#AND HIS HAIR!!!!!! he really is so Mother to me

[meinii]

“girl dad Sylus”

summary: how I imagine Sylus to act like with his baby girl ˆ ̳◝ ·̫ ◜ ̳ˆ

content: fluff, a baby!, nicknames (princess)

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

the first time Sylus held her, he thought his heart might break

she was so small, so fragile in his arms, her tiny fingers curling around one of his own, barely able to hold on. but she did—her grip surprisingly firm, as if claiming him as hers

he never stood a chance

from that moment on, she owned him

and he didn’t mind.

—

“dada! look!”

his daughter’s voice rang through the grand halls of their home, bright and full of excitement. Sylus turned his head just in time to see her barreling toward him, holding something behind her back

he caught her before she could crash into his legs, lifting her effortlessly into his arms

“what is it, little princess?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head

she giggled, revealing a stuffed toy—a little red dragon

Sylus raised a brow “another one?”

she nodded eagerly “it looks like you!”

he let out a low chuckle, brushing a silver strand of hair from her face “you think I look like a dragon?”

“mhm! but a nice one,” she said, wrapping her small arms around his neck “the nicest!”

Sylus exhaled softly, pressing her closer

“of course I am,” he murmured “how could I not be when I have the prettiest little girl in the world?”

she giggled again, squirming in his hold “mama says I look like you, too!”

he smirked “oh? then she must be wrong”

she pouted “why?”

“because you look just like her”

her little brows furrowed, thinking it over. then, as if deciding this was acceptable, she nodded “okay!”

Sylus smiled, running a gentle hand through her hair

she was perfect.

—

Sylus didn’t trust anyone else to make her food

not because your chefs weren’t skilled—no, it was because he enjoyed doing it himself

he’d wake up early, rolling up his sleeves, carefully preparing her favorite meals. little sandwiches cut into stars, warm soup when she wasn’t feeling well, tiny pancakes in the shape of hearts—because she demanded it

and every single time, without fail, she would take one bite, look up at him with those big, adoring eyes, and declare—

“dada, you’re the best cook in the whole world!”

he’d smirk, ruffling her hair “of course I am. did you think I’d let you eat anything less than perfect?”

she’d shake her head furiously, her little feet kicking beneath the table “nope! because you love me!”

he pressed a kiss to her forehead

“more than anything, little princess.”

—

“dada, I need a new dress!”

Sylus leaned back against the couch, watching as his daughter climbed into his lap, determined and serious

“do you?” he mused, amused

she nodded firmly “yes! a pink one!”

he hummed, considering “but don’t you already have pink dresses?”

“but not this pink,” she insisted “I saw one with sparkles!”

he smirked, lifting her slightly so she sat properly on his lap

“I suppose we’ll have to get it, then” he said, tapping her nose

she gasped dramatically “really?!”

“did you think I’d say no?”

she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck “never!”

he chuckled, stroking her back “besides, how else will you be the prettiest girl in the world?”

she beamed, nuzzling into his shoulder

“mama says i already am!”

“that’s because your mother is smart,” he murmured “but she’s wrong about one thing”

“what?”

he pulled back slightly, tilting her chin up

“you’re not just the prettiest,” he whispered “you’re the most beautiful. just like her”

her eyes shone, and for a moment, she was speechless. then she grinned, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek

“I love you, dada!”

his heart clenched, warmth spreading through him

“I love you more, little princess”

—

at night, when the world was quiet and soft, he would sit by her bed, watching as her little chest rose and fell with each sleepy breath

he never thought he’d have this

never thought he deserved this

but somehow, against all odds, against fate itself—he did

and he would protect it. always.

he leaned down, pressing a final kiss to her forehead, brushing stray strands of hair from her face

“sleep well, my little princess,” he whispered “dada will always be here.”

and as he left her room, stepping into the dimly lit hallway, he found you waiting

you smiled softly, arms wrapping around his waist.“she really has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?”

he smirked, pulling you closer “as if you don’t”

you laughed, pressing a kiss to his jaw “I love you”

Sylus sighed, his hand cupping the back of your head, holding you against him

“I love you, too” he murmured, his voice softer than usual

“more than anything.”

[eiightysixbaby]

just some brief belated valentine’s nonsense with older!eddie

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing alone on Valentine’s Day?”

His voice comes out with a deep rasp, his hand coming up to light the cigarette he places between his lips.

Your mother always taught you that it’s rude to stare, but in this instance, you can’t help it.

The man beside you must be in his forties, curly brown hair going ever so slightly gray. Salt and pepper scruff decorates his face, giving him a sort of rough-around-the-edges look. His eyes though, soft pools of rich espresso brown, they tell you he might not be as gruff as he first appears.

He’s gorgeous. And you remember that he’s waiting for an answer.

“Guys suck, that’s why I’m here alone,” you tell him, a scoff escaping you. “I’m tired of wasting my time.”

Your response is true; you’re tired of putting up with games, tired of being strung along. You need a man, not a boy.

He’s nonchalant, perched on the barstool beside you. Black leather jacket with black jeans to match, a ring on the smallest finger of his right hand and the index of his left.

“Good for you,” he says, tipping his beer glass out towards you. “Guys aren’t mature enough at your age, promise you it ain’t worth it.”

“I’m twenty five. I’m not, like, fifteen,” you say, finding his comment interesting.

“Yeah, sweetheart, that’s what I assumed. My point still stands.”

You quirk a brow at him, sipping from your glass of wine as you regard him in your peripheral vision. You try not to think too hard about how glorious sweetheart sounded in his subtle drawl.

“If you want a man to treat you right, you gotta go older. Even in their twenties, they have plenty of growing to do.”

He’s not even looking at you as he says it, still feigning that complete nonchalance. Like he didn’t just sit his pretty ass down next to you and suggest you date an older man — someone more like, say, him.

“Oh, really?” you ask, trying to hide your amusement. “How old, would you say?” You twist your body so you’re facing him, your skirt riding up dangerously high on your thighs.

A flood of heat rushes through you when you notice his gaze snag on that very spot, where the fabric ends and the meat of your thighs is exposed.

His dark eyes look up to meet yours, finally. A slight smirk graces his lips.

“I’d say about my age.”

“You know, if you wanted me to get naked with you, you could’ve just asked. We’ve wasted all this time talking back and forth when I could be on my knees in that bathroom already,” you reply bluntly, making his eyes widen slightly. He wasn’t expecting you to take the bait so boldly.

He recovers quickly, though, running a calloused palm over his scruff.

“Oh, sweetheart. That bathroom?” he asks, motioning towards the dingy one in the corner of the bar. He tsks. “You want someone to treat you right, don’t you? Surely you’d rather be spread out on my bed than getting those pretty knees dirty on that floor.”

You swallow, feeling heat pool in the pit of your stomach at the way he looks at you.

He lets his cigarette hang from the corner of his mouth, awaiting a response from you. Suddenly you’re not sure your brain works anymore.

But you want this. You’re sure of that. You want him to take you home, and you don’t even know his name. Screw it though, you deserve to have some fun.

“Inviting me into your bed already? And they say chivalry is dead,” you muse, enjoying the huff of air that leaves his nose in amusement.

“Come on, darlin’,” he says, standing from his seat and extending a hand to you. “Let’s get out of here. I’m gonna show you how Valentine’s Day is really done.”

[sophsbookstore]

New Beginnings

Quinn Hughes x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word Count: 3225

A/N: HE'S HERE!! Shout out to the anon who gave the name idea, and thank you to everyone who sent ideas (I wrote them down for future use, don't worry!)

also I wanted to get this out fast so apologies for no banner, but enjoy this gif!

Masterlist can be found here!

The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the quiet stillness of the hospital room. The small room, once sterile and impersonal, had transformed into something so much warmer in the hours since your son had arrived. The windows let in a gentle stream of moonlight, casting a calming glow over the room. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the small bottle of essential oil you’d brought from home, a small comfort in this strange, sterile place. The bed, with its crisp white linens and worn quilted blanket, was a far cry from the chaos of labor, but now it was filled with love.

Quinn sat beside you, his large frame almost swallowing the space beside you as he held your newborn son in his arms. His baby boy. His son. The words still felt surreal, even hours after the birth. The emotions that coursed through you—the love, the overwhelming sense of joy, the tender affection for the little being Quinn was gently cradling in his arms—were beyond words.

Quinn looked down at his son with such tenderness, his eyes full of awe as he gazed at the tiny life in his arms. His son, with a head of soft, dark hair and tiny hands that seemed too small to belong to such a big world. Quinn couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest as you watched him.

"He's perfect," Quinn whispered, his voice barely more than a soft breath. His fingers gently stroked the baby’s cheek, a movement so tender it almost felt like he was afraid to touch him too much, as if he were afraid of breaking something so precious.

You could only nod, your eyes brimming with tears as you took in the sight of your family—your little family—finally together. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this. You thought you understood love, you thought you understood what it meant to have someone in your life who mattered more than anything else. But this? This was something else entirely. Your son was here, and with him, a whole new world had opened up.

“I can’t believe he’s finally here,” you whispered, your voice raw with emotion. The pain of labor still a distant memory now that your son was in your arms, but the rush of feelings that came with becoming a mother, of seeing Quinn as a father, was all-consuming.

Quinn’s eyes flickered toward you, his gaze soft and full of admiration. He shifted, making sure your son was safe in his arms as he leaned closer to you. “He’s so small. I can’t believe we made him.”

You smiled, your hand reaching out to rest on his arm, the touch gentle and comforting. “He’s perfect, Quinn. Just like you.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in the sound. Instead, there was awe. “You really think so?”

You nodded, the smile not leaving your face. “I do. He looks just like you, you know.”

Quinn let out a soft laugh, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders relax even more as the moment between the three of you felt almost too perfect to be real. “I don’t know about that. He’s so small, I don’t know if he even has a chance of looking like me. But I hope he gets your smile.” He paused, his eyes falling to the baby in his arms. “I hope he gets your kindness too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you turned your head to look at Quinn. “You’re going to be such an amazing dad.”

He met your gaze, his eyes soft and full of warmth. “We’re in this together, right? I know I’m gonna screw up sometimes, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure he has the best life possible. Just like you’re gonna be the best mom.” He paused, looking back at the little bundle in his arms, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s lucky to have you.”

The lump in your throat returned, but you swallowed it down, wanting to savor this moment. “He’s lucky to have both of us.” You looked back at your son, his tiny face scrunched up as he slept peacefully in Quinn’s arms. “I can’t believe he’s ours.”

Quinn’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the world outside the hospital room seemed to disappear. It was just the three of you, tucked away in this quiet, safe place. The bond between the two of you had always been strong, but now it felt like it had deepened in a way neither of you had expected. Your love for each other, for this little life you’d created, was unlike anything you’d ever known.

“I’m just so happy he’s here,” Quinn whispered, his voice full of sincerity. “So happy we’re finally parents. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my whole life.”

And in that moment, as you all huddled together in the soft glow of the hospital room, surrounded by the love you’d created, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of a whole new chapter in your life—one that would be filled with challenges, but also so much joy. Because, as Quinn had said, this little one was yours. Your family. And nothing would ever be the same again.

The peaceful calm of the hospital room was disrupted by the sudden buzz of Quinn's phone vibrating on the bedside table. He glanced down at the screen, a small frown of concentration crossing his face as he saw the name flashing across it.

"It's Jack," Quinn murmured, his thumb swiping the screen to answer the text.

You watched as Quinn quickly read the message, his eyes scanning the words before a wide grin slowly spread across his face. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and you saw the excitement in his eyes. "Jack says everyone’s on their way. My parents, your parents, and Luke. They’re all coming to meet him."

You smiled softly, your heart fluttering in your chest. “That’s so sweet. I’m so glad they can be here.”

Quinn nodded, still smiling as he typed back a quick response, then placed his phone back down. He turned to look at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I’ll let them in when they get here, but we need to put him down for a second, okay? You need to rest for a bit.”

You nodded, though you didn’t want to let go of your baby, even for a moment. But you understood. Quinn had been so gentle, so attentive with him since he was born, and you knew he’d want to be the one to greet everyone and show them the little one.

Carefully, Quinn shifted the baby from his arms, cradling him gently as he placed him in the small bassinet beside your bed. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the momentary separation, but it was fleeting. You could already feel the warmth of your little family growing stronger with every passing second.

Quinn leaned down and kissed your forehead, squeezing your hand. “I’ll be right back, I just want to make sure everyone’s settled and they don’t overwhelm you.” He gave you one last reassuring smile before walking to the door, opening it just as your parents and his came into the room.

The air in the room shifted as soon as the door opened, the sound of footsteps and the low hum of excited conversation filling the small space. You watched as Quinn's parents, your parents, Jack, and Luke all filed into the room all carrying various blue balloons and baby toys, their faces lighting up as they caught sight of the two of you. It was like a wave of warmth washing over you—this was your family, all here to celebrate the new life you had just welcomed into the world.

Quinn’s mom was the first to reach the bed, her arms open wide as she enveloped you in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, pulling back to look at you with bright eyes, “I’m so proud of you. He’s beautiful.”

You smiled warmly, hugging her back as she ran a hand over your hair. "Thank you," you replied softly, “we’re so happy he’s finally here.”

Quinn’s dad, standing behind her, stepped forward next, a proud smile plastered across his face as he leaned down to give you a hug. “You both did great. He’s lucky to have parents like you.”

Your own parents were close behind, both of them visibly overwhelmed with emotion as they approached. Your mom was already tearing up as she gave you a gentle hug, holding you a little longer than usual. “He’s so perfect. I can’t believe I’m a grandmother now.”

You giggled softly, feeling a surge of happiness in your chest. “I know, it’s so surreal, but in the best way.”

Your dad, who had been standing back a bit, gave Quinn a hearty slap on the back before coming over to give you a warm hug. “You’re gonna be amazing parents, both of you. We’re so proud.”

Quinn gave his parents a brief hug as well, before turning to Jack and Luke. Jack, who had been practically jumping up and down, immediately pulled Quinn into a bear hug. “Congrats, man,” he said excitedly, clapping his brother’s back. “You’re a dad. Holy crap, I can’t believe it.”

Luke, standing behind Jack, offered a knowing smile and gave you a nod of approval. "Congrats," he added, his voice low but warm.

Jack, after finally letting go of Quinn, immediately moved toward the bassinet where their son lay, his eyes locked on the tiny figure. “Let me see him!” he said, his excitement clear in his voice. The rest of the group followed suit, gathering around the bed, their eyes on the little boy.

“Everyone, this is our son,” you said softly, your voice full of love as you gestured to the baby in the bassinet. “This is Casey Jack Hughes.”

