#𑁤 don’t know which way the feather falls. muse.

[cora2ons]

tag drop.

[ivy-elle]

How they tend to you after getting injured

Feat. Albedo, Childe, Kinich, Scaramouche

A/N: Slightly suggestive in Childe's part, more so in Scaramouche's

“Move it a bit for me?”

You couldn’t help but grimace a little at that prospect. “I’d rather not.”

That promptly earns you a disapproving look from the alchemist. Which is quite an unusual sight for him, you think. He must be really concerned then.

“Slowly.” A soft musing laced in his voice as his fingers gently wrap around your wrist to move your hand at a slow pace.

You hiss quietly at the sharp pain. “It’s not broken,” you state, trying to convince yourself more than actually being sure of that.

“No,” Albedo attests, touching up your wrist, careful not to hurt you further, “it’s fortunately not. Yet, your wrist is in a less-than-ideal state.”

You raise your eyebrow and reply in a flat tone, “Really.”

Albedo’s eyes meet yours, unaltered. “Positive.”

Then his brows furrow as his gaze falls on something next to you on the table. He reaches for the bottle of painkillers you took earlier, inspecting them with concerned incredulity. “My love, I hope you didn’t expect to cure a sprained bone with these pills alone?”

 “Well…I mean, maybe?” you fumble with your words. “They’re good.”

Albedo can’t help the sigh leaving his lips as he shakes his head and grabs the pack of bandages, he prepared. “I will bring along some more profound remedy later if that’s alright with you.”

Carefully, he starts wrapping a string of bandages around your hand, making sure it sits steady and firm but not enough to be painful.

“Does that feel comfortable enough?” He shifts his eyes back to yours, observing closely for any indication of pain on your face.

Somehow his soft-spoken words seem to soothe the pain on their own Your heart tightens along with the last string of bandages as he seems to be so utterly tender and gentle with you.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Thank you. I’m sorry, for the fright earlier.”

“Nonsense.” Albedo gently lifts up your now bandaged hand and presses a feather-light kiss against the cloth. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re slacking more than usual. Where’s your fire today?”

The sounds of clashing swords against each other halt for a moment when Childe stems his sword into the earth beneath. He tilts his head as his arms sneak under to support his chin against the grip of his sword. A boyish grin on his lips as wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Long night?”

You huff, mirroring his position. “Shut up, you shithead.” He knows damn well who’s to blame for your lack of sleep recently.

But Childe only snickers, like that smug ass he is, giving you a once-over. “Oho, we have a sore loser here I see.”

“You just want me to pay for the dinner tonight.”

“Precisely.” His smirk widens. “There is an evening waiting for you full of relaxation, notorious meals and of course the best company Liyue has to offer.” Childe takes a few steps back, widening his arms out in a dramatic manner. “Me.”

“See, I’d actually beg to defy that statement,” you start as you put your sword away. But when you look back up, the single head movement causes a sudden spur, your vision adorned by black dots for a moment. “Damn,” you huff, holding onto a tree for some support.

“Woah, there.” Within a second Childe is at your side, his hand reaches out, holding you in place. “You okay?” His tone has shifted into a more serious one.

You blink and your vision clears one more. A sort of sheepish, perhaps slightly embarrassed grin settles on your lips as you meet his eyes. “Yeah. That treasure hoarder must’ve gotten me a bit harder than I’ve assumed.”

But Childe doesn’t join in on your amusement and frowns instead. “What treasure hoarder? On your way to Liyue earlier?”

Exasperated, you run a hand through your hair as you get reminded of the events earlier that day. “Unfortunately.” An annoyed scoff escapes you. “Please, it was embarrassing enough as it is. Don’t make me live through that again.”

Childe’s eyes slightly darken and he’s quiet for a moment. Contemplating. As if settling on some plan. Then from one moment to the other, his expression immediately clears up again and he ruffles your hair in an affectionate way. “I suggest, we let the food deliver to us instead and you’re gonna tell me exactly what happened, hm?”

Disgruntled, you push his hand from your head. “Childe, it’s-“

“Ah-ah, no. Concussions should be treated seriously. Off you go now.” He shoos you forward gently, but now his arm is draped around your waist, just to make sure you’ll stay on your feet. “Come now.”

“You’re walking funny.”

Confused, you turn your head back around to where Kinich is walking behind you, raising your eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Kinich’s eyes are focused on your feet, analysing. “Did you sprain your ankle?”

“No,” you turn back ahead, “it’s not that bad.”

His fingers take hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “May I see?”

You frown. “My foot?”

“Your ankle,” he corrects, his face unchanged.

“Right now?”

“Yes.” It’s obvious he isn’t up for any kind of discussion.

You look around the jungle you’re passing through. Quite the inconvenient setting.

“Kinich, I swear it’s-“

“Please.”

You nearly crumble. Both at his touch as well as the tender look in his eyes. So you relent with a sigh. “Alright, just-, “You look around for something to sit down. “Let’s get somewhere closed off, yeah?”

One settled on a nearby rock, Kinich crouches down in front of you, one hand on your calf the other on your knee. He sure seems like he’s done this a couple of times before. Well, in his line of work…

“Can you bend it?” Kinich asks then. Some strands of his hair fall into his face and you’re tempted to reach out and gently brush them away.

You blink. Focus.

“Sure. Well, I think I’d rather not bend it though.”

He hums, contemplative. “I’d rather you not as well.” After carefully checking up upon your skin and bones he looks up again to meet your eyes, a bit of a stern look on his face. More so than usual. “You realise this is swollen, right? Surely you must feel that?”

“Mayhaps,” you admit more hesitantly than he’d like.

Kinich frowns, sighs and then stands up. “Come on. I carry you. It’s not far off anymore, anyway.”

At that suggestion, your heart skips a beat. “No way.”

He crosses his arms. Then one eyebrow rises. “You think I’d dare to drop you?”

“I have dignity.” You explain and prop up your elbows as you lean back against the rock before you add, “And pride.”

“There won’t be much left of your pride if you continue to walk that way in the open.” He takes a few steps back with a glint in his eyes. “I’d put that into careful consideration as well if I were you.”

You squeeze your eyes at him. “You’re playing dirty.”

Kinich lips curve into a smile. Then he adjusts with ease and lifts you up into his arms. “And yet I win.”

You are in heaven. You could swear it.

It has been weeks now, where missions, the fatui or simple life have kept you away from each other, getting barely any time to spend.

And while Scaramouche might not outwardly admit that he’s missed you (or your touch), it is now quite evident in the way his lips adorn your skin, his fingers trailing along your body like he has to physically assure himself, you’re right here. Right beneath his very hands.

His hand slides down your midriff and his fingers grace the skin beneath your shirt, causing goosebumps to spread there. “Your fingers are cold,” you murmur dazedly between kisses, yet a slight amusement has found its way into your voice.

Scaramouche simply captures your complaint with his lips, a slight tug on his mouth. “Don’t tell me we have a temperature problem on our hands?”

“Not for long I hope,” you reply with a teasing grin and return the kiss again with more fervour. He obliges immediately.

But just as he’s about to slip your shirt over your head he pauses. You bite your lip to stop a few less-than-dignifying words from leaving your mouth and open your eyes instead. “What’s wrong? Too cold after all?”

Scaramouche’s hand tethers your waits as his gaze is locked on someplace on your ribs, the reverence from moments ago completely vanished. Now there’s a grim expression as his eyes dart down to you. “What happened here?”

You follow his line of sight where sure enough, the gash from one of your fights greets you. One, that you have perhaps pushed back farther into the depths of your mind for the sake of the moment.

“It’s nothing bad,” you explain. You feel somehow caught, trying to overplay the situation by mumbling on. “Seriously, just a stupid cut from days ago.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” There’s an agitated tension in the room now as Scaramouche’s annoyance level rises and his expression darkens. “I know for a fact this hasn’t been here for a few days already. It’s fresh. And you’re aggravating it further.”

That prompts you to prop your elbows on the bed, frowning. “It’s not bleeding, it barely even hurts. It is fine. Absolutely. Can we just…?”

His eyes narrow at your words, jaw clenching. “Perhaps you’re the stupid one then.” He clicks his tongue in irritation and gets up from the bed, muttering some disgruntled curses.

Slowly, you sit up on the bed and pull your shirt back down to cover your midriff again. You watch him roaming around the room, gathering some utensils from the shelf at his side of the bed before he returns to sit beside you. Scaramouche doesn’t look at you. In unbent silence, he pushes you back down on the sheets to give him a better angle to the wound on your side. You swallow a grunt at the sharp pain and his grip on your waist tightens for a moment.

You observe him quietly as he works, eyebrows scrunched with his anger simmering just beneath the surface. Obviously, you’re aware that his irritation stems from the desire to keep you safe, from his protective nature, and his destined grief of you one day inevitably slipping through his fingers.

“Scara-“

“Shut up. I’m done already.”

His gaze meets yours once again and for a few silent moments, you just stare at each other, with unspoken emotions swirling around on both of your faces.

Then he suddenly scoffs and puts the utensils away. As if trying to shake off his sense of irritation. “Who risks their health in such a way just to get laid?”

You can’t help the grin spreading on your lips. “Hey, at least that’ll leave a sick scar.”

“I’m gonna murder you, y/n. I’m serious.”

He isn’t.

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3

[katsukistofu]

not sure if ur still taking requests but if u are would u be willing to write a hawks x prohero!reader where he finds her wearing his own merch?? ty!! i came from ur coffee mixup fic and it was just soo good i sent it to one of my oomfs and we had a mutual freak out over it 😭😭🫶🫶

awww that’s so sweet and cute omg !!! thank you very much my love i’m so happy you two enjoyed it ( >▯<) <333

picture perfect

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x prohero! fem reader. fluff. cursing. slightly suggestive. reader has ice quirk. ★ your boyfriend sees you wearing his merch and just can’t get enough.

“Dooo-ve?” Keigo’s teasing, saccharine voice is laced with barely concealed amusement. He leans against the frame of your shared bedroom's door, taking in the view of you lying on your back with an appreciative look on his face.

His heart skips a beat, getting to see you on your rare day off from patrol. Watching you, sitting there all pretty in a sweatshirt with his face on it. Your hair is messy, your socks, albeit both very cute and fuzzy, don’t match in color in the slightest and the fresh coat of polish on your nails is already chipped even though he just painted them for you during your weekly spa day yesterday.

Keigo's breath catches as he stands there, and he swears he’s never seen a more gorgeous view in his life.

The numerous sunsets, the iridescent clouds he's been so close to that he could reach out and touch them, the bright stars in the sky as he flew under them, all paled in comparison to you. Even witnessing you knock a villain out cold with a blast of your signature ice yesterday on live television, still only came second to seeing you all comfy and cozy like this.

There's a soft, giddy smile plastered on his handsome face, and he makes it so, so hard to keep up your act. “What’s that you’re wearing?”

“Nothing,” you answer from your comfortable position his side of the bed. You nonchalantly swipe on your phone to continue scrolling through your feed.

Your boyfriend’s grin only widens, and his sweet butterscotch eyes are half-lidded when he speaks again. “Trust me, I know what nothing looks like and it’s definitely not tha—ow!”

He laughs when he receives a plushie of himself flying to his face, which he easily catches in his hands. Keigo’s lips fall into a cute, overdramatic pout. “You just threw me!”

“You’ve got wings for a reason, birdbrain.” You roll your eyes and stretch your arms out. “Now come cuddle me I’m cold.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” Keigo immediately puts the plushie aside and joins you on the bed, pulling you into his warm embrace with eagerness. You’re always cold, but he never minds. Just means more opportunities to hug you, which he gladly jumps at. “Back to my question though, is that my new sweatshirt that just came out from my merch line?”

“No?” Your tone is innocently coy, and it drives him insane. In a good way. “I think you mean my fellow pro-hero boyfriend, Hawks’s merch line?”

“Damn.” Keigo muses, playing along with your little charade. His finger grazes the hem of your collar and you shiver at his feather-light touch. “Your boyfriend’s Hawks? Lucky guy, having a pretty girl like you wearing his merch. Making me jealous over here.”

You out a giggle. "He says that all the time, actually."

"Oh? He better be, or I just might steal you away." His lip brushes over your ear as he continues to murmur. “And I couldn’t help but notice that your boyfriend looks a lot like me.”

“What a coincidence,” you tease, playfully running your hand through his soft, golden locks and bringing them to rest on his cheeks.

“God, you look so fucking perfect.” Keigo groans. You’re already a sight for sore eyes, and the feeling of your fingers in his hair nearly causes him to ascend heavenward. “Next time my marketing team drops something, you’re totally modeling it.”

“I’d rather it be for your eyes only,” you say, and the dimple that appears on his cheeks at that makes your stomach do a little flip.

“Shit, birdie.” Keigo uses a hand to fan himself exaggeratedly. “Is it hot in here or is it just you?”

“Still pretty cold actually, though that might be my quirk talking. I think you’re the hot one.” You hide a cheeky smile as you feel him he hook a finger through your belt loop and firmly drag you closer on the bed in response, forcing you to turn around until your knees hit his with a soft bump.

“Guess I need to work harder at warming you up then.”

A little while later after dinner, his hair is held back with a fluffy, pink Hello Kitty headband which matches the one on your head.

“Okay, I know you said for my eyes only but can I take a pic with you for my socials? Pleaseee, baby?” Keigo begs a little later, leaning into your touch while you carefully apply his sheet face mask on him. “You just look so good I wanna show you off.”

You frown. “I don’t want a bunch of your thirsty fans on my ass, Kei.”

"They're just jealous of what they can't have." He tips your chin up and says it in a tone so matter-of-fact it makes you let out snort.

"Pretty sure it's the other way around," you mutter, using your thumbs to gently smooth down the edges of his mask on his face, and your eyes catch his, brimming with affection so intense and unadulterated you catch yourself feeling a little breathless all of a sudden.

"What?" You tilt your head. "I'm right."

"Nah, I am. You didn’t get that award for hottest heroes on the charts for nothing.” At the comically skeptical look you shoot him, he huffs out a laugh. “I’m serious! Sweetheart,” Keigo’s voice softens. “I know you don’t believe it when the press says it, but when I’m always telling you you’re beautiful, you know I mean it, right? Every single time.”

With warm cheeks, you mumble out, “I know.”

“That’s my girl. You’re everything to me, y’know?” You nod shyly and the sweet, familiar curve of Keigo’s lips makes your insides melt into a puddle of chocolate fondue. “Good. I’m right and nothing you can say or do will change that.”

“Not even if I eat your last chicken nugget?”

“Not even if you eat my last chicken nugget.”

And he says it with such certainty that you can’t help but break into a smile of your own too.

[lampost-in-winter]

Forgotten ecology

Rook finds Davrin carving wooden statuettes, which isn’t unusual. What surprises them is that he is looking at a book for reference. Davrin never needs reference: every nook and cranny of monster anatomy is etched into his brain, for good or ill.

“What do you have there?”

“You mean the book? I took it from Isseya’s lair, she must’ve gotten it from Ghilan’nain. Sorry I didn’t mention it.” He lets go of the piece he’s been carving—it looks like some kind of snake covered in feathers—and brings the book closer to Rook.

The tome hums with magic as Davrin passes the pages. Although Rook can’t interpret the text, written in ancient Elven, it is evident that it is a bestiary: each page depicts a variety of creatures Rook’s never seen before, all of them either aglow with foreign beauty or haunted by terrifying strangeness. The pictures move on the page like figures from a shadow play, portraying the different walks of the herbivores, the attack movements of predators, and the complex flight of four-winged and six-winged birds.

There is some flora depicted, as well. A two-page spread is entirely dedicated to the reproductive cycle of a translucent flower with iridescent blue filaments, which relied on wisps as its sole pollinators.

It is gorgeous. It is also concerning.

“Do you think Ghilan’nain created all of these?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Look,” Davrin points at a stamp in the shape of a halla at the beginning of one of the pages. “I’d say only the ones with her mark are her creation. Everything else… maybe someone, or something, else made them. Or maybe they were there already when the first elves gave themselves bodies.”

“Wow,” Rook mutters, “Do you think we might still find one of these things out there?”

The elf shakes his head.

“Not likely. It looks like all the wildlife in this bestiary was specially adapted to live in a world with spirits and much more magic than our own. In many ways, their life cycles depended on it, so most of them couldn’t possibly exist as they were in our world.”

“Damn. That’s… tough.”

“Yeah. Could be the reason why Ghilan’nain kept a specific record of them.”

Rook feels a hole in their stomach, the shape left by a loss that’s not even their own, as well as the dread at the idea of life being able to just disappear, the terror of the frailty of existence. And whatever Davrin is feeling, it doesn’t look like it differs much.

“It’s kinda… weird, to think that all of these animals can simply be gone without a trace,” Rook says, “The magic and technology from ancient elven times at least left something behind, even if it’s just debris.”

“They might’ve left something,” Davrin muses, “Some of these creatures could’ve adapted to the world post-Veil and changed into something we might recognize. Like this one,” he picks up the feathered snake he’d been carving. “She could be the grandmother of modern snakes.”

