#🌹 -- ⩥ v

[veronicaphoenix]

the first time | samurai!noah

Pairing: samurai!noah x his princess | Words: 6.2k | Reading time: 20mins aprox. | Series masterpost 🤍

Summary: noah and princess' first intimate night.

Can be read as a one shot ✨ but it’s part of the samurai!noah fic (this takes place before the main storyline and before "let me worship you").

Tags & trigger warnings: forbidden love, clandestine rendezvous, fluff, loss of virginity (both f. and m.), reader is 18 and noah is a few years older, sexual content including fingering and f/m intercourse (p in v, unprotected) NEVER DO IT UNPROTECTED ON YOUR FIRST TIME!!! Condoms did exist in feudal Japan and they were called kawagata/kabutogata, but considering they were made of leather, animal intestines, or tortoise shells, I preferred to go for unprotected sex in this one 😶‍🌫️. There are also allusions to Noah and her having had sexual encounters before, meaning that she was a minor when they happened, but it was always consensual.

Author's note: This is based on an idea (aka brainrot 🤭) from @somebodyels3, so say thank you to her and send some flowers because she deserves to be showered in them. (I love you, Kells 🌸 all the flowers and hugs and smooches in the world for you 🌺🌹🌼🌷💐 thank you for always keeping me motivated and loving my stories sm 🥹).

I've also shared the first few paragraphs from the epilogue (part one) at the end, where Noah and his princess are about ten years older than in this one shot :)

THE FIRST TIME 🤍

I was less than five minutes into my eighteenth birthday when a sharp knock on the balcony doors of my room startled me, prompting me to turn my head quickly toward the sound. 

My heart skipped a beat, but I instinctively turned my gaze toward the doors leading to the hallway, half-expecting my father’s soldiers, who often patrolled outside, to come and investigate the noise. If they had heard it, they might barge in any second. 

Two minutes passed, and when no one appeared, I threw back the sheets, slipping out of bed. My fingers brushed the curtains aside, just enough to see the balcony overlooking the village. The moonlight cast long shadows across the stone floor, but no one was there. However, a small rock lay conspicuously in the center, tied with a thin piece of string.  

Cofusion might have overwhelmed me—had this been the first time I’d received such a delivery. But it wasn’t. I knew exactly what I was looking at. I stepped outside into the cool night air and knelt to pick up the stone. Attached to it was a note, yelllowed and slightly crinkled. My heart fluttered. Before I even unfolded the paper, I knew whose handwriting awaited me on the other side. 

Standing outside in the moonlit stillness, I carefully opened the note, biting my lip. The sight of the familiar script nearly brought tears of elation to my eyes. Noah’s handwriting was beautiful—elegant strokes that had, over the years, become more than just letters on a page. His hours of studying calligraphy, forced upon him by my father’s insistence on training even his soldiers in the art of refinement, had not been in vain. I couldn’t help but wonder if, one day, the hands of a samurai might possess more grace than those of a princess. There was something poetic about the idea, about the balance of strength and delicacy in Noah’s fingers. For the past two years, he’d sent me notes like this, and each one meant more to me than the last.

I kept each of his letters hidden beneath my futon. He would send two every year, timed precisely with the solstices, as if marking the turning of seasons mirrored the unspoken passage of time between us.

I still remember the day I stumbled upon him in the woods when I was thirteen, disobeying my parents’ strict orders to stay within the castle grounds. Noah was a few years older than me, already tall for his age, with the quiet strength of someone training to be a samurai. I found him sitting under an ancient oak tree, hunched over a piece of parchment, deep in thought.

When I greeted him, he startled—springing up with the reflexes of a warrior-in-training. In his rush, the paper slipped from his fingers and floated down at my feet. I remember the curiosity that had sparked within me, the rebellious streak that had always simmered just below the surface. Without thinking, I picked it up and read it, never realizing in that moment how that small act would change everything between us.

The letter had been meant for me, but he’d never planned on delivering it. 

Sweet how it turned out. 

I could have fallen for his charms just from how delicate and thoughtful his prose was, but truth be told, I already had eyes for him from long before. The letter only deepened the feelings I’d been trying to suppress for the forbidden soldier boy.

For years, my mind had been a battlefield of thoughts, fantasies, and a thousand impossible scenarios. As a kid, and then as a teenager, I had wondered what it would be like to hold his hand, to let him hold me, kiss me. What it would be like to lay next to him in the grass and let him play with my hair until I fell asleep. I wondered what it would be like if we ever ran away, if we ever battled for a life together. 

I had wondered so many things. I had had so many dreams… Still had them. 

Tonight one of them was about to come true. Noah was going to end this endless waiting, this dread of wanting something I thought I could never have.

The message this time was short and simple: 

Meet me in half an hour at the old heiya by the river.

My fingers trembled as I clutched the note as if it were some rare treasure—like the words themselves were a gift, even though the real present, the one I had been waiting for, was the promise of what Noah had planned.

Quickly, I slipped back into my room and closed the door behind me, pulling the curtains shut to ensure no one could see in. My heart pounded against my ribs as I hurried to the lacquered chest at the foot of my bed. I opened it, my eyes falling on the delicate kimono I had carefully chosen for tonight—a deep red silk embroidered with golden cranes and blossoms. I thought it was a good representation of my youth but also a hint at the woman I was becoming.  

I dressed quickly, sliding the obi around my waist and tying it in place. The silk was cool against my skin, but it did little to soothe the heat rising within me. I reached for the kanzashi combs adorned with tiny jade flowers and secured my hair in a loose yet elegant style. I kept it simple, knowing he loved when I left it flowing freely, but tonight, I wanted to look a little more grown-up—more like the woman I was. I didn’t want Noah to doubt that I was ready. 

I carefully slid open the door to my balcony and stepped out into the night again. This time I paid notice to the air, fresh and fragrant, carrying the scent of summer blooms mixed with the earthy aroma of the forest that bordered the castle grounds. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and began my descent down the side of the castle.

It wasn’t the first time I had done this. The vines that clung to the stone walls had become familiar, their sturdy stems and leaves providing enough cover for me to climb down without being seen. Still, I moved cautiously, aware that one wrong move could send me tumbling to the ground considering the kimono I was wearing. It wasn’t heavy, but the length of the folds could give me trouble if I wasn’t careful. 

My heart raced as I neared the bottom, my feet finally touching the soft earth of the garden below.

I hesitated for a moment, listening for any sounds that might indicate a guard on patrol, but there was nothing. The castle was asleep, unaware of my departure. With a final glance back at the towering structure, I turned and slipped into the shadows of the forest.

The path to the heiya was one I knew well; well enough to know it was alive. The rustle of leaves, the chirp of crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl… Each sound kept me on alert, but it wasn’t fear that quickened my pace. It was anticipation, a heady mix of nerves and excitement that spurred me forward.

As I walked, the soft rustle of my kimono joined the night sounds, my sandals barely making a sound on the forest floor. The trees gradually thinned, and I caught my first glimpse of the old heiya by the river. It stood there, half-hidden by the foliage and under the moonlight, a relic of a time long past.

The heiya was a simple structure, built of wood and thatch, its walls weathered by time and the elements. It had once been a place of worship, a shrine to the spirits of the forest, but now it was abandoned, replaced by a bigger and more fortified one closer to my father’s estate, and left to the mercy of nature.

There was something different to it that night. A soft glow emanated from within, as if there were candles burning up inside its walls. I could see the flickering through the windows. My breath caught in my throat as I approached. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open slowly, stepping inside.

The interior was warm, the air thick with the scent of wax and wood. There were a few candles all placed in safe spots, their flames dancing in the darkness, casting long shadows on the walls. In the center of the room, there was a simple futon covered with soft white bedsheets and pillows, its mattress suspiciously new, as if it had been placed there with purpose. The rest of the room was filled with the remnants of the past—cracked wooden beams, broken pottery, and dried flowers that had once adorned the place.

I stood there for a moment, taking it all in, my heart pounding in my chest. 

“Noah?” I called softly. 

The silence that followed made me doubt for a moment that he was even there. 

Before I could turn, his breath brushed against my ear. 

“Happy eighteenth birthday, princess.” 

His voice was low, roughened by the years and the nights we’d spent in secret, and it sent a thrill through me that I couldn’t suppress. I turned quickly, elation bubbling up inside me, nearly giggling as I spun around and threw my arms around his neck. He caught me easily, pulling me close, his arms wrapping around my waist.

The scent of him—fresh pine, the tang of steel, and something uniquely his—invaded my senses. I buried my face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the layers of fabric. He was strong and solid, a pillar of strength that kept on growing and that I had come to rely on more than I should have. 

I didn’t care. 

I was safe here, in his arms, far away from the duties and expectations that awaited me back at the castle.

The joy of seeing Noah quickly faded into a familiar fear. I could see the tension in the set of his shoulders, feel it in the slight tremor of his fingers as he held me. No matter how hard we tried to forget it—if only for a few moments—the fear of getting caught was always present. Tonight was no different.  

“It’s okay,” I whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his brown eyes. My hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palms. “It’s just us. Nothing can ruin tonight.” 

“I know,” he said, but the hesitation in his eyes betrayed him. He didn’t believe his words. But he would try his darmnest hard to believe mine. That’s how it had always been. He would do anything to turn my hopes and dream into reality, as if my faith alone was enough to make the world bend to us.

I pressed a kiss to his jaw, savoring the warmth of his skin, then pulled away slightly, my hands still flat on his chest as I looked around.

“How did you…? When did you prepare all this?”

