over the gentle slope of his middle, pressing his fingers into the pillowy softness. he cups his face when he kisses him and brushes his thumbs across the apples of his cheeks, admiring the new gilded freckles. glides his hands over his thicker arms, widened hips, the tender flesh of his thighs, soaking in how beautiful he looks and how utterly divine he feels.

his stomach, in particular, zhongli admires. somewhere a little healthier to rest his head when sleepiness washes over the two and they snuggle close in bed, childe's fingers absently twirling his dark hair around his fingers. somewhere a little more nourished to settle his hands when he wakes up and the redhead is already making two coffees through a haze of sleep, smiling crookedly with hooded eyes and a gruff good morning when zhongli hugs him from behind. he nuzzles his own cheek against childe's. slips his hands over his inviting middle, palms fitting perfectly over the gentle swell of his warm belly. pressing innocent kisses to his neck, he slips his hands up his shirt to appreciatively sink his fingertips into the yielding softness, calming the small growls of morning hunger.

childe with little bite marks on his tummy chub. with finger print bruises on his thighs and pliant hips. with stretch marks and a plush cushioning to his body, built from the delight zhongli takes in providing him the life of luxury he deserves. signs of comfort, of care, of love, instead of just wounds and scars from a life of violence. zhongli finds himself warmed by the changes in his body and how comfortable he's gotten. looking after him is something he once feared the battle-addicted harbinger would not be able to live long enough to let him do; and now, both in retirement, he doesn't waste a single minute passing up the privilege to do so.

[raycatz]

I'm not including a situation where someone might be injured because in that case I'm thinking the bed goes to them by default or they are nominated for it. anyone who wants to be chatty goes to join the living room floor gang.

What are your thoughts and headcanons? Do you have thoughts on how the boys tend to approach assigning beds in inns? Who do the chain choose to sleep near when camping and why? What are their dynamics like when settling down for the night and getting ready for the day?

In "Mirror Vs Open Closet Door: Fight!" by Gintrinsic (here) Four refers to the chain's decision on how to split up between inn rooms as the "Link-per-room ratio" which I find very funny. He, Sky, and Time also talk about their thought process behind why they do or don't want to sleep in a room with some of the others which I find fun and interesting.

So! If you have thoughts and want to share them! *gestures to the post!*

[roetrolls]

:))))) hrgh

ok so not to get too venty on here but

i start my final quarter of college tomorrow w/ my senior film due in 2 months, and my neurologist just upped my steroid dosage which might result in new side effects (or maybe already has? the steroids have already been fucking with my vision but it seems a lil worse and now i think im having trouble falling asleep too) AND im gonna have to deal with infusions during this too :')

o(-< so hrghhhhhhh basically the next 10 weeks are about to be really stressful and i just wanna ask that everybody be patient/gentle with me

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than catchphrases

90% of all Yugioh card effects are either "move a card from one zone to another" or "negate an effect" so I made a bunch of combat keywords so that monsters can actually be interesting on the field.

[annie-thyme]

and once again I am suddenly overwhelmed with an intense feeling of not really fitting into a gender