There was a brief pause as everyone took in the name, the soft sounds of admiration filling the room. Then, Jack’s face lit up in pure delight, his eyes wide with happiness as he leaned closer to the baby. “Casey Jack?” He practically shouted. “Oh my God, that’s awesome!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jack’s excitement. Quinn, standing beside you, wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his eyes warm as he shared a quiet smile with you. You both had kept the name a secret for so long, but now, hearing Jack’s reaction, you couldn’t be more happy with your choice.

“You like it?” you asked, your voice full of affection.

“Like it?” Jack repeated, beaming. “I love it! I’m so honored. Casey Jack—CJ. That’s what I’m gonna call him. CJ, what do you think of that, buddy?” Jack looked down at the baby with a huge grin, his voice turning soft as he spoke to the tiny life in front of him. “Yeah, CJ’s got a nice ring to it.”

You laughed, the warmth in the room filling your heart. “You’re gonna spoil him, aren’t you?”

Jack winked at you, his excitement palpable. “I’m gonna be the best uncle ever. You’re both lucky to have me around.” He looked down at CJ again, his fingers gently brushing the baby’s tiny hand. “What do you think, little guy? You gonna remember me as the coolest uncle when you grow up?”

Quinn, his own heart swelling with joy, leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before giving his brother a side-eye. “Easy there, Jack. We’re gonna have to make sure he gets some sleep, too, you know?”

Jack just grinned, completely undeterred. “I’ll be gentle, promise. But CJ’s gonna know who his favorite uncle is, right?”

“Definitely,” Quinn said, rolling his eyes fondly. “But let’s give him a minute. He’s still brand new.”

Your parents smiled, their eyes filled with warmth as they took a step back to let Jack have his moment. “You’ve got a great name, little Casey,” your dad added softly, his voice full of pride. “We can’t wait to watch you grow.”

It was overwhelming, in the best way possible—the amount of love that surrounded you and your new family. The world outside felt distant now, as if everything had fallen into place in this tiny hospital room. There would be challenges ahead, but in this moment, you felt at peace. You were surrounded by family, you had the love of Quinn, and your son, Casey, was already so deeply cherished by everyone.

Quinn squeezed your hand, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered. “Our family, it’s perfect.”

—

The morning light filtered through the windows of your home, casting a soft glow over the living room as Quinn carefully stepped inside, carrying the baby carrier in one hand. Your heart swelled as you watched him—your strong, gentle Quinn—carrying your son into the house for the first time. It felt so surreal, but in the best possible way.

After a long night in the hospital, full of excitement and happy tears, you’d finally arrived home. Your legs were still a little unsteady, but the warmth and comfort of being in your own space made everything feel a little easier. There was something so peaceful about being home with your family—your new family—and you couldn’t wait to settle into this new chapter of your life.

Quinn glanced over at you, his eyes soft as he set the carrier down on the couch. “Alright, babe. Get some rest. I’ll take care of everything with Casey while you recharge.”

You smiled tiredly, nodding. “I’m not that tired, I promise. I just need a minute.”

“Hey, I know how you’re feeling,” he said, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot. I’ll handle this part, you take the time you need.”

Your eyes softened as you looked up at him. You could see the quiet pride in his face as he looked at your son in the carrier, his hands hovering over the little one as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. It was still amazing to see Quinn, the man you’d loved for so long, now in this role—the role of a father. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

You nodded, though you didn’t immediately walk away. Instead, you stayed where you were, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Quinn carefully lifted the baby carrier, cradling it with one arm while the other held onto the handle. His movements were slow and deliberate, careful not to disturb the baby.

The way he looked at Casey, so full of awe and tenderness, made your heart ache with love. It was as if, in those moments, the rest of the world didn’t matter. There was only Quinn, only your little boy, and only the home you’d created together.

He turned toward the hallway and glanced over his shoulder, catching your eyes. “Come on,” he said softly. “I’m going to show Casey his new room.”

With a small sigh, you pushed off the counter and walked toward him. The sight of Quinn gently carrying the carrier through your house, as if he was guiding his son into the world, was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. And as much as you wanted to rest, you couldn’t help but want to be there, to be a part of this moment.

You followed him quietly down the hallway, your steps light as you took in the sight of your home. The walls you had carefully chosen, the pictures you’d hung together, the quiet space you’d made for this family of three. It all felt so much more real now.

Quinn reached the nursery door and stopped just outside, holding the baby carrier steady. He turned to you with a soft smile, his eyes gleaming with pride. “This is it. His room.”

You peered inside, your eyes scanning the soft blue walls, the crib tucked in the corner, and the shelves lined with tiny stuffed animals. Everything about the room felt peaceful and full of love, just like the rest of the house. It had been a labor of love, carefully decorated with the anticipation of this very moment.

“He’s going to love it here,” you said, your voice a little thick with emotion. It felt like this room was made just for him, and somehow, seeing it all come together made the reality of being parents feel even more overwhelming.

“I think so, too,” Quinn murmured, gently setting the carrier down on the changing table. “I can’t wait to watch him grow up here. I can’t wait to see all the milestones—his first steps, his first words…everything.” He turned back toward you, a little sheepish. “I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m ready for it. I want to be there for every little thing.”

You walked into the room, standing next to him as you both looked down at the carrier, the tiny figure of your son peacefully asleep inside. The sight of him, so small and perfect in his new world, made your heart swell with pride.

“We’re going to be great parents,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his arm. “We’re doing this together.”

Quinn smiled, his expression softening. “I’m so glad you’re with me through all of this. We’ve got this, right?”

“Absolutely,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Together. Always.”

Carefully, Quinn unbuckled the straps of the baby carrier, lifting Casey gently into his arms. The baby stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small body relaxing against Quinn’s chest. You couldn’t help but admire how natural it all looked, how Quinn seemed so comfortable in this new role, how Casey fit perfectly in his arms as though he had always belonged there.

You stepped forward, guiding Quinn toward the crib. As he gently lowered Casey into the soft blankets, you watched in awe, your heart overflowing. Quinn stood there for a moment, just gazing down at their son, his expression full of love and admiration.

“He’s perfect,” Quinn murmured quietly, almost to himself, as he stood beside the crib, his hand resting on the edge.

You smiled, your hand finding Quinn’s as you joined him by the crib. “He really is.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a long moment, just looking at your son, feeling the weight of this beautiful new chapter in your lives. Everything had changed in an instant—your world now revolved around Casey, and in so many ways, it felt like you were living in a dream.

But as you stood there, hand in hand, watching your little boy peacefully sleep in his new room, you knew one thing for sure: This was only the beginning.

And with Quinn by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

[stanart4clearskin]

knight!art donaldson x princess!reader

art had essentially grown up in the castle. his mother was the queen's lady-in-waiting and his father was the king's most loyal knight. in return for their valuable service, the king and queen let art take lessons with their daughter—you. the two of you studied english, art, music, and fencing together. although the start of your guys' relationship had been rocky, the two of you eventually became good friends. the two of you confided in each other when life was hard or simply when you wanted a companion. 

all throughout childhood art had a crush on you but he was smart enough to know not to act upon it. he knew that you were destined for far greater things than being in love with a common citizen such as himself. although he knew he could never be with you, that never stopped him from acting upon his feelings. he complimented you whenever he could, brought you flowers he saw when he helped his dad patrol the grounds, and would sneak into the kitchen to grab you a sweet treat late at night. you were art's first love and he liked to think that he was yours. as you got older, the two of you never talked about any feelings either of you could possibly have because you were to be engaged to a prince of a distant kingdom. art didn't want to get in the way of that. 

on the eve of your 19th birthday and wedding, you had confided in art late at night about your apprehensions for your future. your head was in his lap as art's fingers combed through your locks. you both knew it was improper for a man and woman to be alone so late at night, let alone in your chambers but neither of you really cared. 

"i'm terrified to be married." you admitted, your eyes tracing the lines of the cobblestone ceilings. "i have heard that prince zweig is loud and brash. he doesn't have much respect for women, let alone me."

art's heart clenched at your words. he hated the thought that you were to be married to someone who wasn't him and he hated the fact that your future husband wasn't even that good of a man. "i'm sure those are just rumors." he said but the words seemed unconvincing to both of you. 

"i have heard that his parents have tried multiple times to find him a wife. every time something has gone wrong." you were apprehensive about what the next day might bring. prince zweig previously had his past bride-to-be kidnapped so that they couldn't go through with the wedding. 

art could tell that you were nervous. his nails scratched against your scalp, causing you to release a hum of pleasure. "i'll be with you all day. i'll make sure nothing will happen to you."

the day of the wedding had come and the hours leading up to it had been rather uneventful. no one had attempted to kidnap you nor had anyone attempted to sabotage the officiant. your ladies-in-waiting helped you with your dress, hair, and makeup and soon enough you were walking down the aisle. you weren't sure what the feeling in the pit of your stomach was when you noticed that prince zweig wasn't at the alter. perhaps it was relief or maybe even joy at the possibility of not having to be married. 

king and queen zweig insisted that everyone wait for the prince to show up but night turned into day and there was no sign of him. as you undressed from your stuffy white gown, you couldn't help but feel giddy. a large smile graced your features when art came to escort you back to the castle. the two of you were as giggly as hyenas during the carriage ride back home. that night the two of you snuck out of the castle and took a carriage ride to the nearest town. you spent most of the night at a local bar, drinking and singing your hearts out. when you both returned to the castle at sunrise, you shared a drunken kiss that neither of you would acknowledge for years. 

as time passed, art was sent off to a knight training camp while you and your mother traveled the country looking for possible prospects. many men were interested in you–naturally–but you had very little to no interest in any of them. you would never admit it aloud but your heart was already occupied by art. you couldn’t bear to marry someone other than him but you knew you could not marry him so secretly you vowed to never marry. every suitor failed to meet the mark for you and so after nearly a year of looking, your mother gave up and the two of you returned home. throughout your traveling around the country, you hadn’t been able to keep in touch with art. you had tried but life was too busy to constantly send him letters about your day and he was too busy training each day to respond. the two of you had grown distant but you were determined to reunite with him once he returned from camp. 

the moment you saw the gates opening and a carriage pulling in, you wasted no time rushing outside to go see art. he had hardly even stepped a foot onto the ground before you launched yourself at him. immediately you noticed the changes training had done to his body. he had once been awkward and lanky but now he had grown into his height and had muscle to accompany it. he held you with ease, as if you weighed as much as a feather. 

art beamed when he saw you. he would never tell you but every night while at camp he dreamt of you. his dreams ranged from merely having conversations with you to him completely ravishing you late at night. “hello princess.” he greeted and you noticed that his voice had changed as well. it was deeper and smoother, almost like dark chocolate. 

“i’ve missed you, art.” you gush, letting your feet return back to the ground. your eyes take in the sight of his face–from his crooked smile to his bright blue eyes and the hint of brown they have. 

“that’s knight art to you.” he says and in return you lightly shove him. all throughout childhood art had teased that you would eventually have to call him by his position but it felt surreal now that it had come true. 

“in that case you may no longer call me princess as i am a queen now.” 

for a moment art’s expression faltered and the color faded from his face. “queen? your father passed?”

you nearly snorted at the look of distraughtness on the knight. “no silly! my father abdicated, making me queen.”

pure relief flooded art’s face. he’s sure that he’d be equally as devastated, if not more devastated than you if your father were to pass. 

as the weeks passed the two of you fell into the routine that was new but also similar to the one you had growing up. early in the morning art would sneak into your room and wake you up, claiming that it’s his duty as your knight. during the day he’ll linger outside your office and peek his head in sometimes to watch you do your diplomatic duties. typically knights eat with the other workers but you forced him to eat in the dining hall with you and your parents. at night a knight will post guard outside your room while art lays with you until you fall asleep. he claims that it’s because someone needs to stay close with you at all times but he can’t resist stealing a kiss or two. 

even though the two of you would never marry, it didn’t stop either you or art from loving each other.

[caliburn-the-sword]

hey pals, i actually REALLY don't like the dragon games lineup

like... this is just so random. it doesn't fit. i don't like this. if ever after high didn't solely exist to market dolls, these are the students that i can see playing in the dragon games. but first, i wanna start with an explanation of why i'm removing who i'm removing from the lineup

the wonderlandians: i'm gonna be so fr, if scott morrison came to my hs and was like "yo guys i'm starting a basketball team" i am NOT joining that shit. and bro wasn't even incarcerated for poisoning the other country i have citizenship in OR idk stealing some other lady's job. he's just a prime minister that i don't really like. and i'm not a refugee. the wonderlandians on the other hand... yikes. they would NOT have played dragonball with the evil queen

the o'hair twins: now first of all, holly has expressed nothing but wanting to follow her destiny, which very much includes damselling and distressing. plus that hair is a fire hazard ;-; as for poppy, when i first watched dragon games i deadass thought that the twins ONLY got armour because they were just modelling what everyone else would get, and they wouldn't take part. especially because i think she'd be more concerned with maintaining the integrity of the armour and doing routine checks just making sure that a piece of equipment wouldn't become faulty and responsible for one of her friends or classmates getting injured

melody piper: what do you MEAN that this girl isn't emceeing the event?? she was born for that

who would actually play:

raven queen, for the exact reasons in the show

apple white, but only because the evil queen blackmails her

now, an argument could be made against darling charming, since she'd been working so hard before this point to maintain the whole "damsel in distress" thing she had going on since her parents were legacy book-thumping royals, however i think she would've been able to make the case to them "well daring is gonna marry apple one day so i think it's good for me to start getting along with snow white now since she's his future mother in law", plus everyone practically worships snow white

daring charming. bro has a DRAGON RIDING LICENSE. yet he wasn't on the field lmao

cerise hood. girlie is canonically a jock. she would live for dragon games. all she'd need to do is pin her hood to her hairline and she'd be fine

briar beauty because she's literally an adrenaline junkie. it's honestly more surprising that she WASN'T the first one to sign up. like make it make sense

i can see jillian beanstalk also joining since she's got that big ol sense of adventure

now, last spot is a bit of a tossup. i could probably see hopper croakington joining just to try to impress briar, or sparrow because it's "rock 'n roll". i'm leaning towards hopper slightly more since sparrow's whole thing is "i look out for the number one: me" or whatever and he's probably more afraid of dying than like. looking cool. especially because i actually don't think he does any hero classes or anything (just going off memory)

[madamechrissy]

♔Silent Serenades- an arranged marriage with Duke Gojo♔ Final part Preview! - don't read if you haven't read part Fifteen

Pairings Duke Gojo x Duchess Reader Warnings- teasing, literally lactation kink hehe, Satoru won't stop getting reader pregnant, nipple sucking, fingering. Will be out by this weekend!

I can't believeee this will be the end of this one omg!!!

Five Years Later

“God, look at them.” Satoru’s murmuring, as you all are hiding in the foyer, and he’s got your pretty breasts out, squishing them and exhaling as they’re dripping milk making you squeak.