Noah stayed quiet, his responses measured, guarded. It wasn’t just that he was worried we would get caught. Even now, in this stolen moment, he clung to his samurai discipline—always the soldier, trained in control and restraint. He’d been a soldier officially for a few years, but he’d been mine for far longer.  

“I wish I could’ve done more,” he murmured, not quite meeting my eyes, as though ashamed. 

That’s when I understood. 

It wasn’t just the fear of being discovered, or the burden of his samurai duty. 

It was also the fact that tonight would be a first for him, too. 

I could sense his nervousness, for it mirrored mine, and I found it unbearable sweet. My heart ached at the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide. 

I smiled, tilting my head to catch his eye.

“This is already enough, Noah. I wasn’t expecting anything more than...” My cheeks flushed, and I lowered my gaze to my fingers resting on his chest. “I just wanted to be with you.” 

After a moment, his fingers found my chin. He lifted my face until our eyes met. His gaze was intense, as if he was searching for something. 

“I want to make this night memorable. For you. For me. Just tell me if you’re ready. Otherwise, I will wait. I will wait as long as you need me to.”

My heart swelled with an overwhelming love for him—this man who would give me everything without asking for a single thing in return. He had always been this way, even as a kid—selfless in the quietest of ways. 

Standing on my tiptoes, I kissed him softly, letting my lips brush against his with a tenderness that carried the weight of all the years we had spent longing in silence. 

When I pulled back, I guided his hands to the knot of my belt, my eyes never leaving his, steady with certainty, with the answer he had been waiting for. 

“You already know I am.” 

What followed were slow, hesitant movements; unsure ones.

We had touched each other before—months ago, I had practically begged Noah to explore me with his fingers, guiding his hesitant hand beneath the folds of my kimono. But tonight was different. This wasn’t a moment of curiosity of rebellion. It was more. 

Noah’s hands shook slightly as he fumbled with my obi, his fingers clumsy in their nervousness. I had to stifle a giggle, the tension breaking for just a moment as we both realized how unpracticed we were at this. But there was something endearing about it, something pure and tender about the way we navigated this new territory together.

Slowly, the layers of my kimono slid off, the silk whispering against my skin as it fell to the floor. Noah took his time. His gaze intense, heated,  filled with a mixture of awe and desire as he revealed more of me to him. When I stood naked before him, I felt my cheeks flush with both shyness and anticipation. I was not a girl but a woman now, and I wanted to be his. 

Noah was too shy at the time to let his gaze linger down at my breasts or at the spot between my legs. Instead, his breath hitched audibly, and rather than look, he bent down and kissed me with a softness that made my heart ache.

It was his turn now. I reached out to help him, my hands steadier than I expected as I untied the knots of his hakama. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, revealing the lean, fit body that had been hardened by years of training and that now belonged to a man rather than a kid. I was certainly more unashamed than he was. My fingers grazed the ridges of his chest as my breath hitched at the sight of him. A couple of tattoos adorned his chest and his ribs—the last one he got, a design of sakura flowers that looked so undeniable pretty on his fair skin. The tips of my fingers patted tentatively the area around his navel, right above where a trail of dark hair descended until it joined his pubic hair. I already knew the size of his length and how hard he could get, but now I could see it. 

I swallowed. 

Noah’s fingers grazed my cheek, calling for my attention. I saw the worry in his eyes, and I shook my head, dismissing him.

His breathing grew heavier as he pushed me back gently, laying me down on the thin mattress. He hesitated for a moment, just staring at me. He wasn’t much more experienced than I was. As I would later learn, his “knowledge” came only from overheard conversations between soldiers—their crude jokes and dirty confessions about what it felt like, the things a man could do to a woman, what women were supposed to do. Noah just wanted to make sure that whatever we tried tonight provided pleasure not just for him, but for me, as well. 

Under his soft, brown gaze, I felt like something out of a dream—my long hair spread around me, my pale skin glowing softly in the flickering candlelight. A sudden wave of shyness rushed through me, and for a moment, I couldn’t meet his eyes. I stared at the ceiling instead, my heart pounding in my chest. 

Then I felt his hand, tentative and slow, exploring my breasts. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched them, but it was his first time doing so while having me totally bare under him. His touch was curious. He squeezed gently, as if trying to memorize their shape, their softness. His fingers traced over me with a reverence that made me feel worshipped. 

He leaned down, his weight carefully balanced on his arms as he positioned himself between my legs. He was strong, yet his touch was still so gentle, making me feel safe beneath him. He kissed my face—my forehead, my cheeks, my lips—before I felt the soft brush of his erection against me. He rubbed himself against me a few times, making sure I was aroused enough and eliciting the first of my moans. 

But as Noah began to press into me, a sharp, increasing sting made me tense. The pain was unexpected, and I couldn’t stop the discomfort from showing on my face. He noticed immediately, his movements halting as his eyes filled with concern. 

“It’s okay,” I whispered, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. “Keep going.”

But Noah shook his head, his jaw set. “No. There has to be a way to do this without hurting you.”

He moved slowly, carefully, trying to find the right angle. I could see the concentration on his face, the way his brow furrowed in thought, the layer of sweat that was beginning to coat his forehead. Every movement, every pause was for me. He was trying so hard, and it only made me love him even more.

After what felt like an eternity, something shifted. His length eased inside, every inch sliding in until it felt like my body had molded to his. My body relaxed, and the pain began to subside, limiting to a sweet stretching. My eyes fluttered open, meeting his, my face glowing with relief. He was fully inside me now, buried deep, and it was okay. I was okay. He was…

“Noah?”

He let out a shaky breath. 

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it would feel like this,” he confessed.

“Me neither,” I whispered back, my hands gliding over his shoulders in a soothing rhythm. “You can lean on me. I’m okay.” 

I saw the reluctance on his face, in the way he looked down at where our bodies joined, as if we were some delicate puzzle he was afraid to break. But as he shifted again, slowly, tenderly, I smiled up at him.

“Let me—Just let me make sure…” he continued.

“I’m fine,” I repeated. “We’re doing this together. It’s all right.”

But he was so careful, barely letting his weight press against me, his arms supporting him as he moved. 

Each thrust was slow, his focus never wavering from me, watching for any sign of discomfort, reading every expression on my face. As we continued, I could hear the soft groans slipping from his lips, feel his sharp, unsteady breaths as he fought to maintain control. I had never heard him like this before—so unguarded, so raw. The muscles in his back tensed under my hands, and I noticed the thick vein on his neck pulsing with effort. 

His eyes squeezed shut, and he bit down hard on his lower lip, trying to restrain himself. But I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted him to let go of the walls he had been taught to keep so carefully built around himslef. This was our moment, and I wanted to share all of him. 

Then, before I realized it, Noah let out a deep, throaty groan, the sound so intensely erotic it sent a wave of pleasure through me. Instinctively, my body tightened around him. His breath came in ragged gasps as his composure began to crumble. I could feel him struggling, trying so hard to prolong the moment, to give me as much pleasure as he was feeling, but his body had other ideas. He let out a low curse, his fists clenching the sheets as his control finally slipped.

With one final groan, he pulled out just in time, his release spilling onto the sheets beside me. For a moment, the air was filled with heavy breaths and the faint scent of sweat and something else—something new. Then I saw the look in his eyes—flushed cheeks, his face clouded with embarrassment, guilt pooling in his expression.

“I’m sorry,” he stammered, his voice thick with shame. “I didn’t mean to—,” he swallowed and cursed under his breath, struggling to meet my eyes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

I frowned, then a soft giggle escaped my lips as I grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pulled him down to me to kiss me. 

“It’s okay. It was… beautiful.”

He pulled back, clearly uncomfortable, looking at me with disbelief and a hint of anger aimed at himself. 

“How can you say that? I didn’t make you come.”

There it was again, the hard, determined expression of the Samurai, etched into his face. He was so serious, so focused on what he thought was his failure, as if pleasure could only be measured in a single way.

I shook my head, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “We were together,” I said softly, my voice filled with warmth. “That’s what matters to me. It was perfect just as it was.”

No matter what I said, nothing could have soften the disappointment Noah felt in himself. I could see it in the way he shook his head, the way his eyes locked onto mine, almost scolding me for trying to ease his guilt. I should have recognized it then—that fierce, unyielding determination in him. Raised as a soldier, surrounded by discipline, commands, and roughness, Noah needed control in everything he did, even here, in the most intimate of moments. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this would be the last time he allowed himself to lose that control.

Before I could speak again, Noah silenced me with his lips closing over one of my taut nipples, his tongue flicking against the sensitive skin. A gasp caught in my throat, but before I could release it, I felt his fingers sliding down my belly, tracing the line of my body until they reached the wet warmth between my legs. Without hesitation, he sank them inside me, and my body responded instantly, arching off the bed.

My hands instinctively gripped the bedsheets as his fingers moved inside me, matching the slow, deliberate rhythm of his tongue teasing my breast. Every movement was calculated and precise, as if he was determined to make up for what he saw as his earlier mistake. His free hand reached for my wrist, his fingers sliding between mine. He intertwined our hands, bringing them up beside my head, pinning me in place as he continued his ministrations.

 And he held me, his grip firm, until I bit down on my lip as hard as I could when my body tensed and trembled with release. 

A while later, Noah’s tension seemed to finally have melted. I was wrapped in his arms as we lay together on the futon. The candles around us had burned low, their flames flickering in the dark, casting a golden glow over our entwined bodies. His embrace was warm and secure, and for the first time that night, I felt him truly relax.  

His index finger traced the tender spot on my lip where I had bitten down too hard. 

“Don’t do that again,” he said. “I can’t stand the sight of you bruised.” 