Rook chuckles. “Wouldn’t that be something?”

“Mmm. I’ve also been thinking about it the other way around.” The warden takes a moment to gather his thoughts. Rook notes that they really like his thinking face, so solemn. “If these couldn’t survive in our world, it’s also possible that many of our own animals and plants would not be able to adapt to life without the Veil. Perhaps they wouldn’t die in the initial blast, but the change in their way of life would slowly end them.”

“See, another reason to stop Solas: what if the fall of the Veil destroys cocoa trees? I wouldn’t survive it,” Rook counters with a playful smile, and it gets a laugh out of Davrin.

“Jokes aside… it makes you think, you know? That when Solas talks about bringing back the old world, it doesn’t just mean restoring the ancient elves: it means to change the very core of how life works. And I know that all things end, and that these creatures had their time, but…” Davrin looks towards the cozy, feathered bun that is Assan sleeping by the fireplace. The unlikely survivor of two extinction events, as they now start to understand. “Who decides which form of life is more worthy of existence?”

Rook tries to think of something wise and soothing and motivating to say, but it doesn’t come to them. They’re not a philosopher: they’re just one of the alive things in this world trying to make it to the next day.

“So… drinks?” they offer, instead.

Davrin smiles. “Sure. And, hey, pick one,” he says, pointing at the carvings of ancient creatures he has been working on. “My treat.”

Rook observes the three statuettes that Davrin has finished so far: there’s the feathered snake, a unicorn with a horn as long as its whole head, and a bird with wings made of flames. They take the unicorn. They will put it up in their room later, because it’s from Davrin and it’s beautiful, and they will hope that this melancholy feeling they get from looking at it will recede. In time.

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Mayncient Day 2: Meeting

I've had this since I first came up with Anthea and figure what better time to share it than now! So anyway enjoy these two.

word count: 2,650 warnings: none, though recommend you have finished at least ShB before reading. Can be read on Ao3 here

They take a deep breath, closing their eyes, the design in their mind, a blossom with no more than eight white petals at a time with edges in varying colors and a simple dark green stem with the standard leaf pattern from prior flowers. It should be easy, a no brainer, Anthea has made much more creative ideas before on a whim, dionaea muscipula the first to come to mind. They place their fingers in the cool soil feeling the flow of aether disperse from their fingertips, smiling at the thought of just how it might look, mind wandering to what they should make next, something that’s evocative of mankind. Anthea’s eyes fly open with a gasp as they remember how much concentration is the key to getting things right. “Oh no,” they sigh, running their hands down their face, “Maybe it’ll all be fine. It’ll all work out still.”

Anthea splays their fingers slowly, peeking to see that a flower has formed, which does little to alleviate the nerves rolling in their stomach. Little by little they drop their hands until a grey toned flower stands proud before them, Huh, interesting, they think reaching a hand out, snapping it back quickly when the flower shifts into a pure white. They let out a yelp, leaning in closer with delicate fingers tracing and counting the petals. Seven outer ones, six smaller ones surrounding a bulb like center that seems to have the faintest of yellow coloring. The stem devoid of leaves as they all sit at the base, formed like a sharp feather, and all of it a soft glowing white. “Well I don’t think I could have ever imagined the likes of you,” they muse, tilting their head in search of anything else odd about it. 

Anthea jumps when the door opens, hand hitting their chest as their mentor walks in, pulling his white mask and black hood down, shaking out chin length dark brown hair. He smiles at them making his aged tawny skin glow and red undertone brown eyes light up, “Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you, Anthea.” He walks closer eagerly searching behind them, “Have you completed your first batch of them yet?”

Anthea shakes their head, “Uhm something went a little amiss.” They step aside letting their mentor see just what was made. He holds his chin, brow furrowing as he looks back at the approved design and then the created flower. “Truly I don’t know what happened and I know things must get approved by the bureau first but-.”

“Well not everything gets approval first, Anthea,” he picks the pot up hoping to get a better look at the under petals, “Sometimes ideas are made on a whim, we just have to document it and send the design through. From there we determine if it gets studied or if we must erase it.”

“Oh. Right, yes. Silly me,” they say, giving a small hum, “What do you think they’ll say about this one?”

He smirks, “I think they might let it through considering they allowed for your carnivorous plant to be studied.” He sets the plant down crossing his arms, “Why does it glow all over like that?” They shrug, their mentor giving a small hum before shaking away his thoughts, “See to it you get it logged and to the bureau within the next day or two.”

They nod, watching as he turns to leave allowing for their attention to fall right back onto their creation, “Well you certainly are an interesting one. I hope they keep you because I want to know what secrets you’re hiding.”

The Bureau of Architecture feels busier than normal and all too crowded as Anthea makes their way to the check in line, shoulder impacting with someone rushing out the door, making them lose their balance to land against another’s chest while they cling onto the black sack containing their creation. Their arms reach out to steady Anthea with a small and quiet laugh, Anthea’s hood falling back enough to reveal their dark teal hair. Anthea blushes under the white and silver mask, righting themselves, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall on you like that. You’re not hurt are you?”

The stranger chuckles, letting loose some strands of lavender hair from the shadow of the hood onto a matching white mask, “I am quite alright, so there is no need to be sorry.” 

The voice puts Anthea at ease, “Good, well I mean, I’m glad you’re not hurt that is.”

The stranger tilts his head in a quick assessment, “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Hm, oh no. No, no I’m fine, thank you.” They look over to the growing line with a small groan, “I should go. Gotta check in and even with an appointment and being early you know how they can be.”

They smile at one another, both giving a light laugh and bringing attention to the person standing close that Anthea now realizes was there the whole time with an eye roll and crossing of their arms, Oh no….I think it was them I may have fallen on by that reaction. Anthea readies an apology before being cut off from the one with lavender hair as they give a slight bow, “Of course.” The two quickly make their way towards the elevator leaving a further embarrassed Anthea to shuffle away to the check in line. 

They glance back over their shoulder watching as the elevator doors close, letting out a sigh, “And this is why I don’t like coming to the city.” Anthea shakes their head, gasping midway and quickly opening the bag just enough to see the flower still intact. “Whew. Well thankfully you are safe,” they whisper moving along in the line. By the time they sit down to wait for another to lead them upstairs they can’t help but check on the flower every so often knowing it’ll be at least another twenty minutes even if they had five minutes to spare on their check in time. They watch as people go about the day and overhears talk of the Convocation’s latest events, all of which bores them to some manner and they wish more than anything they could be done with this nonsense and back to Elpis to further their research and continue to try and make their original intent. 

“Anthea!” Someone calls out, as they jump to their feet. The escort locks eyes with them, “Anthea?” They nod with a soft smile, “Good. Follow me.” The two ride the elevator up five floors and enter into a wide office space, with some scattered desks in the center of the room, and private offices with glass windows enclosing them. They’re led to one such office, their escort not even deigning to introduce them before rushing back off. There’s two white masked people which Anthea finds odd and odder still; one sits at the desk while the other stands above them watching as they write something down with the same posture as the person they saw downstairs. 

The one standing looks up at their entrance, “You may have a seat, we’re almost done here.” They nod, lowering their head as they slide into the chair directly across from the judge of their latest creation. “Ah there we go,” the standing one says, picking up the paper and examining it for a brief moment, “I shall leave you to your work now. Thank you for your assistance.” They leave the office sliding the thin curtains closed and shutting the door.

The person sitting across from them exhales removing their mask and hood revealing lavender hair that goes just past the shoulders braided loosely, paired with sparkling amethyst eyes that keep Anthea entranced until he smiles softening the angles of his fair, lightly sun-kissed face. Their brain is already spouting out ideas on flora that could be made based around him like a tree that can produce soft small flowers that come but once a year and stay until the winds of change decorate the world with their petals or a tree with branches that hang low enough to provide shade and safety from the world around them while always having a small creek or river that sings in the same manner as his laughter probably sounds, around his smile with flowers that follow the sun so they always glow with a halo, the shades of purples in his eyes that could lend themselves to a variety of petal gradients, simply put: He’s one of the most beautiful people they’d seen. “You‘re free to remove your mask if you’d like.” Anthea stiffens recognizing the man’s voice as the same one from the stranger she thinks (and hopes) fell into, Of course of all the people…. He gives a nod at their sudden rigidity, “Do you wish to begin, then?”

“Hm,” Anthea blinks a few times while the words he says gain meaning in their brain, “Oh right. Yes, sorry. Uhm….” They look down in their lap at the plant bag and stack of papers beneath it, deciding to put the plant between them with shaky hands hoping it can mask the blush they’re sure can be seen through the one they already wear. “Apologies, normally I just send paperwork in or someone else takes it for me, rarely do I ever make the trip myself, but I felt it necessary this time around.” They take a breath, sifting through the papers to try and focus on the unneeded task of making sure their proper order, before looking up to see the new centerpiece does wonders to block the distraction his all too pretty face can cause. Anthea clears their throat, “Right, well, my name is Anthea and I am here to submit new flora for approval to be studied on Elpis.”

“Wonderful,” he says cheerfully, peeking around to meet their eyes, “I’ve seen the design and have been most curious about the finished product.”

His hands reach out to open the bag, Anthea quickly shooing them away, “Well see here’s the issue, mister…,” they look around the desk hoping to find a name plate before-.

“Hythlodaeus,” he smiles, folding his hands in front of him politely, “Pleasure to meet you, Anthea.”

“Same to you,” they respond quickly, looking down at their paperwork once more, I swear he’s purposely trying to show off his face which is wholly unfair. “The issue, Hythlodaeus, is that this particular flora wasn’t approved prior. It just….happened. I didn’t mean to make something so far from the design already approved, so I’m hoping for a retro approval and subsequent approval to allow Elpis to study it.”

“Hmm, I see.” He looks to their lap, “Might I see what you have written so that I can prepare myself.”

“I could uhm also just show you.”

He laughs, “I do try to be prepared for my appointments, Anthea, and I read that the last time something like this occurred you brought in a carnivorous plant of some kind.”

“No one’s going to let that one go are they,” they grumble.

“Afraid not, but you can understand my slight hesitation in just simply opening the bag now.” They mumble their agreement, handing over the stack of papers. Hythlodaeus looks at them quietly, face unreadable with each turning of a page, until finally, “Well, well not only is it safe but it also holds much more intrigue than your last submission. A flower that is all the color white! How remarkable!”

Anthea smiles, sitting straighter with the praise, “Yes, here let me show you.” They open the bag letting it fall into a puddle around the pot to reveal the soft white glow of the flower. Hythlodaeus’ eyes go wide taking in the blossom, pulling the pot closer to spin it around. “I don’t know why it glows like that. I think maybe it’s meant to be a plant to light the way at night.”

“So it only glows in darkened areas?”

“Well-. Huh,” they purse their lips, fingers holding onto their chin delicately.

He looks away from the flower at them with a small smile, “You’ve yet to observe it in sunlight?” Anthea shakes their head, Hythlodaeus’ smile growing, “Then might I suggest we go and see together? It is a wonderful day out.”

Anthea looks up with wide eyes, “If you find it to be of importance to your decision then, yes.”

He stands, placing his mask back on before putting the pot in the bag once more, “Follow me. There’s a lovely little terrace two floors up.” Anthea follows one step behind, head down, “Is everything alright, Anthea?” He asks once they’ve entered the elevator, making their heart flutter when he uses their name. 

They nod, “Yes, I’m just lost in thought it seems.”

“A researcher like you, I find that unsurprising,” he chuckles. He weaves them through offices and hallways with ease towards the south end of the building. The glass door in front of them shows a small section of garden, a big maple tree casting enough shade to allow for one to have a comfortable meal at one of the tables underneath its leaves, and the beige stone stark against the dark colors of the building. When they step outside Anthea‘s breath catches taking in the little garden in full, with its two big trees, six tables for eating, four for games, and a number of benches with different levels of sun but all able to get the cool breeze that makes this place a paradise in the hotter months. They frown seeing a few spots that lack upkeep, something that doesn’t escape Hythlodaeus’ gaze. “Your specialty is flora, correct?”

“It tends to come out much better than fauna that’s for sure,” they let out a light laugh, “but that may be due to my lack of experience in committing to creating things from my own ideas.”

“It will come in time, but if it doesn’t then perhaps that is your gift to the star.”

They look up at him, eyebrows raising and then furrowing, “Can making mistakes truly be seen as a gift worthy to bring forth unto mankind?”

“Based on your record your ‘mistakes’ have all been seen fit to remain for research and with the ones that have been archived some have even chosen to build off of them, finding their answer within your perspective.” He guides them to sit at a partially covered game table, “If anything I’d dare say you’ve brought the most gifts to mankind for some things would never have come to be had it not been for your ‘mistakes’ as you call them.”

Anthea’s shoulders relax, smile returning, Can it really be argued that I have already begun my road to contributing to the star?. The question ruminates as they take in the terrace once more, committing the full conversation to memory when the beginning of it raises a question, “Why ask me such a thing to begin with?”

“Ask you….Oh! You looked at the flowers so sadly I was going to suggest we assist in their upkeep.”

“Oh,” they blush, “Right. I should have thought of that.”

“My creation magics I will admit are lacking and I believe it would be most helpful to have someone much more skilled at my side.” His smile is soft and reassuring, the heat from his hand warming theirs as the two have accidentally placed them too close to one another. Anthea doesn’t say anything about it and simply nods to answer his request for their assistance, “Ah, wonderful!”

“I won’t be cutting into any of your other work will I?”

“I am always conducting work, even when it looks as if I’m not.” He laughs at his own observation, Anthea joining in with a single thought, Something I hope I can come to learn as true, Hythlodaeus.

[wicked-d00d]

Dizzy leaves the lecture hall with her backpack on her shoulders. As she walks down the hallway, she passes by other students who seem more engaged in their classes than she is.

"Everyone else looks so focused. Why am I like this? What happened to my brain?"

Dizzy enters an empty bathroom stall where she lights up a joint. She takes several deep breaths as she exhales smoke into the air. "I've been smoking weed since I was 12 years old," says Dizzy. "It helps me focus."

She then goes outside for some fresh air before returning to school. On her way out of the building, she sees another student lighting up a cigarette. The two exchange nods and smile at each other.

After getting home, Dizzy sits down at her desk and opens her laptop. She pulls up her online coursework and begins studying.

“Why did I even bother coming to college?” wonders Dizzy. “I don’t want to learn anything! All I care about is getting high and having fun!"

Dizzy closes her computer and puts away her books. She grabs her phone and starts scrolling through social media posts.

“Look at how much fun everyone else is having without me,” laments Dizzy. “They’re partying all night while I sit here alone.”

Dizzy gets up off the couch and heads over to her bedroom window. She gazes out onto the street below and watches people walking around town.

“What do they have that I don’t?” asks Dizzy. “How come they can go out there and enjoy life but not me?”

Dizzy returns to her room and lies down on her bed. She rolls herself a joint and lights it up.

“This is what I live for!” exclaims Dizzy. “Weed makes everything better!”

Dizzy continues rolling joint after joint until she falls asleep.

She wakes up late the next morning. Her roommate knocks on the door and tells her that she needs to get ready because they are going to miss class if they don’t hurry.

“You know you should stop doing drugs,” says Dizzy’s roommate. “Your parents would kill you if they knew you were using marijuana every day.”

Dizzy ignores her roommate and continues rolling joints. After finishing one last joint, she stands up and heads towards the shower.

“I guess I could try to quit tomorrow,” thinks Dizzy. “But today isn’t tomorrow yet…”

Dizzy finishes taking a shower and dries off. She puts on her clothes and heads out the front door.

“Maybe I will just skip class today,” muses Dizzy. “I mean, why waste time learning when I already know everything anyway?”

Dizzy arrives at campus and decides to head straight to the library instead of attending any classes. Once inside, she finds a seat near the windows and turns on her laptop.

“Now let’s see what happens when I look up "Guilty Gear" on tumblr...”

Dizzy scrolls through various images and videos related to Guilty Gear. She comes across a blog called @gear-project​, which contains information about the characters and storyline of the games.

“Wow, these guys really love Guilty Gear,” observes Dizzy. “And they actually put together a lot of cool stuff too.”

As Dizzy reads through the articles, she learns many interesting facts about the world of Guilty Gear, including herself. She was surprised to learn that she hatched from an egg.

“That explains why I always feel like I’m missing something,” remarks Dizzy. “I wonder what I looked like before I grew feathers and wings?”

Dizzy spends hours reading through the website. When she finally feels satisfied, she logs off and shuts down her computer.

Dizzy heads back to her dorm room and prepares dinner. While eating, she receives a text message from her friend asking her to hangout later tonight.

“Sure thing,” replies Dizzy. “Just give me a few minutes to take a nap first.”

Dizzy smokes a bowl and falls asleep shortly afterwards.

“Alright, let’s go find our favorite DJ!” proclaims Dizzy. “He’ll play us the best music ever!”

Dizzy leads her friends through the crowd and eventually locates the entrance to the dance floor.

“Here we go!” cheers Dizzy. “Party time!”