“Toru! Here!?” You all are literally in the middle of a masquerade, his mother has two of your children entertained, while your Nan has your youngest baby in the nursery, just a few months old.

Satoru’s silver mask is brushing against your breasts as his tongue laps at the milky liquid, moaning as he drags you close against him. “So sweet my god, you know how much I love this.”

“W-wait till… later… mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your own little glittery silver mask, as he suckles a sore nipple in his mouth, humming as the sweetness rolls into his mouth, and you feel desire shoot through you. In the background you hear the laughter, the music, but it’s drowned by your heart racing.

“Just a little drink, Princess. You’d be so cruel?” He pouts at you with his pretty pink lips, you sigh, arching your back and garnering his grin.

“This is how I keep getting with child, will you not give me a break!?” He chuckles, shaking his head and sucking your other nipple now, you’re biting at your lower lip, so wet you can’t stand it, how ready you are for him.

“Not my fault you’re so sexy round with me, and your tits are even fucking nicer, god.” He’s sucking at your other breast now, lips latching your nipple, your thigh on his hip as he drags you against his hard body. He’s sucking down more milk, which makes you go insane, hands trembling as you cling to broad shoulders.

“You’re making me too wet, s-stop…” He’s chuckling, slipping up layers and layers of your skirts, fingers finding your clit in little circles, you’re soaking his fingers, breaths mingling together.

“Slutty mommy hmm?”

“Oh stop! Mommy!? You’re r-ridiculous.” Satoru’s chuckling now, kissing down your collarbone, biting it, right under the cool metal of your jeweled necklace, you yank at his hair, earning his glare, blue eyes bright and piercing.

“You’re interrupting my meal, Duchess.”

“Duke, you’re being a whore.”

“You love it.” He slips two fingers in, feeling you clench them now, soaking the long, slender digits and moaning. “Feel her, god she’s so perfect still.”

“We can’t do this right here!”

“Why not, let me fuck you in your pretty mask.” You glare right back up at him, when you hear footsteps, he’s just chuckling, pulling you quickly and turning you both, adjusting your top and sucking you right off his fingers. Lewd and obscene.

“You really have to do this to me?” You whisper, he knows what that damn action does to an already addled brain, he bends down and kisses your lips, as passersby see you both, awwing at the loving couple you two make, not the insanity he was pursuing a moment ago.

“Poor duchess, are they leaking now?”

“You know they are!” You hiss at him, only for him to chuckle, leading you both back out to the floor as you try to compose yourself.

“What’s the point of being a Duke if I can’t fuck my wife everywhere I want to, in my own Manor at that.” He mutters quietly, earning a smack on the shoulder, while you both glide back in and smile at everyone.

“You can do so, later, also the kids-”

“They need another sibling.”

Ahhh can't believe I'm ending this 150k plus monster of a story soon. I fell in love with my slutty Duke and bratty Duchess, not even gonna lie lol. I hope you all will enjoy when it's out <3

Permatags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @cuntphoric @loafteaw @aldebrana @n1vi @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @tomboy-disaster @espresso1patronum @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @tojicvmslut @mutsu422 gojo: @haruhatake @strychnynegirl @jinjen also tagging- (@bunheadusa)

(will do the normal tags when it's out)

[cindol]

o̴̶̷᷄ o̴̶̷̥᷅ but daddy, i love him !

jjk x black fem reader

charas — gojo satoru, geto sugru, sukuna ryomen, yuki tsukumo, toji fushiguro,

𓈒 ♡̶ 𓂃 — when jjk men aren’t approved by your father.

𖧧 𓂃 ִֶָ — highschool au in all scenarios, fluff, crack, teenage pregnancy, drugging mentioned.,

geto suguru

a lot of people would think geto’s the best example of a guy who’s good for someone’s daughter. Perfect grades, star pupil of his class, the whole shabang but that was quite the opposite for your father when he officially met the man who won his babygirl’s heart at this dinner.

your mother was just all smiles, placing dessert peach cobbler on his plate but your father had a straight face with furrowed bushy black brows. Really geto tried everything in the book to impress your but he never smiled at any joke he made or accomplishment he mentioned.

once he came outside with your dad it was confirmed your father just didn’t like him.

“truth is boy, i just don’t like you, don’t want you or your loud mouthed ass friends around her or you around her.” saying that all while smoking a cigarette.

mentally, geto could sigh. Of course the one equation to this was gojo, always was. Geto put on a front, making a tight nit smile. “well, i guess i understand that sir.” he wasn’t looking to get into a argument with his girlfriend’s father. geto still never quit, because why would he over some salty dick trying to keep him from his pretty girlfriend?

at the dead of night you heard small dropping noises at your window. You were on your way to sleep after finishing homework at such a late time but that garnered your attention. You got up from your desk and walked to your window, when you looked down geto was there in all his glory, on a tall ladder in his infamous white t-shirt, baggy pants with his hair out of a bun.

you gasped at the sight of him. “g-geto?! what the hell are you doing here so late? it’s like, midnight!” talking in a hushed yelling whispering tone to not alert your parents.

geto just had that calm smile on his lips with relaxed hooded eyes. “well your father unfortunately has a large stick up his ass and commanded me not to see my girlfriend, so i’m here to kidnap you away.” he said, half joking.

you covered your mouth, but a small giggle came out at his words. “my dad will seriously have your ass if he knew you were here.”

“that’s why i’m taking you and then returning you righttt back. You wanna come with me don’t you?”

for a moment you looked around, mostly at your door since your parents room was right across from yours then back to geto to sigh. You couldn’t say no to him, never could since you met him.

you exhaled out a small breath. “i can’t say no to you. Just, let me get dolled up a little at least.”

he scoffed gripping your wrists making you squeak out a little grunt. “don’t need you to be all dolled up, just come with me in those cookie pajamas and afro puffs.”

once again you grouch, but decided to climb down the latter in your white shirt, black bonnet and black cookie patterned pajama pants.

gojo satoru

your father didn’t like cocky assholes. If it wasn’t for gojo’s witty humor and cockiness he would actually accept him as your boyfriend since he saw gojo as a good money bag.

now for gojo he didn’t care if your father seethed him and grounded you not to see him. In gojo’s eyes he loved his girlfriend and a bitter old guy wouldn’t stop him from loving you.

when you saw a man in all black climbing through your window your immediate instinct was to run over to the window and scream while hitting the body that was halfway through it with your pillow.

you stopped once you heard that familiar “ouch ouch!” then stood with a pillow in one hand with your other hand on your hip. “gojo? what are you even doing here so late!”

he huffed, dusting himself off and ruffling his hair.”well now that my girlfriend isn’t beating me with a pillow i came to take you out for a romantic little date.”

a smile formed on the corner of your lips, turning into a grin on your two tones brown lips, mostly at the romantic date aspect. “this late at night? How romantic of you, satoru.” you teased him, but it was cute for someone like gojo.

“what? old man don’t want you sneaking around goodie two shoes?” he bantered back at you.

“well he’s not even really inside, late shift at work till 2PM, so him finding out is out the window.”

gojo’s eyes were wide with shock. “so did i just like…. borrow geto’s latter for no reason?”

you giggled, nodding.

“well shit… let’s go out the front then. Makes my job as a boyfriend easier now!”

toji fushiguro

toji wasn’t the ideal boyfriend for a normal girlfriend, he knew that and your dad did. Your father tried with him, as much as he could try as a normal middle class dad until toji decided he didn’t wanna practice safe sex and impregnated his daughter. It made matters more complicated when you wanted to keep the baby too.

your father banished you from ever seeing toji but he didn’t know that a simple command didn’t sedate a pregnant sad girl, you went lengths to see your boyfriend, going far enough to drug the poor man your dad hired to watch you while he was out on a late shift.

toji was taken aback when he saw opened his front door to his pregnant girlfriend he hadn’t seen in six weeks, in pajamas and a purple bonnet. By the sulking look on her face he could tell you had been crying in your free lonesome time.

“shit… y/n? ya dad actually allowed you to see me?”

you shook your head. “he’s out on a shift so, i had to sedate the poor security guard’s he hired. Had to see you”

it wasn’t appropriate right now but toji smirked at that.”taught ya well huh? My girlfriend drugged her first man.” he joked. That got a dry laugh from you, despite your saddened expression.

there was a long silence till you spoke again. “i just…. need to see you, can’t take this loneliness in that damn house with that asshole i call my blood father. I don’t care if your mom is here either i just—”

he interrupted with you by bringing you into his arm. “you know she’s always fucking off somewhere at a bar again, now come and get inside, can’t have my pregnant girlfriend depressed alone.”

[larluce]

Merlin arrives with a baby in Camelot AU

(co-writing with @roxineedstosleep)

BASED ON THIS PROMPT >> NEXT PART

Chapter 1: Prologue

At night in some outlying village of Camelot. Merlin, carrying a two year old Bigritta in his arms, hides behind a wall, while a search party of Camelot knights pass through.

Brigitta: (cries suddenly)😭

Merlin: (rocks her anxiuously, whispering) Shh, it's okay, shh, it's okay, baby, don't cry. Please, don't cry.

Knight x: (shouts from afar) I heard something!

Knight y: (shouts from afar) That way!

Merlin: (desperately, grabs some mud and puts some on Brigitta's face and hair) I hope this works. (murmurs) Miht dagan, beþecce me. Adeadaþ þisne gast min freondum ond min feondum. (his eyes turn gold)

Knight x: (finds Merlin's hiding place) Got you! Hand over the prince's daughter immed... (trails off as the sight before him becomes clearer)

Merlin: (in his Dragoon the Great appearence, sitting on the floor with a dirty crying baby at his side) Alms for this poor old man and his grandson. Please, he's really sick. (lifts the baby at the knight as to cause pity)

Knight y: (Arrives) Did you find them?

Knight x: No, it's just an old man asking for alms.

Knight y: (looks at "the old man" and his "sick grandson" still crying, frowning)

Merlin: (sweats)

Knight y: (gives Merlin some coins) Go find some shelter. It's cold.

Merlin: (sighs in relief) Thank you so much, Sire.

Knights: (leave)

Merlin: (hugs her) We are safe, we are safe, Biddy! (kisses her fondly). Don't worry. I won't let them take us apart.

Meanwhile, the knights in some other part.

Knight y: Remember, the prince wants both his daughter and his servant back safe and sound.

Knight x: His daughter I understand. But why his servant? He stole his daughter! The prince's only daughter! Many have been executed for less!

Knight y: I know, but his Highness says... they are both his family.

Knight x: ...

Two years ago...

Merlin wonders around the woods when suddenly he hears a baby cry. As he aproaches the sound an horrible smell hits his nose, so he has to cover it. Finally he enters a part of the woods that was apparently razed by a fire. Merlin lets out a scream when he spots two charred bodies on the ground.

Merlin: (scared to death) Wha... What the hell happened here?! 😨

Baby: (cries) 😭

Merlin: (goes to what seems to be a small extinguished firepit, where a newborn baby is crying in the middle) Oh, Gods! How did you end up here? (picks her up) Shh, it's okay. I'll get you help.

Time skip. In Merlin's house.

Merlin: (enters, carrying the baby in his arms)

Hunith: Merlin! Where have you been? I was about to send Will for... (notices the baby) Why are you carrying a baby?

Merlin: (pretty shaken up) I found the baby in the woods. There were burned corpses and a firepit, I-I don't know. It was horrible-

Hunith: Calm down. Give me the baby. (takes the baby and examinates her carefully) Poor little thing. She mustn't be more than a few days old.

Merlin: It's a girl?

Hunith: (nods) Ask Hector for some milk.

Merlin: (About to leave, but turns) Mom, you think those corpes were her parents?

Hunith: That's not really what worries me the most.

Merlin: (confused)...what? What do you mean?

Hunith: Tomorrow I want you to take me to the place you found her in. If it's not what I think it is, then we can still find a relative of hers that can take care of her.

Merlin: And if it is?

Hunith: (full of sorrow) Then she really has no one.

Merlin: (leaves to get the milk)

Time skip. After Merlin showed his mother the place he found the baby.

Merlin: Are you going to tell what is it or not?

Hunith: ...

Merlin: Mom, I know someone did this. I'm not dumb.

Hunith: ...

Merlin: Was it Cenred's army? Camelot's knights? Are we in danger?

Hunith: No.

Merlin: Then what is it?

Hunith: (her eyes watering) I think her parents tried to kill her. Burning her alive.

Merlin: WHAT?! 😨 Why would they do such a thing?!

Hunith: I think they believed she was a changeling.

A changeling. Merlin remember some stories about those. Human-like creatures left by a magical being when kidnapping a human baby, so they don't notice the real baby is gone. In some stories the creatures that do this are fairies, in others demons or trolls. Supossedly these creatures take human babies for them to act as a their servants, for the love of a human child, or just out of malice. When the parents realise their baby is a changeling sometimes they just abandon them in the woods and wait till the fairies or whatever creature to replace it for their real baby again. But others go to the extreme of torturing or killing the supposed changeling so their real baby is brought back.

How does someone find out their baby is a changeling? Supposedly because strange things would happen around the infant or because said infant has some features that resembles a troll or fairy. The sad truth is, most parents take advange of this believe to get rid of babies that are born with a deformity or a disability.

Hunith: I think those corpses were her parents. Something went wrong when they lighted that pit.

Merlin: Well, I don't feel bad for them anymore (looks at the baby that now is peacefully sleeping in Merlin's old cradle, his heart breaking for her) I don't understand... she looks... normal.

Hunith: Yet somehow she survived a fire that was meant to kill her.

Merlin: (turns to his mother, alarmed) You don't believe she is really changeling, do you?

Hunith: Oh, no! (giggles) I think fairies and trolls have better things to do than kidnap some strangers' babies.

Merlin: (opens his eyes wide in realisation) Wait... you don't mean... you think she is...

Suddenly the cradle starts floating and rocking itself in the air.

Hunith: (smiles sadly) She is like you.

...

BASED ON THIS PROMPT >> NEXT PART

Welcome to this new AU! 🥳 I hope you like it ^^.

Why is Merlin running away with Brigitta? How did Brigitta end up being consider "the Prince's daughter"? Find out in the next chapter ;)

Tagging @chaosofbelievers , @blackgigglypuff , @stressed-but-chill , @nocheaseforyougoodsir , @thedragonlies , @evedaser , @lolazoel , @sammythetoaster , @caraspud , @g00pygunkyguy , @bertolio , @purpuraffe , @lordemryspendragon , @herstarlight , @justaz

If someone else wants me to tag them in the next part, please let me know.

[lover-of-mine]

alright costume oracle, if the black Eddie outfit isn't a flashback to the coma, what do we think that all black ensemble means??

Okay everyone, please only address me as costume oracle from now on when asking about this oskaoskaoksaosk (I'm kidding, this just made me laugh so sincerely, thank you).