“It was for a good reason,” I teased, tapping his clavicle with my fingers. 

But Noah wasn’t convinced. 

“I was too rough, wasn’t I?”

I sighed, knowing he wouldn’t let it go. 

“If I say no, you won’t believe me, so… yes, you were rough. But what if I like rough?” 

He held his breath, studying my face, clearly struggling wether to accept his own beliefs or my words. After a moment, he exhaled, letting out a huff of frustration 

“I should have—”

I pressed my finger to his lips, his hand falling to the curve of my left shoulder, where he adored the skin there with his fingertips. 

“You should stop thinking I’m made of glass.” 

“That’s not—” He paused, taking a deep breath, as if searching for the right words. “Look, I’m a man. I’ve been trained for battle. My hands are rough. I’m used to being…”

I cut him off before he could finish. 

“Whether you’re a soldier or not, you’ve always taken care of me, Noah. Just like you did moments ago.” I pressed myself closer to him, my lips brushing against his jaw, where a faint stubble had grown. “I felt safe and cherised. And I enjoyed every second of it.” I smiled up at him. “I want to do it again.”

He let out a deep sigh, his arm sliding around my waist to pull me even closer. He kissed my forehead, a promise in the gesture. 

“We will,” he said softly. “I promise.” 

“So… can we do it?” I asked, glancing up at him, hopeful.

He frowned, looking down at me in confusion. “Now?”

I nodded, grinning. “Now.”

He hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes. 

“I don’t think we should. You might be sore, and I wouldn’t want to make it worse for tomorrow.”

“I’m okay, Noah,” I reassured him, almost whining, but he shook his head.

“No.”

I pouted, pressing him with a soft, pleading tone. “Please?”

He was firm. “No.”

“It’s my birthday,” I repeated, my voice taking on a firmer edge as I moved just a little away from him, letting the sheet slip from my chest. His eyes dropped immediately, taking in the sight of me, and I saw the faint blush creep up his cheeks as he quickly glanced back up, embarrassed but undeniably affected. Beneath the sheets, I could feel the tension in his body, see the evidence of his desire stirring right between his legs. “You said you would get me anything I wanted,” I reminded him. “I want you. Again.”

Noah’s voice dropped into a warning tone, slow and deliberate as he said my name. 

“…You’re pushing it.”

But I knew him too well. Noah had a temper, sharp like the blade of a Samurai, and his resolve was formidable. But no matter how stern his exterior, I was his weak spot, and deep down, I knew he would give in to anything I asked for, especially tonight.

“Pretty please?” I added, my voice soft and coaxing as I reached for the bedsheet covering his body. I began pulling it away with slow, deliberate tugs, my eyes wide and innocent, a contrast to my intentions. He fought to keep the sheet in place, trying in vain to hide his obvious erection, though it was impossible to miss the way his body responded beneath the thin fabric.

I bit my lip, amused. If this was how he wanted to play it, I was okay with it.

With a burst of determination, I pushed at his chest, catching him off guard and sending him tumbling back onto the mattress. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with surprise, but there was no mistaking the desire that flashed through them. I climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, the sheet completely forgotten.

“Now,” I whispered, leaning down so our faces were inches apart, my breath mingling with his. “Let me have what I want.”

“You’re provoking me,” he said, his voice adopting that familiar Samurai tone—commanding, serious. But the flush in his cheeks was a nice contrast to it. 

“I’m not. It’s just my birthday. I can do whatever I want.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, his fingers dug into the skin on my hips, his breathing growing heavier as I ran my thumb over the tip of his hardness. I could see how much effort it took him to stay composed, but he wasn’t fooling me. 

“You’re going to…” he started, but his voice faltered when I gave him a slow, deliberate stroke.

“I’m going to what?” I teased, tilting my head playfully. I could tell by the way his muscles tensed beneath me that he was fighting to keep his composure.

I loved the surge of confidence that came over me. Noah made me feel that way—secure in the knowledge that I could be fully myself without ever worrying that his feelings for me might change.

They wouldn’t. I had learnt by now that he would love me completely no matter what, with all my flaws and virtues.  

His gaze hardened, and his grip on my side tightened, enough to send a flicker of pain through me—just the way he intended. “You know what,” he replied, his tone sharper, more serious. “Keep behaving like that, and you’re going to make me go all Samurai on you.”

I raised an eyebrow at his challenge, daring him to follow through.

“Do. Not,” he warned, squeezing my side.

But instead of obeying, I shifted my hips and lowered myself onto him, gasping at the sensation of him filling me completely.

Noah’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

“I need to be gentle with you,” he said, his voice strained as he watched himself disappear inside me. His words were laced with concern, but I wasn’t interested in gentle. I wanted him—all of him. 

“Life isn’t gentle,” I said as I adjusted to the now familiar fit of myself around him. 

Suddenly, Noah sat up, his arm snaking around my waist as his other hand gripped the nape of my neck, pulling me close until our noses brushed. His sudden movement took me by surprise, my pulse quickening as his gaze locked onto mine. His expression was intense, unreadable, and it made me feel exposed and vulnerable.

“I’ll be gentle with you,” he murmured, his voice low but unwavering, every word carrying the weight of a promise. “At least until our bodies learn each other, until you’re used to me and I’m used to you.” His eyes searched mine, and I could feel the power behind his words, the way they lingered between us. “I promise,” he continued, his forehead pressing against mine. “One day, I’ll give you a gentle life. I’ll never hurt you. That’s why you need to trust me. Let me do this my way. Let me take care of you.”

His words wrapped around me, pulling me into the depth of his devotion. There was something about the way he spoke, the quiet conviction in his voice, that made it impossible not to melt in his arms. Despite my teasing and my attempts to provoke him, this—his way of caring, of promising me a future where I would always be safe in his arms—was what I had always wanted.

I clung to him, my fingers digging into the firm muscle of his shoulders as our bodies pressed together—skin against skin—his hardness filling me, my thighs tight around his hips. The closeness made it hard to breathe, the intensity of it all overwhelming. 

“I am letting you,” I whispered, my voice trembling, not just from the heat between us, but from the certainty I felt in every word. “You can take care of me.”

His eyes searched mine, still cautious. He moved some hair from my shoulder to my back, as if he needed to focus on something, anything that wasn’t how good it felt to have me wrapped around him. 

“Then you have to let me set the pace. This is new for me too… and I won’t risk losing control, doing something I’ll regret.”

I tilted my head. I understood his worry, but it was needless. 

“What could you do that would be so bad when it’s just you and me, like this?” I whispered, shifting my hips ever so slightly against him—not to tease, but to remind him how perfect this felt, how right. His breath caught, and his eyelids fluttered shut as he bit down on his lower lip, the sight making my pulse quicken.

Reaching up, I ran my fingers through his hair, tucking a strand behind his ear as I watched the tension in his face. His chest rose and fell in a deep, uneven sigh, before he let his head drop to my chest. The weight of his vulnerability, pressed against me, was both intimate and tender.

“I don’t know,” he finally murmured, his voice filled with a vulnerability he rarely showed. “You’re just... so precious. I’ve heard things from other soldiers... things I don’t ever want to hear again… things I definitely don’t want you to go through. I want to make sure you’re enjoying it, from beginning to end.” His grip on me tightened, as if to anchor himself in that moment, to prove to himself that this was different. 

“Noah…” Brushing my fingertips along the strong line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, I leaned in to kiss the tip of his sharp nose. “You’re the most disciplined soldier I’ve ever known. I’ve heard my father say it, too. I have no doubt that you’ll never hurt me. You might be a samurai, but your nature is gentle. No matter how fierce you are with a sword or how vulnerable we I am here, your true self always shows when you’re with me.”

His eyes flickered with doubt, still wrestling with his own worries.

“Why do you have so much faith in me?”

“Because I’ve seen your heart,” I said, laying my hand over his chest where I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm. “I know who you are beyond the armor, beyond the weapons. You’ve always been kind, patient, and careful with me. You made us wait until I turned eighteen because you wanted to do things the right way. You don’t need to prove anything to me, because I already trust you completely. It’s not about what you do; it’s about who you are. And when I’m with you,” I said, leaning in so he could hear every word clearly, “I am not afraid.”

For a moment, the silence stretched between us, thick with emotion, and I could see the weight of my words settling into him. His hand moved to cover mine, pressing it against his chest as if to show me that he felt it too.

Soon, I found a rhythm that made him moan beneath me. I watched him, watched the way his eyes glazed over with pleasure, how his hands gripped my hips with a force that made me hope for bruises, something physical to carry with me as a reminder of tonight until our next rendezvous. 

Above him, my hair spilling over my shoulder and again cascading past my breasts, I could see how the sigh of me—of us— seemed to overwhelm him. His eyes widened, his breath uneven, but even then, beneath the haze of desire, there was resolve. Noah was determined to pace himself, to be in control not just of his pleasure, but of ours. It was his silent promise, one I could see written in the lines of his expression and feel in the steadiness of his touch. This wasn’t just an impulsive surrender to passion; this was us learning each other—learning what felt right, what drew us closer with every passing second.  

That night became the start of an intimate journey we would embark on side by side. In the coming months and through the next years, we would learn the map our bodies were, we would learn to satisfy every desire and sate all the hunger in our bones and souls. We would come to understand what we needed from each other. What we wanted to give and receive. We would learn this wasn’t just about passion but about trust, vulnerability, and the delicate balance between control and surrender. 