The group of friends enter the club and begin dancing along to the music. They drink alcohol and smoke cigarettes throughout the evening. At midnight, Dizzy and her friends leave the club and walk back to their cars.

“Let’s meet up again next week,” suggests Dizzy. “I think I might have found a new place to party.”

Dizzy drives home and parks her car in the garage. She locks the doors behind her and heads upstairs to her bedroom.

“Time to relax and unwind,” declares Dizzy. “Tomorrow is another day.”

Dizzy turns on her television and flips through channels until she reaches the news station. A report catches her attention.

“Oh no,” gasps Dizzy.

A picture appears on screen showing a man being charged with possession of illegal substances. He is identified as Johnny Gears, a well known drug dealer in the area.

“Johnny Gears is dead,” announces the anchorwoman. “Police say he died during a shootout with officers earlier this afternoon.”

Dizzy jumps up from her chair and runs over to the TV set.

“No, please tell me it wasn’t him!” pleads Dizzy. “Please tell me he didn’t die!”

Dizzy paces back and forth in her living room. She tries calling his number multiple times but keeps receiving voicemail messages.

“Where are you Johnny?” screams Dizzy. “Don’t leave me! Please answer your phone!”

Dizzy throws her cellphone against the wall and collapses onto the ground. Tears stream down her face as she mourns the loss of her beloved supplier.

“My only source of supply is gone forever,” moans Dizzy. “There must be someone else out there somewhere. But who? Where? How?”

Dizzy remains on the floor crying for hours. Eventually, she calms down enough to stand up and turn off the television.

“I guess I’d better start looking for a new supplier,” reasons Dizzy. “At least I still have my job to fall back on.”

The next day Dizzy woke up and rolled another joint before heading to her shift at McDonalds

Dizzy walks into work and clocks in for her shift, high as usual. As usual, she greets her coworkers by saying hello.

“Hey Dizzy,” says one of them. “Didn’t you hear? Your boss fired you yesterday.”

“WHAT?!” yells Dizzy. “NO WAY!! WHY???”

Dizzy rushes outside and calls her manager.

“Hello?” answers the voice on the other end.

“Hi Mr. Johnson,” says Dizzy. “It’s me, Dizzy. What happened? Why am I no longer employed?”

Mr. Johnson sighs heavily before answering.

“Dizzy, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for some time now," begins Mr. Johnson. "Unfortunately, I had to fire you due to excessive tardiness."

“Tardiness? That’s ridiculous!” argues Dizzy. “I never showed up late once since I started working here!”

“Yes, but you also missed more than half of your scheduled shifts,” responds Mr. Johnson. “And you smell like you've been smoking weed.

“Smelling like weed doesn’t make me late,” retorts Dizzy. “Besides, how did you even notice? You hardly pay attention to anything around here!"

“Look, Dizzy,” says Mr. Johnson. “I understand that you may need help dealing with certain issues in your personal life. However, I cannot allow you to continue coming to work while under the influence of narcotics or alcohol. It simply isn’t safe for anyone involved.”

“Fine then,” agrees Dizzy. “If you aren’t willing to accept me for who I am, then I guess I’ll just have to move on without you.”

Dizzy leaves the restaurant and heads toward her house. On the way, she passes by a convenience store where she buys snacks and sodas.

Once home, Dizzy takes a long bath and relaxes in the tub. She gets high and enjoys listening to music and watching movies all night. The following morning, Dizzy awakens feeling refreshed and energized.

“Okay, so I lost my job,” reflects Dizzy. “But I still have plenty of money left in my bank account. And I can get more whenever I want if I keep doing what I do best.”

Dizzy rolls another joint and lights it up. She continues smoking marijuana throughout the rest of the day and falls asleep sometime in the early hours of the morning, ready for her next adventure.

[elsternwick-rp]

Emotional Energy

As you may have seen, Elsternwick is currently inundated with emotions in raw energy form due to a strange phenomena, among other things, including weakened walls between universes, there are a variety of strange effects taking hold of a roughly five mile radius around Elsternwick!

This has caused the atmosphere to change color, numerous buildings to gain extra features that weren’t there before, and also cause problems due to emotional states of people within Elsternwick, such as summoning creatures, creating buildings around the affected party, or even changing their form.

What exactly is Emotional Energy? Not even the council knows, but it is every single possible emotion in pure energy form, perhaps it crystalizes, perhaps it takes the form of an unnatural growth upon a building, maybe it’s simply changed the color of the sky, or  maybe it’s hanging around a character like a spirit. It can take many forms.

And due to that, the applications for it in RP scenarios are quite versatility!

While Emotional Energy will not go away once Emotions Run High comes to its conclusion, it will still remain as a possible plot hook, should you remain interested

There’s so many applications that we on the Elsternwick Moderation team felt like listing some examples of emotions, how they could be characterized, and what they could possibly due!

Important:  These are simply examples of some emotions you could use in RP, as well as potential applications, you don’t have to follow all of these to the letter. There are no limits on how you can use these in RP! They could manifest in completely different ways due to the muse affected, and you could tailor them to fit accordingly! Feel free to experiment and get creative!

Anyway, onto the emotions and some potential plot hooks and applications (Feel free to suggest more or put some spins on existing ones!)\

Anger - Can be characterized as pure red flames,  could start as small embers but can explode into a big problem, can be put out by either enchanted water or calmness and joy. Could also potentially be characterized as rising steam and heat!

Sadness - Can be characterized by clear blue water, usually in the form of Heavy Rain clouds, can be diffused by compassion and support

Fear - Can be characterized by hazy green smoke, takes the form of what ones fears most. Can be diffused by courage and hope

Disappointment - Crushing pressure which solidifies into rocks hanging above, making it hard to move, and harder still to push them off. Can be lightened by comfort.

Comfort - Softer than any pillow, manifests as something the muse loves and is comforted by. Too much comfort can result in the muse falling asleep for an extended period of time. Is easy to diffuse with any negative emotion

Disgust - Can be characterized by Waste Isolation Pilot Plant-style horrifying architecture and pictographs of Sickness and Contagion (Added by Cecil!)

Joy - Spontaneous Flowers blooming, Fireworks, can also manifest as nostalgic elements such as toys, party supplies, etc.  (Added by Cecil!)

Despair - Stabbing hopelessness and apathy often characterized by purple glass shards that spread across the landscape and skin, can be defeated by hope unending. (Added by Marina!)

Hope - Buoyant hope that cannot be brought down, uplifting one through tough terrain. Can be characterized by bubbles and feathers to raise one up. (Added by Cecil!)

Greed - Unending want for everything in the world, money, power, the latest 5* character in a Gacha game.  Can be characterized by a strong magnetic pull. Too much greed can transform your muse into a dangerous dragon like Fafnir of old!

Wanderlust - A strong desire to explore and see the unknown transforms the world around it. Mundane places become giant unexplored lost temples and forests that aren't on any map. Only satisfying the wonder can diffuse this

Chaos/Impulsiveness - A desire for chaos, mayhem, unpredictable things! Can manifests as a wild array of colors that don't match together. Too much Chaos may summon a Mogwai or a Gremlin!

Hatred - Pure, unrelenting anger and hatred directed towards someone or something. Can often manifest as unbreakable and unburnable brambles of thorns. If left unchecked, can create fast spreading slime that can create more ( Suggested by Vin!)

Courage -  A strong desire to push past fear and to be a shield for others. Manifests as a warm, burning flame that shields one against the dark.

Love - Unflinching love and kindness directed towards someone or another. Manifests as rays of light and bubbles that rise up int the air. But can also manifest negatively as grasping hands that grab and never let go. (Suggested by Hen!)

Obsession - Sometimes ties with Greed. Can manifest as numerous, long, spindly hands, hands, or chains that grasp and and reach for what they feel is theirs and should be theirs.

Loneliness - A strong feeling of being alone. Depending on the muse, it can manifest as a desire that they deserve to be alone and isolates them further from others, or that they no longer want to be alone, which results  in others being drawn towards them

Apathy - Surroundings/objects take on a plastic texture and feel, the muse themself might also begin to take this on, though, they are still animate and living. In extreme cases they may become a living toy or machine. (Suggested by Vin!)

Intrusive Thoughts 2.0 - Textbox popups follow the muse, presenting them nagging doubts, fears, or self criticisms. This one isnt tied to a particular emotion, because it can be anything from guilt/shame to anxiety to an overly critical internal voice. (Suggested by Vin!)

As mentioned, these are examples, you’re free to come up with one, experiment with one listed here, or just try something else, there’s a multitude of applications and we look forward to whatever you might do with them!

[nightowlfandom]

Noctis Lucis Caelum- Anything For You

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

More Final Fantasy content....YYYYYYAAAAYY

Leggo

...

“Good girl.” you smiled as the yellow feathered Chocobo ate from your hand. “Eat up, you need your energy.” you scratched the top of her head as she squawked gratefully.

“Y/N are you still here?” the farmhand, Faye emerged from the stables to find you. “Do you not have any other plans?”

“Trust me.” you began to laugh. “I’d much rather scoop up giant bird poops than deal with my personal life right now...or lack thereof.”

“Well isn’t that somethin- Is that the crown prince I see?” she looked past you which made you follow her eyes. “It is?! Prince Noctis on my Chocobo farm. Quick! How do I look?” 

“Like a farmer.” you laughed in reply. “Perhaps get the shit off your boots.”

“Damnit! I should have worn my new ones.” She began wiping the bottoms of her shoes against the grass. 

“Faye, he’s just a prince. I don’t know what’s so great about him anyways.” you rolled your eyes. “He seems like an asshole from what I’ve seen of him.”

“You’ve never even met him.” she put her hands on her hips. “Maybe you’ll like him!”

“Sure, whatever you say, Faye.”  you laughed. “That’ll happen.”

...

“Ugh why are we here anyways?” Noctis rolled his eyes as Ignis pulled up to the famous Chocobo farm.

“Because!” Prompto snapped in reply. The blond male didn’t even wait for the car to fully stop before he jumped out. “The eggs are supposed to be hatching today and I want to be the first to capture a picture of those featherless faces!”

“Of course.” he scoffed. Noctis liked Chocobos, sure. He just didn’t think an idea of a good Saturday morning was to spend the day at a bunch of dirty, smelly, stables, for a bunch of unhatched eggs no less. “Great.”

“I suggest you fix your face, the farmhand is here.” Gladio grunted, hopping out of the car. “Wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Whateve-” Noctis turned his head towards the loud squawking when his eyes landed on you. You were feeding a random Chocobo while talking to that farmgirl who ran the stables. “Woah.” he felt his heart flutter. Who were you?! He heard you laugh from where he was and felt his heart stop. Your laugh, it was beautiful.

“Yo? Who is that girl?” Noctis scrambled out of the car, nearly falling on his face. He tried desperately to fix himself up. “Specs?”

“I believe she frequents the shops not too far from here.” Ignis replied in his usually cool manner. “I believe she is also a friend of that Dino character we run into from time to time.”

“No way. Her?! Friends with that-” Noctis shook his head in disbelief. He found it impossible to walk forward. Gravity was stopping him. He didn’t even notice everyone else walking ahead of him. He had never seen you around before but he wished he had. “Woah....”

...

You were still chatting with Faye when a group of guys ran up. One of them held a camera and looked as if he were about to explode. You had no time to register the camera flash. Good think he captured your good side.

“I AM HERE FOR THE EGGS!” he declared. His abrasiveness surprised you. Was he talking about the new hatchlings? 

“Ummm-” Faye looked scared. “You here to volunteer?”

“Heck yeah I am!” he explosive blonde looked as if he was about to piss himself from excitement. “I WANT TO HOLD YOUR CHOCOBOS!”

“Alright! Keep your pants on. Follow me. Y/N, you’ll be good here right?” Faye asked, seemingly frightened by the giddy young man. 

“Yeah.” you stifled a laugh. “I’ll be just fine here.” you shook your head as the man ran full force for the stables. You were about to go about your business when a black haired boy stumbled up to you. “For a royal, you’re pretty clumsy.” you stifled laughter.

“Huh?!” he looked taken aback. “You know who I am?”

“...I mean aren’t I supposed to?” you turned back towards the Chocobo. “Prince Noctis?” you tried to hold in your distaste, but he caught up on it instantly.

“Is there an issue with me-”

“As a matter of fact there is. Don’t think I didn’t notice that face you were making when you pulled up with your friends.” you cut him off. “Big and bad prince man can’t be seen around a few Chocobos?”

“Oh, no that’s not it at all.” Noctis tried to explain himself in the best way he could. 

“Then what exactly is it?” you turned towards him again. “I mean really?”

“Okay so I admit my attitude isn’t the best-”:

“So you admit it?” you held back harsh laugh. “Hm, It’s a start.” you shrugged.

“I mean, you aren’t really giving me a fair chance. You only know me from the papers.” he explained. “You don’t really know me as a person. For all I know you could be a stalker.”

“I am no a stalker!” you looked him up and down. 

“I wouldn’t know that.” he winked. “So maybe we both have it all wrong.”

“And what do you wanna do to fix that, go on a date or something?” you scoffed.

“Yes!” he replied honestly. “Let me prove I’m not some asshole!”

“Is it that imperative that you go out of your way to prove to me that you aren’t an asshole?” you raised a brow.

“Yes!” he nodded quickly.

...

You boredly sat at the restaurant table. He was late. 15 minutes to be exact. 

“I knew this was a load of-” you prepared yourself to stand up when a man frantically rushed in.

“I’M HERE!” Noctis yelled, grabbing the attention of the other patrons. He practically fell into the chair right across from you. 

“Nice of you to show.” you sat back down. You decided to humor this guy. “Care to explain?”

“Sorry! Stupid Prompto gave me the wrong address and...woah...” he nearly drooled all over the place seeing you in your tight black dress. “You look...amazing.”

“Sure I do.” you scoffed. “I’m sure I still have dried up chocobo shit in my hair,” you turned away from him, feeling your insecurity creep up on you, tons more than usual. “But thank you.” you relaxed in your chair.

“No I mean it! Even when I saw you...I thought you were beautiful.” he expressed.

“Really?” you paused to look him in the eye. 

“Really.” he smiled. “You’re the best looking girl here.” 

“I definitely don’t believe that...but thank you.” you said shyly. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

....

“What about that one?” you pointed to a random star.

“That one, there’s a legend that it’s a parallel version of this world.” 

You both sat at the edge of the lake, staring into the moonlit sky. After dinner, Noctis had taken you to the docks on Galdin Quay. 

“No way. “You stared at the star in wonder. “How many worlds do you think there are?”

“Infinite, my dad says so.” Noctis replied. “All different versions of us doing different things.” he smiled to himself. “Maybe there’s a version of me that...is actually proud to be a prince.” he glowered. 

“Maybe there’s a version of me whose the royal instead.” you nudged him. That made him chuckle a bit. 

“If that’s the case...I’d be happy to bow down to you.” he flirted. He looked back at the sky. “Try that one.” he pointed.

“I know that one.” you beamed a little. “There’s a legend called the Lover’s Star, if a couple sees it on their first date...they’ll be together forever.” you mused romantically. It was only then you had realized your fingers had laced into Noctis’s. 

“Maybe today was our lucky day.” he winked. After a second of silence, you decided to confess.

“I was wrong about you.” you said honestly a while. “I think you’re pretty amazing, Noct.” you chuckled. 

“So...” he smiled deviously. “Are ya gonna say I’m sorry?” he mocked.

“You wish. You’re still a stuck up prince to me...you’re just not an asshole prince.” you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re not like most guys around here.” you shyly looked away from him you dug your toes into the sand. 

“Well I’m not from around here.” he replied. “You’re different from everyone around here. You’re not all into me because I’m The Prince Noctis- that’s all I want. I want someone to see me for who I am...not what I am.”

You shyly kicked your legs in the water, looking at the ripples in the water.. “I’m glad I could be that person for you Noctis.” you smiled.

“Guess this means you’re gonna be part of my team now?” he bit his lip. “You’ll be my...ummm...I’ll think of something.”

“I look forward to it.” you giggled. 

“Hm for now...come here.” he winked, gently holding the side of your face. Noctis kissed you. You felt your senses go off. You instantly grabbed his face, kissing him back.

...

You fell back on the hotel bed, refusing to disconnect from a feverish prince throwing himself at you. He kissed you with urgency, as if you would disappear before his eyes. He tore a rip up your dress hastily. 

Your tongues clashed together as you kissed, the air was getting heavy. You helped Noctis out of his jacket. Your dress had turned to ribbons and your panties weren’t too far behind. 

“N-noctis..” you hissed, feeling his hands explore every inch of your body.

“You feel even better than I imagined you would.” he kissed your bare stomach. “You’re so beautiful.” he moaned. It was like you were the goddess, the royal, and he was the peasant.

You felt shy under his gaze. He stared up at you, biting his lip. “I don’t think I can wait...” he groaned. “A-are you okay with this?”

“God, yes.” you mewled as he kissed your thighs. 

“I wanna worship you.” he moaned, ghosting his lips over your center. You shyly stared down at Noctis who looked up at you with a shit eating grin. 