So, the black. First, the 611 comparison, I think the biggest giveaway that is not meant to be a flashback is his hair lol. But while they do look similar, the shirts are different, with different fabrics, different buttons, different pockets, so not the same.

Honestly, Eddie was in a lot of black in s7 and 2 out of 3 non-uniform outfits we saw from him include black tops, which is interesting considering his arc. And this isn't considering the fact that he has been wearing the black lafd top more than the navy one and the black jacket he was also in a lot.

It could 100% be the lighting but something that drew my attention right away is that black isn't all that vibrant. He was in black during most of Buck's bi arc and he meets Kim in black, but those are a lot more intense. I have a running theory that Eddie is chasing color, and at first, I thought that they were gonna put him in lighter colors during said chase. And I think I was partially right. Obviously with Eddie allowing himself joy being my biggest thing here, that baby pink color. So in my head, when he is playing in those lighting tones, he's closer.

So putting him in black, something that absorbs color and doesn't allow him to reflect anything back, a color that was very attached to him last season while he was in a relationship wasn't fully sure of or the thing with Kim is interesting. Talking about actual color theory, black is very commonly used as a color of mourning, so it could be Eddie mourning the life he doesn't want to leave behind. Black is also a color of mystery or concealment, so it could be Eddie hiding things, like the way he doesn't really want to move or be in Texas. Mostly I think that that outfit could be about a scene where Eddie is trying to resign himself to doing what he thinks is right even though he hates it, or hiding his true feelings somehow, trying to keep the peace, accept the criticism, end up back in a mind space where the belives he needs to be punished for hurting Chris. This is my safe bet.

But let's say we want to be a bit more daring in our spec.

I have multiple theories about what color Eddie could be while he confronts his parents about basically stealing Chris. For instance what I nicknamed the "let's talk about if I trust you with my kid" light wash denim, since they put him in that white undershirt, light wash denim button-down combo when we first see Shannon and he doesn't want to let her see Chris, when his parents are trying to convince him to give Chris to them in 315, and for the there's nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you scene.

Other theories include a yellow color if the scene ends up attached to his queer awakening somehow, of him accepting more of who he is in a similar way they used blue with Buck throughout his coming out arc, but I'm a lot less confident on that one.

And well, some cultures have black as a color attached to rebellion, and black is also at times used to indicate power. And Eddie was in black the last time he was in Texas and he was confronting the damage his father did to him. So it could also be used as he confronts his mother, the precedent is there.

He's also in black during the dinner he tries to ask Shannon to be a family again and she asks for a divorce, so the road to acceptance there could end with black since their relationship ends and "restarts" with black, since he's also in black talking to Kim the first time. And that's interesting since he doesn't really mourn Shannon in black, the scene we have when he's confronting those feelings head-on, are not exactly black, yes, we have the black shirt in 217, but the green jacket ends up being the focus there. And as much as they seem to be trying to distance themselves from the Kim of it all, this arc also has to include letting Shannon's ghost go, so also something to think about there.

So, to recap, safe bet is Eddie in mourning for the life he left behind or hiding how much it hurts him to leave LA. Getting a bit daring, maybe Eddie having some hard conversations with his parents or finally letting go of Shannon for real.

This got long as fuck and I'm sure how much sense it makes if you're not seeing the visions in my head, but if you read this, I love you 🫶

[dexthtoyounglings]

Often

Cassian x Reader Smut

Summary: You had always wanted him to see you other than in anger. It was like your stepping into rooms was spreading a plague, killing him slowly. You just wanted him to hear you. To feel what you felt.

Warnings: slight angst, hate-fucking, p in v, degradation, choking, Cassian's kinda really mean in this one, hair-pulling, creampie, violence, mention of war (kinda), mention of Eris

A/N: Hi! This is my first smut in this fandom after I took a (well needed) hiatus after being involved in another fandom. This is scrapped together over a few weeks as I have been busy, so please bear with me, and let me know what you think!! :)

•--•

You huffed out a sigh, finally flipping the last packet on your desk to its front and adding it to the pile at your feet. Sure, you still had a report to write up, but everything had been annotated, and Rhysand had asked for such before he got the formal write up.

You had fallen into this comfortable rhythm after coming into the position. As the Night Court's secretary, you had become a part of the inner circle after the War with Hybern. Rhysand valued the way that you highlighted and took notes on the side, summarizing information you found crucial. He liked the written reports you made, but you had come to know how he only liked the reports for their keeping history of events -- immediate information was more valuable.

You grabbed your tote bag, neatly tucking the papers into it, careful not to mess with the uniform pile you arranged. Pulling on a heavy coat over your sweater, you shouldered the bag, slipping into warm winter boots and stepping out into the long awaited fresh air.

The streets of Velaris were always pretty. On Solstice week, they were a dream -- the display of lights and joy shining through the city like an array of bubbles. Laughter popped, children drifted around their parents' legs, and you could've sworn the air sparkled with it. But, nothing compared to the month after Solstice. Where festive lights were taken down, but the snow still glowed with the love that consumed its citizens.

Velaris was the Court of Dreams, and like its evil older sister, it proved true.

Losing your focus to the couples hand-in-hand, you barely noticed your approach to the River House, blowing on your cold hands to keep them warm.

Suddenly, the door opened abruptly, Feyre standing there to greet you as she always attempted to.

Your High Lady was nothing but caring, going to far lengths to make you feel apart of their small family. You smiled at her, walking up the steps and right into her waiting arms, the warmth of them engulfing you like a soft quilt.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you," she pulled back, looking at the bag that hung from your shoulder, "Don't tell me Rhys has been overworking you.."

You giggled, "Well, Mother Hen, I assure you I am perfectly comfortable with my current workload."

She rolled her eyes at your teasing, knowing she reflected her mate's protective tendencies. She stepped aside, allowing you into the house. You breathed in the air, grounding yourself as you examined the familiar space.

It looked all the same as the last time you had been. Though, that never stopped the house from amazing you. Decorated like a family home, yet sleek and clean like a palace. How a family could balance such two things in a way that you never felt stiff inside of was truly astonishing.

Despite the wonder of your environment, you knew there would always be a time limit to that comfortability. Especially when your favorite Illyrian male had a habit of interrupting your peace. And destroying it.

You had felt it from the moment you resumed your pace to the living room, following the ghost of Feyre's footsteps. His cold and hateful animosity towards you rolling off his body in dark waves. You would've been able to find him without Feyre's guidance, as if you were being dragged under the surf and kidnapped into the black sea that was his wrath.

Cassian.

He was everything that repelled you and pulled you closer. You resented him, always knowing the disgust he put towards your existence, and yet you fought the urge to tuck yourself closer to him. You wanted to be his friend, wanted to be his right-hand, and he seemed to, at most, believe you were shit stuck on the bottom of his boot.

It made you grind your teeth, lying awake at night, wondering what you ever did to make him feel so poorly for you.

Suffocating was the only correct word for how you felt in the same room as Cassian.

The first step into the room was like a mark on your soul, his steep brown eyes narrowing in, floating that hate through the air. A wretch, disgusting and withered. Through his eyes, you had always wondered what stood in your place. Always wondered what creature you hid inside.

He stood next to Rhysand, attention removed from his previous engagement. His wings were stiff, and if you knew any better, you could've sworn he was holding back from snarling at you.

Flicking your eyes to the ground, you stabilized yourself before examining the rest of the room with caution.

Azriel didn't stand too far from you, back against the wall, as distant from the lit hearth as he could manage, catching the setting rays of sun. The winter closed out days more eagerly, though the night was always welcomed, a comfortable blanket over the restless city. Plus, Azriel seemed to bask in being warmed by a different source.

Amren was curled up in an armchair, in which she had practically claimed as hers these days, picking at her nails as if she didn't just get them done several days ago. Mor sat on the angled love seat, positioned mere inches away from the chair. Her legs were stretched out, a peaceful smile gracing her face. She waved to you.

Bowing your head, you focused in on Feyre and Rhysand. They were both distracted, but Rhys noticed your fixed stare, welcoming you with a smile.

You smiled back, pulling your bag off your shoulder, reaching in to grab the stack of research papers and plopping it on the coffee table before him.

"I gave you those two days ago," he stated, looking up at you with curiosity.

You shrugged, "Winter keeps me inside."

He shook his head, looking back up at you with an individual sincerity, "Thank you for these. Cauldron knows we could use more of your work ethic around here."

He gave a pointed look at Amren, who shot him an icy glare that no longer carried the power it once had. Though, it had the same sway. Rhys' laugh boomed in the room, Feyre smiling gently at the noise. It would've been the perfect picture of life -- family.

Had it not been for Cassian's refusal to take his cold stare from the side of your head.

Mor walked over to the stack, touching your shoulder with a friendly reminder of her presence, picking up a few packets. Sifting through them, her eyes of crystalline honey dragging over the words and annotations. Her finger tapped the back of her mini-stack occasionally, leaving you to the silence of knowingly watching.

She pointed to the paragraph. "Cassian," she looked up at him, "I didn't know you stopped by the Summer Court recently."

The devilish smirk gracing her perfect face spoke words she didn't; she was teasing at his expulsions from that wave-washed court. He was notorious for such things. But, trouble in the Summer Court seemed to especially make his body a home.

Cassian softened at her words-- not even her words, just her. Plain and simple. Cassian softened at her.

You felt the pit of your belly gurgle, bubbles of pointed anger soon popped by the onslaught of shame which ate at your mind. You recognized the sensation, the white heat melting all around it.

Jealousy. You had always know it, deep in your heart, denied and shoved into a corner, but jealousy never hid for long enough. He had defrosted himself for her, as he would have Feyre, or Amren. Gods, maybe even Nesta. At each others teeth; he would've gone soft even for her.

The hollow cave of your throat tightened, pushing out air and snapping your attention back to Rhys, "Is there anything you would like me to work on now?"

His shoulders were slightly tensed at your sudden mood change, yet he just shook his head.

"You're leaving already, girl?" Amren asked, her teeth shaped the perfect semblance of human, her voice still holding that edge, "Ever thought of staying casually?"

You rolled your eyes, excepting the teasing, but denying you heard the underlying quizzing.

The answer was no. You have never thought of staying casually. Not while the beast always lingered, growling at you from the corner of every room. And now, you've realized you find it even worse when he's purring. He's never done such a thing under your watchful eye. But, that certainly wasn't the correct answer.

"I have a few things to do at home," you settled for.

Amren leveled you a stinging glare, a hum of disdain making you flinch. No more words were spoken, like it was so easy to watch you disappear.

You waved goodbye to the select people paying you any attention, leaving without as much of a whisper of protest. You took note of Azriel's shadows, reaching out to embrace your shoulder in comfort, returning to their master quickly after:

That pit in your stomach carried you out the door, a trail of silent envy tainted the freshly fallen layer of snow on the street. You inhaled, feeling it rise, peak, and quell with a loud exhale.

Then, shame.

--

You had fallen into a deep pit of work. Knocking out two written research papers, and writing up a paper from the stack Rhys eagerly returned to you. It had been just a week.

A week.

Like a grueling sickness, your hands refused to stop moving, a temporary distraction from the life around you. While your arm was moving so near to aching and sore by the end of every night, your head was only filled with raw information, the churning of formatting and sentences. You lost yourself in the pen and ink, and let sleep through the bedroom door only after your fingers stiffened to the point of uselessness.

You never even noticed that you'd been alone for the past several days, the house finally an eerie quiet when it dawned on you;

You had no more work to be done.

And it was despair that welcomed you instead of joy. The first and last thoughts that ever seemed to enter your head were that of Cassian, the brute that grew hate like flowers. Telling yourself you hated him back wouldn't be enough. You wanted to truly hate him, so you wouldn't yearn for his toxic attention.

Yet, like a puppy, you felt you were always back at his feet before the night ended, thinking of the heat that would radiate from his hands as they ran down your sides, the weight of his body against your own, the brush of his eyelashes across your cheeks in the most loving fashion.

Maybe he'd come home from missions, allowing you to greet him with tiny kisses, pressing yourself against his muscle-hardened chest, touching-

You flushed those thoughts from your head, face heating with the want of it all.

Cassian was like a forbidden fruit, growing on separate branches just to escape the possibly of your hand reaching out.

You fantasized about this tangible version of him, one that found you nothing but completely delicious, holding you with a grip of iron every night, afraid of the possibility you could slip from him in the night.

A dreamer in a fit court. If dreams of a connection to Cassian weren't just cruel nightmares.

A knock at your door brought you out of the most intense thoughts you'd had all week. Rushing to the door, you didn't check before opening it wide. Revealing Morrigan.

"Mor," you said with relief, "How are you? Is there anything I can help you with?"

She tilted her head at your question, smiling cooly as you stood back to let her inside.

"Why does every interaction have to be about work? What if I just wanna see my favorite friend?"

Blushing, you quickly prepared a kettle with water, setting it up on the stove. Turning, you found Mor sat on one of the stools around your kitchen island, resting her chin on her hands and watching you move around with purpose. Her boots and coat were left at the door, the latter hung up beside it. Glossy golden hair fluffed down over the shoulders of a ruby red sweater, threads of silver shining in the light streaming through the kitchen window.

You felt small under her presence, realizing the only thing further from setting out mugs and teabags was to wait for the water to boil. Leaving you to sit down, and face the hazel marbles that bore into your skin without effort.

A moment of silent took you completely out of your realm, an air of uncomfortability hovering over you.

"Is.... everything okay?" Mor asked, that contented curl of her lips falling to a thin line. The corners of her mouth twitched with concern.

You looked down at the grainy countertops, swirling your fingers around individual patterns, swallowing around nothing.

"Yes, everything is okay."

Mor's head dipped, catching your focus. Her eyebrows were downturned in utmost care. The attempt to float a lie around her was fruitless; it bounced off a clean and unaffected Mor.

"Please," she said, "I want to be here for you."

Your shoulders rose, tense.

"I'm fine, really," you assured, unconvincing to even yourself.

The tea kettle howled at you, disrespected at such a feeble attempt at self-defense. Pathetic.

"Really? Because you've been cooped in your house for a week straight doing nothing but work. When was the last time you spoke to any of us?"

"It's not that crazy. Maybe I have a second life that none of you know about?"

Your walls were slipping, and Mor was gaining height on them. Intent to cross over.

The snort she let out was the first crack. A mocking noise that notched into a sliver that lay along your heart. Your chest ached.

"A second life?" she teased, voice raised, "I'm not that gullible." Standing, she found herself at your side, hip set against the rounded marble edge, "Y/n."

You looked up, picking at the skin on your fingertips.

"Let me in," she pleaded.

A hole in the wall killed the infrastructure.

"Why does he hate me?"

Her nostrils flared at the question. She was expecting a heavier brick than that to strike her foot. "Who?"