But even in the closeness of that moment, the reality of who we were remained present, like the distant rumble of a storm. I was the Shogun’s daughter, a princess entangled in a web of duty and expectation. He was a samurai, bound by loyalty and honor, sworn to serve a cause much larger than either of us. Our love wasn’t just a secret—it was dangerous. 

For a few minutes, while we moaned into each other’s skin and my nails dug into Noah’s shoulders, it didn’t matter. Nothing did, except the way we fit together, both in body and in soul.

In his arms, I wasn’t just a princess bound by tradition, and he wasn’t merely a warrior sworn to obedience. We were two souls defying everything that tried to keep us apart, daring to carve out our own path in a world that had already decided our fates.

The implications of our love loomed over us, but with every touch, every kiss, and every whispered word, we reaffirmed what we couldn’t yet say aloud: that this was only the beginning.

EPILOGUE PART ONE – SNIPPET

(Takes place about 2-3 years after the events from the main storyline)

I knew I was ready when I saw Noah coming down the steps to the training grounds, carrying a little girl in his arms. She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old. While it wasn’t unusual for parents at the sanctuary to introduce their children to defense and archery at a young age, this little girl seemed far too small. I didn’t recognize her, but she looked completely at ease in Noah’s arms as he made funny faces at her.

A light breeze blew through that spring day, and the sun graced us with a gentle warmth. The girl had her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, but Noah, whose hair had grown to his shoulders since his last haircut the previous summer, hadn’t bothered to tie his own back. When a gust of wind rustled the trees, it caught his hair too. His strands swept across the little girl’s face, and she scrunched up her nose, leaning back in his arms and closing her eyes, her hands flying up to shield her face.

“Sorry,” Noah said, stiffling a laugh.

“It tickles!” she giggled.

“I lost my hair tie,” Noah explained.

Moving her hands away from her face, she sweetly offered, “I can lend you one.” 

“That would be very kind of you,” he said, tapping her nose playfully.

Her response was a bright smile, followed by her resting her head on his shoulder, settling in comfortably.

Noah noticed me, then. 

“Oh, hello, love.”

I was still in my training suit and gloves, having just finished an archery session. I had stayed a few minutes longer to chat with Rika before heading home.

“Hi,” I replied automatically, my mind elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he quickly scanned me to make sure I wasn’t hurt.

Did he not realize he was holding a little girl in his arms?

The girl glanced at me shyly, clearly unsure who I was.

Noah called my name, snapping me back to reality.

“Hm?”

“Is something wrong? Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Oh,” I stammered, “yeah, must be from training. I’m fine.” I smiled, but Noah didn’t seem convinced, studying me with a raised eyebrow—until a soft voice interrupted.

“She’s pretty.”

Noah and I both looked down at the little girl in his arms, who was now comfortably settled against him, with one of his arms holding her easily—though that was no surprise, given how small she was and that he stood at 6'3".

“She is,” Noah agreed, smiling down at her and then at me. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

[hazyange1s]

Enshrouded

Summary: (abbreviated from the ao3 version because this baby is long enough 😂) MC is an Auror seeking refuge from the arduous nature of her everyday life, and finds it in a secret wizarding club hidden in London; where she has an unforgettable encounter with a strangely familiar, masked man.

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC / Reader

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ MINORS DNI. — p in v, oral (f and m receiving), drug/alcohol use, semi-public, anonymous, little bit rough but nothing too crazy, mentions of violence/blood (mc just really LOVES her job lmao), lots of adult language oop, aged up characters (everyone is in their early 20’s)

Word count: 7.3k

A/N: this idea came to me in a dream… nah jk it came to me while watching Bridgerton (go figure). Started writing it months ago and after much self-doubt I present baby’s first published filth 💀

read here on Ao3 🌹

It was the mystery. She had long suspected that was what kept her going back for more, time and time again.

The risk of it all was enticing too, of course, but more than anything, she loved a damn good mystery. One complex and intricate, one that took time and effort to unravel. As an Auror, well, her life was chock full of such simple delights.

Regrettably, there wasn’t much joy to be had in solving the cases slapped on her desk by the Chief Auror - any satisfaction in making an arrest was often muddied by the names of the victims left behind. So she often sought out milder (but just as potent) forms of that heady adrenaline rush in order to scratch the itch - and her absolute favorite was Reverie. Unassuming enough as names go, and the facade would lead you to think so, too: its uniform brick painted a dingy gray just like every other shopfront along the shadowed, misty cobblestone of Knockturn Alley.

If any of her coworkers found out she frequented such a spot …oh, she’d never hear the end of it. Worse than that, her Chief might even believe such behavior warranted suspension; as wanton impropriety from a well known Ministry employee would bring her morals into question. Likely, she’d get an earful about the utter shame it would bring upon the Ministry itself if she were spotted.

But that was the glorious thing about Reverie: the moment you stepped through its doors, you became somebody else.

Or, rather, no one at all.

Attendance was by invitation only; delivered anonymously while the recipient slept soundly in their bed (certainly disconcerting, but how could she complain?). No letter, just a silken black mask.

Donning the disguise allowed its wearer to see past the heavy glamor placed on the building and step inside - without being apprehended by one of the black-clad guards on watch. Yet the mask’s hidden talents didn’t end there. It was the club’s signature secret: while it was true they merely framed the eyes, each mask contained a glamor of their own that completely concealed one’s identity - whether or not someone would recognize them without it.

(You could be staring into the face of your best friend and would never know it.)

Which, incidentally, was expressly forbidden inside the club’s boundaries (one of very few rules, mind); as strict anonymity was what kept the underground facility running, despite the fact that the Ministry remained attuned to the whispers of a taboo venue boasting all manners of rampant debauchery right under their noses.

Still, the sorcery that offered Reverie protection had held true for well over five years, and its owners were more than dedicated to ensuring it was always so.

Most well-versed and connected members of English wizarding society had at least indulged in rumors of an alternative establishment hidden in the city. They traded whispers of what horrors may lurk behind those gray walls - dark magic and blatant impropriety and dangerous indulgences…

They couldn’t be more right.

The air was already thick with the tang of whiskey and rank with perspiration by the time she arrived an hour after its Friday opening. With each step she took through the meandering crowd, heels clicking on the marble floors, curling smoke in every shade imaginable wafted around the room and blissfully chased away the odor with frankincense and mallowsweet.

But she hadn’t come for the medicinals tonight, tempting as they were after a week that had left her emptier than the glasses long ago abandoned by drunken patrons. Not even a goblet of Merlot or a shot of coffee liqueur (with a splash of cream) could chase away what ailed her.

No, tonight she sought only one means of release, and needed nothing but the tension simmering in her blood as fuel for the fire driving her to desperation.

Nights at Reverie were not for the faint of heart (or stomach), nor the chaste and mild. While technically not allowed in open spaces, more than half of the attendees usually found themselves with a partner by dawn; in one of the many private back rooms or curtained-off alcoves - or dark corners, even.

After all, what did they have to lose when the strings of your identity weren’t a factor?

Usually she’d been content to let the men and women come to her, and admittedly there hadn’t been a shortage of such… entanglements in the three months since she’d received her own mask.

But the time for coy shyness and drawn out flirtation was long gone. Leaning against one of the wall-to-floor Grecian columns at the edge of the room, she simply tossed back her hair and began to scan it for potential prey.

There was a generous sample size, it was true. A tall, lithe gentleman whose hair shone like spun gold, a flawlessly curved woman with rich brown skin, a broad redhead sporting a wide grin…

No, no, and no… none of them are just right.

She huffed with restrained frustration, tapping her foot to the string music playing a haunting melody that seemed to fill every space in the curved underground.

You know there’s only one person you wanted to find here tonight.

Perhaps she’d have to lower her standards - beggars can’t be choosers, and all that.

“There you are.”

Gasping, she pressed a palm to her satin covered chest, which heaved beneath the boning of her - possibly too tight - corset at the unexpected greeting. But what truly robbed her of breath until she was penniless… oh, gods.

They’d answered her prayers after all: the man standing behind her with a luminous grin was precisely the one she’d been hoping to see.

A regular, as luck would have it. She’d spotted him in attendance more often than not, but had never had the courage to approach (mainly due to the slew of witches and wizards who got to him first).

With her attraction being largely from afar, she’d assumed that his lack of…well, anything - other than a single dance lasting no more than five minutes - had meant he was uninterested. Though the smile he wore was genuine, not like the mask framing his dark eyes, and it sparked in the dim lighting cast from candelabras around the wide room.

“Here I am…?” She quirked a brow questioningly, hand lowering to her hip. “But, er, you must be mistaken. I’m not sure I’m the person you’re looking for.”

“Oh, I’m quite sure you are.” His chuckle was somehow more musical than the quartet filling the air and more rough than smooth, but exquisitely rich - as was the material of his dark vest and the deep gray collared shirt rolled above his elbows.

“On account of the fact that I’d know that particular dress anywhere. We’ve never been properly introduced, as I recall.”

“You recall correctly.” She smiled - maybe coy was still in the cards, if only to spend more time with this handsome stranger.

“I suppose that’s frowned upon here really, so…I believe there’s a better way we could become acquainted, if you’d be amenable.”

She had to be impressed with his wanton confidence, if nothing else…though she got the sense there were many rather impressive things about him. Even more arresting was the boldness of his touch; broad hands reaching for hers to bring to his supple lips, where they lingered for a moment before releasing her gently.

Alright. He knew what he was doing.

But she had to play just a touch hard to get - if only to give him a taste of what he’d been dishing out for months (intentionally or otherwise). He’d been playing coy after their first and only real interaction; shooting her little winks and whispered hellos on random nights - only to disappear again amongst the all-black crowd without giving her a chance to respond.