He sunk his tongue into you, lashing against your pussy. You instantly grabbed a fist full of his hair. You and him both were a mess. Hisses and prolonged moans escaped your lungs along with his name. You were sure the people in the next room could hear you. 

Noctis crawled over you again, a predatory glare in his eyes. He bit his lip, staring down at you. “You’re so fucking cute...”

...

“I’d do anything for you.” he moaned against your lips. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.” he whimpered, his thrusts growing sloppily. He bucked his hips rhythmically, your bodies moving and grinding in sweet friction. His cock twitched inside of you as he grew near his release, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to cum to the sounds of your cries and screams. ”Gonna make you my queen and w-we’ll rule together until our hearts give out baby. F-FUUUCCKK.”

“Noctis.” you croaked. Hearing his words in your ear made you hiss in delight. This alone caused him to dig his nails into your sides and thrust even deeper into your heat. You didn’t know what else do you but let a stream of cries escape your lungs. 

“I love it when you say my name.” he grunted. “Say it again.”

“N-noctis.” your insides lurched as you tightened around his length. “I wanna- I’m gonna-”

“Again.” he barked. “Never stop saying my name. Never say another man’s name!” he sank his teeth into the crook of your neck. “You’re mine, baby. You’re all mine.” he growled.

“Noctisss.” you arched your back. “F-fu-” you whimpered, at the impact. “S-shit!”

Noctis yanked himself from you, spraying his cum all over your stomach. Shortly before, you came too, feeling your water run down your leg. He fell forward, burying his head into your neck. “Baby, I’d fucking do everything for you.”

You shook under his body, whimpering at his gentle touches. You felt him kiss your need lovingly as you both drifted off to sleep.

...

[harveywritings92]

BNHA Scenario: You fall asleep in their room.

Hawks: You've known Keigo since he first started out as a hero and were living with after a villain attack left your apartment destroyed, which both awesome and devastating to you, awesome you get to see your best friend and crush on his off time! but devastating because he doesn't know you like him... and it hurts knowing that while you're here on the penthouse balcony eating take-out drinking canned wine, looking down at the streets below... Hawks is out on some fancy date with some fangirl, who he's never gonna call again!

A sigh left your mouth as you pulled away from the railing nearly stumbling backwards a bit! luckily the feather Hawks left in the penthouse (or as Kei lovingly called it the nest.) caught you and gently pushed you back on your feet and just kind of hovered close in case you fell over,

(Meanwhile... Keigo flinched feeling his feather impact with something, worried he to excuse himself from his date and call you! and got nervous when you didn't answer.)

Deciding to call it a night you tossed your can in the recycling bin and went to bathroom, not seeing your phone light up when Hawks called... afterwards you managed to stumble into your room and pass out on your "bed" not noticing the fact that that your full size mattress was suddenly a king size and your blankets and sheets weren't the normal purple flannel ones you usually snuggled into.

Keigo got home 15 minutes later...

"Y/n?...I'm back!" He called out looking around the living room trying to see if you were awake, no answers he locked the door and put his keys on the counter when he noticed, the empty cans on it he check the labels and realized they were wine and hard water... he let out a small whistle reading the labels some of these were hard core 17% alcohol!... *She didn't drink these by herself did she?* he went over toward the guest room but saw the door close and assumed you were sleeping...

Keigo then went to his room and got ready for bed, and froze when he sensed he wasn't alone, he looked over at his bed as saw a person laying there, the blond tensed up and kept his feathers train on them as he approached he lifted the blanket and... Keigo's feathers dropped when he saw you laying fast asleep in his bed... His mind kind of stalled to a screeching halt as he stared at you there curled up and vulnerable...

He should've woken you up... should've told you to go back to your room, but instead the avian man just finished getting ready for bed and settled down next you taking your serene features and playing with your [hl/hc] hair as one of his wings covered you protectively before drifting off to sleep.

The it was the crack of dawn you woke up with a bad hangover and confused your bed felt and smelled different... almost like, a large red wing lazily jutted over your body and rested next to your head, Your eyes widened hangover momentarily forgotten as you got a good look around and realized you weren't in your room! you felt an arm thrown over you waist turned to see Keigo sleeping, you swallowed and tried to slip away, while trying to think how your going apologize for this! only for the blond to hold on tighter and pulled you back towards him, you looked back and saw his gold eyes glaring at her half lidded with a clear message. "Go back to sleep." you blinked before laying back down and relaxed in Keigo's arms going back to sleep.

===============================

Dabi: You stupidly trusted Toga who was fooling around with her quirk and was disguised as a dude said she'd take you back to your room after you over did it at the bar, you were pretty plastered Kurogiri cut you off and told you to go to bed! Toga offered to help you out, cos Dabi your supposed partner was too busy flirting with some random chick; who had wandered in with her entourage, not uncommon as the league needed the money so occasionally, they'll open the bar to civilians though most of them were drugged by the end of the night and dropped at random spots so that can't tell people where they were. (but anywho)

Toga had said she'd take you back to your room and in your drunken haze, you foolishly trusted her as she led you way from the bar. and far away from a certain cremator, who didn't take your absence lightly... Toga's quirk had worn off by the time she dropped you off in Dabi's room and happily went back to her room, curious about how this was gonna play out tomorrow! Dabi was pissed when he approached your room he went to knock on your door, but paused. You weren't his girl... he can't tell you what to do nor who to screw! So then why hell did it feel like he was being cheated on? He growled and went to his room, where he was in for a shock when he found you passed in his bed!...

Dabi was so confused if you were here? then who th-..." Toga..." he hissed tired and annoyed the raven haired man walked over to his bed and glared down at you with mild interest, "I don't know what the hell you're doing to me N/n..." he huffed thinking back to the bar the rage he felt seeing what he thought was some fugly guy was dragging you off to bed with him. "I turned down... A blonde, bisexual, bridesmaid for you, that's like the unicorn of bar girls!" he mused playing with your bangs as he laid down next to you. "I've been doing that a lot lately..." he hummed voice getting huskier as sleep over took him...while holding onto you.

================================

Shigaraki: You been awake for three days straight, doing random missions for the league and were very disoriented you hadn't even realized you wandered into Shigaraki's room and settled down next to the gaming dust master, luckily your quirk cancels his out, So you weren’t a dust pile when he rolled over in his sleep and instinctively wrapped his arms around whatever was making him feel warm.

Two hours later

The last thing Tomura was expected when he woke up from his nap was him spooning a girl! He jolt out of bed shocked and looked around confused, what the hell were you doing in his room? why did you... his eyes widened when he realized it you weren't dead…how come you weren't a pile of dust?! he looked at his hand then back at you and brought a shaky hand to you cheek gently put all five fingers to you warm flesh.. nothing happened! He can touch you...

Shigaraki let a choked gasp as he laid back down next you to taking in your features, he's noticed you lot as you're always kind of pretty for an NPC and you liked videogames too! but other then that he was too shy to try and interact with you... other telling you where to go and what to do, least  now he had reason to start talking to you more.

He then noticed the bags under your eyes and how sickly you looked... Shigaraki's eyes narrowed as he wondered why that was? he got his answer when he heard two male voices talking down the hall. "Dammit Kurogiri put me on night patrol again!" one huffed as the other male snorted. "So what? just get Y/n to do it.. she's easy to screw over, just tell her you were given her job by mistake." the first asked is that worked, the second one confirmed it.

Tomura was getting angrier as they continued making fun of you! he got up careful not to wake you and opened the door and closed it, "Oh, hey boss!...what are you Ack!!!" there was struggle for a few seconds then Tomura's muffled talking and muffled. "Yes sir, I'm sorry sir!", then Shigaraki walked back in his room, leaving Guy 1 staring at the pile dust that used to be Guy 2. Shigaraki laid back down next you holding you hand.

================================

Bakugou: You went to bathroom and accidently wandered into his dorm and he hadn't even noticed you slip into bed next to him, until he woke up at around 3 am and felt arms around his waist, Katsuki was ready to blow a gasket. "WHO TH-" he choked up and blushed when he saw it was you...his crush, how the... what the hell are you doing in his bed?! how did you even get into his room?! His red eyes fixated on his door and saw it wasn't locked.

He must've forgot to lock it after he told Shitty-hair and Dunce-face to get lost! Well, it was too late now. you were here, and he wasn't gonna let you get in trouble over a mistake! and besides he kind of enjoying feeling you holding onto him like this... it was warm and kind of felt nice Katsuki felt himself relax and drifted of back to sleep.

Needless to say Aizawa was not a happy teacher when he found you sleeping in Bakugou's bed both teens didn't know what was coming as Aizawa slowly raised the bucket full of ice water over his head and... Outside birds flew away the sound of screaming and the deafening explosion that followed.

[wri0thesley]

I understand if you got too many requests or are not interested but... maybe you'd like to entertain the neko curse situation but reverse the situation? Meaning it's the jjk men who got hit by that curse and turned into nekos! Maybe they tried to protect their s/o and ended up changed themselves but somehow before disappearing the curse left a mark on the s/o and the effects won't be reversed until the mark disappears (so no easy idle transmutation to solve this problem, mahito~)

not sfw, minors dni!

♡ —-> below the cut: gojo, nanami, geto, toji, sukuna, mahito, naoya, choso <—-  ♡

♡ Gojo immediately asks you if you think he’s a cute cat; which of course, you do. He’s got fluffy white ears and a majestic fluffy white tail that you desperately want to pet. He immediately, too, knows how to fix the curse - but the way you’re looking at him is so interesting that he can’t pass up a chance to see if you’ll make a move on him like this.

You end up curled up against him, your fingers delicately petting the soft, thick white fur of his ears whilst his eyes go half-lidded and he murmurs something about how he could get used to this. He tells you that he doesn’t think that being a lap cat is such a bad profession, actually, so long as the lap that he gets to sleep in is yours. 

- ♡ -

♡ Nanami is not sure how to proceed. He’s rather like a cat already; a solitary, elegant creature who doesn’t trouble himself to exceed more effort than he has to unless the situation calls for it. But actually having the features of a cat is different. He doesn’t like how sensitive his new ears are (especially when he tries to call Gojo). He doesn’t like how his tail fits in his tailored slacks. He works out the mark almost immediately - and then wants to go back to his place so the two of you can discuss breaking the curse, in private, before anyone sees what has happened to him.

He will not want to be intimate whilst he’s the one with the cat ears and tail; he’s too nervous for that. But he will accept gentle strokes, scritches behind the ear, a delicate top-to-tail rub from the back of his neck and onwards until his back arches and he sighs, a rumbling purr emanating from his throat. 

- ♡ -

♡ Geto does not want this to have happened. He is a well-mannered, polite curse user who uses his honeyed tones and his way of persuasion to bring people over to his side - and the new ears and tail that he is having to get used to are making people not take him seriously. He’s a very smart man; from the minute it happens, he’s running through all of the curses he has on him that might be able to help him figure out how to help.

Unfortunately, Nanako and Mimiko think that their father figure with cat-like instinct is the cutest thing in the world, and he keeps getting accidentally distracted by toys they throw for him or the stick with a dangling feather they’ve somehow procured. Part of him wants to tell them off; part of him can’t help but smile to see them having fun. If you join in with Nanako and Mimiko, though, Geto’s eyes go very dark and his smirk turns very crooked - and you can bet that, cat ears or no cat ears, Geto will punish you for being so forward later on tonight. 

- ♡ -

♡ Toji is grunting and grumbling about the curse, reaching up to scratch at the dark-furred ears protruding from his head. You bite back your cry of how adorable he looks; there’s a scowl on his face that you know is bad news, as his eyes fly over the mark on your wrist and he heaves a world-weary sigh. “Guess we’ve gotta work this one out together, huh?” He asks you, wry smile tugging at scarred lips. “C’mere--”

He pulls you into his lap, his hands massive as he gets you comfortable. He’s like a cat padding into his blankets, making biscuits on the soft meat of his thighs as he presses his chin onto your shoulders and begins to muse aloud about all of the ways that he can think of that he can get the curse to lift.

You can’t help but squirm as he kneads your skin, your ass pressing directly against the bulge in his pants as his breathing gets more ragged - and eventually, you’re pinned down onto the sofa beneath him, his tail flicking, agitated, as he murmurs; “You’ve really got me goin’ now, sweetheart--”

- ♡ -

♡ Sukuna … yes, Sukuna isn’t happy about it. He doesn’t think the King of Curses should be cute. This curse can sense his energy, and there are clearly tiger ears or big cat ears perched on his head, his tail long and thick - but still. He’s mad that he’s been made fun of, he’s mad that the curse has happened, he’s mad that the curse had the nerve to lay its mark on you when you’re his beloved little pet and his property and only he should ever be allowed to. If he can’t break out of it straight away, he’s smart and powerful enough to have formulated a plan before the end of the night.

But Sukuna’s sex drive is as insatiable as the rest of him, and he cannot go one night without burying himself within the tight, warm confines of your body. You will be pinned beneath him by four claws, a gazelle pinned beneath a tiger as he grins down at you aware that he is very much ‘the predator catching his prey’. You will enjoy his method of catching. 

- ♡ -

♡ Mahito is very interested in this new development. Honestly, he’s not overtly attached to his ‘human’ form - he uses his idle transfiguration on himself with little thought - and he quite likes the ears and the tail, and he certainly likes the way you look at him and curiously reach out to give him scratches on the sensitive new additions. He’s a little embarrassed by the low vibration that comes from his throat, the purr at being touched - but he’s also a creature interested in new developments and new sensations, and this certainly falls into both of those ball parks. The real problem is when he realises he can no longer use the transmutation to get into his other forms. He needs to be able to do that, for all of his plans - it doesn’t matter if he can still transmute humans, he wants the freedom to do whatever he wants to his own form. Mahito is determined when he sets his mind to it, and the moment he realises the mark on you is somehow connected to his new state, he is not going to rest until the both of you have gotten to the bottom of things.

Yes, he’ll explore how it feels to be petted and have his tail tugged and be collared in bed before you do that, though. Mahito takes every opportunity as one for pleasure, and he finds that even though you’re his little human pet first and foremost, he doesn’t mind if the roles are reversed as long as it’s temporary. 

-  ♡ -

♡ Naoya absolutely hates this development. He is the goddamn future leader of the Zen’in clan, and nobody is going to take him seriously with a tail sticking out of the waistband of his hakama and a pair of ears that don’t match his hair tufting from his head. He tries very hard to hide them from absolutely everyone, jamming his tail in his clothes and a hat on his head and trying extremely hard not to get distracted by passing shiny lights dancing on the windowpanes. When he figures out it’s something to do with the mark on you, he might blame you for it a little bit - but he insists that if you help him sort out the predicament he’s in, he’ll be lenient on you during your punishment.

As a cat, he’s a hissing, spitting fussy little thing - when the question of intimacy does come up, he’s still willing and wanting to fuck you, but he’s even more animalistic than usual. Nails-come-claws digging into your bare skin, slightly elongated fangs scraping along your soft skin. 

- ♡ -

♡ Choso is perplexed by the tail and the ears, hesitantly reaching up to touch them and shooting you awkward looks. He even tries to hide them from you at first, worried you’ll be upset by it - but when you look at them with your lip bitten and gently pet the base of his tail so his back arches, he realises that you’re not disgusted, just . . . interested. They don’t exactly get in his way, but he’s definitely flustered by the way people look at him with new additions. He doesn’t want to draw more attention than necessary to himself. The thing that upsets him most is that the mark is on your body; he wants this to be his own burden to bear, and he hates himself for getting you dragged into it. 

He’ll let you touch his new additions hesitantly whilst the two of you are intimate, but he won’t initiate. He gets all awkward and flustered by the petting, surprised by how turned on he is when you coo that he’s such a good kitty for you--

- ♡ -

[miekasa]

future nostalgia (eren jaeger)

↯ pairing: eren jaeger x (fem) reader, armin is absolutely putting in the work and deserves wingman of the year, mikasa is your well-reasoned, protective friend how you like them apples

↯ genres and warnings: college au, fluff, everybody is a little bit of an idiot, armin and eren supremacy, i will find a way to make levi captain of something in any and every au

↯ word count: 1.5k

↯ summary: armin arlert is the greatest wingman a boy could ask for; unfortunately he’s also oblivious as hell and painfully single himself, but you know what, he’s doing his best (aka you and eren putting your friends through the mental wingman/wingwoman olympics).

↯ notes: i’m running out of gifs to use i’m going to have to learn how to use photoshop to make headers rip in peace to me, also this an old piece, reworked for eren again, sometimes i cheat off of myself it’s okay  

“Just come by the rink during practice,” Armin pleas, “I promise, he can put his hot-headedness to good use!”

“I don’t doubt that,” you chuckle, your voice booming through the speaker of his phone, “But I’m pretty sure the rink is closed to non-athletes or team members, Armin.”

“But I can get you access! Manager’s privileges!” Armin boasts.

“While I appreciate the reminder about how single you think I am—and, I do, truly, Armin, from the bottom of my heart, thank you—you don’t have to try and set me up with one of your hockey jockeys.”