You cleared your throat, still rasping, "Cassian."

A bubbling rose through her, air pushing up, searching. And through her chest, into her throat, and involuntarily a boisterous laugh escaped the seamlessly elegant female next to you. The laughing didn't stop, and it didn't touch your own lips. Her laugh fell into breathless huffs, a finger sweeping under her eye.

"Cassian? Hates you?" she asked.

Anger grifted onto your veins, "Yes! I step in a room, and you'd think I killed his whole family! If there was something deeper than hate, I'm sure it would be the perfect descriptor for what he feels for me."

Maybe she had thought you were really joking, or maybe she just thought you had a better set of senses, but her face suddenly turned to something more supportive and professional.

"Y/n," she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, squeezing, "Cassian doesn't hate you:"

You roll your eyes, a human gesture you'd been picking up from the Archeron sisters, spending too much time drinking in their sass.

You pulled her hands off, the kettle whistling in your ear violently, grabbing you away from a dense weight that creeped back into its hidey-hole.

"He's so sweet with you. He was laughing, and he was gentle, and he was just normal."

Mor listened without interruption, even letting your pause pass like a heavy storm cloud.

"But, I only make him go cold. He- He shoves me away. Like I'm- he treats me like I'm nothing, Mor," tears well in your eyes as you pour the steaming water into the two mugs, teabags floating up in response, "What did I do wrong?"

A pair of strong, feminine arms wrapped around you in sisterly support, holding you close to her chest. She smelled like a rich flower, blooming in dark purples and blues. You let your head lean back against the hold of her shoulders, small tears leaking from the corner of your eyes. Falling and absorbing into the environment, you cried with your back to Mor.

You had never cried in front of anyone before, but it was hard to resist the thrall that came with her consuming love.

"Mor," you spoke, voice small.

She guided you to sit, taking care of your current occupation, setting your tea in front of you. Altered to your taste, you took a sip and allowed it to run through you like an open wound.

"You should talk to him," she suggested in return, blowing at her tea, steam rising.

Face pointed to the tall windows, side-by-side on the wall beside your door, you watch the blue of the sky dancing solo.

"How?"

Mor was smirking when you looked back to her. An experienced warrior.

--

The behavior went on. Partly because Cassian was an asshole, and partly because every time you wanted to open your mouth, your throat closed up, and anger ignited pins and needles in every surface of your body. The frost he treated you with spread to your own heart, leading to you upturning your nose at his waking existence. It hurt all the same. Going home to your empty apartment, falling asleep with your heart reaching out through your open curtains, begging for the night to produce what you desired most.

You pushed yourself back into the swamp of work, completing assignments at the same rate, maybe even quicker. This coping mechanism had been a frequent thing, stomped out into the remnants of a kindle after enough time.

The embers burned just as bright as the day it started, this time proving that some fires were eternal.

You rummaged through papers, searching for a missing report, mixing it up in the wrong pile. A frustrated click vibrated off your tongue. Fumbling with the final pile, your eye snagged on a familiar heading, snatching it out of the mussed stack.

You pulled the ream back together, tapping the bottoms on your table and shoving it into the folder it had arrived in. You pulled a string around it, placing it on top of your complete works.

It would be time for a trip to the River House soon.

A pounding at your front door made you jump in your own skin. It bore no familiarity, unrecognizable from the knocks you'd responded to in your prior time in Velaris.

You dropped your bag into the desk chair beside you, brushing your braid to fall over your shoulder. Approaching the door, another round of knocking began, even more aggressive than the last. You hasted your steps in frustration, pulling the door open, your face paling.

Cassian towered over you, broad wings covering the sun from entering in and blessing your person. His hair was down, fluffed effortlessly by the wind, loose strands tickling is face. And by the Gods, he was gorgeous.

He didn't wait for you to step back before he was walking in, forcing you to retreat into your home. In his hands, he held a stack of reports, ones you assumed Rhys sent him in a mission to drop off.

There was no way he would've ever volunteered himself.

He tossed down the stack on your kitchen counter with a grunt, a few papers flying off the top and onto the ground. He stood a moment, refusing to pick it up, but taking in his surroundings.

Disgust painted his face, like even knowing you lived here tainted the idea of it.

He turned back to your door, pulling his leather jacket further on. Under his breath, you heard, "No reason Azriel couldn't have done this..."

Steaming hot anger seared the very air you breathed, the tips of your pointed ears turning a deep red and your eyebrows scrunching, provoked by his mumblings.

"What is your problem?" you asked, voice assertive.

As if he hadn't expected the same tone your bore, his head turned. His body was second to follow, peering down at you, "What the hell does that mean?"

Your nose scrunched.

"It means why the fuck are you such an asshole all the time?" your words were laced with cold venom, "Every time I have ever been near you, you're just an asshole!"

He refused to meet your eyes, staring up at the ceiling, "Why do you care?"

Your heart thundered like a train; accepting the self-destruction, yet fearing the crash. Yearning for him to close in around you, cocoon you in his warmth, the acceptance of failed dreams gnawed at the back of your neck.

"I just want to know you, Cassian. I want to be your friend."

He ignored your words, the picture of pure boredom. His shoulders straight, wings kicking in irritation. It sunk every thought you had right into the Sidra's current.

"What do I have to change for you to accept me?"

Cassian straightened. Stiff, the twin of a board, like he had been struck by lightning. The air stilled like dead wight, time stopping. Electricity rang through your ears, sharpening your vision. A warning.

His eyes met yours. Predatory, searching for the right patch of flesh to mar. His eyes had lost their light, yet something burned in them so pure and full of life that you shivered. He was like a beast in this moment, the image that enemies saw at his approach. Like death and life, purgatory rested within him, trapped like a soulless animal.

His jaw clenched.

"What did you say?"

A raspy grunt came from deep in your chest and you yelled without second thought, "I asked what the fuck I have to do to get you to accept me? Huh? What do I have to do to be acceptable for you?"

You underestimated the speed of the Illyrian in front of you. He was big, a bulky, tall mammoth of a soldier. You assumed swiftness had passed him in the meantime. Though, he turned with such precision, hand swift as he reached out a large hand to grab your wrist. Stumbling forward, your whole face heated, a heaving in your lungs so deep that nobody was prepared to hear the words you bellowed.

But that steaming wrath was interrupted, a quick end.

"You are perfectly fine, Y/n," he seethed.

The response had your brain short circuiting. Perfectly fine. Just perfectly fine.

Before you could stop yourself, you laughed. A deranged laugh that didn't meet your eyes. Short, blunt sounds that were so detached from your usual cadence of enjoyment that you barely recognized it.

"Wow," you said with another snort, "W-ow! Then I guess I should just stop worrying! Because I'm perfectly fine!"

Cassian looked at you from under his dropped brows.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Cassian. The wordsmith you are... it blows us all away!"

You could read him like an open book now, red building in his face, and a simmering thing opening up in his posture.

Just a little further.

You couldn't help yourself from the giggles that pranced through the air, foreshadowing every strike you landed.

"So I guess we can move back on to you shoving your own cock in your mouth while you give me the cold shoulder, right? Because everything is just fine!"

Your last words rang through the air like the final bell.

Disoriented, your location left you, forgetting the surrounding objects that crashed to the floor, scattering around your feet.

Cassian had shoved you back into an accent table, knocking over a potted plant with the force of his ministrations. You grunted at the impact, your lower back feeling the tense pinch that was created by the wood.

You were caged, Cassian's arms like immovable bars. You held one of his biceps with the hand not held in his clutch, maintaining a loose sense of balance.

"What the fuck is wr-"

Cassian interrupted you, drowning your sentence, "You don't understand what it's like. To have to be around you all the time."

Your face morphed into something cruel, mocking him with self-deprecating humor, "Oh, you're a fucking asshole!"

"And you're an annoying bitch, do you know that?" he bit back, "Always acting like you're entitled to princess treatment. Guess what! You're nothing but the scummy secretary of a High Lord!"

Reigning in your hands, your dominant stiffened with fuel. A fire seemed to ignite the nerves inside your arm, hairs standing up like an army of undead soldier. Raised for the battle, your hand held a strong position, moving without warning and landing a swift assault on his cheek.

You backhanded Cassian. Red blotched his skin eagerly, your knuckles surely having left marks on his cheek.

His head had shifted at the impact. A stillness overtook him, the muscles in his neck tensing. The highlights of them popped out with a thrilling pause, his loud inhale laying down a dirty foundation as it hollowed those soft spaces on his throat. Sparks licked up your abdomen. You were sure that the scent of your arousal was like a plague to the situation. The reactions that you tried to keep hidden, your willingness to bend whenever he was around you. It surrounded you now, hovering its needy hands. Warmth clenched at your core, your thighs flexing in restraint.

A rumbling fired into the air, a noise that reverberated from Cassian's center, traveling into his limbs and shaking his hands gently. You felt the vibrations in your connection, his fingers now gripping you with possession.

This moment. This was different. This wasn't the usual hatred that existed between the two of you. This was a deeper hunger, dried out with starvation. Fuck, everything you were made of was hungry for Cassian, clouding your judgment. The self-control you prided yourself in was pulling apart like a frangible cloud.

"You greedy bitch," he said through chuckles, spoken with sharp teeth, "Everything just needs to go your way, doesn't it? No room for patience, or explanations. Not everything is plain and simple, laid out for our sweet little secretary."

His nickname spiked your anger.

"You know that's not true," you spit back.

He rolled his eyes, face closing in on your own, "Sure, and I'm not Illyrian."

You tried yanking your wrist from his grasp, and he only tightened his grip.

"You're doing it right fucking now. You think I can't smell you?" he grit out, "You smell like a bitch in heat. That's all you want, huh? For me to go all soft on you and bow at your feet. Give you the princess treatment, take you to bed all slow and sweet every night?"

Eyes drifting to his lips, you spoke sensually, "And if you're correct?"

His jaw tightened, the bone accentuated sharply.

"Then you'd be wrong."

Your eyes flicked up to stare into his. They had never left your own, as if he were watching every one of your features move in tandem. Cassian studied you, prized in assessing his prey. His brown eyes were a deep pool in the dim space between you. And his own gaze was hot, barely a gaze as it was a brutal investigation. You felt your body melting into the same puddle you did every night, thinking of his calloused hands, and his hard body. Cassian consumed you in the pit of darkness that hovered in his very presence.

"I wouldn't be sweet with an annoying brat like you," he seethed, free hand coming up to grip your chin, "I'm not one of the mindless men you're used to. You'd be mine. It would go my way, and I would fuck you just the way that I like."

Your breathing went shallowing, eyelids drooping. His words commanded your body like the spilling of magic. You reacted readily, nipples peaking under your clothes, reeling in the images he fed you.

"You would like that, wouldn't you? To cut the shit, let me use you like a cocksleeve?"

"Fuck you," you responded, yet it lacked the spunk you were searching for, instead melting into something like a sunken moan.

"Trust me, princess. I will."

Cassian's lips crashed down onto your own in a hurried kiss, like a moment longer without your mouth on his would shatter the world. Mother, you would've believed him if he said such was true.

For the brutish appearance of him, Cassian's lips were soft upon your own. They moved with an uncontrolled possession, capturing your bottom lip prisoner with every passionate lunge.

You were puddy in his arms. Large, muscular arms. Fuck, his whole body seemed to muddle your thoughts, driving you mad. He was a weapon against your own senses, dangerous to any maintenance of concentration.

You reached up to hold his face, rough stubble scratching against your fingers that held lower on his jaw. His hands pulled away, only to move to the depression of your waist, pulling your lower half against his.

A hardness pressed against your lower belly, spreading molten lava through your body as a warning; this male was detrimental when he practically breathed the same air as you. Not to mention that he was steel at your own command, hard to the touch.

You moaned, your kisses turning open-mouthed, tongues tangling with messy abandonment. Spit coated your lips, some smeared further on your chin, teeth clashing in a hungry attempt to tear each other apart.

He wasn't close enough. Your body was groaning like a train, refusing against its brakes. Your hands drifted into his hair, fingers tangling, pulling his face impossibly closer to your own.

Cassian's hands were like hot irons, branding your skin with every touch passed. Your front teeth clanked together, both of you panting into the space as you finally calmed to a standstill.

"Cassian," you breathed out.

He slipped one of his hands under your thigh, hiking it up to rest at his hip, his hands holding you up from the junction of your knee.

"You don't understand what you do to me," he tucked his face under your jaw, silently begging access to your neck.

You let him, tilting your head up and accepting the way his lips latched onto the soft skin there, kissing and sucking, biting into the flesh with unrelenting hunger.

"Let me," you begged.

He stopped, placing gentle kissing along the hallow of your throat, "What do you mean?"

"Let me understand."

Picking you up, hands under your ass, and walking you into your secluded living room, he dropped you onto the plush of your sofa. He crawled over you, touching you with a searing kiss.

Cassian's hands dipped down to the waistband of your pants, the tips of his fingers dipping below to catch the warmth of your skin. He looked up to you, waiting for a confirmation.

You nodded, "Yes."

Those sweet moments were dropped from there on out, his hands like that of a mad male, tearing your leggings down urgently. He didn't waste time before stripping you of your shirt, leaning back to run his eyes over your body.

"You are... intoxicating."

Cassian's voice was strained, as if something was holding his body a slave, yet the words couldn't help but birth themselves. He brought himself down, tongue licking up the center of your abdomen, leaving a wet stripe up to the valley between your covered breasts.

His hands travelled under your back, unclasping your bra with a few tugs. Roughly tearing off your bra, it joined the rest of your clothes, leaving you vulnerable to the male that hovered over you.

A salivating dog, he was eager for you. As if he couldn't have you fast enough, lifting you up to meet his mouth as he latched on to one of your hard nipples.

You inhaled sharply, watching him with droopy eyes. He bit down, pulling a louder moan from you. His smile in return to the noise only made your stomach twist in excitement. He pulled off with a pop, tonguing at the unattended one with the same cocky expression. You felt helpless, on display, reaching for him.

Cassian allowed it, letting your back fall down unsupported as you ran your hands up his shirt, tugging it off before you reached up to pull him back to you. With a stiff spine, he refused, grabbing your hips with a bruising touch and pulling your core against him. You bit your lip, the pressure of his bulge sending your head into clouded territory.

"Yeah, do you like that?" he asked, "Fuck, I can practically feel you throbbing. Pretty little slut."

You sighed, hands traveling around his hips and waist, fingers toying at the elastic waistband of his boxer, peeking out of his leathers. He grinded into you, grunting as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He reached up with a large hand, the span of it wrapping around your fragile throat as his hips ground against you again in a deep motion.

"Mother above, you're like a fucking aphrodisiac. I can barely contain myself, knowing that you exist. Always prancing around our High Lady, all sweet and innocent. I knew what you were playing at. 'Could always smell how excited you got around me."