Likely, he’d been going off to find some other witch or wizard for entertainment.

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly, a knowing smile playing on her own red-painted lips. “I don’t recall meeting you at all. Your face has a similar quality to many men here, you see.”

“Ah, somehow I doubt that.” Darkness collected in his dimples (how had she not noticed them before?)

“Saturday, precisely two months ago to the day, you were dancing in my arms wearing a red dress like you have on right now.” His voice was like honey and velvet as he spoke. With each word, he seemed to get closer.

And yes, of course she remembered. She was just surprised he still did.

It’s why she’d been stuck with a ridiculous, schoolgirl infatuation for weeks now; why she’d worn red each and every night in the hopes of catching his attention once more.

The brief escapades she’d busied herself with in the meantime had done in a pinch, but there was something about him she was positively dying to unravel. Perhaps it was the spark in those deep brown eyes - like the dark liquor she favored- that spoke of depths hidden far below the playful, self-assured surface.

Or maybe it was how he smelled from mere inches away, as he was now: pine, sandalwood, and a spicy scent akin to the smoke furling around him like a haze of fog.

“You’ve got quite the memory.” She mused, unable to stop her smile from bursting into full bloom. “I suppose that does ring a bell— you trodded on my foot.”

He groaned. “I’d had a lot of whiskey that night. I’m usually much more coordinated when sober. In fact…”

His fingers slid up her wrist, moving with slow caresses up her arm and shoulder until they came to rest beneath her jaw, angling it up to align with his gaze.

“Is it too presumptuous of me to ask…if you’d let me make it up to you?”

For a moment - just a breath, she hesitated. And why? This was exactly what she’d come for tonight, and with the man she’d lusted over for ages now falling right into her lap… what sort of woman would refuse?

It was something unidentifiable, intangible. A tug on her gut. Something that flashed in the white of his smile as it caught the candlelight. Like a sense of deja vu; there one second and gone the next, leaving her with nothing but the old itch crawling beneath her flushed skin.

“Presumptuous, certainly. But not unwelcome. Everyone deserves a second chance.” She purred, squaring her shoulders and allowing him to guide her to the edge of the room with one palm flat on her lower back.

What she’d expected was to be whisked away to one of the rooms tucked away in the back; filled with four poster beds and velvet curtains and enough firelight to be a safety hazard. Instead, he brought her up to the bar, catching the attention of its immaculately suited (and masked) tender with a wave of his finger. The movement distracted her while he ordered Merlin-even-knew what. She found herself watching the way his fingers curled and wrist turned with each gesture made, his palms visibly calloused - perhaps he had seen his fair share of combat, too - and the backs of his knuckles covered in freckles.

She had to wonder what constellations might be found if she dared to uncover the rest of him.

A glint of gold caught the light, mercifully returning her attention on the smiling eyes of the man who had taken to slipping a glass of red wine between her fingers.

“Shall we toast?” He asked, tilting his chin up in the direction of the raised goblet.

“What are we toasting to?”

“To…” his lips pursed thoughtfully. (Another startlingly distracting body part.) How pink and supple they looked, and how good they would taste when stained with burgundy…

“Liberation.“

Fitting, indeed.

“Santé.” She touched her chalice to his without breaking the meeting of their eyes.

“Slainte.”

The cloying bitterness of Merlot coated her tongue, filling her stomach with warmth - a taste she hadn’t encountered for years. One she missed dearly.

“How’d you know I’d like Merlot?” She licked wine from her bottom lip.

He spoke at the same time; thick brows arched high. “You’re French?”

They laughed, the sounds winding together into a hypnotic sort of harmony.

“You first.” He inclined his head.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m simply fluent in the language.” She couldn’t give away any secrets, not even the place of her birth.

“That accent was flawless. Nobody but a native could articulate like that.”

She shook her head coyly, though not without amusement.

“Fine.” A sigh that seemed almost long-suffering stirred the smoke coiling around them. “I prefer my women with a bit of mystery, anyway. As for your question, darling…”

Oh, he was a rogue through and through. His eyes greedily swept over every inch of her gown to settle on the curves and shapes he seemed to appreciate most before he even deigned to finish.

“It’s… bold. Much like you, if you don’t think me too audacious for saying so.”

He paused to take another sip, savoring the act of licking his lips as she had moments ago, and almost smugly noting her obvious interest. “And I’ve obviously noticed you enjoy the color red, even if that part’s a bit on the nose.”

“You could say that.” Her heart fluttered traitorously into her throat. His undivided and enthusiastic attention was not only a welcome surprise, but a conflicting one. It wouldn’t do to fall for a masked man - in the end, they could never truly know each other beyond the four walls that brought them together.

Reverie. A dream - that’s all. You’ll wake up in the morning.

She straightened her shoulders, resolved and refortified. “And do you? Enjoy the color, that is?”

Her voice was low, only audible due to the minute distance between them, the man tilting his head down towards her as one finger grazed the dip of her neckline.

“What’s not to love?” He mused. “Red represents… vitality. Danger. Passion…”

Her skin prickled in the wake of the trail he drew from collar to shoulder and down her arm, and when it found her free hand, their fingers threaded together with such ease that they could have done it a thousand times before.

He could hear her heart, couldn’t he? With that amount of surety behind his stare, there was no doubt she was being read like an open book.

“That’s why we keep coming back here, isn’t it?” He was near enough now that every word was felt as a cloud of heat gracing her wine-flushed cheeks.

“Because we relish danger, and need passion like air. We all come to feel… alive.”

“Hmm. It’s almost as if you prepared that line beforehand.” She laughed.

His was such a beautiful sound, bubbling like champagne and leaving her with a warm feeling as if she’d tasted it herself.

“Let’s say I did… is it working?”

”Absolutely.”

Whatever spell had allowed them to maintain a sense of decorum shattered after that confirmation, which said so much more than was spoken aloud. The look exchanged between them was another conversation in itself; a volley of traded questions and answers that sent pure lightning skittering up her spine.

“Come with me.” He said abruptly (though not without a dutiful incline of his head; dark hair shining with veins of red in the candlelight) before tugging her away from the bar, where their drinks were hastily abandoned.

It seemed he was just as content to curse restraint, pulling her along with such haste that she tripped on her skirts (more than once) - evidently forgetting his longer legs and her tall heels as she bumped into a distracted patron that was left with a spilled drink, a scowl, and a breathless apology she didn’t quite mean.

They paused at the mouth of the corridor tucked in the back. It was lined with nothing but identical doors of deepest mahogany: some tightly shut, some cracked, and others yet wide open.

The meaning behind each was simple enough: shut meant “do not disturb”, cracked meant “listen or join, if you dare”, and wide open meant “vacant”. The wizard gave her a boyish grin as they all but stumbled to a stop in front of one that remained ajar and beckoned with soft golden light from the candles within.

“What are you waiting for?” She panted.

Without waiting on so much as a blink, her hand fisted in the crisp white of his button down, guiding him through the threshold before the slam of wood against the frame echoed in the empty chamber.

“A witch who knows what she wants, I see.” He chuckled, his hands needing no invitation to wind around her waist until their bodies molded at each curve.

“Well, you’ve been taunting me for a while, haven’t you?”

She took advantage of her hold on his clothes, forgoing the ease of simply waving her wand when she could take the opportunity to feel every inch of skin she revealed by releasing the buttons on his shirt.

Freckled - just as she’d suspected, and with a neat nest of dark hair over the swell of his pectorals that her palms begged to rest on.

“Wait, wait.” He huffed, hands coming to halt hers before they had time to slide the heavy coat from his shoulders.

“No - not wait as in stop -“ he’d seen the crease between her brows. “Wait, as in… slow down.”

”You seemed rather impatient a minute ago when you were dragging me through the place.” She said wryly.

“Impatient to get you alone, yes.” His knuckle grazed her cheek gently, reverently studying what little of her face he was able to see.

“But…” It was as transient as a ghost, at first. A phantom of touch over the swell of her lip, and then firmer as his thumb outlined the shape. “I’d very much like to kiss you first. May I?”

That he even asked such a question - let alone made his intentions to savor the night clear - was enough to poke another hole in her notions of a one-night affair. What if she couldn’t stand to never have this man again when it was over?

Well… there was always the luxury of dreams.

“Yes, of course.” She whispered.

She’d been right earlier - the taste of wine clung to the corners of his mouth, somehow even sweeter when combined with a hint of peppermint cooling the sharp breath he took the moment their lips fit together effortlessly. Her tongue sought to part them in search of the buzz that the alcohol couldn’t take credit for; finding his and groaning with delight as he melted into her.

A soft tug on her scalp announced the presence of his fingers as they threaded through strands of hair with the sole purpose of eliminating any and all space between them. Eagerly he rolled their tongues together, smearing the red painted on her lips across his chin.

They only paused to share a breath that left her dizzy. The sight of his skin stained with rouge was more beautiful than any art piece hanging on the tapestried walls - and there would be more colors adorning it by the end of the night, if she had anything to say about it.

“Now…” The brunet exhaled when they broke apart, lips brushing with each word. “Now, you can take off my clothes.”

No need to tell her twice.

His vest slumped to the floor, giving her leave to continue her work on that long trail of buttons ending at the waist of his trousers. Before long it, too, was little more than a rag at their feet. When she was privy to every square inch of his bare torso, her hands took liberties to caress the panes of his chest, marveling without shame.

“If you’ll allow me the honor, I’d like to even the score.” His voice was near a husk as he watched her intently.