“They’re not jockeys!” Armin protests.

“Reiner Braun is most definitely a jockey.”

Armin slumps down a bit. Okay, most of them are good people. Most of the time. Look, Reiner is the exception, not the norm, but even he could be analytical and composed when he needed to be. 

“I’m going to tell him you said that,” Armin threatens.

“Fine, then I’ll tell him that you almost leaked his nudes to the entire girls volleyball team freshman year.”

“You play dirty,” Armin pouts, face growing red at the memory. (In his defense, it was freshman year, pretty much the first time in his life he’d had alcohol unsupervised, and in his drunken haze he thought he might have been doing Reiner a favor; he was pining over Christa pretty hard). “Which is exactly why you’ll love Eren!”

“Eren, still?” you question, trying to hide the amusement in your tone. “What’s the infatuation with me and Eren? You know, if I’m being honest, Jean is more my type, or even the captain—what’s his name again?”

“You mean Levi?” Armin questions, incredulous, “He’s the exact opposite of your type, don’t lie to me!”

“He’s still hot.”

“Is he really?” Mikasa’s voice questions doubtfully; and you can practically feel her rolling her eyes from across the receiver, “You can do better than him, (Y/N).”

“Wait, am I on speaker?” you ask.

“Maybe, doesn’t matter,” Armin hums, brushing away the topic, “Like I was saying, Eren is great, and you’re great, so you’d be great together! Plus, he’s kind of loaded, and very generous. Not that you’re shallow or anything, but I’m just saying, he’d take you on nice dates.”

“You’re kind of loaded and you don’t take me on nice dates.”

“Because we’re not dating.”

“You could take me on a friend date,” you muse, “Don’t be stingy, Armin.”

“She has a point,” Mikasa quips, “You always go to the fancy museums and don’t invite us.”

“Because the last time I did, you fell asleep! In the middle of the coral reef exhibit!” Armin whines.

“Because it was boring as fuck,” Mikasa deadpans, prompting you to chuckle.

“I have to agree. I’m afraid if you and Eren have the same taste in dates, it will never work out.”

“We don’t!” Armin insists, “Look, Eren is exactly your type, (Y/N), I’m telling you! He’s cute, athletic, but not bulky, and little clumsy, but it can be charming! Plus he loves puppies, cares about the environment, believes the healthcare system is corrupt, and hates most branches of law enforcement! What more could you want!”

“Armin,” you pause, holding back your laughter, “Maybe you should set yourself up with Eren if you think he’s that great.”

Armin chokes on the other end of the line, and your chuckles stumble out; you can imagine the blonde growing red and increasingly embarrassed with every passing second.

Mikasa hums. “Armin and Eren do have good chemistry—”

“Hello?! I don’t want to date Eren!”

“—but, I’ll vouch for Eren on this, too,” Mikasa continues, “I think you two would be good together.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You’d always known Mikasa was in support of setting you up with Eren too—albeit much more subtle than her blonde counterpart—but she’d never said it explicitly; showing her approval in contended nods and hums whenever Armin would scheme to get you and Eren together. It was somewhat reassuring to hear.

You’re about to continue teasing Armin about the subject, when you hear your apartment door unlock. You shift your phone to your other hand, as you hear the sound of keys clanging onto the hook near the door.

“Look, guys, I gotta go,” you tell him, “This is been fun, but maybe focus on working out your feelings before setting me up, yeah? I wouldn’t want to get in the way of such a beautiful friends to lovers story.”

“Will you—I want you to date Eren, not date him myself! There—be quiet, Mikasa—there are no feelings to work out, I don’t even like g—”

“Sounds, good Armin,” you chuckle, words hurried as you hear footsteps approaching you, “Try and get Levi’s number for me, would you? Rumor has it he’s loaded, too—old money rich and everything.”

“But Eren is perfect—” is all you hear before you end the call, a pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, just as your thumb presses against your screen.

Ruffled, brown hair falls onto your shoulders as a chin is propped up against your neck; a flurry feather light kisses greeting you soon after. You hum, reaching your hand back to curl into the brown tresses, a final, exaggerated kiss pressed into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Why are you trying to get Captain’s number,” Eren questions, voice muffled as he nuzzles his nose behind your ear, “No offense, but I think you’d have to line up behind his hundred and one fangirls first, babe.”

You chuckle lightly, neck growing warm as Eren continues to bury himself into your skin. His is cold from the winter air, but you don’t know why he insists on inflicting it onto you, when you know he’ll be back to furnace temperatures within the next ten minutes.

“I’m just messing with Armin,” you answer, resting on of your hands over Eren’s at your waist and giving it a squeeze, “He’s still trying to set us up.”

Eren chuckles, undoing his hold on you to spin you around to face him, cold hands cupping either side of your face. You scrunch your nose at the frigid feeling, but Eren finds it cute, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of your nose as an apology.

“Well, Armin is nothing if not loyal,” Eren muses.

“He’s too good for you,” you jest, poking at Eren’s forehead playfully, “He’s putting in all this work to be a good wingman, and you’re slacking off.”

“Technically, he’s not doing any work, we’re already together.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Eren questions, using his hands to squish your cheeks together, “I wanted to tell him two months ago.”

“First of all, this secret thing was your idea to begin with,” you point out, “Which—oh, by the way, I told you Mikasa approves of you; she said we’d be cute together on the phone.”

“That doesn’t mean she still won’t castrate me if we ever break up,” Eren says, a shudder running down his spine at the thought of it.

It’s not that he wanted to keep your relationship a complete secret from all of your friends forever, but he was hesitant at first, unsure of how your two friend groups would merge and take the news. And, he knew how much Mikasa cared about you, and truthfully, the dark haired girl scared him a little.

But it was bordering on half a year now, and he was certain that somebody would catch on soon enough. That, or Eren would accidentally let it slip to the entire hockey team one of these days—he almost has on a handful of occasions, but you don’t need to know about all of that.

And while a part of him did like the privacy that came along with dating in secrecy, Eren was finding it increasingly difficult to pretend to not be in love with you whenever you two went out with your friends; and to not brag that he had a super hot, super supportive girlfriend to wear his jersey during games, and Jean didn’t.

“You have plans to break up with me, Jaeger?” you question, but there’s a playful lilt in your voice.

It makes Eren grin, using his grip on your face to pull you closer, words ghosting over your lips before he pulls you in for a kiss, “Not in a million years.”

[thursday-writes-fanfics]

Choose, part 4. (Reader x Jack Sparrow or Will Turner. )

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean, Will Turner, Jack Sparrow.

Warnings: None lmao

Words: 2.3 K

First - Former - Next

It's been a while since my last update, so here you go!

One year had passed since the faithed night in Tortuga, where Y/N left everything she once knew behind, to seek the truth she needed to find within. One eventful year where she had gone alone through more than most would in their lifetime. Travelling along with different crews, battling across the seas and polishing her hastily growing reputation as one of the most fearsome pirates the world has ever seen. None dared voice their annoyance with her being a woman, for she had allies all across the seven seas. She had seen so much of the world, her confidence grown and her heart set aflame with adventure. Y/N was an even finer pirate and woman than she had been ever before.

Other pirates either wished to be her or be with her, the secrets of many slipped into her ears. It amused the young woman, and the many who worked in the brothels along the coasts. When Y/N needed information, it was not other pirates or navy officials she sought out. No, it was the brothels’ gossip she tuned her ears to. For the women there knew far more of the world than any other. All news came to their homes and it was all available for the famous pirate.

She had earned an even better reputation with them as well, as she sought out the women there the first thing she did each time she came ashore. She treated them kindly, paid for their food and brought along gifts, treating them like friends. Her actions earned her a handsome reputation with the women, and in each town she could always find a loyal embrace to keep her safe. After all, the women of the brothels ruled the cities from the shadows. To anger one of them was to anger an underground nation.

Y/N’s locks had grown long since the night one year ago, her clothing expensive and proud on her frame. A treat she gave herself due to her wide success in both informal and formal businesses. She was a true pirate, yet could strike a bargain with the British navy without a problem. After all, they too were afraid of her.

The feather on her black hat curled down to her shoulder, its size another show of her wealth and power. The weaponry which clad her shape were the most efficient, on all the ships of the sea, not even the British army able to supply her better. Only the finest for herself, the woman had decided. Dual pistols she had strapped to each side of her chest, and upon both hips she held blades, one magnificent sabre and one deadly cutlass, all adorned with the most elaborate details. These were all weapons to show, the rest she had hidden in pockets and secret departments on her curves. Small explosives and hidden blades were better kept in subtle crevices than to be seen by the naked eye when one made deals. All about the fearsome pirate screamed confidence and to show respect, and that respect she had earned many times over.

“We’ll be docked in an hour, lass,” came the captain’s voice, the merry band she was travelling with now not as roughhousing as most of her fellow pirates. Mercenaries of the law they were during the day after all, and they weren’t too keen on going out during the night when there was ale to be drunk with stories to be told in old taverns. It was a life-altering change from how they had once been, when the captain and his crew had been young and adventurous. A smirk clad Y/N’s lips when she faced the man, her fingers fiddling with the sabre’s handle. “Aye, thought it was about time to dock, Captain Henry. And still I’m not sure if I will take my leave of you when we get there, or if I will meet the navy together with you in the morrow,” her deceptive nature made the captain laugh, for he knew just how little control anyone had over the young pirate. He joined her side with a few strides to the railing, gazing at the sea from the quarterdeck.

“Aye, ye do as ye wish, lassie,” mused the older man, finding his gaze once more sought out her face. “Yer not notorious for knowing every pirate for no reason. Can’t keep ye in place forever” he snickered, his mind on the many rumours he had heard over the past year of the pirate. He had seen it himself a few times too, how the famous Y/N had stepped off one ship only to board another in the same port. Her name was known by all, whether they liked her or not. Her presence on a ship could deter a dispute between two crews, for no one wanted her gone. And those who did were quick to find themselves cornered and silenced for good after voicing such atrocious thoughts aloud.

“Oh shut your gob, “ sneered the woman in reply, earning more laughter from the captain as his head fell back to let the thunderous noise wash over the ship. A simple “Never,” Henry retaliated, winning their argument as he strode to attend his crew and ensure the docking process would flow smoothly. Y/N watched the sea for a moment longer, trained on the horizon in an attempt to find a peculiar ship. One which carried black sails. Fingers carded through her hair as she thought about her old companions, but discarded the thoughts just as quickly. A turn of her heels and the woman came to face the incoming port, nothing she wished to see there either. A defeated smile curled her lips when she ventured to help her current crew, missing the hint of black that rounded a nearby island with a course for their port.

“ Alright, lads!” with easy leaps and muscles bunched for one last jump, Y/N climbed halfway up the crow's nest and gazed down at the many faces who all gave her their full attention.

“ I’m saying this just once because Henry doesn’t seem to be able to get it through your thick skulls. If we don’t get this cargo to the bay within the first few hours of us getting to port, the taverns will be full and the brothels closed,” the crew stared at the woman, most having just woken up from their midday nap. Too many faces were disinterested, the woman sneering maliciously as she knew exactly what would get them on their feet.

“Which means, no ale and no lovers!” Y/N roared, drawing enjoyment from the panic growing in the men’s eyes. They had been at sea for a month now, and the lot needed more than the icy waters could ever offer.

“So unless you wish to mope around the ship for the entire night, alone, get to it!” the crew leapt to their feet, their rushing steps and loud cries satisfying to Y/N’s ears. The pirate’s piercing eyes found the captain who let his chest heave with a sigh, not one to question the woman’s authority. She had gotten the crew off their asses with a single threat, when he had shouted at them all day to get ready. The ship groaned when they threw down the anchor, straining against it as it still wished to traverse further. A gangplank found its hold against the port, the cargo soon to cross over it. Both the captain and Alexandra oversaw the process, to ensure their goods would be gone by the hour.

“Ye know,” Captain Henry spoke after a long while, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Ye should consider becoming a captain one day,” Y/N snapped her head to face the man, eyes threatening to fall out. “Me? A captain?” she ridiculed, shocked by his words. The captain let a snicker pass his lips at her surprise, for being able to shock the immovable Y/N was quite amusing. Work roughened hand, tainted by the deep sea came to rest on his back, clasped together.

“Just sayin’. Ye’ve got the guts and respect for it,” with a smirk the captain passed his current crewmate, stepping onto the railing. “I will leave the rest to ye, for I am in need of a drink,” a wink was sent the woman’s way before Captain Henry made his way down the docks, disappearing without a trace. His back was followed by Y/N’s incredulous gaze.

“You fucking bastard,” Y/N shouted after him, her spiteful words only a show of affection to them both. With a shake of her head and a smirk on her lips growing when she heard the captain’s faraway laughter, the pirate got back to work. With an easy step, she leapt atop the railing, gazing at the crew working by her side.

“We’re making good time, lads! If you keep this up you’re probably going to be one of the first crews of the night to get to the pubs!” Y/N encouraged them. The merry men laughed and cheered whilst their work pace increased tenfold at the praise and promises of entertainment. Even the stand-in captain dared to laugh herself, unaware of how many eyes watched her joy from far out at sea.

It started with Ragetti looking through the captain’s spyglass, minding his own business as they had yet to start preparing to get docked. When turning his eye to the port city, he could tear his wandering gaze when it laid eyes on an extremely familiar figure. Too far away to make out entirely, yet the pirate was certain of who he saw. None he had ever encountered before looked and stood like their old acquaintance.

“Oh, would you look at that!” the pirate laughed, Pintel looking over at him with a raised brow. The spyglass fell from his eye, Ragetti free hand pointing to one of the largest ships docked in the nearing port.

“Y/N is aboard Henry the Savage’s boat!” the words he spoke carried over the deck, the silence that followed deafening, the group trying to comprehend what had just been said. A moment later and the crew rushed like a stampede for the two pirates who shrieked in fright at the threatening approach. The spyglass was taken from Ragetti’s hand and passed to them all to get a look for themselves.

“I can’t see ‘er!”

“Is it really Y/N the Courageous you saw?”

“Courageous? No! Her title is the Unbeatable!

“No, she’s Y/N the Ace of the Sea! The greatest pirate yet!”

The commotion on deck drew Will and Jack from the captain’s cabin, the crew’s loud and incoherent discussions about titles and names soon finding their ears. The former blacksmith was with the crew temporarily, as he had a job to be done with them before they ventured to Port Royal. Both captain and his companion froze in their steps when a well-known name echoed across the crew over and over. A shocked gaze was shared, but the two strode forth together for they could not believe in illusions just because a name was mentioned a few times.

“Right. What’s all this then?” came from the captain’s chest, the crew jumping at the sound of his voice. Jack Sparrow regarded them all with his hands propped on his hips, the loyal blacksmith at his side. Gibbs was the first to speak and took matters into hand, roughly pulling the spyglass from the nearest pirate’s. “It’s Y/N, Jack,” his words piqued further interest in the two newcomers, the two striding through the parting crew to the first mate.

“Y/N?” Will asked, unable to hide the hope that bubbled up in his voice at the mention of her name. The blue eyes grew clearer, not the wistful one’s the crew had come to be familiar with. Jack snatched the spyglass from Gibbs’ offered hand and turned to face the port. With his gaze, he followed the finger pointing at the supposedly familiar pirate. Jack froze upon seeing who they meant, eye narrowing when he stared her down. “No, it can’t be her,” the captain muttered, more to himself than anybody else.

“Far too curvy and longer hair. She didn’t look so cheerful to everyone all the time,” the jealousy and denial dripped from the captain’s tongue, the disbelief he held in his heart fading with each second.

“Can’t be her. No way, you’re all dreaming,” Jack continued before yelping as Will tore the spyglass from his hands, the force of it almost making the captain fall overboard. The blacksmith’s own gaze sought the port for the one they spoke of, his heart beating so quickly it drowned out all sound.

He too came to stand still once he found her form. She stood proud and tall upon Henry the Savage’s railing, her hand thrown out as she barked orders to the crewmates. And there on her lips was a grin, a grin that only the closest of her friends had seen before. Now as she shared it with the rest of the world, the former blacksmith’s blood boiled with jealousy.

“It’s her. There’s no way it’s not her,” Will snarled in reply to Jack’s incessant mumbling, handing the spyglass to Cotton. Will turned to the Black Pearl’s crew, and just like the woman on the other ship, began to bark orders. Where hers had been kind and joyous, he’s were angry and determined orders, none on the ship daring to stand in his way. The desperation in his anger was evident, and the fact that their own Captain Jack did nothing but mumble was a telltale sign that this was a serious matter. Otherwise, Will would have had a sword at his neck for even attempting to command the crew. Their efforts to hurry were doubled, when Jack regained his mind only to shout orders alongside his friend.

Oh, how oblivious the woman they had sought for was, for she heard none of the shouting on the nearing ship. For her well-beloved face was already being shown in one of her favourite taverns.

[keilemlucent]

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink 

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!! 

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

|||||||||||

Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle. 

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well. 

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously. 

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly. 

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back. 

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?” 

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort. 

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day. 

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed. 

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift. 

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do. 