You tried pushing him away with a snarl. His cocky remarks fueled a fire inside of you that drove you further into this realm of deep hatred.

He tightened his grip on your neck, tutting, "Ah ah ah... You truly wouldn't want me to leave now, would you? Not when you're all riled up. Who would take care of little miss princess then?"

"I can take care of myself," you choked out.

He huffed a laugh, "Sure."

You grabbed his wrist, tugging him off you slightly to remark, "I bet you don't even know how to make a female cum. You're just anther Illyrian brute, after all."

The corners of your living room, quickly filling with shadows. The sun outside faded into the horizon of Velaris, snickering at your words, a display of foreshadowing. You had finally hit it, the one mark that would either drive him away, or drive him mad.

You could've sworn his scent grew impossibly stronger, preluding to the hostile grip he held your hips in, flipping you over without care for the lolling of your head, pushing your body forward into the cushions of the couch. Unbalanced out of your control, you submitted to the brutal way that you were shoved into the pillows, hair tossed recklessly around you in a crown of shame.

You heard rustling, the snapping of elastic, and then the press of hot, bare skin against your backside. What you didn't prepare for was the unprompted, teasing touch of his length at your thigh.

The graze of it made you shiver. He was... thicker than you had imagined. All those nights, lying in bed, sweat dripping from your brow and fingers stuffed between your legs, and you hadn't expected him to be so... big.

Cassian leaned over your back, pressing close to your body as he nuzzled against you. His lips kissed at the tip of your fae ear.

"You wanna be a bitch? Then I'll fuck you like a bitch."

He leaned back, leaving you missing the pressure of his body on top of yours. Though, he didn't let you miss it for too long.

You sucked in through your teeth, jolting forward at the sudden pain before you realized your panties were falling down. They had been ripped to shreds at your knees, Cassian tearing them right at the center.

You moaned at the hasty kindling of a fire inside of your body. Registering quickly the running of Cassian's hot tip through your folds, collecting the slick that dripped slowly from your wanting hole. Your ears twitched with the onslaught of a shyness, so exposed to the large warrior.

"So fucking wet for me," he remarked, "Must be so hard to be such a fucking cumslut all the time."

He teased your center with the tip of his cock, "But, I bet it's not all the time, huh?"

You wiggled your hips, trying to gain some sort of relief, but he moved with you.

"You're only dripping because you just hate me that much. Right?"

He pushed into you slightly, breaching your clenching hole, bringing you to a moaning relief, before pulling back out.

He leaned over you, hand grabbing ahold of your hair from the roots and pulling you back from the cushions.

"Say it. Tell me that it's me that makes you a mess like this."

You groaned in sexual frustration.

"You- You make me a mess like this. It's only you.."

He barked out a laugh, pushing into you slowly, the stretch unbearable.

"That's a good girl. You're all mine, aren't you? Such a sweet girl, all mine to fuck, and ruin."

You nodded your head fervently, mind filled with doughy excitement.

"Say it," he demanded.

You wiggled back against his pulsing cock, "I'm yours, Cassian. I'm all yours, please..."

Chuckling, he sheathed himself into you fully.

Ripping a scream from your chest, all your thoughts dripped into a pit of nothingness. Nothing mattered but him; nothing existed but Cassian. He was thick, huge, fucking hot. And he was so far inside of you, breaching your body in a way you had never felt in your life. The stretch was borderline unbearable, digging into your very soul.

The only tether you had to Prythian was his strong fingers grasping your locks by where they grew. He pulled you back out of your bubbling pit, scalp stinging a little.

"You're... so fucking tight, holy Mother," he moaned, panting above you.

Tiny noises were all you could manage, head clouded, "Please..."

"Please what, sweet girl? Tell me what you need?"

"'Need you to fuck me, Cassie- Please.."

He obeyed you simply, hips pulling back before he thrusted back into you with a power which was held back inside of him.

Resisting. A large man like him had more than just the blow that landed on your body, pushed you forward and smooshed your nose into the pillows. You knew there was more than just the soft ripple of your skin against his. In your mind's eye, you knew full well that a man like him had a dam built to contain.

You decided that you refused to respect his closed off restraint.

You needed it all.

"Don't tell me- oh my go- Don't tell me that- this is all you've got," you managed, testing the waters.

Thrusting into you exceptionally hard, the sting of it making you suck in lost air, he pulled your hair to hold your head up as he pushed his pace rougher.

"You don't wanna feel all that I've got," he snarked, "I don't think you could handle it. After all, you can barely handle being ignored."

Pushing your ass back against his pelvis, you mocked him, "I didn't realize you were a pure-bred pussy. Maybe I'll just have to ask someone else."

He held his breath, body at a halt inside of you. His fingers twitch within the tangles of your hair.

"I'm sure your great friend Eris wouldn't hold back on me. He's never been scared of a challenge."

Cassian's hand let you fall into the pillows, moving to press at the center of your back, between your shoulder blades. He pressed his body into yours, hovering like the embodiment of looming dread, a silent warning.

You didn't dare bite your tongue. It would've fallen off.

All air was drained from your lungs as if his cock was a siphon, pounding into you shamelessly. The slapping of your skins was lewd, disgusting as it absorbed every other noise in the room.

You couldn't help how good it felt though. How you whole body seemed the bask in the way he fucked you like a man gone mad. You didn't know whether to scramble or stay put, walls pulsing with the heavy craving that arose at his touch. He was tearing you in two, the thick length of him running through your walls like the hammering of steel.

He fucked in reckless abandon, gritting out, "Little bitch. You need to learn to watch. your. mouth."

You begged your vocals to respond, but all you could make out was a torn moan, broken in the muffled cushions.

"Nothing to say now?" the leaking tip of him slammed deep into your cunt, "Didn't know it was so easy to knock you off your high horse. Maybe I'll have to fuck you stupid more often."

You whine in response, hands clawing at the pillows in front of you, saliva leaking from the corner of your mouth.

He was ripping your soul from your body, and you vowed with some higher power that you would do anything to feel the delicious drag of his cock again.

With a particularly power thrust, he struck into you, forcing his weight onto you with a hand in your hair again. He pulled your head up, looking into your fucked-out eyes.

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you're helpless like this," he groaned, eyes raking over your face with pleasure, "You wanna tell me who's making you feel this good?"

"You," you said with a shaky breath.

He pouted in an act of hurt, "I need a name sweetheart. You remember my name, don't you?"

You panted, heat blossoming at your core again, desperate on the sound of his voice, and the weight of his cock inside of you.

"Wanna call me by your sweet little nickname again?"

You sucked in your bottom lip, squirming for more. He slapped your ass, stinging the skin in a threat.

"Cassie- please I-" you felt yourself falling apart at the seams, " Y' the only one that c'n make me feel this good, Cassie."

He reclined back into his straightened position behind you, tugging you up with him by your hair. He embraced his arms around you, his dominant hand wrapping around your throat.

"I've got you, pretty girl."

His hips fucked himself into you roughly, setting a sloppy pace. Your brain was putty, fogged with the nature in which he held you, spoke to you, fucked you.

It was all a dream. You'd wake up, and the phantom touch of Cassian's large hands would be a disappointment.

Because there was no way in Prythian such a man like him was real.

Your mind only drifted back down to your body to rekindle itself with the impending override of pleasure. Tightening, your whole body clenched, holding Cassian's length like a vice.

His hips faltered, the restraint with which you clamped onto him slowing his movement.

Cassian moaned loudly, the noise bouncing off the walls like the ringing of a bell, "So fucking tight.. 'm gonna cum. Where- fuck.. Where do you want it?"

"Inside," you cried, "Cassian."

He lost himself, holding you ever more tightly, his cock striking the spot that made you see stars. Your body coiled, fingertips digging into his forearms, needing to feel him.

The tightening of his hand around your throat was your undoing.

That string inside of you, holding you to the realm in which you resided, snapped as your walls sputtered around him.

You screamed his name, drowning in the way his hips careened into you, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you. The roar that paired with the sensation made your vision fuzzy, body limp against his arms.

Five, ten minutes. You couldn't tell how long you panted there with him, helpless to your surroundings.

Cassian steadily let you fall down onto the couch, careful as he pulled out of you, quick to rush around through the closets adoring your hall, finding a washcloth.

You faintly heard the running of water before he came back, a warm, damp washcloth in hand and cleaned you up with a sweet touch.

He got up to dump it off, stalling when he heard your call.

"Cassian."

He turned around, "Yes?"

The moment was stunned, making you wonder if it was all just some hallucination.

"Stay with me?"

Cassian watched you, his big brown eyes filled with something you had never seen before; not with Mor -- not with anyone.

And maybe when Mor had sounded incredulous at your accusations, that Cassian hated you, maybe she wasn't as crazy as she seemed.

And that golden string which you had never noticed seemed to strengthen. It seemed to flourish, expand, and stabilize your souls in a perfectly balanced limbo.

Cassian.

"As you wish."

•--•

ACOTAR Masterlist

[custardtartsfan]

Jason Todd head canons that have accumulated over time

many thoughts about the boy constantly rattle around my brain and i would like to share them ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) nothing hanky panky ish for i do not like to think about that

general bullshit ᝰ.ᐟ

he doesnt trust modern technology. he has a Motorola razr. no he will not upgrade, stop asking

has VERY messy hand writing. straight chicken scratch. barley legible

smoked during his late teens (post resurrection period, he was going through it). tried quitting in his early twenties, he bought a menthol flavour geek bar but threw it out cause Roy made fun of him

it wasnt even one of the cool ones with a screen. smh

he has a weird nostalgic affection for the thrift

it reminds him of being a kid, in the rare moments that his mother was sober enough to take him somewhere. and it was nice, his mom was conscious, all was well

and he could get whatever he wanted! he wanted a toy? sure bud, its only a dollar. why the hell not?

he recently walked into a Goodwill and damn near burst an artery when he looked at the tag on a pair of pants. it was NOT like this back in his day

his hair is like wavy, like not curly but wavy. however, he has no idea how to really care for it. shits dry is what im saying

i think hes very competitive about stupid shit

not like he gets pissy about mario kart, he will race you to see who can fold their socks the fastest

largest of the batfam. vertically and horizontally. hes a beefy dude. a brick shithouse

i think hes also the kind of dude that needs to know someone very well before he could consider dating them. id even go as far to say hes somewhere on the aro spectrum

i think he has a very high spice tolerance. like youll pry his siracha out of his cold re-dead hands. he LOVES African curry (yes this one is based off me) thats like his perfect kind of spice

back to his hatred of technology, he collects cds to listen to instead of streaming

he has one of those hip disk players with the headphones. Red Hood has been seen with a walkman

also hates tv, but will watch the news willingly. he will sit down and watch Wolf Blitzer of his own accord

romantic (୨୧• ꒳ •)=:♡

remember when i said he has the handwriting of an 18 month old toddler? yea well thats a little unfortunate cause he LOVES leaving notes for his lover. when he has to slip out the window for a job in the middle of the night, he writes a little note - “had to take care of something, be back soon. with bagels. love, Jay :)” but its written so janky his lover is spending the whole time hes gone trying to decipher it

dont tell him that though, he might cry

hes not a talker particularly. words tend to come out wrong in his experience. instead, he likes gifts acts of service to show you he cares

shopping with him and youre eying a particular top for a while? guess what’s mysteriously appeared in your laundry basket

lowq doesn’t have motion though..soo it might have been Bruce card. but honestly? money is money who gaf

what he occasionally lacks in funds he makes up for in willingness to let you do whatever you want to him

he will waddle after you in sephora, freaking out the occasional employee cause holy FUCK who invited the punisher, letting you swatch whatever you want on his hand

if you’re concerned about the milk in the fridge being yuck, give it to him to taste. he’ll let you know

there is no mountain to high, no dubious forgotten leftover too unhappy looking

cannot cook for SHIT. but he loves to eat

he will mention wanting food and stare at you longingly until you go to the kitchen

hes not gonna be playing fortnite while you’re cooking though, he can chop stuff. you may not want him within 50 feet of a place where food is prepared but he will offer

bless his heart

runs hot like a furnace. probably because hes a large meaty boy

he will grumble like a pensioner when you tuck yourself into his chest at night when its cold, but we both know damn well hes gonna be giggling and kicking his steel toed boots when he tells Roy about it later

he had pretty mixed, strewing negative opinions, about his little white tuft of hair at the front. hes tried cutting it, it grew back the same. he bought box dye, it doesnt take. so hes stuck with it. and he cant say hes happy about it

until you came along, all full of love and life, telling him you loved it. you though it framed his face perfectly and suited him great. you and your fancy affection fuck you

(he was cheesing for hours)

okay lets get sad now

hes got BADD anxiety about hurting you without meaning to. its a reasonable concern, hes a big dude. and these hands dont do a lot of cradling as a rule, more beating heads in

he needs to be reassured, but would rather roll around in broken glass then swim in lemonade than let that be known. hes more of a stare at you until you sooth him

he likes to be kissed and cuddled and cared for. so what? hes only incredibly ashamed. it doesnt matter how many times you re iterate that he has no reason to be, hes a stubborn bitch

thats all ive got! i hope you enjoyed reading my real time jason todd related word association. most of these were typed in a fury on the mobile web app on the subway so..if the formatting is yucky thats up to god (-.-;)y-~~~

[bstorn]

For the Gods and For the Realms (Rhaenyra Targaryen x Aegon Targaryen II)

Letters to Rhaenyra

Her hair was so straight. I mean, not like mine or mothers. Her hair seemed to shine day or night, under sun or moon - and I remember writing that to her when mother said I needed to work on my penmanship.

“Sister,” I wrote, “your hair is similar and different from mine. Mother and the maesters say it is because we are Targaryens. The sun and moon shine on you and your hair is so very beautiful. Would you let me practice my braiding when you come back from your tour?

“Your brother, Aegon.”

She didn’t reply, at least I don’t remember. But, I knew one thing, I prayed with mother that night and hoped Rheanyra would write her reply and ask me to touch her as we’d get ready for our day together.

“Sisters,

The maesters think my penmanship needs work. They suggest I write to you… what’s penmanship, sister?

Aegon”

A young Aegon scrunches his nose as he folds the parchment in on itself and holds it up to the maester who’s teaching him his lessons today. “Ah, yes. Very good, my Prince. No we must seal it and send it off.” Aegon nods and perched on his seat. He’s clumsy with his movements but, he does his best as he maneuvers the hot wax over his letter, drops it and lets it plop onto the paper, and pressing the House Targaryen seal on it.

His maester pats the young prince’s shoulder and scoops the letter up and away to be sent off.

A day later, Aegon receives a reply:

“Aegon,

You’re doing far more to please these old men around you than I ever did at your age. I suppose, congratulations are in order for you.