No complaints arose (alright, perhaps one — when he spun her around; effectively depriving her of the ability to keep touching him) as the skilled wizard sought the eye hooks at the back of her bodice, dexterous fingers releasing each one with a snap that seemed to echo. All the while his mouth found her skin - tongue laving over her throat, teeth nipping where it met her shoulder to plant a bloom of deepest red.

“Mmm… keep doing that.” She hummed appreciatively, head lolling to the side.

“You don’t mind if I leave you a few reminders to find in the morning?” He chuckled. By then, he’d succeeded in freeing her of the constricting garment, tossing it to the carpet by the fire before he started to untie her skirt.

“Not at all.”

”Good,” another kiss, just below her ear this time. “Because I want to be able to see that it’s still there next time we meet.”

If he wasn’t careful, she’d start to think he already had plans to do this again.

She didn’t wait for him to move her this time; taking control back once she was only clad in her underthings by going for the buttons holding up his bottoms. Oddly enough, her fingers took on a tremulous quality - one she’d rarely (if ever) experienced in an intimate moment since her very first.

He seemed to adopt a similar growing impatience that made him forgo the back and forth to slip the sleeves of her chemise down, guiding the garment over her figure.

”Gods, you’re a vision.” He groaned and reached for the curve of her waist, feeling out the shape only to travel upwards until he could cup a breast in each hand, thumbs teasing the peaks hardened against the air.

Even as she shivered when he leaned down to bestow a kiss on either one, she managed to get him out of everything but the long undergarments concealing that which she craved most. But when she went for them, he stopped her yet again - catching her wrist only to sweep the startled witch into his awaiting arms with a self-satisfied grin.

The mattress depressed beneath her weight, bouncing back as she blew away a stray lock of hair to look up at him. Watching the way his arms — corded with thick veins — flexed and his eyes narrowed. With barely concealed impatience he climbed onto the bed and wrapped his hands around her thighs.

“Quite the man handler, you are.” She giggled once he’d yanked her towards him so her legs fell open on either side of his knees.

That drew the attention of his wandering eyes.

“Somehow I doubt that was a complaint.” His mouth quirked in earnest. ”Nor do I envision you’ll have any after I’m done with you.”

He began to toy with the idea of removing her drawers - the last thing preventing her from losing her mind, potentially - by sliding his fingers beneath their frilly hems, nails prickling the skin of her thighs as they scratched up and down in a taunting rhythm.

“Tell me something about yourself,” he whispered out of the clear blue. “Anything. The only things I know about you are that you’re French, love the color red and Merlot… oh, and you’re a much better dancer than me.”

Sharing random factoids wasn’t necessarily the foreplay she’d been expecting, nor the kind she was used to, but she couldn’t say she minded when his voice alone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Uhmm…” She had to think of something vague; a throwaway tidbit useless to anyone else.

While he watched, waited with wide and patient eyes, she sighed, “I can’t go a day without coffee. Never quite developed a taste for tea. And I drink it with three sugars.”

He blinked twice in quick succession. All the while he had yet to stop playing with the edges of her knickers, though he gradually let one hand inch up her covered thigh, as if testing the waters. But, she wondered… what was there to test? He had been so self-assured outside this room, yet now there was a hint of nerves beneath the cool exterior.

”So dark and sweet is the way you like it, huh?” He simply couldn’t help himself, it seemed.

The smirk she donned was enough of an answer. “Tell me something about you, then.”

”Me… well.” His mouth quirked before he shifted on the bed - lying on his stomach to greet the center of hers with a kiss. Then each of her hips with a gentle nip.“I love to read. Anything I can get my hands on, really. Fiction, nonfiction, magical and otherwise… I’ll devour it all.”

A slight pinch followed by the softness of his lips alerted her to another cluster of marks he began working onto her lower stomach, covering as much ground as he could on her thighs. His breath, heating her core as it came in little pants, was beginning to become a significant problem - one made her feel warm and heavy. Like sinking into a hot bath, if it were near-boiling.

“In fact, if I had to pick my favorite place in the world, it would be sitting in front of a fire with a good book.” His fingertip ever so slightly grazed the inner curve of her thigh.

“A man of charm and intelligence…how ever did I get so fortunate?”

He chuckled at her teasing lilt, the sound tickling her sensitive skin while he began to make way for the kisses left up the length of her thigh — bunching her drawers up until his fingers just brushed the soft nest of curls at the top.

“Although right now I have to say; I’m very much enjoying this spot, as well.” The wicked man smiled up at her.

“Well, if you’re waiting for an invitation, you’ve got it.” She tried to sound casual about it all, but truth be told, she was fighting every urge to rip his underwear off and throw him onto the bed herself like some sort of madwoman.

He might make her into one before the sun rose, anyway.

She was sure of it when he began pressing tortuously chaste kisses to her other thigh, and when his fingers slid lower to deliver a gentle stroke down the center of her slit had her shuddering with anticipation.

“And how long have you been this wet, love?” His deep rasp was muffled by the fabric of her underwear.

She chuckled. “Hmm…since the moment you took me to the bar, probably.”

He sat up with a distinctly prideful grin, slipping the soft cotton undergarments down her legs, his eyes alight as he settled back between them.

She could almost see the words hanging off his lips as he gazed up at her (that sight was enough to make her hips shift needily), but for whatever reason, they weren’t cut loose. No, he busied his mouth with far more important pursuits. After pausing briefly to indulge his eyes in an appreciative sweep of her naked body, he at last found the perfect spot to make her whine (and on the first try, too) with naught but a languorous sweep of his tongue.

It wasn’t nearly enough to quell any bit of the ache driving her into inevitable madness, but he showed her mercy by flattening the wet muscle against her folds and following a slow trail up until the tip of it lightly flicked her clit.

“Oh, please do that again.” She pleaded (had she been reduced to begging so quickly?), one hand inching towards her breast — seeking any more stimulation she could find — as the other slid through the silken waves atop his head.

He obliged. But with more pressure this time, and so, so slow, observing her reaction as if she were the most scintillating thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

It really was something about those eyes. With such unfairly long lashes that fanned over russet cheeks, and the way the candlelight flickering off the walls would touch them just so to light the near-black irises with a rich gold. His lips stretched against her skin, noticing her attention and giving her an approving hum that was met by the push of her hips towards his tongue.

“Mmmph —“ he grunted when her thighs pressed to his ears, entrapping him between them greedily. “Like that, do you?”

Her answering moan earned another grin followed by a gentle suck on her clit that only brought out another breathy, low sound.

“But gods, you taste so sweet…decadent, just as I’d said.”

Merlin, his voice…the way it rumbled with barely contained desire and pulled obscenities from her own throat was sinful.

Drowning in sin didn’t seem such a bad way to go, at present.

The possibility became reality once he re-added a finger to the mix; curling it beneath his tongue to trace the folds before sinking gradually into her awaiting heat.

“Oh, f—“

One of her own fingers rolled her nipple atop the breast she’d been playing with as she shivered. If he kept this up much longer, she would surely come undone right on his tongue; wrapped around that rough digit gliding in and out of her as it stroked her upper walls.

But that didn’t feel right. As wonderful as the softness of his lips enclosing around her clit was, she couldn’t imagine a proper substitute for the stretch his cock would provide instead.

“I need…” she had been about to voice her request when the tip of his tongue prodded her entrance. Both of her hands now gripped his auburn waves like they were keeping her tethered to earth, legs trembling with the effort to fight off the warmth swelling in her core.

“Need what?” He took an eager breath in, only to release it through pursed lips over the throbbing bud he seemed to adore. “I want to hear it loud and clear, lovely.”

An impatient groan parted her bitten lips. “I need more. I need you inside me when you make me come.”

“There you go. Gods, you sound so pretty when you ask to be fucked…” It took one last excruciating pump of his finger inside of her before he withdrew to push himself up onto his knees with a mess of her own making shining on his clean-shaven chin.

“First, though…” The finger coated with her fluids was sucked between his reddened lips. When it was pulled out with a slick, slow draw, he crooked it in her direction. “Come here. I want you to get a little taste, too.”

Don’t mind if I do.

On trembling hands she raised herself up on wobbly knees pressed into the soft mattress, sucking in a breath when she curled her fingers over the band of his underwear and waited for approval.

“Don’t be shy.” He coaxed gently.

It was difficult not to be at least a little intimidated by the proud shape outlined through his bottoms (and leaving a very telltale wet spot in the light fabric), but she pushed past it with a firm swallow.

Her breath whooshed out without prompting as she rolled them over his hips and the rather shapely swell of his backside. And, as it had before taking a sip of the wine he’d offered earlier, her mouth watered when she was rewarded with the view of his cock as it twitched at the first rush of air over the leaking tip.

Personally, she wasn’t much of an artist. She preferred a wand to a brush and blood over red paint, but there was something about him that begged to be immortalized on canvas. How satisfying it would be to perfectly capture the artful tapering from wide shoulders to a slimmer waist, or even to carve from marble the thickness of his thighs.

She doubted it would do him justice.

“Are you going to paint a portrait?” He teased, as if ripping those very thoughts from her mind.

“Just might. And could you blame me?” She answered with a bite of her lip. But there was too much bloody talk going on. In the spirit of action, she lowered her mouth to meet the curve of his hipbone and began marking a wet trail downwards.

The light scrape of his fingernail over her cheekbone made her lashes flutter as he tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, his breathing growing more labored when her palm slipped over the softness of his length — only to fold her fingers around it with gentle pressure. By the time she brushed her lips over the head — then her tongue to collect the salty fluid now leaking down the shaft — he was keening under his breath.

“Mmhmm…keep going, please.” he murmured.