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were. 

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were. 

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles. 

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix. 

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work. 

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat. 

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts. 

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull. 

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report. 

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home. 

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this. 

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be. 

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills. 

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness. 

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap. 

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets. 

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn. 

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality. 

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap— 

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea. 

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock— 

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap— 

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold. 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch. 

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes— 

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes— 

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips. 

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough. 

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on. 

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize. 

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!” 

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you. 

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective. 

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way. 

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head. 

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets. 

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it. 

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering. 

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise. 

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair. 

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms. 

“Are you sure?” 

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach. 

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere. 

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze. 

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized. 

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt. 

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself. 

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it. 

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips. 

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw. 

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake. 

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring. 

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips. 

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind. 

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you. 

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty. 

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways. 

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves. 

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn. 

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?” 

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind. 

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender. 

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust. 

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper— 

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?” 

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks. 

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

 “Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it. 

 ||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

[mmvalentine]

Maybe Rhys drugs Feyre so she can talk and see but she can’t move and he has his fun? 👀

Pinned

Feyre and Rhys are at war.

Whoever pins their mate first wins. If Rhys wins, he gets to fuck Feyre. If Feyre wins, she gets to fuck Rhys.

It’s a good game.

It started off as a training exercise, if Feyre recalls correctly. Rhys would come up in a sneak attack and incapacitate her, and timed how long it would take her to get free, fight back, and pin him to the ground.

Of course, Rhys enjoyed this far too much.

The first time, he plunged her into utter darkness while they were walking in the forest, and Feyre was left groping around trying not trip over roots or walk into low branches. She strained her ears but her mate’s low chuckle seemed to come from directly behind her, at the nape of her neck no matter which way she turned.

Where are you going, lost little bird? he purred in her mind. Feyre spun, reaching out but touching nothing. Suddenly, rough hands shoved her and her back hit tree back. Feyre tried to open her eyes wider, but it was no use. She was blind.

“Why don’t you show yourself, coward,” Feyre lashed out. The darkness was amused.

I can see, he said. Feyre jumped when his tongue hit her neck. Licked a broad stripe all the way up the side of her throat and ended just below her ear.

Where’s your fight back? Rhys crooned. Maybe you need to learn not to rely on your eyes so much.

“Maybe,” Feyre conceded. Rhys was now moving his lips back and forth along her jaw. “Or maybe I just need to look on the bright side.”

Rhys had just lifted his hands to cradle her skull, when Feyre let a ball of light burst forth from her chest. Rhys flinched and stumbled back, while the day court glow flooded down Feyre’s limbs. She gave him a wide smile as she drew in a deep breath and looked around herself.

“Much better,” she said, and before Rhys could recover, she knocked him to the ground. He made an oof sound as he landed, and Feyre straddled his chest on the leaf covered forest floor.

“I win,” she said, and kissed his nose. Rhys laughed and pulled her down to kiss his mouth. His hands wound her hair around and around his fingers, and Feyre pulled his trousers open. The shadows melted away, but Feyre didn’t stop glowing while they made love amongst the trees.

The second time, Rhys bound Feyre in her sleep, and woke her up with his breath hot on her lips and his fingers poised at the apex of her thighs.

Feyre moaned softly, and her eyes fluttered open. Rhys smiled at her, kissed her gently, and said “Good morning, lover.” Feyre smiled back at first, but then tried to reach for him and suddenly realised what he had done. Rhys smiled wider.

“Untie me you prick,” Feyre growled.

“Untie yourself,” Rhys replied, and then started stroking his fingers gently over her pussy. Feyre groaned and squirmed against the soft cotton ropes, but they held firm.

“How am I supposed to untie myself?” Feyre snapped. But Rhys only shrugged, and moved his teeth in her shoulder.

“Doesn’t really sound like my problem, does it?” He winked at her, then reached his free arm under and around her to squeeze her breast from behind.

Anger coiled in Feyre’s gut. This arrogant, smug bastard. She clenched her fists together and pulled her wrists apart. Of course the rope didn’t budge.

And yet Rhys let go of her suddenly, as if burned.

Burned.

That was the answer. Feyre fanned her anger into flame, and with a white hot flourish the rope against her skin burned away. Feyre turned to Rhys in triumph, and found him sitting up against the headboard. Watching her with light dancing in his eyes, even as he blew on his singed fingertips. Feyre laughed, and sat herself over his lap.

“I win again,” she said, and Rhys leaned his head back and pushed her hair behind her ear.

“Clever girl,” he whispered. Then he gripped her hips and ground her down over his lap, right onto his hard cock. Feyre’s hands found the top of the headboard as she rocked against him, until she was soaking through her panties.

She kneeled up off Rhys’s lap, and he met her eyes only briefly before he was sliding down the bed so that his face was level with her hips. He pulled her underwear down, tugged her forward and sucked her clit into his mouth. Feyre moaned and let her head fall back, hands still gripping the headboard, as Rhys ate her out while his fingers softly stroked the backs of her thighs where he held her.

After that, Feyre started getting revenge.

One time Rhys stepped into the bath, and the water rose suddenly into great spikes of ice that imprisoned him in the tub. His naked flesh broke out in goosebumps and he shivered so hard his teeth clacked together, while Feyre stood before him and ran her hot tongue over his chest.

One time Feyre soaked a pair of leather cuffs in faebane, and when he closed his eyes to kiss her she shackled him to the bed frame. He strength was sapped in an instant, and the shadows thrashed helplessly while Feyre dripped candle wax onto his wings.

One time Feyre painted herself to camouflage in with the mountain side, and lay in wait until Rhys walked by and then abducted him into a small cave. Rhys had yelped in surprise, then pushed her up against the wall and began to muddy the paint on her skin.

So now, Rhys has a plan.

He makes her breakfast in bed one morning, and laces her orange juice with a paralytic potion he pinched from Magda’s stores. He knows that if Feyre tries very hard, her healing powers can rid her body of the stuff in minutes. But only if she tries very hard.

It's a good thing Feyre is training.

Rhys lies across the bed propped up on an elbow, still in his undershorts and mussed hair. He watches Feyre smile as she bites into her toast, and then raises her glass to wash it all down. So innocent. So adoring. So full of trust.

As if he didn’t still have her nail marks in his back.

The potion works quickly, and Rhys’s grin spreads wider as Feyre looks down first in confusion, and then in rage as her limbs slow and stiffen.

Rhys tsks as he swiftly removes the tray of food before it spills.

“Never accept food or drink unless you're certain of your trust, dearest,” he lectures. “I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.”

Feyre raises an eyebrow, finding her face still able to move although her legs are now lead. “And am I not to trust you, mate?” she throws back at him. Rhys looks affronted.

“Of course not darling, we’re at war.” He shakes his head, and arranges her arms above her head. Feyre tries to push back against him, but cannot.

Rhys drapes himself languidly over her body, tracing his finger from her brow to her lips and around the edge of her breast.

"I think I like you like this," he says, and the weight of him presses the air from Feyre's lungs. "Laid out on my bed and unable to lift a finger."

"This is cheating," Feyre protests. "How is it training if you've poisoned me?"

"How indeed?" Rhys echoes. "If only there was some way you could rid your body of toxins and ailments. Pity."

Feyre glares at him, and he starts to slide her night dress up her body like he has all the time in the world. "Well," he muses. "I guess you'll just be my plaything until you figure it out." And with that he closes his mouth over her breast and pulls her nipple between his teeth.

Feyre gasps and instinctively arches her back, but her spine does not obey. Rhys chuckles, and flicks his tongue over the tip of her. His hands continue undressing her, fluttering over her skin as it is increasingly exposed.

"Did I ever tell you you have the most divine skin?" Rhys says, as he begins to press kisses all over her abdomen. Across her ribcage, down her stomach. His fingertips smooth over the length of her legs, and then his warm hands glide up the inside of her thighs. "No one makes silk like your skin, not even in the faerie realm." Rhys's nose skims across her hips, and goosebumps rise up her useless arms. "Just want to spend all day touching you."

Rhys keeps moving his lips, lower and lower. She can feel him smile when she tries to lift her hips to him. His thumbs circle against her so that they just barely brush the cotton of her underwear, and his tongue starts to play everywhere but where she wants it most.

"Rhys," she whispers, straining against the drug. But her mate frowns.

"Now now," he says, "playthings don't talk."

Finally, finally he licks a stripe up her pussy and it ends in a suckling kiss against her clit. Feyre sighs in relief, but then he's teasing again. He's flicking feather light touches against her clit, and if she could just get closer-

"You're thinking far too loudly pet," Rhys says mildly, lifting his face to look at her. "Be a good girl and lie still now."

"Prick," Feyre spits back at him, and without batting an eye Rhys slides two fingers inside her.

Feyre's eyes roll and her fingers twitch as she's stroked, in and out with his expert touch. For a minute, she forgets to struggle and just lets herself relax while he slowly builds her up. Rhys smiles as Feyre begins to moan.

"More," she breathes. "Faster."

But Rhys does the opposite. Adds a thumb over her clit but slows his movements down and grins feline when Feyre's eyes snap open.

"What's wrong, Feyre darling?" he coos. Feyre cries out in frustration, and tries to rock herself on his hand. Of course, she can't. Rhys's grin spreads, and she wants to smack him.

Feyre closes her eyes, and tries to take a deep breath. She knows she can access her healing powers if she can just calm down.

At that moment, Rhys starts rubbing the flat of his tongue up and down her clit while his fingers continue their torturous motion. Feyre's mind slides out of clarity, and she can feel herself soak his hand.

She sucks a breath in through her teeth, and tries to focus again. Rhys is now taking bites over her hips, hurting her just enough to pull her attention. Feyre ignores him as best she can, and imagines the potion being drained from her veins.

In a strange mix of sensations, Feyre starts to feel her energy draining into the effort of healing herself, but also begins to feel lighter. The heaviness lifts, just a little, from her limbs.

When Rhys slides up her body and licks his tongue up her throat, Feyre's head tilts back and her hips find his. She still can't get her arms to move, but her back arches up slightly, and her breasts press up against Rhys's bare chest.

"Good girl," Rhys whispers. He is rock hard between her legs, and grinds into her with rolling hips. He pulls her underwear the rest of the way off. Then his. His cock glides against the wetness of her, and his lips find the line of her jaw.

Feyre's toes curl, and her knees start to bend. She wants so badly to get her legs around his hips, but she can't quite do it.

"Is that the best you can do?" Rhys taunts, words vibrating in the hollow of her throat. Her fingers twitch toward her palm, and Rhys spots the motion. He smiles, bites down on her lip and lifts her wrists above her head. His knees cage her hips. "I think this is you pinned," he says in her ear, and then kisses her mouth.

Feyre throws everything she has into pushing the poison out, and just as Rhys's lips leave hers, she pulls out of his grip like Cassian taught her, flips their position and straddles Rhys's hips victoriously.

Rhys laughs and laughs.

"I almost had you there, dearest," he says. But Feyre is in no mood.

"Shut up," she tells him, and then takes his cock in her hand and sits down on it.

Rhys groans as she comes down tight around him. His hands grip her hips, but at this stage Feyre doesn't care what he does. She puts her hands on his thighs behind her and bounces on his lap, getting him exactly where she needs him. Rhys holds his thumb over her clit while she moves, and lets her take over.

Feyre's head drops back and release drips down her spine. She's so wound up she knows it won't take much to push her over the edge. Rhys leans forward to get his mouth on her breasts, and when his tongue flicks at her nipple she start to come. Rhys grabs her hips when her movements get erratic and keeps fucking her through her climax, so that she keeps screaming as he finds his own release and by the time he lets her go she is limp in his arms.

Feyre rests against Rhys's chest, as they breathe hard together.

"I win," Feyre mumbles. Rhys chuckles softly.

"When this is losing," he says, "somehow I don't mind at all."

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

[shadowworks]

What’s Said Is Said

Pairing: Fae!Hawks X F!Reader

Warnings: Dub-con themes, light bondage, oral, virgin reader(‘ye ‘ol times idk man) Fae’s being dicks

Word Count: 5.7k

Credit; Thank you lovely wife for creating this beautiful banner! You’re always the sweetest, I swear, @pleasantanathema

A/N: This piece is part of the, Pleasant & Strider Present: The Smut Pile Fantasy AU Collab! Like before, this is written in third person but is still a reader x Hawks fic. Maybe one day I'll write in second person. Today is not that day.

Hope you Enjoy~ 

***

Everyone in town heard the warning of the Dark Forest. Never wander beyond the treeline or else you’ll be snatched by the fae. And while this did scare the children from their southern borders, there were those in adulthood who took the fable with a grain of salt. The leaves and branches shroud the forest floor in this never ending night, and the winds blew through the trees like a soft, ominous whisper calling out, “this way” —But it did not mean there were faeries.

Still, the young traveler moved forward.

She wandered slowly—carefully through the wood with her lantern raised high. She wasn’t certain how long she’d been looking for her cat. As noticeable as her black cat was in a town bathed in sunlight, it was quite the opposite under the thick cover of leaves. But she would not abandon her friend who dulled the dreadful nights, who turned her wet frown into a soft laugh. No, she’d find him, and they’d leave the forest together.

She called out again searching through the wild brush. She looked for motion across the grass--the snap of a twig, a shadow across her light. But still, there was nothing. 

 In fact, it was silent. She slowed her steps to a stop, turning her head to the side. Her brows crinkled together. The wind that shook the branches, that rippled her dress had ceased, and in the moment- so had the sounds of the forest. She held her breath, jerking toward the other side as she felt a figure standing in the shadows. But she exhaled her breath. There was nothing.

When the silence remained like a fog among the ominous trees, she eventually lowered her lantern. There was great reluctance, but she could not hold still like the animals. She had a selfish thought of wanting to turn back around and hurry home...Instead she tread lightly on her worn shoes, pressing forward against the web of mossy stones

If something was out there...She’d do well to avoid it.  

The young traveler’s steps did not make it far, however, as she stopped dead in her tracks.

A muffling noise seemed to be coming from all around, but then the wind brushed at her dress. And on the winds, there was a whisper. She whipped around to the noise on reflex, clutching her lantern toward her chest. The voice was calling out from afar. She understood little wisps of words as it grew louder, and it gradually pushed forward. Until-

“My, what a pretty thing you are,” it whispered against the shell of her ear. 

She stifled a cry. Her eyes darted back but found no one was there. Her hand clamped over her ear she could have sworn she felt a hot breath against her ear. She was sure of it.

She knew she had to flee. Her head reasoned to look harder and then get out.  She began picking up pace and walking backwards, yet another jolt of panic  ran through her. The forest floor was layered in dips and curves of overgrown roots and her foot had caught against one. Her arm swung out, and the lantern slipped from her fingers. 

When it smashed into shards a few feet away, another breeze swept along. It was only made strong enough to snuff out the flame, which licked the oil among the broken glass. Then it was gone.

 Suddenly, a gloved hand reached out and caught her mid-air. The grip was firm and held her weight with more than enough ease to pull her in. The maiden looked on.

There holding her hand was a radiant young man. A smirk pulled at his mouth crookedly, and the gold in his eyes was strikingly crisp and gleamed in the darkness. She noticed his pupils were slit as they looked like her lost friend’s. His hair was pushed back, and she found the shape of his face was more handsome than anyone she’d seen in town—even his pointed ears were charming 

“Well well, look what I found.” He said, breaking the silence. His hold on hers softened but he did not let go. “What are you doing out this far in the woods, little dove? Been some time since a human’s come this way.” 

She did not respond at first, did not move her stare from his brilliant looks. For a moment, she could not remember what she was meant to be doing.

This struck a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, what’s that look for? You still with me?” He teased. He reached for her cheek with his other hand and leaned forward to inspect her features for any sign of liveliness. “I was hoping you hadn’t lost your head—Little do-o-o-o-ove?” 

His sing-songy voice brought a spark of recognition back into her gaze, and a heavy blush bloomed over the bridge of her nose. This wasn’t like her, she’d never done such a thing before.

“Ah, there she is!” He said in praise, swiping his thumb across her cheekbone. She was certain he could feel the heat. “Heh, careful now. I wouldn’t lose myself out here if I were you.”

“I’m so sorry,” she managed just before shaking her head in shame. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

 “Oh, but I do.” He returned matter-of-factly. “You’re not the first to fall for this devilishly charming fae you see before you.”

Fae. Human. He tossed the words around so casually one would think he spoke sincerely. She stared for a moment with a tilt of her head.

“And by fae you mean...?” 

“What, you don’t know?”

She paused. 

As if on cue, her curious eyes fell behind his rather handsome and princely black tunic, finding an incredible display attached to his back. And oh, did they show what he was. They took the shape of black feathered wings but they certainly weren’t. Those glossy wings were transparent like a dragonfly, and in the veins of each side they glimmered a bloody red. The lines fanned out in perfect detail, each one resembling a feather of a bird.

“You’re…! You really exist,” She gaped, shifting her wide eyes back to his gold ones.