Penmanship means writing. I don’t know why they insist on making this hard for you and no bothering me to explain it.

They want you to write better. So, you know, write better.

Rhaenyra”

Giddy with excitement at receiving his first letter, all to himself, Aegon runs to his desk and prepares his writing station.

“Sister,

You wrote me back! You wrote me back! Did you know this is the first ever letter I’ve ever received just for me?!

I’m so happy I could squeeze baby Aemond!

When do you come home? Maybe we can squeeze baby Aemond together?

Your brother, Aegon”

Elated, Aegon runs to get his next letter sent.

There is no response to this one. Aegon, in his young boyhood delusion, sends another.

“Sister,

Do you like babies? If not, we can hold one another instead out of excitement and not baby Aemond.

Mother doesn’t really hold me anymore, and father doesn’t either. It’s be nice if we could cuddle hold one another.

Your brother, Aegon”

Aegon smiles at his letter. 3 letters in one week. He is proud of his work. He sends the letter off.

This letter receives a response -

“Aegon,

Ask your mother, if not then your grandfather for affection. They are to be more willing if you ask.

I do not like babes. Let alone Aemond.

Rhaenyra”

Aegon holds his letter to his chest. Happy to receive any word from his sister.

It goes on like this. He sends 3 letters and he receives 1. Throughout the years, as he reaches the age of 10 and 3, this pattern persists.

He becomes more and more aware of how his sister’s tour seems to keep extending. He doesn’t like it. But all he can do is remember bits of their interactions as he grew before she left.

He remembers her scent when she’d used to comfort him. Lemon and something sweet. He remembers her smirk, as if she knew more than she’d let on. He remembers her hair, so long and shiny, and how it’d glow.

“Sister,

We’ve reached the third letter to you and so I’m sure I’d receive one in return. It is our pattern and nature. I,”

Before he could finish, his mother flies into his chambers. “Aegon, have you been writing to Rhaenyra?!” She leans so closely, her eyes accusatory, and her stance desperately though Aegon would yet still learn that this is what his mother looked like when desperate.

“Yes. I have been. For years now? What is the matter, mother?”

Doe eyed and confused, the prince watches his mother as she looks at him in surprise. She straightens and snatches the letter from him. “Mother, wait!” The Queen moves bout the room, moving towards the window for light and for any air that she could catch in her lungs.

Aegon moves towards her, after his letter which would open a new world of attention and affection from his sister.

The Queen scoffs, turns sharply towards her first born, eyes annoyed, “You will stop all correspondence at once! Your sister,” she sneers “cares not for you or I or her obligation to her realm and family. She is selfish and uncaring and you will not become like her!”

Aegon shakes his head and reaches for his letter. “Mother, please. It’s not like that! She’s not like that!”

Alicent grabs Aegon’s arm with a harshness that he's come to learn his mother only expresses onto him, "Enough! She tramps around the realm without a care in the world. She cares not for her responsibilities or those associated with her! She will end you faster than you can pen your name!" Alicent releases a shaken Aegon, and bundles the letter on his desk. Snapping quickly to the situation, Aegon moves from his spot. He marks his mothers movements: collecting his letters, rushing towards the fire, and -

"No! You will not!" Aegon, grabs hold of the letters and snatching them from his mother's hand. He pulls his letters to his chest. "She is not who you say she is. She is Rheanyra!"

"You are a fool!" His mother screams, "You know nothing of her! You know nothing! She burns and with that you will burn too! You know nothing!" Her throat ragged, tight and dry, Alicent grabs her chest and begins to cough to attempt to alleviate her self-inflicted pain.

With a shake of her head, she leaves his chambers and Aegon is left with the thought of how he and Rheanyra are both dragons.

Quickly, he sets his letters down, noting to find a place to hide them letter, as they are few and far between the letters he received from Rheanyra. Aegon starts his letter, licking his lips...

"Rheanyra,

You and I are dragons. Mother says you will burn and you will burn everything and everyone around you. Will you burn me, too?

I hope not. I don't think you will. In fact, I think you'll come home from your tour, and we'll become close and we'll burn together. What do you think?

Yours,

Aegon."

He sends his letter around midday. Having no lessons as it is a day of rest, Aegon moves to explore the Red Keep. The day goes as expected... and by the next morning, he receives a letter.

"Aegon,

I don't think I could burn you... I have thought about it though - and often. You lighting aflame and burning... But, someday, I realized that I think I'd miss your letters.

We're making our way home. How's your dragon?

Yours,

Rheanyra."

Day 4 - Daily Writing Challenge

Write a 10 sentence long short story about the object next to you.

Do it for yourself or put it under this post!

[emoisthenewemu]

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VIDEO GAMES

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TOGE INUMAKI X F! READER SMAU

pt1, pt2, pt3, pt4, pt5, pt6, pt7, pt8, pt9, pt10, pt11, pt12, pt12.5, pt13, pt14, pt15, pt16, pt17, pt18

A/N wait i actually love this one it was supposed to be filler but ig not. THERE IS TEXT BEFORE THE LAST FIVE PICS pls read:)

Pt.19 “Soft Launch"

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

You are taken out of your somnolent state by a knock at the door. Then another, accompanied by even harder knocks which make your door shake. You let out a groan, turning your body over as you decide if you really wish to get up or not. Let them knock, you think. You have zero energy for anyone. But your mind goes back to the wall of texts you received from Toge and you feel bad for a moment. He just wants to help, you should be thankful for him. And you are, you stand up-choosing to take the blankets you were previously wrapped in with you. They drag on the floor behind you like a crappy veil. You open it to see him, he has a bag of snacks in one hand and flowers.

You noticeably ease up. No one has ever gotten you flowers before. "Hi Toge" Your voice is weak, he can tell you had been crying.

Toge steps inside, setting down the snacks and pushing the flowers into your chest-thankful he has his scarf to conceal his reddened cheeks. "Kelp kelp" He greets and you hug him, lingering for a while in his arms.

"Thank you so much" You speak in reference to the flowers, turning them around to inspect every single one. "They're so beautiful" You finally crack a smile.

It warms his heart; the sight of you all bundled up, hair sticking to your head and the side of your face, fresh face (although stained with tears) and the sweetest little smile only you can pull-one that makes his stomach do flips.

As you place the flowers into a vase (one that previously held fake ones) he takes a look around. Your room is messy, bed undone and all scrunched up. Evidence of you rotting away for the whole day. "Mustard leaf" He furrows his brows. I was worried for you

"I know....sorry. Just a rough day" You dismiss.

He pauses for a moment. You stand and watch as the wheels in his head turn, finally he brings a hand up to sign. 'She told me what happened'

She, as in Maki. 'What happened' being the fact that your mother wants nothing to do with you. Although you suppose you should not be so surprised at the revelation. It just stings.

'I'm sorry' He signs, hands remaining up as if he is contemplating if the next thing is worth saying. Ultimately, he decides it is. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

You sigh, suddenly feeling guilty that he had to figure it out all on his own. "I just.....felt embarrassed. Don't want you to see me so weak"

It is Toge's turn to sigh, as if he could ever perceive you as anything but the strong, charismatic, beautiful girl he fell for. It hurts to think that you doubt yourself. 'I would never think that'

"I know Toge...thank you" You sniffle before hugging him tighter than before, he makes you feel so safe. You suppose you are thanking him for that too. In his arms you remain for a while, comfortably soaking in each other's presence.

Until he pulls apart to ask if you'd like to go for a walk. You are hesitant at first, eyes darting over to the bed that is practically calling out to you. But it is the same sight of crinkled sheets that convinces you that you need to get out of your dorm. You sit on the bed as he puts a sweater on you, slapping your hand away when you try to zip it up. He'll do it, he insists. And then he puts a beanie on you, and a scarf and he's going for a pair of gloves when you finally stop him.

"Toge! It's not even that cold!"

He groans, clutching the gloves close to his chest in offense as he stares at you as if you just shitted on his entire being. 'IT'S WINDY' He signs rather aggressively.

You giggle and compromise that the beanie and scarf will stay, but the gloves are not necessary (although Toge tries to protest).

The two of you go for a walk, hand-in-hand. It is the first time you've held hands and Toge was the one who initiated it, reaching out for you the second the two of you stepped foot outside. He likes it like this, how the people passing by probably think you two are a couple because why wouldn't they? I mean you practically are, there's just a few more things which need to be figured out. But soon, you will be his girlfriend.

The only time he lets go of your hand is to reach into his pocket to pay for the Onigirazu the two of you stopped to get. He brings you to a lake not far from campus, one you've passed dozens of times by now but never paid much attention to. It feels peaceful as you sit beside him on a bench, looking out into the water as you eat quietly. It feels as if your mind has settled and you can finally think. Your heartbeat has steadily declined from the uncomfortable thumping that took up most of your day. Your hands no longer shake, bottom lip has ceased its quivering. You feel thankful to have someone like Toge in your life.

So thankful that you cannot stop yourself from placing a quick kiss on his cheek, one that makes his heart drop in excitement. Although he'd never show it, he only smiles beneath his scarf and wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer.

You stay in the tranquility that is each other until finally, he is ready to ask you something he's been meaning to mention yet somehow always forgets. He taps your thigh, gaining your attention back from the water.

'Do you want to.......' He pauses, the weight of it sets in. Fuck. There's no going back now. 'Meet my mom?'

You gasp, bringing a hand up to your mouth. "You want me to meet mama Inumaki?!" You ask in shock. You know how much she means to him, she is all he has besides a brother whom he does not get to see often. He does not have any other family, seeing as the world of sorcery has collectively agreed that cursed speech users are to be no more. It's why his dad left without a word. He did nothing to try and protect his family.

But Inumaki has agreed to let the technique die with him. It is a responsibility not many can understand.

Toge nods, bringing your thoughts back to the question at hand. You grin, clasping your hands together in excitement. "You mean like on break? You want me to go home with you?"

He nods again, pulling up his scarf to hide his face because for some reason he feels so embarrassed. But you pull it down, so you can see all of him. "Oh Toge, of course! I'd love to meet the woman who made the sweetest boy that ever existed!"

You hug him tightly and he blushes again. "Wait! Have you even asked her yet?! I'd hate to be that girl who just invited herself-" Before you can continue and spiral-which he knows you will, he shushes you. A small ghost of laughter leaves his lips.

'It was her idea' He signs.

You squeal and hug him again, practically squeezing the life out of him. But he doesn't mind, as long as it is you. "Ohmygosh Toge I'm so excited!"

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

TAGLIST: @toge1numak1 @love-me-satoru @strxwberrycandi @slutlight2ndver @walllflowerrrsss @restrictionsapply @lloversss @b1borian @geektastic84 @tenthmilo @entr4p3 @reblogwhoreowo @idexmids @uracutieraka @linaaeatsfamilies @tbfaptbfae @megumikeeptalkingimalmostthere @samisfunky @choso-loverrr @cloca-cola @vamppirez @syarc0re @angel04-01 @daizyysdumb @ventraia @2dmenfr @adrnmyknight @blueghostgirl1 @aphroditesworld15 @alisoncdariel @bumi-writes

LMK IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED!

[lily-s-world]

Why do I believe Olrox is an amazing character/villain?

It is incredibly common to see portrayals of native civilizations of Latin America, as this group of barbaric and ignorant people, who where blessed by the arrival of the colonizers (believe me, I am from Central America and there a lot of schools that still teach history that way); and with Olrox being set as this villain in the story, it could had been really easy for the writers to fall into this trope…. But they didn’t!

Far from the stereotypical portrayal, Olrox it is shown as this incredibly smart and calculating man, who moves and talks with an exquisite elegance. His character design while showing his vampire features, it doesn’t lose the native appearance – the hair, the wide jaw, the skin tone… I mean, the man is gorgeous. And he is queer! Is so hard to see queer latinos, let alone native latinos. A+ on that decision.

But aside from appearance, my favorite thing is how appealing he is as a character.  The first glimpse we see of him is attacking Richter’s mother, which establishes him as this villain that will hunt the protagonist’s nightmares; Julia attacked something he loved, so he retaliated… I’m not saying it is a justification, but in Castlevania universe, that is how things get done.  Later, we learn that the violence shown was an exception to the rule. Olrox may be a fighter, but he is a survivor first. The alliance with Erzebet, the hiding and running away… he values his life over winning a war.

Which sometimes will make you think, this person is a coward, but in Olrox defense it is because he already lived through being a brave soldier and that only led him to see his civilization fall, the dead of his loved ones and the loss of his humanity all at the hands of the same kind of people that it is now raging war on France. He has no interest in seeing history repeat itself, at least not until something dear to him is in danger again.

I believe that inside his cold and stoic demeanor, Olrox loves deeply and passionately.  He did it that way with the man that Julia killed, and he did it with Mizrak. If he had continued fighting with Doltra, he could have won and Erzebet would had been defeated easily… however, Mizrak would had been loss. Why would he continue fighting a war again if the result would be the same: the loss of a loved one? No, he wouldn’t let that happen again even at the expense of saving the world. Because survival is what matters to him, is more important than the glory of a heroic death or winning a war. And that includes the people he loves.

Like, this is probably one of the most interesting characters in Castlevania and they only grasped a little bit of his story. I need a whole season focused solely on Olrox and Aztec vampires.

[samwontshare]

I haven’t seen BNW yet so I can only comment on the Sambucky scene since yall recorded that and put it everywhere. 😅

I really like the character growth here.

It started for Sam in TFATWS - we see him working alone on the boat’s engine. At the end, he allows Bucky to help him. He didn’t invite Bucky- Sam Wilson asking for help? Outside of running a smooth op? Hah! - but Bucky invited himself over and was welcomed by Sam. But even this moment was silent. Sam only confided in Sarah in TFATWS, and even that seemed difficult for him.

So I am happy to see that for some reason running for Congress Bucky probably drops absolutely everything the moment he sees the news because 1) his man looks hot and he has to tell him that immediately and 2) Joaquin took a hit and he knows he has to be with them. I like that we see Bucky proactively showing up for Sam, which was a problem Bucky had in TFATWS. And this brings me joy as a Bucky fan, because this is TFA Bucky. This is Bucky Barnes, who loves his people fully and openly and would die for them in a heartbeat. Bucky is a mother hen at heart, and this is a return to that. Anyone who wants to see Bucky healing should be happy here.

Sam telling whoever entered the room to politely fuck off gave me his Civil War ‘tude with T’Challa. I appreciate “so over the bullshit” Sam. And Sam, my beloved, just looks so reluctantly relieved Bucky is there. Like he’s trying not to smile that his man showed up for him. And Sam TALKS ABOUT HIS INSECURITIES. He has self doubt and he talks about it! He lets Bucky give him a pep talk. We were all pulling our hair out in TFATWS because they seemed allergic to showing us Sam’s internal world.