As if she would stop. On the contrary, she wrapped her mouth around him, making a circle around the ridge of his cockhead with the tip of her tongue only to trace the length of him by following a thick vein. He was thick — stretching her lips wide when she took him in inch by inch, allowing him to prod the back of her throat to moisten her mouth.

“Just like that. You’re doing brilliantly, love; just perfect.” He said breathlessly, scraping her hair back into a haphazard updo with a broad hand.

Spurred on by the praise, she hollowed her cheeks for a better seal, dragged her mouth along his shaft until he rewarded her with a broken, guttural moan. She kept it up until finding a rhythm that his hips desperately pushed forward to match.

“I won’t… fuck, you’re going to make me embarrass myself…” he chuckled weakly.

Well that wouldn’t do at all. As much as the idea of swallowing his seed enticed her, there was a far better option in her mind. Which is why, despite his immediate protest in the form of a low grunt and a harsh tug on her hair, she gave one last slow lick before pulling away.

The increasingly flustered wizard tracked her movements with lust-glazed eyes. “I was hoping to drag this out, but I think you’re proper ready for me, aren’t you?”

Her enthusiastic nod spurred a laugh as he unfolded her legs from beneath her, wasting no time in hooking one around his hips and propping the other up to rest on his shoulder. The view was… magnificent, and he seemed to agree as his tongue darted out to taste her essence on his lips.

She’d expected another round of teasing. How relieved she was when instead, the blunt head of his cock parted her readily, sweeping through the slickness there with a stuttered, needy groan.

And just when she was about to insist —

A gasp tore through her dry throat as he pushed himself inside of her with little resistance. She was suddenly so full; though it wasn’t until he was fully sheathed that she let out a long, breathy sigh.

“Good? You alright?” He murmured, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing circles on the inside of her thighs. When she nodded, his mouth curled into a smile that she felt amidst the kisses left along her calf.

Oh, it was more than good — by the time he dragged his length out just to drive himself forward again, she was positively keening for more; her hands blindly reaching for some part to grab and managing to splay them flat on his lower back to force him deeper. He could hardly fight her, and it seemed like he didn’t want to anyway. The wizard’s eyes had grown hooded with lust, those sumptuous lips parting to make way for a moan that sent a shock down her spine. Her own eyes fluttered shut as he began to glide in and out of her in languid, practiced thrusts.

“Mm mmm,” he hummed chastingly. “I’d like to see those pretty eyes.”

His boldness — so wildly sexy.

Looking at him was almost a taboo in itself. Nine times out of then, her trysts had involved a lot of pleasure-filled sounds and heavy breathing; but conversation? Not so much. Some people didn’t even like to be kissed — and others found a prolonged gaze entirely too intimate.

This man didn’t just fuck. It was a different experience altogether, and it was bloody incredible. So, like the hopelessly besotted witch she was, she met his gaze and responded with a wanton moan at the sight of his head thrown back in pleasure while his hips made wide circles against hers.

“Gods, you fit like a glove,” his body shuddered with a stuttered exhale. “Feel so good…”

She canted her hips up to meet his in protest of his lazy pace, earning a broken chuckle before being rewarded with the head of his cock roughly probing her to its absolute limit.

“Godric…” she whined pathetically. “Again — right there.”

“Is Godric Gryffindor the one providing your pleasure right now?” He mocked. “No, I don’t think so.”

”Well, then tell me your name, and I’ll scream it as much as you want.”

Locks of mussed hair fell over his forehead as the man shook his head, ignoring her small pout, but soothing the disappointment by giving her something else she’d wanted.

Again, he speared himself nice and deep. And again; and again, until her nails were carving crescents into the muscle of his back and he was whispering streams of filth into her ears between husky groans. Just when she was about to warn him of her rapidly approaching release, he had to go and stop — worst of all, he dragged his length out of her.

“You must be joking,” she panted.

A wicked grin told her she was in for it, and her thighs squeezed together in anticipation as he twirled his finger midair. “Oh, we’re not done. Sit up for me, love, and turn around. That’s it… now put your hands on the headboard.”

When her fingers curled around the solid chunk of wood, the bed dipped and creaked as he came up behind her, chest to spine and fingers curling over hers.

“Make sure you’re holding on tight.” Without warning, he ripped a sharp cry from her throat by driving back into her lonely heat until his hip bones dug into her ass and she swore she could see the night sky in that very room.

“Buggering hell —“ she blurted. This new angle was sure to be the end of her, and he was well aware of it from the delighted chuckle he huffed in her ear.

”You’ve got such a mouth on you for a lady… damned if I don’t love it.” The wizard panted with pride.

He wasn’t taking it easy on her any longer. The sheer force of his thrusts was enough to rock the bed frame against the wall; the thuds as the headboard struck exposed brick likely heard by everyone in the surrounding rooms (not that she had any room to care in her sex addled brain). It was enough to wring every last coherent thought from her, rendering her a shaking, mewling mess and unable to do anything but meet each snap of his hips with her own — while holding on for dear life.

“Oh, yes…” he was on his way to leaving bruises on her hip from the force of his steadying grip, but the sparks of pain only led her to greater pleasure.

Well-attuned to the signs of her mounting release as it threatened to overwhelm her for the third time, he released her hand to reach around and find her clit, abandoning the precision and prowess from before. Those dexterous fingers worked tirelessly, and coupled with the uneven little pants warming her neck between his kisses…

“I know you’re close, love,” he shuddered. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

He threw every last bit of his energy into shoving her over the edge; and as his cock prodded that spot inside of her once more, she gave in and fell apart under his hands. Every unbridled, broken sound that tumbled out as she rode through her orgasm was met with an encouraging whimper from the wizard. Just when the last bit of pleasure was wrung from her body, he pulled out with a groan, releasing ropes of warm seed over her backside and spine.

There he rested for a moment. While he caught his breath, the man’s hands traced the shape of her body, slipping in the essence coating her with a proud chuckle. “Evanesco.” he murmured, restoring her skin to its unmarred state.

“Are you…” he gulped in a lungful of sex-scented air. “Are you alright?”

“Brilliant.” She panted, letting go of the headboard to turn and rest her back against it instead. “You?”

It was an understatement, really: all that stress pounding between her temples and tension in her shoulders had disappeared. She felt spectacular.

“Never better.”

He sank back to his knees, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he admired her with a lazy grin. How she wished she could peel the satin from his cheeks to see that smile reach his dark eyes…

“Only wanted to make sure. You were getting quite loud.” The question seemed more taunt than anything.

Walking might prove difficult for the next couple of hours (at the least), and her hair was likely in a right state (along with her marked-up skin), but none of that mattered when the lingering rush instilled her with a rare lightness.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Not at all. I was very much enjoying the sounds you made. Means I did my job well.”

She gave him a playful eye roll, rolling onto her side with the intention of returning to the solace of his arms before she realized — pillow talk and cuddling were sort of an unspoken faux pas when it came to casual encounters. Usually, her or her partners would leave the bed before the sweat had dried on their skin, and for once the expectation felt…lonely.

It truly struck her when he cleared his throat a moment later, gingerly untangling their weakened limbs to climb out of the bed seeking the various items of clothing discarded across the room.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyes darting to her before he located his pants. “Water, food..? Anything.”

Though appreciative, she waved his offer away with a quiet laugh. “I’ll be just fine. Though I’m sure I’ll need a hot bath at home.”

Sitting idly in bed while he already had a foot out the door picked at her pride, and so the Auror dragged herself out of it on trembling fawn’s legs. She managed to locate her underthings and slip them on before plucking her gown up from the floor.

“Oh,” a flash of gold caught her eye, and she bent to retrieve his trousers — as well as the shiny pocket watch that had evidently fallen out while they were distracted earlier. “Here, you don’t want to lose this.”

He was dragging his shirt over his bed head when she walked over to return it. She couldn’t help but admire the piece’s subtle artistry; the metal so perfectly preserved with intricate curling ivy etched into the rim of the case. Such a unique design…

So unique that she could easily recall seeing one just like it before.

And it, too, had been monogrammed with the letter S.

If he hadn’t snatched the watch out of her hand before the shock hit, she might have dropped and broken one of the last artifacts of the Sallow family.

Merlin, the irony of her asking for his name to say it in bed when she wanted to scream it in outrage now. And of course he had the audacity to take a step towards her, to soften his wide brown eyes (how had she looked into them and not known) and adopt an innocent frown; the one he had always used before begging for forgiveness.

She took a step back in turn and fixed him with a look that could have frozen the fire in the hearth. It was enough to confirm for him exactly what conclusion she’d reached.

“Blast it all, it is you.” He breathed.

“Sebastian?”

[linnienin]

Hi hi! I add the thing you asked me to and it showed! They were just hidden!

I'm doing good btw how are you feeling today love??🥰

Also could you do Sirene Conjunct Vertex and Lilith conjunct Aphrodite post? Both aspects in 8th house and all in Cancer.