The faerie smiled back, knowing full well where her gaze had fallen. It was almost as though he’d seen this before, actually. There was something a little too cocky behind that pretty mouth, and  she wasn’t liking his satisfied smile very much.

The faerie then stepped back in proper form, and she watched him dip low in an elegant bow, bringing her knuckles to his lips. She tried not to think of the second rise of heat on her nose.

“They call me Hawks, my dear.” The fae greeted officially, but the maiden did not like his response.

“They being whom?”

Hawks glanced up. “Pardon?” 

“They being whom?” 

“You must have guessed there's more than just me.”

“I have.” 

“Then why do you ask?” Hawks wondered, his eyebrow quirked. 

“Well...if the rumors of you existing are true, then it’s right to assume all the others are true, right? Are “they” the good kind that leave lilies in your hair, or are “they” the kind that steal your left shoe?”

Or were they kind that snatched infants from their cribs, or lost travelers in the night? But she dared not ask that part. 

They stared at one another, though Hawks stared in a way that sized her up. The impish gleam in his golden eyes was snuffed, and the curve of his smile faded. It was as though she’d said something wrong—yet it was hard to tell.

She opened her mouth to explain but that’s when the wind gently pushed at her hair.

“Pretty thing, pretty thing.”

Her hand tensed under his leather fingers, fixing a frightened look toward the returning whispers. This time though, she was not the only one who heard this. Hawks straightened his winged back, and turned to the direction of the voice.

“Well shit. Looks like these bastards caught your scent.” Hawks said with an ungracious tone. “Leave it to the Unseelie to spoil everything…” 

She stared at the back of Hawks’ head incredulously. Did she hear him correctly? They could smell her? The Unseelie were the malevolent fae she’d heard about before.They were the Goblins who stole human faces; the Pale Men who ate children and left nothing but their shoes. And now, they were the fae who call to you with an echo on the wind.

“Not again.” She muttered, a distressed anger snapped inside. 

 Hawks looked back alarmed, having felt the loss of warmth in his hand. Lifting his chin, he watched as her beautifully framed figure stalked off, moving deeper into the tree’s shadows.

“Hold on, wait!” Hawks called out, extending an outstretched hand. The maiden was heading towards dangerous grounds, ones which were outside his claimed boundaries and near the Unseelie even Hawks found to be tasteless. 

“No, no, no, no!” She repeated as she hurried away on shaking legs, “I’ve dealt with enough faeries on this adventure, thank you! I came here for my cat, not to mingle with smelling fae.”

“Your cat?” Hawks asked. 

“Yes, my cat!” She said, turning herself to face him. “He slipped out earlier and made a run for it out here!” 

Her eyes were able to study his sharply dressed figure in black, all of him lit by a red glow coming from the veins inside his wings. For a moment, she thought how out of place his attire was in the Dark Forest. 

“Is that right?” He mused, letting those gold eyes fall to the ground. They were pinned on something, but she couldn’t see from her spot. “And just out of curiosity; how do you plan to find him in the dark?”

His boot kicked at a remnant of the lantern, she heard the glass crunch under his foot. When Hawks lifted his gaze, his expression was unreadable.

 “Look, we don’t have too much time.The Unseelie won’t harm your pet, but a human like you? I can assure you, they won’t keep you a pretty corpse if they snatch you up.“ 

His black and red wings began to flutter to a rapid speed until they were an illuminating blurr. They lifted him from the ground effortlessly, and he flew through the dark with a graceful air around him.

“If you come with me and wait for the Unseelie to pass, we’ll look for your cat then, alright?” Hawks landed softly before her, offering a stretched arm and open palm for her to take. 

She hesitated, looking him over for any sign that read foul play. He was one of the fae after all, and his kind gesture was given so suddenly. “You’ll look for him, with me? I...Why-why would you want to help me?” 

Hawks liked holding her hand. He didn’t wait for her reach and grasped hers, hanging at her side.The soothing leather rubbed against her skin as he laced their fingers. His gaze was fixed on the curves of their hold, the flash of her wrist. A smile softened his face. 

“Well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want you all to myself in the big bad woods,” Hawks confessed before flicking his catlike eyes up. “Hey. It’ll be alright, dove. Let’s find you someplace, safe.”  

***

Hawks eventually dropped the back of her knees, while settling her back down on the ground. He’s the first to move, and he walked with purpose towards a particular tree.

She however, was occupied with the fog that rolled in this part of the forest. It was colder here, the trees were larger—and she’s unsure how to explain, but the blackened bark on these trees was more ominous than the ones she’d passed on her own.

“Hawks,” she tentatively called, crossing her arms over her chest, “Where is this place?”

 Hawks kept facing the tree. He was intently regarding the natural grooves of the bark, cupping his chin in thought. 

“My neck of the woods! Thought it’d be safer to mask your scent with mine.” He mused. There was another pause before he saw it, and the tips of his fingers pushed on the bark pattern to his right—the wood cracked.

Hawks turned towards the maiden. He noticed her expression slowly shine as the door opened, leading to a spiral staircase inside. He beckoned her forward with a reach toward her figure.  She didn’t hesitate to walk forward and take his hand. 

It took a moment to reach the top of the staircase, but beyond those steps was a hollowed out room. Rich leaves with layered vines melded atop the ceiling, and a few human items were placed around. Among them included a velvet armchair in the corner, with thick blankets neatly folded on the cushion. 

Hawks gestured toward the chair, dropping the maiden’s hand. He then tipped his head back as he waved an arm above.

The canopy that made up the ceiling had started trembling, the vines falling loose and gradually stopping. Then they blinked, like they had eyes of their own. And each one ignited with a dim lit glow like a firefly across the evening sky, giving the room a soft warmth it hadn’t before.  

“That’s beautiful.”

Hawks dropped his head in surprise. She had stopped moving halfway across the room, with attentive eyes on him. He could see a sheen of wonder on her lovely features, a trace of a smile on her lips. Hawks smiled back.

Good, she was winding down. 

“You should see the vines further in! Now, those would really take your breath away.” 

“You own more than this place?”

“My neck of the woods, remember?” 

Hawks took to playing with his leather gloves, pulling on the fingers to slip off, “So this cat of yours must be quite something. I’ll admit, I’m not all interested in human pets, but I find it curious you’d risk being kidnapped for one.”

The small glow from the vines had revealed a patchy, web of plants around the chair, violet lilies had bloomed every which way. A few more even sprung up from the cushion as she lifted the blankets. 

Maybe sitting on the floor would be preferable...

“He was my father’s cat,” she said. She moved to set the blankets down, but Hawks had come beside her, graciously collecting them from her arms. He turned, aiming to put them on the wooden desk—(which was clearly made by human hands.) “He’s the last member of my family, and honestly, that’s more than enough for a reason. ‘Least for me, anyway.”

“So you’re alone?” 

She paused. She did not expect such a blunt response, nor did she expect Hawks glancing over his shoulder, curious, would leave her throat tightening. 

She quickly turned, pretending to find the black dahlia's on the wall more fascinating, “Yes. It’s been that way since last autumn. My mother died when I was a kid, and my father was killed in a hunting accident. Now, it’s just me.” 

“Just you, huh? No males waiting in the wings to ask for your hand in...whatever?” Hawks made it sound like it was absurd. Maybe it was. 

She huffed a laugh, smiling at a dahlia, “I don’t think so.”

She was of lowly status with a deceased father who never offered an engagement. He hadn’t flaunted her youth and beauty at social gatherings, or in other towns for that matter. There simply wasn’t time for those affairs when hard labor was required to keep from starving.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t be more fortunate.” 

Hawks’ hands slipped around her hips and firmly turned her. She wasn’t used to being touched, not like this. Her skin prickled under his bare fingers, and a familiar heat burned the curves of her cheeks. They were face to face, and a breath closer. 

“Did you know I almost let you slip by? It’s not uncommon for humans to venture this far in. Figured you’d turn back around once you couldn’t find who you were calling for, but of course, heh, you fell.” At those words, his thumb began stroking small circles against her hip. Each stroke across the bone jolted down her body, “But when I caught you, I saw it. Saw how scared you were. And I knew...you didn’t want to be alone.” 

“Well, yes. I wish I was never alone,” she confessed softly. She slowly began pressing against his hand, just a little, “but that’s something everyone wishes for, isn’t it?” 

Hawks smiled at her. Though it did not crinkle the corner of his sharp eyes. “Suppose you’re not wrong there. So why not have someone change that? Why not fill the void? Isn’t that something you’d want?”

With light pressure Hawks steered her backwards, easing her against the stretch of vines across the wall. He didn’t break his stare. 

But she could only stare back for so long, dropping her gaze under the intensity in his golden eyes. Delicately, she managed a small voice and replied, “I don’t know.”

Hawks didn’t like this answer. He grasped under her jaw, firmly lifting those timid eyes back to his slightly lidded ones. 

“Oh, no, no, I think you do,” Hawks countered. His voice was hushed, a husky and darkened tone,“You’re a maiden. Back home, you’re not allowed to want for things, right? Just sit there and look pretty, keep your mouth shut. Oh but, little dove, here? All you have to do...is give in. Fill that loneliness with your desires.”

She fell still, slowly exhaling through her parted mouth as he tilted his jaw, lingering near her lips. She breathed in his deep herbal scent, and a feeling gathered in her which blurred her thoughts with a subtle ache.

Hawks waited for her motionless to pass, as though he knew what she didn’t. He relished in her flushed features, and he smiled satisfied when her eyes fluttered shut. She leaned forward, and Hawks claimed her lips. 

There she goes.

 He kissed her in a way that slipped his tongue past her lips, exploring her warmth and digging his fingers in her jawline, controlling. She was forced to stay still, breathing in when he’d part, only to be crushed into his lips once more. 

Her head was spinning, so she didn’t notice a pair of thick coils slowly creeping down the wall and slinking around her wrists. Not until a tightening on her skin, and a sudden wrench on her arms, had ripped her from Hawks’ mouth. The lively vines from above yanked her forward, and Hawks stepped back. 

While she tried digging her heels in the moss to stop their pulling, the vines only wrenched her wrists back harder. She stumbled into the center of the room. Then they braided into one, hoisting her arms up together, her feet partly touching the ground. 

“Hawks!” She called, tugging back on the vines, “What is this? Why are you—“

“—Like I said before, we need to mask your scent,” Hawks said as he strolled nonchalantly from the wall. He brushed his hand across her waist and circled round to stand behind, “And there’s really only one way for my scent to stay on you.” 

She tried glancing around, but she couldn’t crane her neck that far, not where she could see him properly. Hawks paused for a moment, and seemingly was fiddling with something near his wings. He was quiet, which only made her tense. She listened for some indication of what he was doing, waiting for him to say something. 

Finally, a loud tear of fabric filled the room. Her dress loosened at the shoulders, and cool air brushed her mid-back. Her mouth gaped in a muted gasp. She could only listen as the tear ripped again, and again, with more skin exposed downward.

“You—You can’t expect me to walk out there without a dress!” She countered shakily. She tried biting back the shame bubbling in her throat. 

“Oh, certainly not. What kind of fae do you take me for?” He asked, still tearing up her long sleeves. She looked back again, this time she had noticed a red object in his curled grip, gleaming and fairly plush.

A feather?

“I’ll have you wear something better than these rags.” 

It took little time before pieces of cloth littered the floor, allowing her simple dress to fall in a puddle around her feet, at last. But Hawks wasn’t done. He knelt softly in the navy fabric, lifting her ankles one after the other, sliding off her worn shoes. They gave a light thunk when he tossed them near the armchair. 

Amidst his working hands, the maiden struggled with her feelings. A part of her wanted the crawling binds to let her go, have her drop so she may cover her breasts. She also wanted to kick Hawks for shredding her damn dress into nothing. Better clothes or not, the dress was still hers. But ultimately what curbed her resistance towards Hawks was the guilty pang she felt for doubting him. He was there to protect her; to keep the Unseelie from finding her. And in part, it helped that his light touch pricked at her lower muscles. It kept her wishing for that feeling on the skin again...If only it weren’t so embarrassing. 

“Are you scared?” Hawks asked.

The vines must have turned her at one point, for Hawks was kneeling in front of her and peering up with a gentle hand on her outer thigh. The hand with the blood coloured feather uncurled, and the very feather slipped through his fingers like it was alive. It soared up and behind him to blend against his black wings. Then suddenly, it was just another vein.

“I uhm…” She tried managing a calmer tone, but it remained shaken, “I don’t know what to...”

“I know, dove. Trust me, I know,” he soothed, running a hand up and down her thigh in assurance, “Won’t alway be like that, though, not after we’ve done this a few times.”

There wasn’t much time to fixate on what he meant, as two fingers hooked under her last garment and pulled it down her leg to the floor.

Now there was nothing in his way.

Hawks leaned in to press his lips along her inner thigh, trailing up slowly, gently. As he neared the curve of her sex, he hiked the back of her thigh on his shoulder, then her other one followed. Those sneaky binds were clever, really. They always knew when to hoist her higher, and they comfortably propped her in this new position. 

“Hawks, hold on, hold on,” she pleaded. It was moving too fast—the sudden shift from the ground left her startled. 

Hawks didn’t listen.

His predatory eyes flicked up to find hers watching, her beautiful eyes wide as a doe’s. This made him smirk, though in a way she hadn’t seen before, “Maidens always scream, but I wonder what you’ll say?”

With those words, Hawks tongue delved between her sensitive slit—and she tossed her head back. She was breathing in sharply. Her hips impulsively stuttered toward his mouth as his tongue stroked long and deep along her sensitive spot, but it didn’t compare to when he intentionally flicked against a bundle of nerves.

Oh my god. Oh fu —She tensed, her back arching into the touch. It was a hot pleasure that wildly pulsed inside her, something intense she never felt ‘till then. She had roamed a hand between her legs before in her quiet home, always alone, always rushed. This? This paled, it had never been this much.

Hawks was clearly in tune to her body's spasms. She writhed against his open mouth, while he was pressing and swirling his tongue on the bundle in concentration, his hands slinked up to hold her hips closer. He was set on one thing, his pace was building faster to it. And oh, it rewarded him so handsomely—a rush of excitement struck down to his groin from the sound. Her cries, her moans, her unwinding pitched voice; she was becoming his with every breath. 

“Haw-Haw-aks,” it kept breaking from her lips with harsh gasps; her head hung back towards the canopy with glossy eyes. Oh god, she wanted to thread her fingers in his gold locks and press him further in her sex—Yes, fuck, right there, his mouth feels so good. Her shame be damned, all she wanted was for him to keep going. 

An unseen smile curled slightly on Hawks’ lips. 

“That’s it, little dove,” he coaxed softly between laps, “Just let my name slip out...just like that.”

He returned to latch on her clit. He sucked in hard with a wet noise, and a loud sob wrenched from her lungs. There was so much vigor, he didn’t cease, her winding pleasure rose higher, tenser, with her shaky thighs clamping tight on each side of his head. 

“ Ha-Hawks, keep going, oh, keep going, fuck, keep—“ The spasms ripped through her with another sob breaking from her mouth. Her muscle walls clenched violently. She fell into a sense of ecstasy and her orgasm released. 

Bleeding hell...She could not believe how wonderful she felt. She was so light in the head.

Hawks lapped along her folds as she rode out the last wave of her climax. He took certain care to run his mouth over her slit, which seeped with glistened come. As he finished, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his knuckle.

“Well, what’s this? Where did my shy maiden go?” He teased, looking up toward her with a playful grin, “You were making the sweetest sounds up there.”

She made an expression which had Hawks chuckling. She really was a pretty girl, with such pretty timid eyes. 

Hawks eased her legs off his shoulders, setting her down so she could step on the wood. It was a little hard though, as her tiptoes wobbled about until the vines dropped her lower. After, Hawks pushed up to stand. He pressed his body against hers and he sealed her lips with his. It was short, but she noted her own taste on his tongue before he parted. 

“You did good, dove. Heh, ready for me now? It’s my turn.” 

He then turned her. It wasn’t surprising Hawks was leading her along with little chance to respond, already brushing his lips across her neck. A hand cupped her breast and began squeezing, while his thumb rolled her nipple with tact, “Don’t worry, I’ll make this feel good...So damn good.”

He might even break her.

“But doesn’t this hurt?” She asked breathlessly. She felt naive, but that’s what the married women in town said. There was pain, and it ended with blood.

Hawk gave a reply she did not expect. His mouth which trailed gently down the curve of her neck, sucked hard into her smooth skin. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine, and her lips opened.

“You feel that? It hurt a little, didn’t it?” He whispered against her ear, “Can’t promise it won't hurt, but I can at least promise my cock will leave you twitching. You’ll be moaning, and when you come again, it’ll be when I’m deep inside you.”

She felt something thick rub between her legs, just then. The hand that toyed with her breast started roaming downward to pull back her hips. His other hand had been working on his belt prior, taking himself in hand with mild strokes. 

The lazy work on himself was fine. This wasn’t about him, well—for now, at least. He’d focus on his needs once the intended plan was carried out. But until then, keeping her aroused was Hawks’ priority. 