And kudos to Bucky for seeing that it has nothing to do with wanting superpowers, it’s about Sam’s desire to protect others, especially his partner. This moment is such a callback to Riley, an event that shook Sam so badly he left the service. It’s nice to see Sam not shouldering grief alone. I can’t wait to see Sam and Joaquin talk about what happened bc that’s where I think there will be some more full circle character development for Sam. (Sorry I am blabbing about this without the full context.)

Bucky expressing curiosity about Sam’s doubt and encouraging him to continue when you could see Sam was hesitating to be vulnerable was a really nice touch. Sam is given the space without judgment to process. “Say what you need to say.” Okay, sir, you know that talk continues in the bedroom.

I just want to see Sam getting that emotional TLC all the time. That little head nod when Bucky tells him he loves him? Precious.

You love to see it.

[anomalyaly]

I See the Light

CW: NSFW. EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, MINORS DNI. ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ READERS DISCRETION ADVISED

Written for the OHL discord server February NSFW event. Flynn Rider!Sebastian teaches an unnamed FMC!Rapunzel something new.

~3k words

[AO3] [Wattpad]

Tags: Tangled!AU, Sebastian Sallow x nameless FMC, first time (for her), fingering (F receiving), oral sex (F receiving and a hint of M receiving), face sitting, masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex, they're in a forest so I guess public sex but nobody is around, fast and hard because I am burdened by the word count limitations

It started out as a harmless prank.

One that involved stealing a crown from the royal palace. It wasn't as if someone with that much money would miss one crown made of enough precious metals, he could bribe anyone and their mother for whatever he wanted with it.

After all, he was the Sebastian Sallow — the greatest known thief in the land.

Everything was going so smoothly, running from the law, until he stumbled upon an odd clearing in the forest, a tall tower in the distance. His unfortunate, or perhaps, very fortunate decision to climb up it is what had gotten him into this situation in the first place, traipsing the forest with an odd girl — a very beautiful girl — but odd nonetheless, who had been mysteriously trapped within the isolated tower.

What made the girl odd was that she kept a suspicious secret about her reasons for being locked away — and the fact that she had hair that was a ridiculous length for that of a normal human being. Hair that had been long enough to stretch from the window to the base of the tower that she resided in.

She had even brandished a frying pan as a weapon. The naivety of this girl. However, she had taken his stolen crown and hidden it away, offering only to return it to him if he agreed to her terms.

Fine. If that's what it took to get it back, Sebastian reluctantly agreed. It shouldn't be too difficult to bring one innocent girl to the kingdom to see some lanterns and return her home in one day, right?

Wrong.

After the girl had several panic attacks upon exiting her tower, they were chased by palace guards and nearly drowned in their attempt to escape. He supposed it was mostly his fault, being a wanted man, but their adventure had nearly cost both of them their lives.

For him, he supposed it was only a matter of time until fate caught up with his misdeeds. But the poor girl was innocent. And he had nearly gotten her killed.

Both of them collapsed on the ground in the forest, deciding to make camp for the night. Exactly twenty-four hours until the lantern festival.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I never meant to — I didn't mean for it to go this far."

He tucked his injured hand behind his back, but she noticed it right away. "You're hurt."

"I'll be fine."

"No," she murmured, pulling it closer to her and wrapping her hair around it, "let me help."

He scoffed, "I highly doubt that — "

He was cut off as she started to sing a cryptic lullaby. He was about to stop her until he noticed that her hair was glowing. And as he pulled his hand away from her hair, her song finished, and the wound was completely healed.

"How did you — "

"My hair," she quickly said, "it...can heal people when I sing. That's why I was...why I had to stay in that tower. To protect it. To protect me."

"You never left? At all?"

The girl shook her head, smiling sheepishly. He studied her carefully, noting the blush on her cheeks glowing in the firelight. He scooted closer to her. "That...must have been lonely."

"Sometimes," she agreed, "but....I read, a lot. I like to think of the characters in my stories as my friends." She grinned. "The romances were my favorite."

"Really?" He was intrigued. "What did you like most about them?"

Her face reddened further. "I...well, when they kissed. I always wondered what it feels like."

"Yeah?" He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have quite the experience in that area, you know. I could always show you."

He meant it as a joke, somewhat, but she immediately perked up. "You'd do that?"

"What?" Sebastian gaped. "I-I mean...yes, I suppose. If...if that's what you— " He wasn't certain where he was going with this idea. Kissing strangers in pubs was one matter, but her? She was innocent, naive, and inexperienced.

"Yes," she nodded emphatically. "Please. I...I want to know."

He cleared his throat. "Alright then. Just...just follow my lead."

He leaned closer to her and gently cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm...I'm going to kiss you now."

Her eyes fluttered closed. "I'm ready."

He swallowed, then gently pressed his lips to hers. She didn't move, her nervousness and lack of experience showing, and he guided her as he pulled her closer to him, feeling her soft lips against his. He threaded his fingers through her hair and dared to run his tongue along her lower lip, and she elicited a soft moan.

Oh shit.

He hadn't expected to be turned on this easily. How long had it been since he had last physically been with someone?

She responded a bit too enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around him and pressing herself flush against him. He grabbed her arms and pushed her back slightly.

"W-wait," he said, stopping her mid-kiss. "I...I thought it was just a kiss. Not—" he shook his head.

She tilted her head innocently. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he breathed, attempting to clear his thoughts that were becoming increasingly wild. "You — you can't just respond like that and...and not expect something to happen." He smiled lightly. "I'm only a man, after all. I have...urges."

She furrowed her brows. "Urges?" Then, she brightened in understanding. "Oh! Like...sexual urges."

Sebastian actually blushed. Why did it suddenly seem so dirty when she said it? "Well...yes."

"Teach me."

"What?!"

She held him firmly. "Teach me," she insisted. "I'm only going to be outside of my tower for one more day. I...I want to learn."

"I — " How could he say no? "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She sighed. "You saved my life, and you're taking me to see the lanterns. I want it to be you."

Sebastian took a deep breath. "Alright." If that was what she wanted. She had asked for it, after all. "I'm...I'll go slow, okay? Just...if you feel uncomfortable...."

"Sebastian." She let out a huff.

"Okay! Okay." He gritted his teeth before his lips collided with hers once more, still maintaining the gentleness of their first kiss, but with more fervor, his intent clear.

Her resounding moan vibrated along his lips and sent shivers down his spine. He wasn't inexperienced, but he had certainly never taken a girl's innocence before. It was much easier to go after a quick fuck, a one-night stand to scratch an itch before moving on to his next endeavor — which mostly centered around thievery. Sex was simply an outlet.

This, however, was different.

He ran his hands along her arms and trailed his fingers up her bodice, deftly undoing the lacing on her corset and letting the rest of her dress fall to the ground. His lips left hers, and he planted soft kisses along her neck before pulling back to look at her. "Is this al— "

"Stop asking me if it's alright," she grumbled. "I will tell you if something is wrong."

Right. He had never been so nervous to fuck someone before. It really had been too long.

His hungry gaze roamed over her untouched, bare body. Years in the tower left her skin soft and silky, a stark contrast to his rough and calloused hands. He lightly traced them over her bare breast and smiled as she shivered at his touch.

"Feel good?" He asked. She nodded. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I can do things that will feel even better, sweetheart. Just trust me."

He pulled back to undo the buttons on his shirt and shrugged it off, throwing it to the side and wrapping his arms around her once more. He guided her to the soft grass and laid her beneath him as he continued to trail kisses along her delicate skin.

"Let me take care of you," he murmured, and he took one of her peaked nipples in between his lips.

The way she arched her body into his made it even clearer that she had never been touched, every inch of her overly sensitive to his gentle caresses. His fingers danced along her thighs, tracing the freckles along the inside of one before expertly finding her center.

Her form trembled in ecstasy beneath him as he lightly circled her clit, his finger already coated in her slick, preparing her for everything that was to follow. Sebastian was eager to be inside her, his own arousal beginning to peek through his trousers, but he would make sure she was taken care of first.

"That feels — really — really good," she panted, and her fingers dug into his back. He carefully slipped a digit inside of her and gently curled it against the perfect spot, grinning as her hips bucked against his hand.

"Oh!" He could feel her tightening around his finger, knowing she was getting closer to her peak. He wondered if she had ever orgasmed before, if she had ever managed to complete herself on her own, locked in the tower for so many years, or if he would be the first to bring her over the edge.

The thought of it even being a possibility sent a surge of pride through him.

"It's alright, sweetheart," he encouraged, his face pressed into her neck so he could whisper praises into her ear. "Relax and let go. Let me make you feel good." He slipped a second finger inside for good measure.

It sent her over the edge, and when he curled his fingers again, she arched her back and let out a wanton cry. He planted kisses along her neck as she trembled beneath him, working her through her orgasm and murmuring encouragements against her.

"Beautiful," he whispered as he watched her face relax, her eyes heavy-lidded and her body spent. He slid further down her body until his face settled between her legs. He felt her grasp his arm and glanced up at her.

"Wait!" She clutched his arm. "W-what are you doing?"

Sebastian grinned. "Did you think we were done?" He planted a light kiss on her inner thigh. "Oh, no, love. We're just getting started."

He continued to leave a path of kisses from her thigh until he hovered over her core once more. "Just relax, and let me make you feel good."

She chewed on her lower lip nervously, but when she nodded and leaned back again, he leaned forward and pressed his tongue to her center, sliding gracefully along her folds until he felt her melt into his touch. His strong hands gripped her thighs firmly, and he encouraged her to spread herself wider for him.

"Mfph!" She whimpered, worrying her lower lip still between her teeth as she tried to hold back. Sebastian pulled his tongue away, and she groaned at the space he left.

"Nobody is here, darling," he murmured, his warm breath grazing over her. "I want to hear everything. I want to hear how good I make you feel."

"B-but —"

Sebastian tightened his grip on her thigh. "If you go quiet, I'll stop." It wasn't a true threat, as he would never stop if he knew she would let him have her, his own desire growing by the minute.

But she agreed, and when he circled her with his tongue again, she gasped. Her hands flew to his head and tangled themselves in his curls, and he couldn't help himself as he let out a guttural moan, burying himself in her as he fucked her with his mouth. She arched her hips into him, and he silently prayed to whatever powers were out there that, if he were to die, it would be from suffocating himself against her, drowning in her sweetness.

Merlin, how badly he wanted her to ride his face.

He gently pried her hands off of his head and slid his body away from her, almost feeling a bit guilty at her cries of protest. But he wasn't going to let her off that easily. He tugged his trousers off and tossed them haphazardly to the side, somewhere between the thickening forest and wherever his shirt hand ended up, and laid down on the ground.

She furrowed her brows in confusion. "What — "

"Come here," he said, guiding her hips over top of him. "I want you to angle yourself here and...and do what I was doing to you."

The young woman blinked at him. "You mean...sit...here?"

Sebastian bit back a groan at her innocence. "Yes. And you...move along my tongue in whatever way makes you feel good."

She nodded and settled herself on his face. "Like this?"

He wasted no time before getting to work, and he moaned with pride when she rested her weight atop him and ground herself into his mouth. She was so wet, he could feel his face already coated with her juices. Yes, this is most certainly how I wish to die.

She bucked her hips in a ragged movement, and he knew she was already nearing another orgasm. He reached between himself and wrapped his hand around his hardened length, stroking himself desperately to the rhythm she set. His tongue lapped against her as if he was a man starved and she was his final meal.

"Sebastian-! I-I can't — I have to —!"

He pressed his face into her and groaned against her clit, the vibrations dragging her to her climax. She yanked on his curls and rode out the rest of her orgasm, her body shaking with sensitivity. It took everything he had not to lose himself — he was saving that for her.

And oh, he would enjoy every second of being inside her.

She lifted herself off of his face and tried to climb off, but he held her hips in place. "I want you to be able to take the lead."

"But," she blushed, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's precisely it." His thumbs traced small circles along her hips. "I'm going to guide you, but I want you to be able to set your own pace. Whatever makes you comfortable. That way — " He quirked a smile at her, "I know for certain you're enjoying it."

And he could enjoy watching her.

He helped position her as she knelt, hovering over his throbbing erection. Sebastian wasn't the patient type, but he knew the reward that awaited him would be worth it. His breath hitched as she traced a line up his length with her delicate fingers.

"Can I...?" she asked shyly, as if voicing the question was more vulgar than what he had just done to her.

He swallowed back a whimper. "P-please."

She stroked his cock once, twice, testing his reaction, and Sebastian was more than willing to give it to her. Her feather-light touches had him wanting more when suddenly, she leaned down and dragged her tongue along it in an experimental lick.

Fuck.

He hadn't realized how sensitive he had gotten from not being touched for so long.

"N-not...not now," he managed, his voice strained.

She glanced up at him, and the sight of her pink lips hovering over the seeping head of his cock tempted him, pleaded with him to thrust into her mouth and coat her tongue. But he wanted something else more.

"I need to be inside you."

She blushed and straddled his hips, and he could feel the heat radiating from her as her wet cunt settled on top of his cock. She nibbled on her lower lip, breathing steadily as she adjusted to the feel of him.

"Take your time, love," he said roughly.

He gasped raggedly as she slowly slipped him inside of her, forcing him to control his urges and allow her time to adjust. She was tight, perfectly fitted around him and he struggled to resist burying himself in her and fucking her until they were both seeing stars.

And then, she sank all the way down, a soft sigh of contentment leaving her lips at the feel of him.

It was almost too much, the way her cunt enveloped him, and as she began to move achingly unhurried, he reactively snapped his hips into hers and released a needy groan.

"That...feels good to you?" She practically breathed the words out.

Sebastian could only manage a nod as his thumbs dug into her thighs. He was too sensitive, too desperate, too touch-starved to control himself.

Thank Merlin she could sense his need.

"Take me," she panted as she rode him, angled just so that her tits bounced in front of his face, carved as perfectly as a Greek statue and yet so supple he couldn't resist pressing his face into them. She let out another soft whimper. "Take me how you want me."

It was his undoing.

He grasped her hips roughly and thrust into her, fast, hard, taking and taking everything he wanted at her command. He was hers, whether she knew it or not, and if she had asked him to, he would have burned the world for her if it meant making this moment last forever.

She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him and tucking her face into his neck, biting and sucking gently at his pulse point as she mimicked what he had taught her, their bodies moving in tandem as he drove himself into her. And when she finally cried out, her body tightening around him as she came, he clumsily followed right after, his rhythm ragged, spilling himself inside and muffling a groan against her long hair that he was certain was still glowing in the middle of the forest.

It was faster than he had planned, yet more powerful than anything he could have imagined. But when he looked at her, their sweaty bodies still clinging to each other on the forest floor, her eyes still closed as she panted against him, it was as if the fog had lifted and everything was clear.

And at last, I see the light.