Ps i found another lilith called H21 (which I've read is like theoretically a 5th Lilith) that's Conjunct to Aphrodite,Vertex,Lilith and Sirene😦

🌹 S i r e n e ⁕ c o n j u n c t ⁕ V e r t e x + L i l i t h ⁕ c o n j u n c t ⁕ A p h r o d i t e 🌹 (8th house-Cancer)

Hi lovely! How are you today? 💖

I'm feeling ok thanks for asking, maybe a bit tired

Sure! Here are my thoughts on your placements:

🌹 Naturally magnetic

🌹 Reserved

🌹 Everyone wants to know more of them, it's like they're obsessed finding out their secrets

🌹 Can be manipulative without even knowing, because they grew up in a manipulative environment (underdeveloped)

🌹 Penetrating gaze

🌹 Seen as very demanding by others

🌹 They just hold their standards high

🌹 Can have trouble connecting to their genuine feminine side (internalized misogyny)

🌹 Can get envy and hate from other women

🌹 Attack with sharp words if she feels threatened

🌹 Can isolate when in hard times because she doesn't want others to see her at her worst

🌹 Loves to stay indoor

🌹 Need a way to release their sexual impulses but feel shame towards them so they repress them instead

🌹 Don't like to show their chest area when dressing

🌹 Can be pretty modest overall when it comes to fashion

🌹 Can get frequently lost in their thoughts and ruminate over and over again

🌹 Difficulty letting go of the past (it holds all their fears)

Hope you enjoyed this!

Have a great day! 🌹

Btw, on your H21 Lilith discovery, i usually focus on H13 (Black Moon Lilith) in a chart, i feel this is the most powerful of all of them, and probably the one with most info and researches out there.

All the other Liliths have energy in your chart too, but i wouldn't overthink on them for now, at least not before we gather more knowledge. I still think that anything tightly conjunct (orbs 0-2 degrees) a personal planet or in the first house can add depth to that planet and in 1st house it amplifies their power, but other than this, it's probably a minor energy in your chart.

[rcselccms]

@dreamxmaker​ exposed:  “ can you forgive me?”  (@dreamxmaker)

   ⩥ The woman, invited by the manor of dreams, looks to the man dressed in black hollowly. Those once blue eyes attempting to switch to nothing but leaves and thorns but no-- with a simple breath, she advances ever closer. She wished she had known this man before, in her countless dreams that have been conjured up before...yet he never made himself known. And he, now, standing to ask for forgiveness when a boy was tortured?

   She will not stand for it, and never will she abide.

   “You think you can be forgiven? Let’s list off the reasons,” She begins curtly, raising her fingers to count on them. “You torture a sweet, little boy on his recent fears,” A finger draws out, “You chastise my husband for taking out that fear,” Another extends, “ AND you grab my husband by the throat and threw him. Now, sir, i’d like to be civil--have a dialogue with you, but don’t you think this is a bit much?”

   She feels herself rising, folding her arms over her chest to stop herself from letting him have it. “I think those are pretty good reasons to not. I’m so mad, oughh...you should be lucky to know that I’m a dignified woman.”

[moonsdancer]

🌹

idk, this is a v. rough snippet from short fic of mel experiencing the talis family warmth and hospitality and freaking the f out bc she's never known family to be like this.

The Talis’ are nothing like anything Mel’s witnessed before. There’s something too soft. Too open. Too giving that makes her unsure of how to navigate. Even with Kino, she’d understood that simple intimacies, a warm hug, a kiss to the cheek, a gentle pat on the shoulder—such things were meant for hidden places. Away from prying eyes who might deem the soft gestures a weakness worthy of derision and little else.

But Ximena Talis opens the door of her simple but well-appointed abode—the home where Jayce grew up—and immediately draws her son into a hug, kisses his temple, pats his cheek with shining eyes as though just the mere gift of seeing him is too lovely to pass off without appreciation. Then—and perhaps this makes Mel tense within—she reaches for Mel’s hands, holds them within her own, and says, “Welcome to our home, Councillor Medarda, it’s so wonderful for you to join us tonight.”

Mel is well used to receptions. To receiving lines. To knowing exactly the right words to handle a crowd and new people, to carry conversation, to build rapport.

But when Ximena leans up to kiss her on the cheek with almost as much honest warmth as she did her son, she feels unmoored. Unsure of how to respond without ripping her hands out of the woman’s hands, turning about and fleeing down the street like a mad woman.

[simlit]

🌹 🌹 🌹

A R C ' A E N V E L |

Of all the elves and dragons the Dragonprince had known, none were so refined as that one. He seemed not entirely one thing or another. In fact, so peculiar was his beauty that it nearly demanded reply. – CH 01

The immensity of his beauty settled in his honeycomb eyes, hidden beneath a veil of long, dark lashes. What little milky light rained down from a cool October sun glistened in the gold marks across his cheeks. When he spoke, it was in a voice that belonged to no one thing. It was heavy and it was light, melodic and deep, like birdsong in a dark and endless sky. – CH 07

[autobotmedic]

V. Prompt

@yourlocalmenace​​

🌹 to give my muse flowers

“Hey, so, I know I've been pretty obnoxious to you often, and it interferes with your work and all, so, here... I guess you deserve an apology.” Wheeljack holds out a rather sloppily arranged bouquet.

What Ratchet might not guess is that the position of his servo around the stalks is holding down the release stopper for several pressurized tubes hidden between the crystals, and the moment he lets go they will release their surprise: a harmless but notoriously adhesive powder favored by Cybertronian artists as a way to add sparkle to their work.

    Ratchet was immediately suspicious, and he spent several moments analyzing both Wheeljack’s expression and the peace offering. Dare he consider this a gesture with legitimate intentions? Had they still been on Earth, with his patience worn thin from circumstances outside his control, he likely would not have touched them. Then again, if they had still been on Earth rather than a revived planet, Wheeljack would not have had access to such in the first place.

    Regardless, the medic decided he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and accept the gift.

    ... Only to immediately regret it.

    He stood there, now partially coated in glitter, and exvented slowly. However, Ratchet still had the bouquet in hand, which was also powdered from the little surprise. In a moment of irritable, yet almost-childish pettiness, he threw the false gift directly at Wheeljack’s upper half, glitter poofing against the prankster too.

    “Hah!” Now Ratchet was not the only one who would have to deal with removal.

[kpopbread]

💎 Nct Ships 💎

Anon: Hey! May I request personality ship with NCT U and NCT 127, as well as the secret admirer? I'm 20, 5'5", with dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and freckles (think v typical white girl). I'm currently majoring in Theatre with a minor in English. I'm pretty outgoing and extremely sarcastic; I always try to lighten the mood. This being said I don't enjoy going out much, I like down time to just chill n stuff. This was long. Sorry.

Lmao girl,, this is not long at all 😅 dw. And omg theatre sounds so fun to do :)

(Credit to gif owners)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In Nct U I ship you with: Doyoung

Okay,, you two were pretty much two peas in a pod.

You both shared the same sarcastic sense of humour— and you and Doyoung are both ‘hidden sunshines’ so, you two are sarcastic but like you said, you both always try to lighten the mood. And you would succeed in making each other calm and happy~

In Nct 127 I ship you with: Yuta

Idk man, I think be probably has a thing for blonde hair, and lightish eyes 👀 he would admire your confidence and you two could literally talk for hours (much to the annoyance of the other members lol rip)

I feel like he would enjoy helping you out with scripts for your theatre studies- putting on dumb voices for each character 😂

Your secret admirer is: Jaehyun

This fucker only started to show an interest AFTER you started dating Yuta/Doyoung. You’d catch him checking you out, but he would never get caught by the others this sneaky little—

Whenever Yuta/Doyoung was too busy to hang out, he would jump straight in like “hey, I’m free. I can chill for a bit.” and him being JAEHYUN you couldn’t say no. Who knows.... maybe you two would slowly grow closer and boom 💥 plot twist?¿?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🌹🧚🏽‍♀️🌹

[teddilorri]

I just added this listing on Poshmark: Dress Barn flowered dress. #poshmark #fashion #shopping #shopmycloset

[rcselccms]

@onemcrething​ exposed: 

A tired form slumped against her, his familiar rumpled trenchcoat seeming as disheveled as him. A long day of work, doing what he could... along with what seemed to've been something else, judging by the obvious bandages around a bit of his torso. Though, also judging by how neat they were-- he seemed to've gotten professional help!... but christ.

     " ... Didn't mean t'uh come home so late, Rose, " Came Columbo's voice-- soft as always, with that little rumble from his familiar accent. Well, he knew he couldn't hide it.

     " Run-in wit' uh, the Lord'a Dreams. Mista' Morpheus-- Dream... I was, uh, doin' what I could t'uh help Connor... keep his dreams comfy... I was, uh, a li'l rude, tuh poor Mista' Dream... " Apologetic as always...

  ⩥ Rose could only talk to the lieutenant, draping her arms over him to cradle his head up for a soft kiss. Rose could tell that he was exhausted, her eyes looking at him with their counterfeit blue sheen could even read past it. She was happy that the man, now outside of that dream scape, was able to get the medical attention he needed-- the faint blood splotches on those white bands still did nothing to quell that thirst for some payback. 

   For now, she gently leads him while she has the man in her grasp, gently taking him to the nearby couch. The kids were...asleep, than goodness. She would be over the roof if they saw. 

   “It was very brave of you Columbo, but you must remember what happens to the human body-- getting shot in the back is nothing to snob at, and you look to be in even worse pain than that.”

   “...Do you need me to talk to him?”

[rcselccms]

⩒ -- tags.

[teddilorri]

I just added this listing on Poshmark: Dress Barn flowered dress. #poshmark #fashion #shopping #shopmycloset

[teddilorri]

I just added this listing on Poshmark: Dress Barn flowered dress. #poshmark #fashion #shopping #shopmycloset

[teddilorri]

I just added this listing on Poshmark: Dress Barn flowered dress. #poshmark #fashion #shopping #shopmycloset

[teddilorri]

I just added this listing on Poshmark: Dress Barn flowered dress. #poshmark #fashion #shopping #shopmycloset

[teddilorri]

I just added this listing on Poshmark: Dress Barn flowered dress. #poshmark #fashion #shopping #shopmycloset