“Just relax...tilt your hips a little more,” he instructed, all while slicking the head of his cock like he’d done for his length. Once ready, he began lining himself toward her entrance, “Yes, that’s right, little dove. Precisely like that.”

She braced her arms against the vines with fingers curled in a tight grip, all while trying to relax her body like Hawks had said. But it was difficult to persist as Hawks advanced, and he slid his swollen cock inside her. A gasp slipped from her lips, her spine curved. He was thick. And as if he were forging through, she felt him strike his hips in shallow thrusts through her wet entrance, sink deeper in her stretching, and pulsing walls. 

It hurt, but a familiar ache spread. 

“You’ll enjoy it more if you relax.” Hawks' voice rasped thickly. He placed a hand on her lower back, gently rubbing at her spine. His length was still buried, feeling her clench--Ah, fuck. She was damn tight. He wanted to plunge forward, pound her with no mercy. It even took a good deal of restraint to hold still. “Don’t be afraid, I got you...Just let go.”

She can only nod in reply. It was going to be alright; she had to remember that. She exhaled a deep breath and tentatively eased under Hawks palm, eyes fluttering shut. She was ready, and his hands firmly settled on her sides. He then leaned back just so he could thrust forward, setting the pace with long, deep pumps.

She ached. Every thrust left her sore, but the ache was subtly there, building with Hawks momentum. The snap of his hips threw her body back and forth, shaking to his rhythm, his heavy pants in her ear. A shudder rushed down her spine, hearing his lust so crisply behind. Her lips parted to breathe, and her moans spilled out. 

“Hnng—Yesss, let me hear you. Fuck, you take my cock so deep,” he growled lowly.

Hawks thrusts were sounding wet as his pounding in her skin quickened unsteadily. He’d admit, this was reckless for a virgin maiden, but he wouldn’t hadn’t planned on stopping now for her sake. Hawks was chasing his own orgasm, and as he mentioned before; this was his turn. 

In that moment, she was thankful her arms were strung up, for it was her only support against his unyielding smacks inside her. But the rhythm changed, as Hawks jerked her hips back into an arched angle. Another cry spilled from her lungs. 

Christ, why did it feel so fucking good?! When Hawks snapped hard, his length struck an intense patch in her inner walls, and a beautifully sweet mixture of pain and pleasure shook in her core. 

Hawks felt her violent twitch, which only excited the fae. 

“You like that, sweet dove? It feels like you fucking do! Let me hear you scream!”

She did in fact, cry out. 

All her senses fell to the pleasure, the euphoria, the sweet pain of each thrash. And he pounds—and he pounds, and he pounds. Until she felt something warm flood her insides, and another writhing, hot pleasure ignited her nerves in a violent crash. 

Then there was only the sound of their heavy breaths. He stayed sheathed inside, all while blood had bloomed across the maiden’s thighs.

***

Just before the evening turned to dusk, Hawks had awoken from the makeshift bed he assembled from the folded blankets. At first, he only buried his cheek into the maiden’s loose hair, and drew his arms tightly around her bareback, just so she fit snug against his own bare chest. She was warm, so soft in his arms as she slept soundly.

Then came a gentle breeze that wisped at his forehead, brushing at his thick pieces of hair. 

Swirling on those winds echoed a voice.

“Little dove.”

This only warranted a deep growl, though Hawks hadn’t made an effort to move from his maiden’s warmth.

“Cut that shit out, I haven’t told her yet,” he mumbled with an edge in his tone. He refused to crack open his eyes, and craving sleep more than anything he dismissed the voice abruptly. 

The room fell silent.

It obeyed him, not the other way around.

“What’s said is said,” —Hawks adjusted his body, gently rubbing his face on her head, “You wish to never be alone, well, wish granted. You’re mine now little dove...Mine, forever.”

There’s no reply from his maiden, whose gentle breathing was doing a lovely job of lulling Hawks deeper into the pull of sleep. She wouldn’t like it, oh he knew she wouldn’t. But she’d learn to. And she’d learn her efforts of finding her missing cat were all in vain. After all, the cat never made it far into the forest. He scared off that pathetic thing, but he watched the maiden wander. 

What’s said is said, and there’s nothing she could do to change it. 

***

@pleasantanathema @present-mel @enjifuckersupreme @redflannel

[sciapod]

Bathtub Photoshoot 💦

Pairing: Henry Cavill x First Person-POV (Female, or at least X wears a bra and has breasts)

Summary: Little private photosesh' with Henners and then some.

Warnings: Dry humping but let's just call it grinding. Edging. 18+ to be safe!! Contains smut. You might be able to find the tiniest bit of angst. And bit of fluff.

Word count: 2.5K

Not beta’ed! I take full responsibility for this fuckup.

Inspired/prompted by this post by @cavillfics

Masterlist

I obviously don't own Henry Cavill, nor do I know him IRL, so it goes without saying that this is a figment of my imagination.

(I took the liberty to edit the photo just a bit and don’t know who to credit for the original edit. Let me know if you know, so I can give credit where it's due.)

Happy reading 💦

---

“Babe, I've got an idea! Can you do something for me, please?”

When I heard you coming through the front door, I rushed to meet you there. You were finally home again and was hanging your jacket on the coat rack when I found you.

“Oh, well,” you reply, “I really want to just lean back, maybe take a shower or something. It’s been a long week, babe. And hello, by the way.”

You step over to me, reach around my waist and pull me against your firm body.

“Mhm, you smell lovely,” you whisper in my hair. I sigh, then wiggle myself free of your embrace.

“Henry, listen,” I look up at you with my best attempt at puppy eyes. You breathe deeply and turn your face, scratching mine with your stubble. It sends shivers through my body.

“Okay,” you hum as your hands roam my body, finding their way to my bare thighs then sneaking up beneath my robe, “tell me.”

I grab your hips and press my core against your thigh as I lean backwards, looking up at you, “I want to take some pictures … of you.”

Your face goes through a range of emotions; surprised, suspicious, smirking, friendly and finally incredibly charismatic: Front-page-style smile.

“That’s the one!” I say with excitement.

“Which one?” you tease, furrowing your brow and looking all suspicious again.

“You know perfectly well, you buffoon!” I say, as I slap your chest playfully.

My entire body lifts when you laugh. You kiss my forehead and twirl some of my hair between a few fingers. Your eyes shift, gazing at various areas of my face. I sigh, then reach for your hands, the one playing with my hair and the other, which I find gently caressing the lace of my panties.

I hold your hands between us and look up at my man.

“You do realize, of course, that you are basically a Greek god carved out of stone.”

“I have been told so, yes.”

“And you do realize that every artist needs a muse, a model, to create from.”

“I have a faint idea of that, yes,” you say, smirking down at me.

“And I happen to be short of a project, and subject, for my portfolio.”

“I see,” your smile broadens, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Henry!”

My declining patience must have been obvious somewhere in my face or perhaps my exclamation, because you burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you do so. I can’t help but melt a little.

“Tell me what you need me to do, darling,” you say, stroking my hands with your thumbs. I feel warmth spread through my chest. Your face softens and I feel the warmth spread further down.

“Fuck,” I breathe, casting my eyes to the floor. I’m suddenly filled with all kinds of insecurities, imposter syndrome and such, but there’s a reason why you’re my man. You sense it immediately and lift my hands to your lips, kissing them sincerely.

“You’ve got this, babe.”

I sigh, “I know, sweetheart. It's just… Urgh.”

You kiss my forehead.

“Tell me your idea.”

“I…” My voice breaks. You lift my chin up with a single finger, as if it were suddenly light as a feather, forcing me to look into your striking blue eyes.

“I don’t know,” I finally exclaim. “I didn’t have a concrete idea. I just knew that I wanted you to be in the photos.”

You smile, almost apologetically, “Okay, look. I really want to help. But I’m so damn tired. I’ve got an idea, though, of how we may be able to hit two birds with one stone.”

“Okaay?” I say, a slight tinge of hope seeping into my core again.

“I need a bath–”

“–I can’t take a nude picture of you!”

You laugh again, but shake your head, “No, silly. Let me finish.”

My cheeks flush scarlet.

“I need a bath, but instead of taking a shower, I’ll jump in the tub. Once in there, you can have me do whatever you want.”

I squint my eyes, then see a lightbulb flash on.

“YES!” I almost yell, running my hands up your torso and leaning in for a kiss.

“Yes,” I repeat, then press my lips against your sculpted ones. It is as if your lips curl to a smile amidst the kiss.

“Yes,” I say one last time, meeting your eyes, “If you get the water running, I’ll collect my gear.”

Your hands go wandering about on my hips again, dragging my robe up and making my hairs stand on end. You look down at me with a confident smile, saying, “great minds think alike.”

I fight off the urge to kiss you again and instead draw away from you. You catch the waistband of my robe and it slides off as I step away, revealing the new set of lingerie I’m wearing underneath. I stand, looking at you with what I imagine is the expression of a suspicious feline. You, on the other hand, make a low whistle and shake your head in slow motion, clearly surprised and pleased to see what I was hiding beneath. Then you nod toward the living room, signalling I get on with finding my camera.

It takes me a few minutes to find the right lens. When I enter the bathroom, you’re in the process of unbuckling your belt. The tap is running and there’s already a bit of water in the tub.

“Wait,” I say, stopping you just as you’re about to pull your jeans down, “I think I want you in the water dressed.”

You stare for a moment, shrug, say “sure,” then proceed to tug your jeans over your perky bum again.

“Right, erm,” I think for a moment, “No, you know what? Lose the pants, but keep the t-shirt on.”

“Lose the pants,” you repeat and let your jeans fall to the floor. As you stand back up, I realize something.

“We might have a problem,” I say, eyeing the hefty bulge in your boxers.

You follow my gaze, noticing the same problem, then nod in agreement.

“But then again,” you say, “what did you expect, looking like that?” you hint at my open robe and lingerie.

We both shrug, then burst laughing.

“I guess we’ll just have to make it work!” I say, “Now, in the tub with you, buddy.”

You feel the temperature of the water and deciding that it’s decent, turn off the tap, step in and lie down. There’s not a lot of water in there, but I’m assuming it will do. You look up at me with anticipation, “Now what?”

I squint at you, finding the bulge slightly distracting, basically towering above the waterline like another Burj Khalifa. Obviously, you notice my lack of response.

“Hey, babe!” you say, snapping me out of it. I feel my nether region clench.

“Okay, okay!” I shake my head to wake up. You shake yours too, smirking at me.

“We need to do something about that,” I say.

“I can try to hide it?” you suggest.

“How?” I squint. It’s a mastodon of a package you has stored down there, I think to myself.

“Anyway, I need to find a position to photograph you from.”

I begin taking random photos of you from various angles and perspectives, simultaneously adjusting the settings on the camera as I do so. Meanwhile, you roll around to one side, then the other, then back again. The squeaking sounds of your body rubbing against the sides of the tub while you change poses makes the whole situation rather comedic, and I'm convinced you're doing it even worse on purpose. Determined to be somewhat professional, I try to ignore your distractions.

“It’s a good thing we have such good lighting in here,” I say, gazing around the small room, pretending to be focused and ignorant of your attempts at sabotage.

“How do you want me, babe? I feel like… I don’t even know? A fish out of water,” you say, doubting your own wording, “or something like that.”

I sigh, “I know, I get it. I need to think. We’ve also still got that… situation… going on.” I gesture at the, no less apparent, tent between your legs.

“Okay,” you say calmly, “I’ll just lie back and relax, while you think of something.”

“Good.”

As you settle into a comfortable position, I mentally run through the various “golden rules” of photography that I can remember.

Then it’s as if I notice the obvious. The absolute god-like adonis carved in marble in front of me: My initial inspiration. Your white t-shirt, soaked from all the turning and splashing around you did, is sticking to your chest and abs, enhancing the lines of your muscular torso, yet still in a perfectly suggestive fashion; somewhat similar to the drapery you see on these same sculptures. In a fit of impulse, I crawl up to stand on the edges of the tub.

You open your eyes –awoken by my scramblings– fear in your eyes as you reach for me, “be careful, babe!”

“No no, darling! Stay put!” I say, “I’m perfectly safe. It’s dry. My feet are dry. I’m stable, but thank you.” I smile, reassuringly. Suspicious yet accepting, you lower your arms and lie back down. I notice your eyes trail down my exposed body. Lust now clear as daylight in your gaze.

“I think I’ve got the photo soon, babe, then we’re done,” I explain. “Just close your eyes for me.”

You shake your head and smile, then do as I said.

Your head rests on the back of the tub, but your fingers begin fidgeting … around your nether region.

“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask between photos.

“No…” you smirk, eyes still closed, but you shift and rest your hands awkwardly on your stomach instead.

“We can’t have that,” I say, “you’re covering the main part of the photo,” I tease.

You open your eyes, still smirking but not saying a word.

“And you’re revealing, exposing, what we need to hide,” I try to hold back my laugh.

“Okay,” I continue, “what about… what if you hold your t-shirt at the hem and stretch it down to cover your crotch. Place your other hand casually beside it. Yeah, like that! Exactly, babe. Beautiful.”

I take a couple of photos and look at them on the tiny screen.

“Right, hold that pose, but just… kinda relax, if you can. I’ll take a few shots more and then you’re done!”

You close your eyes again and begin taking deep breaths, lessening the tension that must have been building in your shoulders over the last few days. As peace falls upon your face and body, I take the last photos. After quickly reviewing them on the tiny screen, I decide that I’m done. I turn off my camera and place it on the shelf above the tub before crawling down to sit on the edge of the tub, my feet in the water between your legs.

“Okay, it’s a wrap!”

Your eyes flash open and you let go of your t-shirt. The fabric bounces back, revealing your hairy tummy, teasing me. You look up at me with mischief, then give your member a squeeze.

“Get down here,” you say, almost ferocious in your voice.

I feel myself get all giddy with sudden anticipation as you rise like Poseidon from the water. Before I can do anything other than yelp, you pull me down onto you and with a splash and a thud I land against your rock-hard body. I'm instantly soaked.

“Finally,” you mutter, drenching my face and neck with hungry kisses. Your hands tease the collar of my robe before sliding it over my shoulders. Your eyes explore the curves of my upper body, then you adjust me so that I sit straddled upon you. You don’t speak a word, but your eyes and body say everything I need to know.

I feel your girth throbbing against me. You slide my robe all the way off and without taking your eyes off me, you cast it aside. Then your hands slide up my body. You cup my breasts tenderly, admiring the lace and how the new style of bra suits my breasts. You lick your lips as your thumbs begin stroking my hardening nipples. I sigh and begin grinding against the tip of your member.

You sit up and proceed to kiss and bite the flesh of my breasts. Gently holding the lace aside with your fingers, you capture my nipples between your teeth, ever so gently, before circling your tongue around them with exquisite attention. While squeezing my breasts together, you kiss them one after the other, back and forth, before venturing up to my collarbone and neck. All I can do is whimper and moan.

Then you grasp my hair, pulling my head back. Between kisses and bites on my exposed neck, you breathe damp, sultry words onto my skin. Expressions of how I’ve been a tease, how patient you’ve been and how much you want me now. I want to answer, but I can’t do anything but mutter incoherencies; your throbbing cock eagerly pressing against my core and thus stealing all of my vocabulary.

My breath quickens as I grind harder, cursing the fabrics that keep our cores from meeting, merging. Then you push me towards you, allowing our lips to meet in hungry kisses. My bra loosens. You must have managed to open and take it off me with your other hand, before also casting it aside. You grab at my liberated breasts, then sit up and pull your drenched t-shirt over your head. It lands on the bathroom floor with a splash. My hands instinctively seek the wet fur of your stomach and chest, momentarily squeezing your pecs, then wander south again.

Your eyes read pure hunger and you buck your hips. As I fall back down from the jump, my core meets the powerful strength of your pelvis, bucking yet again. I gasp, overcome by a mixture of arousal and humor. You buck again, a laugh escapes me and somehow, after a few times of this, you’ve managed to free your erection from your boxers. I didn’t notice, but at some point you must have turned on the tap again, because I see you turn it back off. I guess this increased level of water also explains the more slow-motion-like sensation I experience as I land back down on your pelvis; a somewhat softer landing than before. In my own defence, I was entranced and my mind was not functioning at 100%, hence the questionable description. Anyway, both our hips are now submerged under water and I simply shake my head at your mischievous ways. You smirk and pull me down to a deep kiss, slapping my ass through the water, making more water splash all over the place. Everything in the room is certainly wet by now.

I grind against your exposed and infinitely hard cock as your fingers slider under the lace. Your hands grab my cheeks with determination, enhancing the force and enabling you to better thrust against my grinding motion. The friction is causing short-circuits in my brain, making me see colours that aren’t there. My first climax is staggeringly near, but just before I get to release, you buck your hips again, making me scoot off your cock. A devious grin is smeared across your chiseled face.

“You had me waiting, sweetheart. Now it’s my turn to tease.”

---

Thanks for reading my shitpost! Please leave a comment of your thoughts, however nonsensical they may be 💜🙏

Tags in the reblog 🖤Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.